Eighteen years later...

The view was abnormally picturesque. Calm blue waters as far as the eye could see. Clouds covered the sun just enough to assuage its blinding rays, but not so much as to dim such a gorgeous horizon.

It was arguably the most beautiful day of the year, yet V chose to starkly juxtapose it with his internal strife. Gone were the days when he could immerse himself in anything remotely normal. Normal people enjoy the feeling of sand under their feet. Normal people can soak up everything a Santa Cruz morning has to give. V, on the other hand, felt only apprehension.

It was the day he'd been training his whole life for. The day he finally set out to kill his uncle.

He thought back to a conversation with his mother eighteen years ago. V had awoken in his new vessel, blind as a bat. After adjusting to reentering the physical plane, he fell asleep to feet shuffling outside his nursery.

There she was, just as she had promised. Her eye slits scanned his newborn vessel. "What did Lucius say?"

"La'el disappeared from Hell shortly after your death. Lucius managed to contain the souls kept there, but I fear he's stretching himself too thin."

"So that's why he sent Aayan to kill me. Your theory was right, he wants to use my body as a vessel." V spent his whole life having pride in his family. The prospect of his uncle being someone capable of such malevolence was a tough pill to swallow. "How could he be okay with throwing away people's lives like this?"

"I love La'el, and we used to speak regularly. But as the years passed, he began isolating himself from Lucius and I. He went from kind and vibrant to cold and reserved within the span of a few centuries. I don't know why he's chosen to behave this way, all I know is you're the only one capable of stopping him. The damage done to earth's plane is a lot more dire than I originally thought. Lucius and I are working on repairing it, but it requires most of our efforts. We won't be able to provide you with much help."

"I'm a bit iffy on the plan. I didn't get my powers until I was sixteen, and I don't even know how I awakened them. Am I supposed to just pretend like I'm some normal kid until I find La'el? Mom, what if I'll never be ready? And what about Dad and Connor and Summer and everyone else in Covington?" V felt like a kid again, dumping all of his insecurities onto his mother's lap. How was he expected to be of any help with these uncertainties rattling in his head?

They were transported to V's childhood room. Though he still found the transition jarring, his mother quelled his anxiety by returning to her human form to give him an embrace. V sank into her arms, taking several moments to realize that he had also returned to his childhood body. His voluminous curly hair tickled his ears as they continued their hug.

"Mi Cielo." V felt the warmth emanating from her voice. It was in stark contrast to how formal their interaction had been up to that point.

"Mom—"

She grabbed his hand. "I'm sorry for putting so much responsibility on your shoulders. If Lucius and I could help, we would. But if we don't focus on repairing the plane, everything and everyone may cease to exist."

When first presented with the possibility of returning to earth, V jumped at it with no knowledge of the overarching plan. It didn't matter, for in that moment, his mother gave him an opportunity to fulfill his ulterior motive. Despite genuinely caring for his loved ones, it was vengeance that motivated him more than anything else.

Aayan had stripped him of his life, and consequently, his purpose. His father had floated the idea of having a future in the military, but even at a young age, V knew that wasn't his calling. So he instead chose to coast through life, putting things off until his school counselor gave him a stern reminder.

Finally, after being given the power to make a lasting impact on the world, he died an unceremonious death. Recalling this fact enraged V, smothering his trepidation with a strong desire to see Aayan's cheap suit torn to shreds.

This was a side of V he vowed to keep hidden from his family. Protecting people brought him great satisfaction, but it paled in comparison to the jubilation he felt while punching a bully's teeth in.

"You won't be alone," his mother added. "Lucius sent someone to help you on your journey. Wait for him. For he will decide when you're ready to pursue La'el."

***

V wriggled his sand covered toes, breathing in the sea air. The nearby kids giggled as they ran across the shore, splashing to their heart's content.

As a child, V had limited access to information. He would hear the occasional news story from time to time, each one painting a picture of an entirely different world than he expected.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

These mysterious and gruesome murders expanded beyond his small town of Covington. La'el's killing spree was in fact a global phenomenon, sparking confusion and fear in peoples thousands of miles from the United States. Then, to V's surprise, the murders just... stopped.

The subsequent era of relative peace was both a relief and a cause of great concern. La'el was still out there, doing God knows what in his body. Imagining his friends and family encountering his twisted uncle puppeteering his body pained him. But as the years passed, his fears stung a little less. Mainly due to him developing a close relationship with a boy named Lance.

V met Lance on his first day of kindergarten. He was putting the finishing touches on his paper craft masterpiece when he locked eyes with a boy sitting across the room. He shot up and skipped toward V while grinning ear to ear, his aura the same shade of white as Connor's.

He had a monkey like air about him, with his protruding ears and rail thin build. When he opened his mouth to speak, he only uttered three words. "Lucius sent me."

***

V's brooding session was rudely interrupted by someone jumping on his back.

"It's your big day!"

Speak of the devil, V thought. "Why can't you just say hi like a normal person?"

Lance leapt off V's back and moved to block his view. Wearing his trademark smile, he flipped his disheveled charcoal-black hair. "Where's the fun in that?" He reached into his pocket and pulled out his car keys. "V, you're ready for this. Your mother and uncle believe in you. But most importantly, I believe in you." He gave his keys a jangle. "Besides, I did some research and apparently it's scientifically impossible to sulk for an entire road trip. Once we get on the highway, your head will clear up."

"Are you finally gonna tell me where we're going?"

"Nope."

Despite being exceedingly goofy, Lance oftentimes expressed a level of empathy that was downright scary. His words of encouragement always reached V, even if they weren't particularly profound. "How do you know what my mom and uncle think? I haven't spoken to mom since I first entered this vessel, and I haven't even met Lucius."

Lance waved a dismissive hand. "Call it a hunch." His eyes jumped to the area behind V, and he grinned a little wider.

V jerked his head around, taken aback by his parents trudging through the sand in their matching pair of flip-flops. "What are you guys doing here?" he asked.

V's mom reached him first, followed by her out of breath trailing husband. "You're still our son, Hoang. What type of parents would we be if we didn't see you off?" his mother said, her voice icier than usual. Hearing his Vietnamese name triggered a surge of anxiety. They usually reserved that honor for rare occasions. Like when he would get caught dozing off during study time, or when his actual personality broke through his facade as the passive and dutiful son.

His father took a step forward, holding a backpack by its handle loop. "We brought you something. Call it a going away present." Despite his obvious fatigue, V's father had managed to maintain his all too familiar smug sense of superiority.

V stood up, wiping away the grains of sand stuck to the back of his shorts. He towered over his parents, who were quite tall themselves. His father stood at a whopping six-foot-two, his mother only four inches shorter.

They were both second generation Vietnamese-Americans, which meant they had the importance of education, in many cases quite literally, beaten into them. So when Lance told him it was finally time to pursue La'el, V had to devise a justification for not attending college despite graduating high school with honors. He settled on the break year excuse. A concept so foreign to them that the explanation morphed into a several hour long debate.

From then on, his home life was a living hell. Even though his parents were never the affectionate types, they immediately removed what little indicators of love they did show. From having full-blown scathing conversations about him while in his presence, to giving him the silent treatment for days at a time.

V had grown so accustomed to having a devoted and caring father that it took years for him to accept his new parents and their peculiar style of expressing love. He spent several lonely nights replaying memories from his previous life, weeping into his pillow while wondering if he'd ever meet his friends and family again. How he missed Summer's radiant smile and Connor's verbal jabs.

Fortunately, when the weight of his sacrifices became too heavy to manage, Lance was always just a phone call away, raring to recite some silly joke he had just heard.

V's father handed him the backpack. He opened it and peaked inside. To his surprise, it contained four boxes of blueberry Pop-Tarts and a roll of paper towels.

V smiled. He met his father's gaze and saw tears forming. His mother dropped her head and started sniffling.

"That was your favorite breakfast growing up," his father said. "The paper towels are for the crusts."

"We may not agree with your decision," his mother said. "But we will always love you."

Lance started toward his car, leaving V alone with these strangers masquerading as his parents. "I remember when you used to make fun of me for removing the crusts," V said.

"Of course we did," his mother said. "You know how we feel about playing with your food."

"But," his father interjected. "For some reason, that silly ritual of yours brought you so much joy. We'd watch your face light up every time we brought a box home."

V couldn't believe what he was hearing. He didn't know his parents were even capable of a gesture this sweet.

Their recent behavior had blinded him to the fact that there were moments—though few and far between—when they expressed their love in ways V was accustomed to. Times when he'd look up from his dinner and see his mother playfully snap at his father for eating off her plate.

"This gift means more to me than you could ever imagine. Thank you."

"Hurry now," his mother said while shooing him away.

V made his way toward Lance's beat up lemon colored Honda Civic. Several cases of Coca-Cola sat in the back—their glass bottles shimmering under the sunlight.

Lance shrugged. "They were on sale."

V took a seat and handed Lance a box. "I used to mock the shit out of Connor for being so obsessed with Pop-Tarts. I wonder what he'd think about me carrying a backpack full of them."

"You could always ask him."

V raised an eyebrow.

Lance beamed. "Turns out, La'el is in Covington."