Tyrell was sitting rigidly in a wooden armchair at the corner of the room. He was staring down blankly at the silken carpet beneath the table, thinking about his walk down the secluded lane to reach this very hut he was presently sitting in. It was weird to enter an invisible hut and Jyran Kerenza had to hold his hand to direct him inside, as if he was some kind of a toddler needing guidance to walk.

No wonder Doctor wasn't able to locate this hut. Tyrell remembered his shocked face when he was pulled away out of the Gates. Jyran Kerenza had called himself his equal. Did being equal meant possessing the powder, just like Doctor did? He wondered what else this person could do, why was he actually called the Supreme Warlock.

However, this hut was invisible from outside and as soon as he was directed in, his blood had stirred at the sight of this spooky dim house. Two armchair and a single wooden table in the living room, with a large counter at the side separating the living room from the kitchen. There were thousands of glass bottles and containers with colored liquid filled in few of them, with thick, pungent white and black smoke oozing out. Couple of large pots and number of scrolls were trashed at other corner of the room. Most terrifying thing was the crystal orb resting on the table, where he was able to see himself in it. He waved his hand and the image in the crystal moved with him. Tyrell scoffed when it made all sense. So that was how Jyran was keeping tracks of his every move. 

He was startled on hearing a clanking sound of two copper glasses that slammed the table. He looked up to see Jyran sitting right across him, a feral smile spread over his face.

"Doctor isn't coming for you," he said, his beaded chain dangled as the sudden mist of air gusted inside the room through the only window of the hut, "if that is what you are thinking."

Tyrell didn't reply. It wasn't necessary. But he watched Jyran pouring the crimson colored drink in both the glasses filled with ice cubes.

"It's Uilani De Blanc. Brought it especially for you," Jyran said, "Heard you can't get enough of it."

"Were you following me and my friends to the Cowboy's bar?" Tyrell asked, remembering his last good time with Celina, her hand in his and the way they danced forgetting the world.

"Doctor told you that, didn't he?"

"He didn't had to. You just did."

Jyran smirked and then pushed one of the glasses towards him.

"Of course," he replied, "Me and Anmol, we both were following you. Only if I knew you were my son.... things would have been different now."

"Anmol?" said Tyrell, raising his eyebrows, "Hearing his name after a really long time. I thought he is dead."

"He isn't," said Jyran, "He played a major role in killing Theodore Hanslay. He was the one who suggested me to impel Ted to kill himself."

Tyrell was keen to oblige, savoring the hard aroma. He bend over to fetch his tumbler, disliking the idea to discuss about Hanslays anymore. He took a quick sip. That astringent taste and the burning sensation in his throat as the drink went down... finally he was feeling something and the feeling was so right.

"How do you know Ira Zutshi, anyway?" he asked, watching Jyran holding his own glass firmly between his fingers and rotating for the ice to melt.

"She was one of my students," said Jyran, licking his upper lip, "She learnt quite a few tricks from me. Erasing people's memories is one example. But a few years later she just stopped showing interest to come over."

"Why?" Tyrell asked, "Did you try to separate her mind and soul too?"

"Well, I wasn't interested in teaching anymore. I was getting...sort of distracted. Situation were changing drastically."

"So fault lies in you."

"No, fault lies in the situation."

"As in?" asked Tyrell, taking another sip.

Jyran tilted his head before he said, "Your mother, Victoria Strimer."

Tyrell glared at him from over the top of glass that was across his mouth and dropped it down slowly on hearing his mother's name. "So my mother was just a situation?"

"If you could have asked me the same question twenty years ago, no. But now on thinking how much she means to me, yes. She was just a situation."

Tyrell bend over, placing his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands. "I do want to know your story, about what forced me to become a Kissler instead of a Kerenza. But I guess it doesn't matter anymore. My mother was my past and we should let the past rest in peace."

He averted his eyes off Jyran, as he felt his heart skip a beat. Has he lost his feelings so much that he forgot his mother's love towards him too? Of course, he wanted to know more about her, he wanted to know when and why she came to Paramarashtra and met this man, only if his mind have allowed him to. But for once he was permitted him to think about his mother who was dead for almost ten years now. He remembered the sweet jasmine smell that lingered in the air whenever she was around him, a mischievous twinkle in her gaze that he inherited from her. He sighed heavily when his mind ordered him to push away the thoughts. There were too much sentiments involved in it that he thought he couldn't afford them. He was better this way, not having any sort of feelings for anyone, no compassion for anyone. He definitely made the right choice.

"Of course it doesn't matter," said Jyran and that made Tyrell look back at him, "Let the past be past and let's focus on present. You are my present. You are my blood."

Tyrell smiled taking the glass back in his hand. "If my own mother doesn't matter to me, that means nothing else in the world matters to me. I give a damn about whose blood is running inside me."

"Then what do you care about?" asked Jyran, sounding serious.

"I want everything you promised. You promised to let me lead a life as per my wish. A free life, without worrying about anyone. No bonding, no friends, no family. Just me, all alone."

Jyran sniggered. "Did you hear the saying -the eternal quest of a person is to shatter the loneliness?"

"May be I am not that person."

"That's your evil mind speaking, not you" said Jyran, instantly, "You need me. You need your father. Only I can control your life now. Only I have all the authority on every ounce of you."

"I did not simply come with you to have a normal father-son duos."

"Let me finish."

Jyran's voice turned aggressive. Tyrell held back at once, finishing his drink and placing it back on the table.

"Don't you worry, I am going to keep my promise. I hate who break promises and I hate myself for believing in your mother's sweet words," continued Jyran, hatred towards his lost love clearly be seen in his face, "But before to let you do what you want, you need to follow some rules."

Tyrell frowned. "What rules?"

"Number one," said Jyran, "You will accept me as your father and call me so. Only as a father and nothing else, not even by my name."

"Rubbish!"

"Number two," Jyran said ignoring Tyrell's opinion, "You will do exactly as I tell you to do. If I tell you to sit, you will sit. If I tell you to walk left and then right, you will walk exactly as per my directions. If I tell you to steal, you will steal. And mainly, if I tell you to kill someone, you will kill. Got it?"

Tyrell stared at him with a timid bewilderment. He wanted his insides to burn with hatred towards this person but only part of his body burning was still his throat.

Jyran then began to fill Tyrell's glass again saying "I don't live in Dakshinpur anymore to follow King Harsh's motto..."

"If I keep following your rules," interrupted Tyrell, "When will I be on my own?"

"I should prepare you first, for you to lead a lonely life with such a mind of yours. I simply can't let you go, especially after what you did with Ruchin Daniels. That was too unexpected of you."

"What if I don't care?" He asked, "What if I just run away?"

"Don't be selfish Tyrell," said Jyran looking pointedly at the orb, probably stating that he shall still watch him over, "You need your father all the way through and you know it very well."

Tyrell looked away in contemplation. All his life he has been taking orders from all the big shots, first his parents, then Doctor and now this person trying to be a parent. He wasn't sure if he wanted to string along with anyone else anymore. All he wanted was to live alone, being all powerful that he already was.

But may be Jyran was right. He still needed to learn quite a few things that even Doctor wouldn't tell him and this man who called himself as Doctor's equal might do the needful.

"Fine..."

"My rules are not over yet." Jyran interjected, raising his finger up.

Tyrell should be enraged by now, yet he was composed, thanks to his sleeping soul.

"What else could you possibly want?" he asked.

Jyran paused for a while, still holding onto that feral smile on his face and thinking to find the right words to say.

"Doctor was right," he said, "I do work for Shashi Thribhuvan."

"Why the hell do you work for him?"

"To live," he replied without hesitancy, "just like the others who work for him. Only to live but not to let live."

"So what now?" Tyrell asked, slightly grimacing, "If you think I'll work for him too, then you must be day dreaming."

"Why do you always decide everything beforehand? How do you even know that was what I was going to say? I am sure you ain't no clairvoyant."

Tyrell inhaled deeply. "Then what has Shashi got to do with the stupid rules you are forcing on me?"

"You are forgetting Tyrell. Besides my son, you are a Samagraha too. And Shashi hates each and every Samagraha. He is making everything possible in the world to kill the twelve, and that includes you. But I made a pact with him that he doesn't lay his hands on you, only if I help him set Zarina Khan free."

"What does he want in return?" Tyrell asked, "I suppose that is what a pact means."

The continuous air penetrating inside through the window was as in a walk-in freezer. It was moist and cold as hell. Tyrell wanted to shout and ask him to close the window already, but the next thing that Jyran was about to say eventually became the reason for his shivers.

"Your blood," he answered, raising his chin, "Your blood is what he needs."

Jyran looked at his son intently, a small smile playing on his lips. Perhaps he wanted to see a shock that was suppose to register in his son's face, which definitely wasn't going to happen. But of course, it took a second or two for Tyrell for the information to sink in.

"Doesn't he need the blood of twelve of us?" he asked, "What is so special about mine?"

Jyran burst out laughing. "I knew you were going to ask that. That is just for the ritual, a senseless plan suggested by Zarina, a plan to try and gain Samagraha power. I totally doubt if that is even going to work. Because a Samagraha is not a random witch and warlock to obtain power out of force."

"Then what is it?" asked Tyrell, "Tell me all at once, dammit!"

"Before I tell why he needs your blood in specific, you must know more about why Ruchin Daniels isn't dead."

Tyrell swallowed. He remembered Jyran filling him up with an information that a Samagraha cannot die easily. He remained impassive, but his mind was running over the fact he was aware of. They were third generation Samagraha, chosen by the Constellias only after the era of first two generation became extinct. How in the world did they die, if nothing can kill them?

"There is a reason why people of Paramarashtra are dependent on Samagraha and not completely on the Kings," said Jyran, "Because they know, how worse the circumstances may be, a Samagraha cannot just die and leave them for fate."

"There must be something in the world that is killing a Samagraha, isn't it?" Tyrell asked the question that was raging in his mind for the past minute, "There is something in the world that has become the reason for the  extinction of the first two generations."

"Yes, there is," Jyran said immediately, smiling proudly, "And it is not somewhere in the world. It is within one of the Samagraha."

"What do you mean?"

Jyran's smile faded slowly and something flashed beneath his suddenly emerged hardened expression, that Tyrell wasn't able to decipher. He placed his glass down on the table and looked deep into his son's eyes.

"It's you," he said in a lower but in an eager voice, "You, being an opal user, are the key to kill a Samagraha!"

-x-