The boy woke slowly from his sleep, blinking blearily into the light of dawn that spilled through his small window. His head throbbed and his body ached from all that had happened the night before. His eyes felt slightly puffy from the tears he had allowed himself to shed once he knew he had been left alone.

He pushed himself up with a grunt from his bed, rubbing his back where the springs had been digging in. His bare feet stepped silently on the dark hardwood floors; he didn’t dare make a sound lest his father awaken.

The walls in the house were a dark wood as well, causing a feeling of claustrophobia as the light struggled to reach the corners. He reached his dresser in the corner of his room and pulled out a new set of clothes for the day: A plain black shirt and pants as well as underwear. Pulling his shoes onto the pile in his arms, he opened his door and winced as it creaked. He didn’t dare push it any further than he needed to, sliding his slim frame between the gap before tiptoeing down the hall to the washroom and sneaking in. He shut the door gently behind him and placed his things on the floor next to the tub.

He turned to the door, and using one of the first cantrips he had ever taught himself, he cast a locking spell. He watched as the door shimmered with a translucent blue light before it dimmed to nothing and felt himself release a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.

He turned the tap on until it was a steady stream, placing his hand between the tin tub and where the water would splash in order to minimise the noise. The water remained cold, they hadn’t had heated water in months and his father didn’t seem to have any interest in fixing it. He knew how to conjure a flame, but not in such a way that he could heat an entire tub. Maybe he could practice his control today, once he’d put enough distance between himself and his father.

The faster he could leave this house, the better.

Turning the tap off, he removed his clothes before moving to step into the tub. When he glanced over to the dirty floor-length mirror in the corner, he froze. His ashen grey skin was littered with dark bruises. They trailed from his biceps all the way down to his thighs, all very similar in size. He took a step backwards as if to get away from himself before he looked down. They were more vivid than when viewing them through a dirty mirror, more real.

He placed his fingertips onto a bruise on his hip and pushed, wincing at the pain. He traced the bruises further down, his gaze became distant as he felt hands gripping his thigh as they had last night. Rough, uncaring. He felt the panic rise as it always did on nights like those, gripping his throat and forcing his breaths to quicken. He felt adrenaline drip its way through his blood and into his limbs, causing them to tremble as the pain in his thigh became unbearable.

He gasped a breath as he came back to himself, alone and cold in his washroom, his nails digging into his thigh and drawing blood.

Blinking away a wetness in his eyes he moved toward the tub, stepping quickly into the cold water and shivering. He didn’t allow himself time to accustom to the shock of the cold before he sat and submerged his head.

While he was under, eyes closed, images surfaced in his mind. His father’s cruel burgundy eyes watching him like he hated him for what was happening, like it was his fault. He felt a phantom hand cup his jaw as it played with his lip, pushing a thumb into his bottom canine and forcing his jaw open.

He reemerged with a gasp, pushing his wet black hair out of his eyes.

He hugged his knees to his chest before resting his cheek on them, glancing back towards the mirror in the corner. His reflection was unfamiliar to him, he felt years older than the person looking back at him, red eyes filled with a hatred that had no outlet, nowhere to go other than to be directed back towards himself.

His skin tone was a courtesy of his father - a drow elf, but that was all he seemed to inherit from him. His black hair curled around his ears, entirely different to the white hair his father sported. His nose protruded further than his father’s too, his lips not as thin. He knew he resembled his mother, knew because of the whispers his father let slip when he was drunk enough. He never met his mother, and he knew that asking his father about her was asking for trouble. He knew nothing about her, knew not what she looked like, his only way to connect with her being to look at his own face.

He sighed wearily as he reached for a bar of soap, beginning to clean himself, not wanting to linger on his bruises and aching muscles for too long. The sting in his lower region was muted by the pain that lingered throughout his entire body, and so he was able to ignore it for the most part. The physical he could try to ignore, but the memories forced themselves into the forefront of his mind. Hands forcing his legs apart, fingers probing, touching places he himself had not even explored.

His skin itched, and he scrubbed harder, but it didn’t seem to matter how hard he scrubbed, the feeling on his skin remained.

He felt dirty, all he wanted was to feel clean, he thought desperately.

When he had scrubbed his skin raw and felt no different, he gripped his hair hard in his fists and let out a soft cry, like a wounded animal. The feeling of his hair being pulled only served to bring forth more memories. Before they could cement behind his eyes, he snatched the bar of soap angrily from where it had drifted to the bottom of the tub and threw it with all his might towards the mirror. He froze when the thud reverberated throughout the room, eyes flitting to the door for a moment. He was lucky the soap was too soft to shatter the glass.

He heard a distant bang beyond the door.

Anxiety gripped him and he stood, grabbing a small towel to dry himself quickly.

He rubbed the towel over his hair for a moment, before halfheartedly wiping across the rest of his body, leaving droplets behind but not caring as he heard his father stumble down the hall towards his bedroom door. He heard it squeak on its hinges, louder than it had with him as his father used more force.

“Cairus?” There was a slur in his voice, a gravelly quality that let Cairus know he’d just awoken.

He swore under his breath, frustrated that he let his anger get the better of him, putting him in this situation.

Cairus almost failed to keep his balance as he threw his underwear and pants on as fast as he could, followed by his shirt.

It was as if his father had two different personalities, detached or sadistic, he didn’t know what he was going to get on any given day, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

His father seemed to realise he wasn’t in his room, and the footsteps made their way closer as Cairus slipped on his shoes.

“Cairus, where the fuck are you?” His fathers voice became angrier as he realised Cairus wasn’t where he was meant to be.

“Cairus!” His father called. “Little shit, why’re you waking me with all this noise?”

His fathers voice loomed closer as he made it to the washroom door, trying the handle.

There was a moment of silence as his father processed the lock on the door that otherwise didn’t have one. Cairus felt cemented to the spot, but as the handle shook again this pulled him out of his frozen state and he scrambled for the small bathroom window.

“Did you lock me out?” His father’s voice boomed through the door as it shook, he could hear the rage building and he knew he needed to escape now.

He pushed the windowpane upwards, thanking every entity that it wasn’t locked, his unlocking spell really needed some work.

As he was halfway through the window the door burst into the room, knocked off its hinges as a burst of dark magic evaporated like smoke, revealing his father behind it. Cairus couldn’t help but look at him, his eyes filled with a seething rage as he began to stalk towards him.

Cairus’ adrenaline kicked into high gear as he pushed himself fully through the window and thudded onto the dirt below. His body begged him to stop as it ached, but he knew if he stopped it would only be worse.

His father reached the window as Cairus found his feet and turned to run.

Cairus heard his father cast a familiar spell, tendrils of cold magic wound their way up his limbs and attempted to root him to the spot.

He cried out, feeling the magic’s grip on him slip as he stumbled to his knees. Taking this opportunity, he pushed himself back up onto his feet and ran as fast as his legs would carry him.

He could feel his father’s eyes shooting daggers into his back, but he didn’t dare turn around.

They lived on a decently sized plot of land, his neighbors house coming into view as he pushed through the tree line that indicated the edge of their land, he then vaulted the wooden fence and still he continued to run.

Lungs burning, he finally stopped a stone’s throw away from his neighbors house. His hands landed on his knees and exhaustion hit him as he breathed heavily.

“Cairus!” A friendly voice called from the front porch, “Cairus?”

He couldn’t find his voice, eyes cast to the grass for a moment as a pair of shoes came into view.

He finally peered up, looking at his friend as she took in his state with concern.

“What did he do this time?” She asked, her voice becoming hard with anger.

“Violet,” He finally breathed, his voice rough. “Lovely day, huh?”

“Cairus…” She said in warning.

He knew her patience was wearing thin, she didn’t know the extent of what his father did, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out something was going on. Cairus, however, didn’t like to talk about it. Violet begrudgingly accepted this, but only because her prodding led nowhere.

Despite him not telling her exactly what happened, she never turned him away. She always let him sneak in through her window on nights when he couldn’t take another moment of being in that house. He’d crawl into her bed, and she’d wipe his tears. She’d hold him in a way he’d never experienced: tenderly, and for a moment he’d try to pretend his life was normal.

He was pulled out of his thoughts as she held something out to him, a small square wrapped in paper.

“Happy fifteenth birthday.” She said, failing to shake the worry out of her voice.

He stood then, running a hand through his hair as he took the gift.

“I forgot it was-” He started.

“I know,” She interrupted. “You always forget.”

She started back towards the porch, and he followed. Her parents had a small wooden table with two chairs out the front. Cairus sat with her, noting the two cinnamon scrolls on the table but resolutely not looking at them with all the desire he felt. His stomach gave him away with a low growl and Violet laughed.

“That one is for you,” She gestured to the one closest to him, he picked it up and began to stuff his face.

“Thanks, Violet.” He muffled with his mouth full, sending her a big smile. This earned him a disgusted look followed by a laugh as she shook her head.

“Swallow first, I beg you.”

“You know I’m not good at doing what I’m told.” He sent her a playful wink and she rolled her eyes.

“Is that why you look like you’ve been stomped on by a buffalo?” She said the words before she could stop herself and he knew she regretted them because she instantly looked at him apologetically. “Sorry…”

“Don’t be, I look like shit. Someone should say so, maybe then I’ll think twice before daring to show my face on your doorstep.” His voice was light-hearted, but there was a heaviness in his words that he couldn't hide.

“If you ever think twice about coming here when you need to, I’ll come down there myself and pull you out by your pointy little ear.” She emphasized her point by flicking said pointy ear with her finger and he swatted her away.

“Threats of violence so early in the morning, and here I thought it was my birthday.” He pouted only for a moment before continuing to devour his treat. Violet snorted, before digging back into her own cinnamon scroll.

“Are you going to open your present?” She eventually asked, looking at him expectantly. He answered by reaching for it and tearing into the paper.

“Oh… it's great, really. Um, what is it?” Cairus fell over his words as he looked at the small object.

Violet looked at him with affectionate exasperation. “It’s a compass. I made my own to match. Mother did help me with it.” She admitted.

“Cool, I always wanted to go north.” He stated, gazing at the small engraving of his name on the back of it.

Violet swotted him on the back of the head. “It doesn’t point north, smart-ass. It points towards me. And mine points towards you.”

He looked at her then, a smile forming on his face. A heat rose to her cheeks as she continued, “You know, if you ever get lost. You won’t have any trouble finding your way home.”

“Thank you, Violet. I love it.” He moved it around her, watching the little arrow spin to follow her and she giggled.

“Glad to see it works.” She smiled.

They gazed out into the field, the sun peeking through the clouds. It was transitioning into winter and while the days were still nice, the nights were becoming harsher. The leaves were turning and had begun to fall, the apple tree near the front of the house bore no fruit. He couldn’t wait for it to start producing again, he loved stealing an apple for them both before bugging her to come with him to the river.

They would practice spells together, as Violet was the daughter of two very powerful druids, she had a knack for healing magic. Cairus was the perfect patient, real ailments that needed fixing but nothing too severe that she couldn’t handle.

Cairus would practice his cantrips, he couldn’t do as much as Violet could do. At most he was able to throw a firebolt at a tree stump, but practicing helped him not think, and when so much was happening to him, sometimes not thinking was the best thing he could do for himself.

But he felt it sometimes, in his core, a darkness that coiled like smoke. It scared him a little, but it intrigued him more. He didn’t know how to unlock it though, didn’t know how to make it come out as powerful magic.

When they were done with their breakfast, they spent the day doing exactly as he’d predicted. Violet healed his wounds and made sure the ache in his body hurt slightly less. Sometimes he would pretend he felt better from her healing spells than he actually did, not wanting to discourage her.

It was while he was throwing out another firebolt, and Violet was using the burning stump to practice conjuring water to douse the flame, that he felt the darkness at his core awaken.

It writhed within him, seeping out into his limbs, up his throat, behind his eyes until he could see nothing but black.

He was frozen where he stood, the distant voice of Violet calling his name, but he could not respond, he could do nothing.

“Cairus…” A voice whispered in his mind; one he did not recognize. It was female, but definitely not Violet.

“You have such potential, Cairus…” The voice continued. “Let me show you…”

Images began to flash behind his eyes, he saw himself but he was different, older. His teeth flashed in a smile but there was something cold behind it as he lifted into the air, magic pouring from his hands in red sparks as he targeted a creature with a spell.

His magic was overwhelming, powerful, intoxicating.

“There is only one thing you need to do.” The voice continued to whisper in his mind. The image changed to one of himself at the age he was now, he was standing over his father as he slept and it took him a moment to register the dagger in his own hand. He watched helplessly as this Cairus raised the blade before slashing it down across his father’s throat. His father’s eyes bulged open, finding his son standing over him, blood gurgled in his throat as he bled profusely. A hand reached up to try and stop the bleeding, only to fall limp moments later.

Cairus watched himself, it was him but there was a cruelness in his eyes that he didn’t recognize. It wasn’t the hatred he usually saw. His breath stopped as he connected this look to his father. It was that sick twisted pleasure he saw in him sometimes, when he was inflicting pain upon someone else, usually Cairus.

But now it was within him, at least, this version of him.

“I will visit you at the midnight hour.” The voice faded quickly, and he felt the black smoke curl back into his core from all his limbs before finally releasing his eyes.

He blinked quickly, his vision swimming. When his eyes finally focused, he saw Violet’s dark brown eyes looking into his with concern.

“Cairus? What the hell was that?” She asked, sounding on edge.

“What happened?” He needed a moment to collect his thoughts.

“I don’t know, your head jerked back and you went all stiff-like, then… your eyes turned black.”

He didn’t know what to say, he had no explanation.

“Cairus please, I know you don’t like to talk about stuff, but if something more serious is going on…”

“I just blacked out, that’s all.” He shook his head. He saw her look of betrayal as he once again chose not to confide in her.

“Fine. If you don’t want to tell me then don’t, but stop lying to me.” She said, sounding like she was on the verge of tears.

“I’m sorry, Violet, I really don’t-”

“Shut up, Cairus. Do you know how much it hurts to care about you?” Her tears were falling now. “I know somethings going on, I know you’re hurting but you won’t let me in, won’t let me help you.”

“I don’t need your help.” He snapped and she flinched like he’d hit her.

“If that’s what you want, then fine. I won’t help you anymore.” She had tears in her eyes, but she looked more angry than anything as she stomped her way back to her house, not sparing him a second glance.

His heart sank further with every step she took, until a door slammed in the distance, and then he was completely alone. The wind whispered past him, running through his hair like phantom fingers and he threw a glance over his shoulder, unable to shake the feeling that he was being watched.

He scanned the trees around him, the only movement coming from the wind rustling the leaves that had yet to fall, and the steady rush of the river. Unease settled into his stomach in a way that had his legs moving before he’d even decided to leave.

He trudged up past Violet’s house, glancing over to the front window and watching as the curtain was quickly tugged back into place.

He sighed to himself. He knew he was hurting Violet, but he didn’t know what else to do. He couldn’t tell her what was going on, if she were to look at him the way he looked at himself…

His brow furrowed, uncertain in his choice to keep his problems to himself.

He didn’t want what had tainted him to taint their friendship too, he could feel it clinging to his skin like a disease and he didn’t want it to spread. But on the other hand, he knew he was pushing her away whether he confided in her or not.

---

He sulked his way from Violet’s house all the way into town, his skin prickled from exposure to the sun. He was lucky he was only a half drow, or this experience would be even more miserable.

He didn’t know what his mother was, he assumed she was human, but he had no way of knowing. He only knew as much as he did because the insult of ‘half-breed’ was one of his father’s favourites to direct his way.

He loitered around town, looking through some of the stalls and looking at gifts he thought Violet might like, something to help him gain her forgiveness.

He noticed the looks some of the newer shop-keeps sent his way, they didn’t trust him, and he couldn’t blame them. A drow was a spectacle on the surface, but he had been coming here since he was a child. All the older shop-keeps knew him, they never gave him any trouble.

His eyes raked over the useless trinkets on display, leading him towards a stall covered in various sorts of jewellery. He turned a bracelet with amethyst stones over in his fingers, he felt useless when it came to picking out gifts. The feeling was only amplified by the thoughtful gift she had given him burning a hole in his pocket. How could he possibly match something like that? She’d taken time to make something he’d like, and he doubted she got it right on the first try, it must have been trial and error to make something so unique.

He placed the bracelet back where it was, and turned to an onyx gemstone that sparkled when it caught the light.

“Ah, you have a good eye there, Sir.” The merchant squinted at him with a toothy smile. Well, it would be toothy if he had many left.

“This one here might look like a normal gem, but it’ll burn a hole in your hand if anyone dares to tell you a lie!” He gestured for Cairus to pick it up and so he did, it was already slightly warm from the sun and he wondered if this was a part of the merchant’s trick.

“Now listen here boy, I’ll start with a few truths.” The merchant was looking at him intensely as he began to prattle. “The sky is blue! Cattle shit in the grass… and you got some knobby knees, boy!” He began to cackle and Cairus raised an eyebrow unimpressed.

“Not convinced? Well, wait till you hear the lies!” His expression suddenly dropped as he became more serious. “The sky is pink.”

Nothing. The stone felt the same as it always had in his hand.

“Are you trying to waste my time?” Cairus said as if he had anywhere else to be.

“Ah, well technically the sky can be pink, so I guess that wasn’t a very good lie.” He smiled sheepishly. “Let me try again.”

The merchant cleared his throat and stated confidently, “I would never lie to you.”

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Pain lanced through Cairus’ hand as the stone burned, forcing his hand open as it dropped to the ground.

“You did that yourself.” Cairus accused.

“Ah, Sir does not believe me.” The merchant shook his head sadly.

Cairus reached down and picked the stone back up, noting that it no longer burned to touch.

“Fine, tell me then. What is this stone worth?” Cairus held the stone loosely in his palm in case it began to heat up again.

The merchant looked at the stone then up to him nervously. “Oh, well Sir these stones here are from my homeland! Very rare.”

As soon as the last words left his mouth the stone seared Cairus’ palm once again, forcing him to drop it. A bead of sweat traveled down the merchant’s brow, and he swatted at it with the hem of his tunic.

“How much do you charge for these?” Cairus asked now, he knew he had not a penny on him but he already had a plan in mind.

“Ten gold coins, Sir!” The merchant grinned wide once again but he didn’t seem as confident as he did originally.

“Are they worth that much?” Cairus shot back, not giving him time to work his way around the question.

“In my humblest of opinions Sir, they are worth every penny!” His smile somehow widened, straining as he eyed the rock almost desperately. It burned again, but this time Cairus expected as much, and he dropped the stone dramatically. This time as he leaned down he swiped the stone and picked up another that was similar in size.

“You’re nothing but a fraud!” He cried as he threw his decoy stone into the wall past the merchant.

“Hey!” The merchant cried as he spun to where the stone had fallen into the gravel and dropped to search for it.

Cairus swiped the amethyst bracelet for good measure before making a quick exit. He ran away from the stalls, winding his way through the streets before slowing to a walk and making his way past the guards that stood at the exit of the town. The sun was low in the sky by this point in the evening and the chill in the air caused goosebumps to form on his arms.

“I am a liar.” He said to himself as he walked, holding the stone in his palm. Nothing. He frowned. Maybe it didn’t work when talking to yourself… that must be it.

“Violet will forgive me.”

Nothing.

“My father will leave me alone tonight.”

Nothing.

He realised he was trying to use the stone as some sort of fortune teller and huffed, stuffing it back into his pocket. Maybe it really was the merchant causing the stone to burn. It was a strange sales tactic though, he mused.

The sun had set by the time he moved up the dirt road towards his house, the chill seeping into his bones and causing him to shiver. The moon was high in the sky, nearly full. Stars twinkled at him and he paused, mesmerized. He thought of his mother out there somewhere, watching over him. Suddenly a streak of light darted across the sky, so quickly he wondered if he imagined it.

“Mom…” He whispered into the night air, his throat becoming tight as he wrapped his arms around himself. The sky didn’t respond, the stars and moon as still as they had been moments before.

He didn’t realise his steps had taken him to the gate of his father’s land, a short trail leading up to the front door. It loomed in shadow and Cairus half-expected it to sprout fangs and swallow him whole. He was rooted to the spot as he stared, shadows stretching through the windows and he wondered if his mind was playing tricks on him. He couldn’t bring himself to move any closer, and instead he walked past the house and continued on to Violet’s front gate.

He pushed through and made his way around the back like it was second nature to find her window. He tapped rhythmically to let her know it was him and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

He sat, leaning against the brick, beginning to doze off. The magic at his core woke him suddenly, twisting in a way that made him nauseous. He began to notice the wind had picked up to a howl around him. Shadows danced in the distance as the light of the moon provided just enough light for him to feel as if he was hallucinating.

The windowpane above him made a slight noise as it was lifted with caution.

“Are you still out here?” Violet snapped in a whisper. The magic at his core quietened then, as if interrupted.

He tilted his head up, barely able to make out her features as her dark hair hung in her face.

“Are you still mad at me?” He countered.

“Yes.” She snapped, “Now get in here before I change my mind.”

He didn’t waste any time, knowing that she wasn’t kidding. He slipped through, using the dresser she kept under the window to help him through. Once he was in, he straightened out his shirt and turned to face her. She stood in the center of her room, arms crossed.

“You better have either an apology or an explanation, otherwise you’re leaving.” She stated, eyes trained on him.

“I can do better than that.” He said, fishing through his pockets and bringing out the stone he’d stolen.

“A rock.” She deadpanned.

“A magic rock.” He held it out to her.

“Cairus,” She pinched the bridge of her nose, moving to sit on the edge of her bed. “You woke me up for this?”

“Okay, maybe that wasn’t my strongest start but just let me explain.” He moved to sit beside her and began to tell her about his trip into town after she’d left. The merchant he’d met, the stone he’d ‘bought’ that could detect lies.

“Great, you have a lie detecting rock. What does this have to do with me?” She looked at him, her eyes tired and he could see it on her face that being mad at him was putting a strain on her.

“You’re going to hold it, and you can ask me anything. Be careful though, it burns pretty hot.”

Her face lit up with cautious hope, before she came to the same conclusion he had at the market.

“You’ll have to tell me a lie first, so I know it works.” She watched him skeptically as he decided on a lie that would convince her.

“I hate you.” He stated confidently, watching her reaction. She looked hurt for a moment before she hissed as the stone burned her hand, dropping it onto her bed where it quickly cooled. Her gaze snapped back up to him in disbelief, as if she hadn’t expected it to work.

“Do another.” She prompted as she scooped the stone back up.

“Your hair looks stupid.”

Her eyes narrowed and she opened her mouth as if to retaliate, but the stone falling out of her hand as it burned stopped her.

“You need to tell a truth now, what if it just burns at the sound of your voice?”

He placed the stone back into her hand, cupping her hand in his as he said earnestly, “I can’t stand it when you’re mad at me.” They both watched the stone in their hands as it remained the same temperature. Her eyes finally met his, and whatever she saw caused her stony expression to crumble.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I believe in your magic stone,” She waggled her fingers as she said it, her inflection implying that she still thought his stone was, indeed, stupid.

“Ask me anything, I’ll answer. And you’ll know if I’m lying.” He persisted, nervous but trusting that whatever he told her, she wouldn’t turn him away.

She bit her lip, thinking for a moment.

“Was it your father that caused your bruises?”

He hesitated, but Violet watched him patiently, allowing him to take his time and he appreciated that more than she could possibly know.

“Yes.” He finally answered.

She swallowed, looking at the stone for a moment before returning her gaze to him.

“How often does he hurt you?”

“Most nights.” He replied, looking down at his lap, not wanting to see her pity.

“Why does he hurt you?” Her voice was unsteady as she tried to keep her emotions under control.

“I…” He paused, thinking for a moment. “I don’t really know. I think it's because I remind him of her, of my mother. I think he blames me for her death.”

“If she was anything like you…” She paused momentarily, “She must have been beautiful, if not slightly annoying.”

This startled a laugh out of him, and she returned his smile before huffing a laugh of her own.

“But really, Cairus, you know that’s not true right?”

“I told you I wouldn’t lie to you.” He answered, his brow furrowing as he looked away.

Her free hand griped his own, squeezing as she moved to catch his gaze.

“It's not true.” She implored. “You’re not responsible.”

“Maybe I was an evil infant…” He trailed off, unable to stop his natural response of making light of dark moments.

Violet rolled her eyes and dropped the stone as her hands came up to cup his face.

“You’re not evil, Cairus. You’re good. You’re so good.” Her voice turned into a whisper as she stroked his cheek with her thumb.

He closed his eyes for a moment, and they were damp when he opened them. He smiled at her sadly.

“I’m not so sure, Violet.” He murmured, his voice low.

He could feel it even now, the darkness within him. He remembered the intoxicating feeling of power that washed over him when he saw the vision of himself earlier that afternoon. It felt addictive.

As if she was reminded of the same moment, she asked her next question.

“What happened today, Cairus? When your eyes turned black?” Her hands found his shoulders, she didn’t reach for the stone. He saw this for the display of trust that it was as he glanced at it on the bed.

“My magic…” He began, “It was like it came alive. I could feel it all over, like it was consuming me.”

“I’ve never seen anything like that.” She trailed off as if lost in thought.

“Well, I couldn’t see anything.” He tried and failed to sound light-hearted once again, and Violet spared him a pitying glance.

“It was terrifying, Cairus,” She shook her head as if banishing the image before continuing, “Nothing else happened while you were in that… state?”

His eyes drifted to the stone discarded on the bed, the disembodied voice floating through his memories momentarily.

“No.” He answered.

----------------------------------------

Cairus awoke that morning, feeling more rested than he had in quite a while. He stretched, his entire body tensing and releasing before taking a moment to remember where he was.

He looked over and saw Violet sleeping deeply next to him, drool staining her pillow. He laughed quietly at the sight and watched as she curled into herself, pulling the blanket up to her chin.

As he watched her, he began to reflect on the night before. He’d told her everything… almost everything. He thought back to the voice he had heard yesterday.

I will visit you at the midnight hour.

He found himself frowning at the ceiling; no one had come anyways, so surely he didn’t need to mention it. He had obviously been hallucinating, which might be something he should worry about.

He remembered the feeling of his magic roiling in his core briefly, the howling wind, shadows dancing just out of his vision. He decided he would worry about it later, as right now his stomach was growling at him.

He rolled back towards Violet and lifted some of her long hair, using it to tickle her nose. Her hands reflexively came up to swat away the annoyance, her nose scrunching.

“Mnh.” She slurred, “Go away.”

“You’re starving me.” He pouted.

“Starve faster.” Her hands reached out while her eyes were still closed, pushing at his face.

He snickered, rolling out to sit on the edge of the bed. “I’m going to find Isabel, she would never treat me like this.”

“Mom doesn’t know you like I do. If she did, she’d understand.” Violet finally cracked an eye open. “Fish?”

“I thought your wild shape was an owl.” He looked at her over his shoulder.

“For breakfast, smart-ass.” She said, rolling her eyes.

“Lead the way.” He agreed, flashing a grin.

As they entered Violet’s kitchen, he could see her mother already at the cook-pot with something simmering away.

“Isabel!” Cairus greeted warmly and she turned to him, her curly hair tied back and a surprised smile forming on her face.

“Cairus! Violet didn’t tell me you were staying the night.” She gave her daughter a pointed look, and Cairus couldn’t help but laugh at Violet’s sheepish expression, knowing she would be in trouble later.

“I surprised her, I was having a bad night.” Cairus attempted damage control. Violet’s parents had some idea of Cairus’ home life, from what Violet had told them and what he couldn’t hide on his body.

Isabel’s eyes softened as she strode over to give him a warm embrace. He relished these hugs more than he would ever admit, but he was almost certain Isabel could tell anyways as she would usually greet him with one.

“You’re always welcome here Cairus, of course.” She squeezed his shoulder before moving back to her cooking. “I hope you guys are hungry, I’m making fish.”

Violet looked at him smugly and he rolled his eyes, she was clearly proud of her keen senses.

While they ate, Violet’s father returned from where he had been chopping wood outside. He was a stoic man, but still had that same warmth that Isabel had.

“Cairus, nice to see you.” Rowan smiled.

“Nice to see you too, Sir.” Cairus replied.

Rowan took a seat at the table and Cairus felt unease prickle his skin as Violet bickered light-heartedly with her father.

This was what family was, what it was meant to feel like. But he knew he was an outsider no matter how nice they were, how much they tolerated his constant presence, he didn’t truly belong.

His mind wandered back to the dark halls of his home, of his father passed out in his armchair. He tried to picture them eating together at the dinner table. The tension would be thick, anxiety crawling through his veins. He then tried to imagine Rowan as his father, but the thought made something uncomfortable twist in his stomach.

“Cairus?” Violet nudged him while her parents continued to chat with each other.

He shook his head, fixing his expression. She frowned, turning back to her meal. She fiddled with her spoon, looking deep in thought.

“Do you want to practice again today?” He tried to distract her from whatever was on her mind.

She smiled at him, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes, “Sure, Cairus.”

----------------------------------------

They practiced in their usual spot by the river, an overcast sky ensuring less light found its way through the trees.

Cairus continued his attempts to control his fire, muttering the spell to himself and feeling as the heat raced down his arms before a flame sputtered at his fingertips. He hoped that perhaps he could have a warm bath one day soon.

Violet practiced conjuring berries with healing properties, popping one in her mouth and screwing her face up at the sour taste.

There was a tense energy between them, Violet’s eyes continued to flick over to him every so often, as if waiting for the moment his eyes would turn black again. He resolutely ignored her looks and continued on with his practice.

He was making quite good progress; he had managed to hold the flame in place for a few seconds before it flickered out. Eventually it became tiring to produce flame after flame, and he collapsed back onto his elbows by the edge of the river, thinking it too cold to take a dip.

The sun was lower now, evening once again being pulled across the sky in shades of orange and pink.

“You can stay another night, mom won't mind.” Violet said as she sat cross-legged next to him and began picking absentmindedly at the grass.

He sighed, “I’m only making it worse for myself, the longer I stay away.”

“Then don’t go back, you can stay here forever.” A hint of desperation lay in her voice, now that she’d had her fears confirmed about what awaited him.

He sat up and turned to her, reaching for a small daisy and plucking it from the soil, he rolled the stem between his fingertips, making the petals spin.

“He wouldn’t allow it.” He murmured, his voice far away as he watched the flower.

Violet said nothing as she watched him, the severity of his situation sinking in and becoming more real now that his return was inevitable.

Cairus turned then and threw the daisy into the river, watching as it was towed under and dragged away in the current. He moved his hand into his pocket absentmindedly as the evening air began to sharpen with a chill, and it was there that he found the bracelet he had swiped yesterday.

He curled his fist around the bracelet and pulled it out in such a way that she wouldn’t be able to see what it was, before he reached for Violet’s wrist, pulling it towards him gently with one hand while he rolled the bracelet on with the other.

“For you.”

“Where did you get this from?” She asked, looking at the stones as they caught the evening light.

“If I said I paid a pretty penny for it, would you believe me?” He smirked.

Violet assessed him with narrowed eyes and a smile of her own. “Absolutely not.”

He chuckled. “Good, you’re smarter than you look.”

“Watch it.” She warned playfully before continuing, “Thank you, Cairus. It’s beautiful.”

He watched her admire it with a bittersweet feeling. He wished they could stay here in their own little bubble forever, just the two of them. Thoughts of his father’s anger and malice entered his mind and an involuntary shudder shook through him. He needed to be strong, no matter what happened tonight. He just had to make it through and then he could come back and see Violet again.

It would pass. It always passed.

Never-mind the weight that sunk his heart and mind further with every torment, he would just have to endure it. What other choice did he have?

“I should go.” He said, making no move to leave.

Violet said nothing as she crawled closer, kneeling next to him as she pulled him into an embrace. He froze for a moment, the stone he had been slowly building around his heart before he had to face his father crumbled slightly as he hugged her back.

He could face what this was doing to him, but he was hurting her too.

Her words echoed in his mind.

Do you know how much it hurts to care about you?

His eyes squeezed shut as he inhaled her scent, memorizing the feel of her, before letting go.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” She asked uncertainly as they both stood.

“Of course, Violet.”

He should be used to lying to her by now.

----------------------------------------

The moon hung high above as Cairus finally entered back through the tree line on the edge of his father’s property.

A pit formed in his stomach with every step he took as he approached the house. His window reflected his face back at him, the curtain drawn. This was not a good sign, he mused, his father must have been in his room since he was here last.

Just as he had suspected, when he tried to push the window open he was met with resistance.

Locked.

Okay, he thought, it's okay.

He moved around to the bathroom window only to find that locked too. He didn’t dare try his father’s window, and the last window was into the main living area, at which point he might as well just go through the front door.

His anxiety increased as he approached the front door. He could feel his magic coiling and unfurling in quick succession, lashing like vines, as if it were responding to his anxiousness.

His hand reached for the doorknob and as it made contact, the door swung open. His father sat in the living area in his usual armchair, the fireplace lit next to him, shadows flickering on the walls. His eyes were cold as ice as they stared him down, and Cairus felt as if he couldn’t move.

“Get inside.” He snapped, and Cairus felt his limbs move without his permission.

He walked forward, standing just a few paces away from his father and the door slammed shut behind him, making him jump.

He felt trapped, like a rabbit in a snare, frantic to escape but frozen in the eyes of a predator. His father stood then, and Cairus felt his limbs tremble with adrenaline.

“You think you can defy me, without consequence?” He slowly stepped forward.

“Father, I-” Before he could finish, a hand snapped up, clamping around his throat and squeezing.

“Do not make excuses to me, you ungrateful whelp.” His father spat before using his neck to shove him to the floor.

His breaths heaved as he lay on the floor, leaning on his elbows and watching his father.

Cairus couldn’t understand what he had done to make his father look at him like that, there was nothing in his eyes but hatred. His eyes glanced to the armchair and he noted the empty bottles of alcohol next to it.

His father’s eyes followed, and he huffed a breath before moving over to grab one, shattering the end of it on the fireplace shelf above him. Glass rained on him and he moved his arm to cover his eyes, when he looked back his father was looming over him with the neck of the bottle brandished like a weapon.

“This is all your fault, all of it.” His father said, and Cairus wasn’t sure if he was imagining the sadness he heard there. Cairus didn’t dare say anything, barely dared to breathe.

“Selene…” He looked at Cairus like it hurt him, before that rage came back over him.

“You killed her,” He growled, dropping to his knees as his hand found Cairus’ neck again and squeezed.

“I was only on the surface for her sake,” He seethed through gritted teeth, “and you took her from me.”

His father pushed him by his neck, and he felt the heat of the fireplace becoming unbearable as it neared his scalp.

Cairus began to panic in earnest now, thrashing against his father’s grip and reaching to the outer stone walls of the fireplace to try and stop himself from moving any further. One of his hands slipped and shot into the fireplace and he screamed as his flesh burned.

“Every time I look at you, I see what could have been. You shouldn’t exist.” His father hissed, pushing harder at Cairus’ neck. His vision was spotting with black as he struggled for air, and he felt himself losing strength.

His burned hand reached out along the wooden floor, looking for leverage but only finding shards of glass as they sliced his skin. His fingers brushed something solid: the bottle neck, he realised.

Without hesitation he gripped the bottle neck tight, fighting through the pain in his hand, and plunged the jagged edges into the side of his father’s neck.

It felt like time slowed to a crawl as his father’s grip loosened, Cairus took in a gasping breath, only for a metallic taste to land on his tongue. His father’s eyes stared widely at him as he began to choke on his own blood, the bottle neck still lodged in his flesh.

Cairus shoved at his father’s chest, and he thudded onto his back, his breath shuddering. Cairus kneeled over him, anger spreading into his mind so thick he couldn’t think clearly.

“Fuck you.” He spat at him; it was all he could think.

He grabbed the bottle neck and pulled, blood spurting out of his father’s neck and staining the floor. He lifted the makeshift weapon before plunging it back down into his father’s chest.

“Fuck you!” He cried, pulling it out and stabbing it back into his father’s chest with even more force, feeling the give of the tissue as it sliced by his hand.

Again.

And again.

He lost count, only stopping once his muscles were burning. He couldn’t see through his tears, sobs ripping out of his chest as he kneeled, exhausted.

He felt a hand caress his cheek.

“Mom?” He said without thinking.

“Cairus…” A familiar voice whispered to him with reverence.

That voice… His mind flashed back to the forest with Violet.

I will visit you at the midnight hour.

He slowly started to come back to himself, feeling as if he was swimming towards the surface of his mind. He wiped at his eyes and a figure came into focus, she had red skin that contrasted with the blonde hair falling down her shoulders in waves. Two bat-like wings sprouted from her back and a pair of horns curled back on her head.

A devil.

“You...” He breathed.

“Yes.” She smiled. “Apologies I didn’t come when I promised, we were interrupted by your little… friend.”

“So, I haven’t been hallucinating?” He wasn’t sure if he would prefer he had been.

She barked a short laugh. “No, my sweet.”

“Why are you here?” He asked.

“Stand.” She ordered.

He did as he was told, feeling like he was in a dream. He came up to her shoulder, and as he looked up into her eyes, a smile began to form on her face, her pointed teeth coming into view.

“Do you remember what I showed you, little one?” She asked.

He thought back to the visions he had in the woods: himself with intoxicating power, himself…killing his father.

“Yes.”

“My name is Odessa. I was your father’s patron. I gave him great power at a price, but as you can see,” Her eyes drifted to his father’s body, “He is no longer with us.”

Cairus frowned. “You wanted me to kill him anyways, didn’t you? That’s what you showed me in that vision.”

“Your father was a waste of breath, darling. I gave him great power and what did he do with it? Waste away for the drink, and you…” She trailed off, her eyes sharpening as she gazed at him.

“I’ve felt it within you, the power you hold. It is delectable.” She breathed. “You have no idea of your potential, and your father was only going to hold you back.”

“So you’re here for me?” He asked.

She reached for his face again and he was too exhausted to resist. She cradled his face in her hands, stroking his cheeks as she looked at him intently.

“My darling, I wish to help you harness your powers. I want to see you become all you can be.”

Before he could think, his eyes rolled back, his vision turning black again as she invaded his mind.

Images flashed behind his eyes, images of himself. Once again, he was older, he was talking to an army of men and they cheered at his words as if he was rallying them. The image changed to one of a man grovelling at his feet. Black magic smoked around him, and red sparks charged in his hands before he shot them at the man. The man convulsed and an older Cairus looked on, indifferent.

He was scared, he realised. But not because of what he found his older self doing, but because of how violently he craved it. The power. He wanted it, wanted to never feel like he was at the mercy of another again.

When his vision was returned to him, he found Odessa looking into his eyes with a fondness, as if she had known him all his life.

“I will protect you, my sweet. You will never have such atrocities befall you again.” She promised and he couldn’t help but feel comforted by her words.

“What do I have to do?” He asked.

A document fizzled into reality with a crackle of sparks, “All you need to do, is sign here.” She stated, handing him a feathered quill.

He looked at the document, then back to her as she smiled warmly at him, he then turned back to the document and signed his name.

His magic blazed through him in that moment, unfurling, expanding, becoming so much more than he ever knew it could be. It filled his every limb to the point where he felt like he was going to burst. It was too much. He doubled over and tried not to retch.

“Perfect,” She sounded excited. “We shall do such wonderful things together.”

She looked down at his father’s body with distaste, Cairus’ eyes followed and this time he did retch. His flesh was shredded, he was almost unrecognizable. Cairus didn’t realise he had done that much damage.

Odessa snapped her fingers and then he was gone, like he had never existed. She moved towards him, rubbing his shoulders, before taking his hand and healing his burned flesh, further evidence of tonight’s events being erased.

“You should rest, my sweet. I will visit you soon.” And then she was gone in an evaporation of smoke.

He stood motionless, his body felt like it had been trampled by a stampede, but that was nothing compared to the whirlwind in his mind.

A motion caught his attention in the corner of his eye, he looked towards the window and saw a large owl staring back at him, its dark brown eyes piercing, before it turned and flew away into the night.

His movements were sluggish as he made his way towards his room. He felt like he was moving on autopilot as he got into bed and pulled his covers up under his chin. He could still taste his father’s blood on his tongue, could still feel his hand around his neck. It hadn’t quite sunk in that his father was gone.

He curled up into a ball under his covers and stared at the wall, feeling numb, until he eventually fell asleep.