Chapter Six

Xiphrus did not leave his quarters for three days.

His agony was a dark cloud within our home, no longer making it feel like a home. Desperate to escape the woe that was beginning to affect my own mood, I dressed in a pair of black pants and a loose fitting nearly transparent white top and wandered into the garden that currently lacked Geara's presence as she was off doing business with nearby creatures to determine the cause of Thia's attack.

I remained to watch over Xiphrus, to ensure he did nothing to cause harm to befall himself nor others.

Finding solace in the garden, I swept down the paths, listening to the soft churn of small stones beneath my feet, the gentle breeze tickling the tree leaves into a hoarse giggle. The sun was warm, but the air was a tad chilly, but not enough to require heavy coverings. The rays leaked out through occasional fluffy clouds rolling through the sky. The flowers perked up, their colorful petals waving in the wind, stems dancing.

Occasionally, an insect flew past, darting falling leaves and tossed grass, its presence only made by the soft hum of its wings as it hurried on with its day. The birds were oddly silent, only the soft croon of a dove fading into the wind, pausing for a moment, only to continue again.

It was a peaceful afternoon. A quiet one.

But one that did not much to hide the sorrow that wafted from our home in heavy fumes.

I turned to stare up at our home, a towering black gem that glinted in the sunlight, causing the wind currents to strongly wrap around it, throwing another gust into my face, blowing my hair back. I took a deep breath of it, then turned to look about the garden.

Even I could admit, I was a bit depressed with the recent display of events. In the three days since the argument unfolded, there was not much progress in the investigation over Thia, and she was beginning to cope with the fact that someone had made a mistake and attempted to brush the whole thing off, instead focusing her efforts in assisting other creatures in daily activities or by simply providing a listen to emotions stirred by knowing that they were not as immortal as they had hoped.

Such a discovery had spread quickly and aroused fear. Frequently our doorway was crowded with creatures weeping in fear, wondering if the Source had abandoned us, if we could truly be killed so quickly, so easily, without anyone knowing until it was too late.

The balance was corrupted. Fear and worry drove creatures to stay hidden within their homes, to withdraw from communication with the others. No longer did we have festivities in the garden, and the clearing that had remained opened was no longer occupied by frolicking and playful laughter. The grass had begun to grow taller from lack of attention, sprouts of yellow weeds erupting amongst the grass. It was beginning to blend into the meadow just beyond.

How troubling, I thought, brushing my fingertips across the flower petals. How lonely.

I rounded the corner to head to the large tree at the center, only to pull up short to spot Death standing beneath the tree, staring up at its purple leaves. The sun reflected from his black eyes much like our home, the wind ruffling through blonde hair that scattered across his face and fell back into place. He wore a long black coat made of thin flimsy material that clung to his young lean body, a pair of pants that held tight to his skin, matching his top. He appeared to be lost in thought until my feet crushed the stones of the path and he straightened, turning to face me.

"I meant not to disturb you," I said, and he relaxed his pose, "Have you come for Geara's counsel?" He shook his head and I inclined mine in understanding as I approached, coming to a halt beside him and pausing to tilt my head up at the leaves that fluttered overhead, a few pulling loose from their stems and scattering to the ground below.

I looked back down to see Death staring up into the leaves again. His expression was unreadable, but I understood that it was difficult to show emotions. Death simply held the same struggle that I myself did; showing them and showing them correctly. What a curse it was to be unable to express what everyone else appeared to find easy.

"He's in pain." Death's voice startled me. I knew he had one, of course, but it was so rare to hear. A deep baritone, smooth with strong "ah" sounds, sharp Is. It was unlike some of the others, but our voices came in all varieties. Yet I found Death's the most prominent, the most soothing given its casual and free style.

I realized after he spoke he referred to Xiphrus, and it came as no surprise that he felt Xiphrus's pain. After all, Xiphrus was his father. While I was sure the others of Xiphrus's children felt his pain, Death had always been particularly attuned to Xiphrus's emotions, despite his lack of physical expression for them.

"Yes," I said after a moment. Death lowered his eyes to me, the black orbs searching my face as if he'd find all the answers there. Satisfied he would receive none, he averted them once again to the trees, and his eyes became hooded with exhaustion.

"Something big is coming," he murmured, to which I responded with simply a blank stare, and Death looked to me again, this time not to seek answers, but to give them, "Something catastrophic. I can feel the Source, Joxeia. It weeps. I don't understand." I sighed quietly, moving to the base of the tree, amongst the green grass splattered with purple leaves. I took a seat against the trunk and Death slowly drifted over to take a seat beside me.

"I should concur that something is indeed approaching steadfast, sweet Death," I responded, and his black eyes widened for a split second before flickering to meet mine as I gazed into the tree, watching glimpses of sunlight pass through shaking leaves and thick clouds, "The air is potent with the poison of corruption and the Source fears for us. Our souls are at risk and the balance is beginning to tilt in favor of Evil." Death stared at me for a moment longer, eyes searching, trying to understand before slowly turning away to stare across the garden toward our home.

"Xiphrus," he said after a moment, "He is... He is in pain. My assumption is that it has something to do with this Evil that is fast approaching. With Thia's attack. The frequent storms. The fear."

"Yes."

"It makes the air rancid," Death said after a moment, leaning back against the trunk and drawing his knees to his chest, putting his arms around them, brow furrowing now, "It is too sweet, too sour, too evil. It is a lure that many feel, many seek to find the origin from. I should not say it is Xiphrus, but--"

"No," I told him sternly, making him blink and turn his head to look at me, "It is not Xiphrus who causes this, mine little one. Do not mistake your creator as one who is evil. For he knows not what he does, therefore, it is not evil, but misguided good."

"Misguided good?" Death asked. I nodded.

"Good that has been led astray by the sweetness of evil. It can be good once again, should it make the attempt to seek its truth. It is something often said by Geara, our sister, and our Wisdom. And I trust no one better to speak truth and justice as Geara. Heed her words, little one, that evil is sweet and seeks to tempt goodness, to corrupt it." Death studied me for a moment, then turned his eyes away.

"I fear for Xiphrus."

"Mine own self included."

"Joxeia?"

"Yes?"

"If Thia can die, can Xiphrus also die?" Death murmured. I blinked, looking at him.

"Ask you not for yourself?" I asked. Death shook his head.

"I care not. I ask for Xiphrus. It is he who holds my concern. Should Xiphrus be gone, I will no longer have a guide and no longer have hope," he responded. I swallowed hard his disclosure. It was a weakness he should not trust with others, yet he trusted with me fully and I accepted his trust graciously, nodding my head and turning to stare into the leaves.

"No," I said after a moment, making Death blink and look up, "Xiphrus cannot die. For should he, the Source would erupt and all would end. Therefore, the Source would never make it such a possibility." Death's shoulders slumped in relief as he looked down at the grass.

"That is my greatest fear," he said, making me frown at him as he brushed his fingers through the grass, "Having to hold the soul of those I hold dearest. I would not be able to do it, Joxeia. It would kill me." I leaned over, brushing my knuckles past Death's cheek, watching him blink and look up at me. I took his cheek into my palm, caressing his soft young skin and watching his eyes flutter for a moment, before his throat worked in a silent gulp.

"I should do my best to ensure that should never happen, little one. Your duty in life is hard enough as it is, and it should not be made harder by having to hold your loved ones in your arms. I will protect Xiphrus, Death. I will not allow harm to befall him. I swear to you this on mine own soul and vessel." Death's eyes glimmered. Tears were there, turning the black of his irises oily before he blinked, chasing them away and rising to his feet, turning to bow to me.

"I thank you greatly for your counsel this afternoon, Joxeia. It warms my soul to know that Xiphrus has a brother as yourself, and to know that I have a blood relative such as yourself. I bid you good day, for I have duties to attend, and I wish you best of luck in your endeavors henceforth."

"Of course," I said, offering him a smile, "And I you, my precious Death. Should we meet again on more... lax terms." Death inclined his head and closed his eyes, vanishing in a column of black smoke that was left to spiral and dance into the air, throwing a cloud of leaves into the air that scattered to the wind and to the grass below. I caught a leaf twirling in the air, catching the faintest hints of smoke and leather and warmth from Death's presence.

Smiling, I spun the leaf's stem between my fingers before blowing it away. I watched it glide away across the grass before dancing onto the footpath. I took a deep breath, then froze at the odd smell in the air. I frowned, confused by it.

It wasn't the sweetness of the garden, the moist grass, the warm sunlight.

It was out of place. It smelled...

The sound of something scraping lightly on the bark made my eyes widen and I swung around, ducking just in time for a large curved blade to narrowly miss my head, embedding in the wood. I gasped aloud, quickly rolling out across the grass and shooting to my feet to see a black cloaked figure moving from behind the tree, gripping the long handle of the scythe blade, giving it a tug and tearing it out of the bark, leaving behind a gaping scar on the tree's bark, causing the branches overhead to tremble and release more purple leaves fluttering about in the wind around us.

The figure was almost impossible to recognize with its heavy black cloak and black clothing beneath, tall buckled boots leaving massive imprints in the grass, practically singing it wherever it stood. Its hood was hoisted up over its head, a black mask brought down over its face with only two shadowed holes where the eyes were to go, and a straight line opening for the mouth. It was so cold, so unfeeling. It sent a chill through the air that crept straight into my bones and I swallowed.

"Who are you?" I demanded. The creature gave a gruff, low laugh, as if my question amused it. He drew the scythe back and lunged at me again. I leapt back, gasping and jerking my head up to stare at the creature as it drew back for another swing.

"Enough!" It ignored my words and slashed again, this time the thin sharp edge of the blade slicing through the front of my top, cutting a straight hole in it... and my torso. I blinked rapidly in confusion, looking down as a hairline of blood emerged from my white skin, staining it and the shirt I wore.

I looked up again, just in time for the creature to bring the butt of the scythe into my face and I slammed back into the ground, gasping and reaching up to clutch my nose, the horrid stench of blood filling my senses, burning my nostrils as I felt it pour down my face. I drew my hand back to stare at the blood that soaked my fingers and dripped back down onto my face.

Get up!

The voice was unseen. It was not the creature's, did not match the gruff sound of its laughter as it approached like a stalking cat, twirling its scythe in preparation for a final blow.

Get up! Now!

It took me a full moment to recognize the buzzing urgency of the Source in my ears, the hum of power flooding my veins as if a flood gate had been opened and all my magic was being released to my vessel in order to protect myself. It created a rush of adrenaline that allowed me to quickly roll out of the way as the scythe came down and sank into the grass, causing strands of green to fly up and dirt to scatter.

I shot to my feet, breathing hard and looking at the creature, still trying to cope with the fact that it was attacking me for no reason whatsoever. What had I possibly done to deserve this?

Fight!

But who was I fighting? How was I to fight it? What if I killed it? I did not want to kill. I did not want to be the monster I accused Atlan of being. And certainly this creature before me was not Atlan, for Atlan was much taller than this creature, and much more muscular. This creature was clearly leaner, tall, but not quite as tall as Atlan. Everything of the creature was clothed in black, even their hands hidden in tight black leather gloves.

And it was coming for me again as it tore its scythe through the ground, heaving it up to rest on its shoulder. My eyes dropped to the ragged gash in the ground, shredded grass and upheaved dirt, a true eyesore amongst the rest of the garden and my heart raced with the odd concern that someone was destroying Geara's safe haven.

I looked up as the creature whistled and drew the scythe back in preparation for another attack. I hissed through clenched teeth and dodged back, sliding off to the side, causing the scythe to miss me just barely and slash across the tree's trunk, knocking more purple leaves down upon us. I threw my hand out as a test, summoned the same magic I'd used for the light shows, and watched the pale blue smoke shoot towards it.

It swung its arm and dispersed the magic with another low laugh and went to throw the scythe at me again, so I ducked behind the tree trunk, sucking in a deep breath and cursing internally.

Damn it to hell!

How was I to protect myself? I remembered Geara's cloaking spell, certainly, but how could that possibly assist me here? Geara's cloaking spell was reconnaissance in purpose, not defensive or offensive, which was clearly something I needed right here, right now.

Another slam against the tree and anger rushed through me.

He was attacking Geara's sanctuary. This was her place of peace. This was our garden where once upon a time, we'd held many a festivity. Here, creatures were to feel safe and protected and comforted. How dare he, and I was still unsure to the creature's gender or lack thereof. It mattered not, as this creature was committing a grievous sin.

Fight!

I closed my eyes, allowed the Source's screaming to sink into my veins, heating my blood to a point where my skin felt hot to the touch, the hairs on my arms stood on end, the power rocketing through me like an electrical current much like that of a lightning bolt.

Fight!

I took a deep breath and drew my hands together, allowing the power to charge and build into an orb between my hands. I could feel something forming in the palms of my hands from the energy that bled through me. I could hear it crackling in my ears, matching the sound of my heartbeat and the Source's ringing urge to fight, to defend, to protect, to preserve the natural order.

A second later, I felt something heavy in both my hands and opened my eyes, staring down at the swords in my grasp. Completely black from handle to the tip of the sharp blade, they were long, yet somehow light and felt as if they had become extensions of my arms. It was only when the sunlight bled through the leaves above and hit the blades that I realized they were not black, but such a deep shade of red, they appeared midnight in color.

Another smash against the tree and I tightened my grasp on them, narrowing my eyes and taking another deep breath, allowing the rush of adrenaline to burst through me. I wasn't entirely sure if I would know how to use this immediately, but somehow, I felt sure I would do well.

Sending a small prayer to the Source for its assistance, I pushed off the tree trunk and spun around, moving out from behind the tree. The creature had been prepared to throw its scythe yet again, only to pause. It cocked its head before releasing a strange cackle and it lifted its scythe in both hands, holding it toward me before it snapped the thing in half.

Splinters went flying from the wood of the staff end before they came flying back, and a blade began to form so the single scythe had turned into a set to match my own. The creature's attempt to intimidate me did nothing, strangely, as I had found a numb ground to hold and protect myself. To show I was not frightened, I gave the swords a twirl, catching them in my palms.

The creature lunged first, crossing the scythe blades before itself before slashing them out as it drew near. I ducked low and swung one blade up to cut straight up the creature's torso, listening to it screech like a wounded animal. I slashed the other blade at its legs, but it managed to stumble away from the attack before slashing at me again.

I ducked, rolled forward, popped back up to my feet and spun with both blades with the subconscious intention to behead the monster, but it reared back and slashed at me. The blade caught my arm and I cursed in agony, stepping back as blood poured from the gash in my arm, and the tight grasp on my sword weakened to the point where I had to release my second blade and it fell to the grass.

As quickly as the wound had been made, however, the gash hissed and steamed, causing pain to shoot up my arm and into my shoulder. I clenched my teeth tight as the skin seared together and sealed shut, revealing nothing, but the blood aftermath. It was only then I realized the cut to my torso was gone and my nose no longer throbbed.

I snatched the sword back up and lunged for the creature, who appeared to have watched the healing process with fascination before dodging my next few attacks. Cut, slash, duck, dodge. It had turned into an odd sort of dance, repetitive though it was, it felt oddly comfortable to my bones and my muscles. It was as if though my body hungered for the battle, and with the Source's backing hum in my soul, I allowed myself to feel strangely elated.

The adrenaline, the thrill of danger, it sent my heart into overdrive as I slashed and parried, spun and ducked, kicked and landed a solid blow to the creature's skull, sending it flying back into the grass. It growled and rolled over, still grasping its scythes, but appearing weakened by the blow. I drew my foot up and planted it hard into the creature's ribs, feeling the fragile bones give way and the flesh dip with the strength.

The creature howled and collapsed to the grass. Feeling satisfied without the assistance of the swords anymore, I held my arms out to the sides, feeling the swords dissolve in my palms to nothing but dust that scattered in the wind. I drew my hands down, hauling the creature up and throwing it clear across the grass and slamming hard into the tree trunk, causing it to shudder and creak.

I grabbed the creature once more by the front of its cloak, heaving it from the ground and throwing it up against the tree with such force, its skull cracked against the rough bark, yet it continued to growl and struggle against me. I threw my arm up into its throat, baring my fangs as it coughed and choked into its mask.

I reached up and tore the mask from the creature's face, watching the silk ties come loose and flutter as I drew the mask back and threw it across the grass.

Abruptly, the adrenaline, the sickening thrill of the violence and fight, was gone. It had been sucked back into my spirit and left me cold and confused as I stared at a face I knew well. A face sculpted in perfection, pert lips curled into a snarl, baring fangs. Eyes the color of honeysuckle flowers, thick blonde hair slipping free of the cloak's hood to drape down over broad shoulders.

I had been correct in it being male.

But a male I knew so well... Or so I thought.

"Prixius?" I managed, losing the strength in my arm and dropping it from his throat, taking a step back as the male faerie collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath, blinking rapidly through tears before glaring up at me for a long moment before a venomous smirk split his face.

"Surprise, Joxeia. I suppose it comes at quite a surprise to see your own come for your blood, does it not?" He demanded breathlessly, voice hoarse from the attack. I swallowed several times, struggling to wrap my mind around it.

My own child had attacked me.

I'd created Prixius as the mate to the faerie queen. He'd been a creation I was most proud of. He was confident and intelligent, powerful. He'd been created after the first sunrise I'd watched over the lake, his hair the color of the sun's first rays, eyes the color of its peachy red glow. I'd made him as beautiful and stunning as the sunrise, the birth of a new day.

"Why?" I managed, voice sounding distant. Prixius struggled to recover, sucking in a deep, trembling breath.

"Why not," he spit out, eyes flashing angrily, "You preach of our freedom to live our lives as we wish it, and yet dictate not to stray from the orders of the Source. There is no freedom in that. There is no freedom in being shackled to a destiny none of us want." My eyes widened at that, stunned by his sacrilegious rant and his harsh stare, his ignorance even more so.

"Who told you such things were true?" I demanded. Prixius curled his lip.

"See there, you think me stupid, do you not? You think I myself was not intelligent enough to come to such a decision? You think I would continue to play this silly destiny game that the Source plays to amuse itself?"

"What you speak of is blas--"

"Blasphemy," Prixius shouted over me, making me go still as he rose to his feet, using the tree for support, "Oh, yes, there you go with your accusations thrown in the face of any of us who dare speak differently! Those of us who wish to live freely and find out own destinies are blasphemers, are we not, great Creator? Or would that be the Source? Or are you simply one in the same?" I could not find the words to respond. His verbal attack left me more stunned than his physical and his words cut me to the quick. It felt as if I had built up a home and he was happily tearing away the roof, the walls, the flooring. It was all gone as I stood there, feeling strangely stripped, naked.

"Have you no retort now, Joxeia," Prixius challenged, reaching up to push his blonde hair from his face before wiping the blood that poured from his nostrils, oozed from between his lips where I'd smashed a few teeth loose, "You are frightened that I have unveiled the truth. Ah yes, that is it. You are frightened of your staunch order being interrupted. You fear the chaos that birthed you, therefore, you bend over before it. You think feeding the ego of an invisible force will protect you, but you are wrong, sweet creator of mine, so very wrong."

"Shut up!" I barked abruptly. Prixius stared at me for a moment, appearing stunned by my order, then a smile spread across his face.

"I have touched the truth once more, haven't I? You wish to not be alone in your fear, so you corral the rest of us into bowing before its power--"

"Enough!"

"No," Prixius bellowed back and I took a step away from him, which caused him to advance two more until he was directly in my space, breath blasting angry hot in my face as he spoke furiously, "You will listen to someone other than the voice in your head you claim to be the almighty Source! You will heed my words and you will realize that what you have led us all to believe is wrong! You will realize that we have no need to force ourselves into unhappy space in order to seek euphoria! To seek enlightenment!"

"Stop!"

"No! You will hear the truth and you will recognize that--"

"Enough!" This time it was Xiphrus's voice and we both snapped our heads to see him standing in the grass, not far from the gash in the earth. His icy blue eyes flashed wrathfully and his fangs were bared. Prixius froze at the look and instantly took a step away from Xiphrus, one that led him a step behind me.

"How dare you speak to your creator in such a manner," Xiphrus said, his voice harsh as he approached us and Prixius's eyes remained wide as saucers of shock and fear, "You dare question his loyalties? His beliefs? His hope? Without him, without his love and his devotion, you would not exist! You would be nothing! Yet you dare stand before him, dare to taunt him, and accuse him of no knowledge? When it was said knowledge that drew you into this existence?" Prixius flinched and shrank back in shame, lowering his eyes to the ground.

"Be gone," Xiphrus barked at him, throwing his hand out to further emphasize his point, "Be gone from my sister Geara's sanctuary and take with you your blasphemy and your hatred!" Prixius inclined his head and quickly vanished in nary more than a soft dull pop. I stared at the space where he vanished, still finding it difficult to wrap my head around this, and I lifted my eyes to look at Xiphrus, who approached.

"Mine brother," he murmured, reaching out to take my shoulders, "Are you well? Did he harm you? Speak to me." I had to swallow again before speaking, voice shaking.

"He hates me." Xiphrus's eyes widened at that.

"No," he breathed, then he shook his head and reached up one hand to take my chin and grip it firmly, "No, I do not believe it. Look at me and listen well, mine brother. Times are confusing now. Fear is evil's greatest weapon. Let it not strike you down with it. Prixius is merely frightened and confused and unsure who to take his anger out on. He will see in time the truth of your preachings and those of our sister." I studied his face, the way his blue eyes twinkled once again with their usual light, his beautifully carved face of perfection, brows drawn down into a frown, and his long black hair draped over his shoulders, swept across his face and tucked back behind his ear.

I took a deep breath, but it caught. I tried again and once again, I found myself trying to find air to pull into my lungs and it took me a full moment to realize tears were blurring my vision and pouring down my face and I loathed myself for once again weeping, but I could not help the tears that bled through my lashes and down my face.

Xiphrus pursed his lips tight and drew me into his arms, holding me tight against his tall, hard body and I found myself wrapping my arms around him in turn, wanting desperately to seek the comfort my beloved brother once enjoyed to give... and now he'd returned.

There was no sign of the Xiphrus who had spoken false of the Source, who had argued with Geara, who had mocked me, who bowed before Atlan. He was gone and my brother was back to me, to us, once more.