Chapter Twenty-Nine

"Jasper, I want to tell you a story."

I looked up from where I was sitting on the couch, eating cereal. Milo was sitting on the sofa beside me, staring at the TV. He looked distant, sad. I wasn't sure what it was about because I had been so young. I set my cereal aside and scooted over to where he was sitting so I could listen to the story he had. I snuggled up against him, leaning my head on his shoulder and staring up at him as he blinked, then offered me a sad smile.

He reached up to brush the hair back from my face.

"Once upon a time," he began softly, "There were two lost souls. Separated by a war that wasn't even theirs to begin with. Reunited only by the power of Fate. Each time the souls returned to be together, they were once again separated, as if even Fate itself had difficulties keeping them together. It wasn't until one of the souls begged Fate to please let them be together."

"They loved each other lots," I murmured thoughtfully. Milo's eyes shimmered.

"You have no idea, Jasper. Without the other soul, the one was nothing. He needed his other half. He couldn't survive, no matter how many times he returned to the world of the living, he was sent back to Death alone. Over and over again until something happened to his soul."

"What happened?" I whispered. Milo pressed his lips together for a moment before continuing his story.

"It fractured. It broke into pieces. He comes back more and more confused every time. Some days, he no longer feels like himself. Some days he simply spends in longing for the other half of his soul."

"His true love?"

"Oh, it went far beyond that," Milo murmured, stroking my head as I frowned at him curiously, "What he had with the other soul went beyond love, Jasper. What they had was what people whispered about for centuries. Soulmates, Jasper. They were more than just lovers, more than husbands, more than friends... But even the most powerful of forces have a weakness, Jasper." I frowned as he stopped moving to stare straight ahead, like he was seeing something I couldn't.

"Hate is such a nasty thing," Milo said emptily, "It's so addictive. It's so fiery, so hot, it gets your adrenaline pumping. It drives rage. It poisons your bloodstream so quickly, so easily, that you don't even recognize yourself anymore. It can turn the most peaceful of creatures into the most violent, cruel, and nasty beings in existence. It can drive them to do... unspeakable things."

"This story is scary," I mumbled. Milo swallowed thickly at that.

"I know."

"Does it have a happy ending?"

"I don't know yet, Jasper. But I do know one thing, and that is that that soul cannot survive alone. He needs his other half."

"Did he ever find him?"

"He did," Milo said, making me blink and look up in excited surprise, but Milo's expression was still dark, "But it was too late. Every time, it's too late. Every time something happens to keep them apart and that soul is starting to wonder if maybe it'll just be easier to kill everyone else so they could be together... Kill every last being that walked the realms, just so they could be together again." I tensed, because the thought was scary as a child. The thought of something so beautiful, like love, becoming so dark and twisted because of some unreliable force like Fate.

"But that's not right," I said, making Milo blink and turn to look at me as I stared at him, "He can't hurt other people cuz he's sad. He just has to keep trying. If they're supposed to be together forever, if they're part of each other, they have to be together. It's just... really hard."

"Too hard sometimes," Milo whispered, "Especially when he's been doing it for so long... So many centuries." I hesitated at that. At the time, I hadn't made the connection.

I hadn't realized the story was about Milo.

And about me.

I hadn't realized that Milo was the desperate soul, wandering for his soulmate.

Over and over and over again.

I had no idea what deal Milo made with the Source to be reborn again and again. Whatever it was, it had fragmented him with each reincarnation. Whatever it took for him to find his soulmate, to find the other half that had been taken from him.

That memory faded into a dream.

Or maybe... another memory?

It was hard to tell at first.

The image of Milo and I on the sofa in our apartment at the compound faded away until I found myself looking at a battlefield that was soaked in blood. The abrupt change startled me and I choked at the abrupt stench of death in the air. The metallic scent of blood, the sweet stench of rot, the smell of smoke and ash, burning hair. It was all abruptly overwhelming and I gasped for breath, taking a step back as a wave of fog and smoke blasted me in the face.

As it cleared, the memory gave way to a battlefield littered with bodies and wings.

I froze, because I'd never seen anything so fucking horrendous in my whole life.

Blood had turned the dirt to mud that sloshed around my feet as I did a full turn of horror to take in everything that was happening around me.

The battle appeared to be at a close.

Bodies lay in pieces, pinned to the ground with spears that were decorated in colorful ribbons, ribbons that were soaked in blood and yet still flailed in the breeze that crept over the field. In the carnage, I heard a choking hysterical scream and swung around to locate the sound.

Sure enough, I could see someone draped over a corpse that was long dead. The body was paperwhite from blood loss, a pair of faded empty eyes gazed into nothingness, blood soaked over his black metal armor.

The person hunched over them abruptly threw their head back and released a bloodcurdling scream that was so sharp, so haunted, so pained, that it froze me in my tracks and sent goosebumps sailing over my skin.

It was Milo.

Or, some version of Milo.

This Milo was much taller than the one I was used to, but his hair was still blonde and at that time, long to his waist, coiled up save for loose strands that stuck to the blood, sweat, and tears on his face. His fangs elongated and he screamed again, his back cracked and abruptly a pair of massive black wings that were webbed and talon tipped erupted from within his armor, sending the metal blasting away and crunched up like discarded soda cans.

He launched to his feet abruptly and swung around, revealing wild and horrified eyes.

From the dark rolling fog and smoke, a trio of angels came forward and Milo panted as he looked at them helplessly. I recognized Jeremiel and Bethany, but the third angel was a mystery as he watched with a calm empty blue stare.

"Miloviel," Jeremiel greeted him and Milo's wild eyes landed on him suddenly, "Step away from the Beast. It's time to accept your fate."

"You fucking murderers," Milo managed, his voice hoarse and raw, "You-You fuckers— you traitors—"

"Traitors," Jeremiel murmured and Bethany narrowed her eyes, saying nothing, as if she found Milo's display unsightly, "You're one to talk considering you joined Apollyon's army."

"He's my brother," Milo shrieked, starting toward them and Bethany took a step back, but Jeremiel and the other angel stood their ground as Milo stumbled to a stop, as if he was just taking in the horror around him, "We didn't do anything— he's— my—" Milo choked on a hoarse sob that started to turn into a scream, only to choke off as he sank down to his knees again.

"And Lucifer was Michael's brother," Jeremiel said coldly, "You saw how that turned out. You made the wrong choice, Miloviel. Our Father, Our Lord and Savior, should have been your first choice. Not some poor cursed Beast with no purpose, but death and carnage. If you had begged for forgiveness, I am sure Father would have found it in His infinite Mercy to forgive you for your transgressions. Instead, you fell and spread your legs for the first monster to have you." Milo screamed in rage, shooting to his feet and lunging for him, but Jeremiel caught him by the throat and swung him at the bloodied ground. Milo went to get up and go after him, but Jeremiel kicked him back again.

Milo fell to the ground again, but this time he didn't get up. He just laid there, choking and sobbing as his eyes fell on the fallen soldier he'd wept over.

I couldn't focus on the corpse on the ground strangely enough. I couldn't make out details of his features, as if they were blurry and unclear. I could, however, see that the wound that killed him was a gaping hole in his abdomen, as if something had been carved out from inside him.

I froze as a strange sickening sensation started in my gut. I put my hand over my stomach instinctively as nausea started to swirl.

Carved out?

"Do you have any last words before we damn your soul to Gehenna with your pet?" Jeremiel asked as he approached to stand over Milo, who sobbed pitifully in the dirt. He was clawing at it, like he couldn't find the strength to get up, but desperately wanted to get to the body in the mud. He reached his hand out, only to choke on a snarl when a spear came out of nowhere and pinned his hand to the ground.

Jeremiel smiled down at him, gripping the spear that pierced him.

"If that's all, then please allow me to sentence you, Miloviel, last surviving antichrist, to death and eternal damnation. May the Source have mercy on you, Milo, because we will have none on your filthy soul," he paused as Milo panted with rage, glaring up at him, "Tell your worthless bitch I said hello... and congratulations on the baby. Too bad it wasn't baptized, but I suppose that just means it'll get to enjoy quality time with the other monsters in the pit." Milo screamed and lunged to his feet, ripping the spear right through his hand.

Jeremiel cursed, taking a step back and swung the spear around to catch Milo in the throat, but Milo spun out of the way and lunged for him. This time, another spear came out of nowhere and went right through Milo's chest cavity.

My scream was silent.

Milo stumbled, choking as blood splattered between his lips. He stumbled, trying to catch his balance with the spear going right through his chest, his ribs, and out the other side under his arm. He looked up to see Bethany releasing the end of the spear, taking a step back and glaring at him.

"You are unworthy of touching a true angel," she said icily as Milo crumpled slowly to his knees, trying to catch his breath, but the blood just kept pouring from between his lips. It took me a moment to realize the spear had got him right through his heart, pierced completely through.

He was dying.

I could see it in the way his eyelids fluttered, in the way his muscles all seemed to slowly loosen, unable to support him anymore. He slumped forward, his head turned so he could still stare at the corpse of his lover. Tears ran down through the blood and dirty on his face as he gasped, trying to suck air into his lungs, but the only thing that filled it was blood. Blood that poured down his lips and pooled under his breath.

"Finally," Jeremiel sighed, stretching his arms up over his head like he'd finished a tough workout and not just killing thousands of people, "That went better than expected."

"He's still breathing," Bethany muttered, nudging Milo's side with the toe of her boot.

"Is he talking?" The unnamed angel asked suddenly. Jeremiel and Bethany blinked and turned to look down at where Milo seemed to just be laying there. He was staring straight ahead, as if he were already dead, but there was still the slightest glimmer in his eyes. His lips were moving, blood bubbling past to the ground.

Curiously, Jeremiel crouched down, resting his arms over his knees as he cocked his head to investigate. He grabbed a handful of Milo's hair to yank his head up out of the mud.

"Sorry, I can't quite hear that, is that you begging for forgiveness? It's a bit late for that," he chuckled, then paused as Milo's eyes abruptly snapped and locked on him. Jeremiel frowned as Milo's lips began to move, faster, blood dribbling down his chin. Jeremiel scowled.

"He's speaking in tongues."

"I think they call it Henu," the unnamed angel said, making Jeremiel scowl at him, "The language of the Atisalum."

"What's he saying?" Jeremiel demanded. The unnamed angel came forward slowly and crouched down. His sharp blue eyes came into focus as he pinned Milo with a hard stare. Milo spoke faster.

"It's a curse," he stated. Jeremiel tensed.

"A curse?"

"With this final breath I take," the angel translated as Milo spoke, "I spit a curse upon your souls to take with you into eternity. For the carnage. For you will never find peace. You will never know the true love you've stolen from me. You will never know the joy of parenthood in its full glory. Your souls will be destined for misery and woe. I will be back, for my soul will know no rest until I am once again made whole by my hanusalm."

"Hanusalm?" Jeremiel asked with a scowl.

"It's their word for soulmate," the angel answered, then looked back at Milo as his mumbling came to nothing more than a bloody stutter, "Ah. I believe he is finished." Jeremiel rolled his eyes and dropped Milo back into the mud before rising to his feet with the other angel. Behind them, Bethany grimaced as she rubbed at the sudden goosebumps on her arms.

"Surely that was just a final insult?" She asked.

"Sounds like a curse to me," the other angel said. Jeremiel scoffed.

"Don't tell me the two of you are scared of a little demon curse. We're ancient Holy beings sent by the Father to cleanse this universe. Fear nothing. Fear no evil, so long as our Father holds his kingdom strong," he replied. He moved away, dusting his clothing off and pausing as he stood near the corpse of Milo's deceased lover. He smirked.

"Too bad the pagans are caught up with trying to control these things. It'd be much simpler to kill them all like the antichrists, but I suppose, they're all destined for misery without their handlers anyway," he said with a shrug, "Who knows? Perhaps all that toying with danger will wipe the pagans out. It'd be nice not having them taunt us any longer."

"Don't underestimate the pagans," the other angel said, making Jeremiel raise an eyebrow, "There's a reason so many of them survived the Great War. If any of them gets a hold of the Beast curse, and discovers the antichrists as a result, we could be entering another Great War."

"That's the thing with pagans," Jeremiel chuckled as he stepped on Milo's outstretched hand, squishing it into the mud and with it, I strangely zeroed in on the ring that was squeezed off Milo's finger. It slid off and bumped into Jeremiel's boot. He stooped down and picked it up to admire it before he flicked it into the air and caught it.

"They don't get organized. They've been having wars long before we came around. Perhaps we only need to sit by and watch as they destroy themselves. For all we know, they could unleash the curse of the Beasts to its full potential on themselves," he paused to chuckle, "Can you imagine pagans working together? The idea is almost laughable."

"One pagan god is nothing," the other angel offered, making Jeremiel frown and turn to look at him, "But many pagan gods may be difficult."

"You give them too much credit, Raguel. Have you ever seen them join forces at all?"

"The last time they did was the Great War," Raguel replied coolly. Jeremiel scoffed.

"They only won that war because Father was on their side."

"Nobody won that war, as I recall."

"The Atlan monster is no longer. The Demons have been dispersed. Even the Beast Demon is now at rest," Jeremiel chided, then paused at Raguel's intense stare that said otherwise, and Jeremiel sighed in irritation, "Alright, fine. From here on out, we need to remain vigilant. I doubt the pagan gods will ever harness the chaos of a Beast. It would require great sacrifice and communication, something the pagans are not well known for. If anything, just keep them at odds with one another."

"The last thing we need is them joining forces behind the antichrists," Raguel said grimly, "Miloviel's curse unsettles me."

"Because you're afraid you won't find your one true love," Jeremiel mocked, making Raguel glare at him, "Please. We're angels. Such things mean nothing to us. Our purpose is to serve and protect as our Father commands. Things like love, babies. They're meaningless and worthless in the face of our Greater Purpose." He said this with his back to Bethany, who was staring at his back with a look of great anxiety. She glanced at Raguel, who studied Jeremiel intently.

"And what should we report back to Father?" He asked. Jeremiel shrugged.

"Mission complete. The antichrists are dead. The Beast is dead. The infant monstrosity is dead. We may return to our sentinel duties. Ah, but, Bethany?" He asked. Bethany blinked and looked up.

"Yes, sir?"

"Do me a favor and wipe that stupid look off your face," Jeremiel said, making Bethany stiffen, "The last thing we need is a weeping female before our Father. It's disrespectful." He vanished on the spot. Bethany and Raguel watched him go. Bethany looked slowly over where the corpses of their enemies lay before she looked at Raguel.

"Do you think his curse will go through?" She asked. Raguel frowned, looking down at Milo's body that lay in a thick pool of blood now, his empty eyes left gazing at his fallen lover.

The sight was tragic.

Raguel knew that.

I could feel it, see it, sense it.

"I think something dangerous is coming, Bethany. I don't know what it is, my sight doesn't allow me that far, but I can say this," he muttered, turning to look at her as she frowned, "He's invoked one of the most powerful forces in the universe." Bethany cocked her head.

"I thought that was Love."

"You forget," Raguel said, walking over to pat her on the shoulder and she looked up to meet his sharp blue eyes, "Love fuels all kinds of power, but the deadliest of them all... is vengeance." Bethany's eyes widened slightly, but Raguel didn't expand on his response and vanished from the battlefield. Bethany turned to stare at the corpses on the ground, her hand moving instinctively to cross herself, only she stopped as she touched her crossed fingers to her lips, as if she were noticing something.

She approached Milo slowly, staring down at him.

"I'll be watching, Milo."

The vision faded and slowly memories began to flip through my mind. Memories of growing up with Milo played in my head, one after the other, overwhelmingly so, and I was confused because they were memories I didn't entirely recall. Memories of going Beast and Milo standing nearby, taking my hand or barking orders that I obeyed without thinking about it. Memories of Milo coaxing Darling out to play, and not just violently. Milo summoned Darling multiple times, for nothing more than to soothe and love him. Darling basked in it.

I basked in it.

And the memories came to a slow stop as I found myself reliving that horrible fucking day.

The day I left that apartment and came back with the intention to share goodies with Milo in hopes of making his day better. The strong smell of blood when I approached the door, twisting the handle, pushing it open.

The images flipped fast, backtracking until I found myself watching a confusing little clip of Milo standing in our apartment... facing Bethany.

"I was wondering when you would figure me out," Milo murmured to her as she glared, her fists trembling at her sides, "Yet here you stand, nothing more than a fucking coward once more. It's too late now. I've already made contact with Hades." Bethany's eyes widened in horror.

"You didn't— you fucking—"

"Ha," Milo barked a laugh, his dark eyes dancing with delight, "I knew his name would scare you. Anything that gives the world hope makes you fuckers absolutely tremble. I'm going to thoroughly enjoy watching him tear you cunts apart, piece by piece." Bethany panted with rage, marching forward and grabbing hold of Milo's throat, but he just smiled at her without flinching.

"You crazy son of a bitch— if you think for one goddamn second Hades is going to drop everything to help a fucking monster—"

"You know nothing about him, which is funny," Milo pointed out, making her stiffen, "He happens to be very good friends with someone I know. Someone who is very close to me." Bethany curled her lip.

"Nobody can get close to you disgusting creatures and your monster pets."

"No," Milo murmured, "That's true. We're a dying breed. We have to be selective with our friends, which is why I can only choose someone who's helped another Atisalum." Bethany scowled, confused for a moment, before her eyes widened.

"Apollyon," she whispered. Milo glared at her, but he looked so delighted by her panic. Bethany released his throat to take a couple staggering steps back.

"Hades knows Apollyon," she managed, as if the idea was pure horror. Milo, on the other hand, looked thrilled. Scaring Bethany was revving him up, and given what she'd done to him in his past life, it made sense.

"How do you think he survived your fucking purge," Milo said, taking a step toward her and this time, Bethany was the one stepping back in fear as Milo approached her slowly, threateningly, "Hades is the key here, Bethany, don't you see? He united Hades and Hell. He changed history by implementing the first anti-slavery laws known in the otherworlds. He changed history by creating artificials, combining two of the most powerful elements in existence. He will be the change this universe needs and he will be the change that will save Jasper and I."

"You may have talked Hera into gutting my Jasper," Milo continued, making Bethany tense, "But you're forgetting one important thing, Bethany." He smiled, brushing his fingers over the space above his heart, then slowly drew his hand down to rest over his belly. He looked up to meet Bethany's wide eyes, blood drained from her face in realization.

"This reincarnation comes with a perk," he whispered, lifting his eyes to meet Bethany's, "I will have my Jasper and I will have my Nami back, do you understand me? If I have to kill every. Last. Mother. Fucker. On. This. Planet. I will have what was stolen from me." Bethany gasped, lunging forward to attack. Milo cursed, grappling with her to throw her off. He tossed her at a nightstand and she stumbled, caught herself on it, her hand swiping across the table to grab one of the steak knives.

She swung around and the blade swept across Milo's throat. He choked on a gasp, taking a stumbling step back and teaching up to cover his throat. Blood bubbled through the injury and poured down his neck as he threw his hand out to catch himself.

Bethany froze, watching in horror as the steak knife fell to the ground near Milo, who was slumping to the floor, gasping for breath.

"Oh shit," she gasped, tears of panic rushing to her eyes. She dropped down by Milo, grabbing at his bloodied shirt, reaching for the injury on his throat like she was going to heal him, only to go still with her hands over him now. She stared as he choked, reaching for her, like he was going to grab her, but he missed as she slapped his hands away.

"No," she managed, "No, you can't... I can't let you die. If Hera finds out, if Hera..." Her voice trailed as Milo's hand fell off her wrist and hit the floor in the pool of blood that had quickly surrounded them. Bethany trembled, her hands soaked in blood as she gaped at Milo's body.

"Milo? Milo, wake up," she ordered, patting his chest. Milo's empty eyes stared at the ceiling, his body unmoving. Bethany gave a scream of horror and started hitting his chest.

"No! Nooo! Wake up, open your eyes, damn you! Get up!" She waited, panting hard in panic as Milo remained unmoving.

"Oh god, oh fuck, god," Bethany sobbed, jerking at Milo's shirt to receive no response, "Wake up, you son of a bitch! Don't you dare!" She hit his chest again.

Milo was dead.

Again.

And so was the life that was just beginning to bloom inside him.

"No, no, no," Bethany stammered, looking around and her eyes landed on the knife, which she quickly picked up out of a pool of blood. She looked at Milo's hand, then carefully tucked the knife into his palm, her breathing coming in frantic gasps, "No, I didn't do— didn't do anything, do you understand me? I didn't do anything, not before and not now. Are you listening to me, you worthless fallen?" She punched him in the chest, blood bubbling from the cut in his throat and she groaned, shooting to her feet. She looked around, realizing the room was disheveled from their scuffle.

She straightened things with the jerky panic of someone about to get caught doing something naughty.

She got everything situated, then stepped back as if to examine her work, her hands pressing against her stomach. She was quiet for a moment before running to the bathroom to vomit. Once she was finished, she weirdly cleaned up the bathroom, save for changing the trash. She strangely left that behind, as if she hadn't stopped to consider how off it was for two males to have a box of tampons in the bin.

She walked out.

And an hour later, I came in.

There were still missing pieces.

I didn't remember everything that happened after Milo's passing. It had been a blur of emotions, of trauma, that I had never experienced before. As if the loss of Milo was so intense that it had simply been too much for me to bear.

And yet, in the deep recesses of my mind, I vaguely remembered something about Hera's reaction when she found out. There was a calmness that I had passed off as her trying to comfort me, an understanding that was unfathomable. She had been there for me the entire time after Milo passed, Kali too.

Bethany had disappeared for a while, but as usual, returned one morning, coming out in her robe, hair disheveled, and face drawn. She didn't look particularly chipper that day. I had only been in the kitchen for water, moving like a ghost, barely noticing her.

Barely noticing that she seemed weirdly traumatized herself, staring at the table, her hands trembling around a mug filled with hot coffee. I didn't care, didn't care that she flinched when Hera came in and kissed her gently on the head, giving her chin a little stroke almost teasingly.

Instead of smiling like she used to, Bethany's eyes welled up with tears.

Hera smiled.

"Good morning, my sweet. I hope we learned a valuable lesson last night," she said. Her words didn't register for me. It was just another one of their gross flirty moments. I had been too consumed by my own grief to realize... Bethany had been punished for what she did to Milo, but Hera wasn't angry. Or at least, not at Bethany.

She had come over to kiss me on the cheek.

"Good morning, sweetheart. Did you sleep well?" She asked. I had broken into a round of sobs and Hera had taken me into her arms and encouraged me to just go back to sleep.

The moment was forgotten.

Until now.

I woke up from my visions abruptly, blinking rapidly because I was so confused about where I was, what was happening. It took me a moment to register that I was looking up at the ceiling of the Hadiferian palace in Wren's bedroom. My chest was rising and falling with sharp panicked inhales, my feet having kicked all the blankets up around my feet. I snapped my head to the side to see if Wren was in bed with me, but the space there was empty. I cursed and shot upright in bed, pausing to grimace at the pain in my left shoulder. I groaned, putting my hand over the root of my new arm into my shoulder. There was some soreness there, probably from playing fucking dodgeball with angels.

The bedroom door opened and I jerked my head up to see Wren coming in with the usual tray of breakfast.

"Wren!" I blurted, shooting out of bed. Wren looked startled, then gasped when I ran to him and grabbed him in my arms. He wrapped his arms around me in return, then grunted when I kissed him roughly on the lips, then held him to me again.

"Jasper? Hey, relax, I'm right here," Wren murmured, confused as he moved his hand up and down my back to soothe me and I just squeezed him tighter, which made him groan, "Mkay, yes, I missed you too, but you're gonna break my ribs." I finally loosened my hold, but stayed practically on top of him as he wheeled the cart over to the bed.

"Sit down," Wren ordered and I plopped on the bed, making him pause to shift a bit uncomfortably. I think having me obey the command without saying anything threw him off. It threw me a bit as well, but I said nothing as he put things together on the tray and I sat back to make room for it. He sat on the edge of the bed as I eyed the food with disinterest.

"Are you alright?" He asked. I stared at the tray. The neat little organization of bowls and plates, everything balanced and nutritious, the perfect way to start my day. I looked up at Wren, who was cocking his head at me.

"Wren... Did Milo tell you everything?" I asked. Wren blinked, sitting up straight. He stared at me for a moment, then cleared his throat and averted his eyes slowly, clearly trying to think of some kind of response. The fact that he had to think about how to answer that made me nervous.

"You know what Atisalum means," I stated. Wren stared at the bed for a moment, then nodded. I closed my eyes for a moment, then blinked them open to look at him.

"You've known for a while what it meant."

"Yes."

"You knew who I was, what I was, the moment we met."

"Not right away," Wren said immediately, frowning at me, "He didn't tell me everything at once, just bits and pieces. I wasn't entirely sure what was going on until I talked to my dad and Niko about it."

"Niko knows?" I asked. Wren gave me a drill stare.

"Yes, but I didn't tell him, if that's what you're insinuating."

"No," I blurted, then sighed and buried my face in my hands, "I don't know. I don't understand everything. It feels like I'm still half-asleep." Wren nodded slowly, averting his eyes.

"Milo also told me not to say anything until he said it was okay," he muttered, making me frown and look up, "He said if I told you everything at once, it could backfire. I had to wait. I'm sorry." I shook my head, reaching for his hand on the bed and he thankfully met me halfway and our fingers linked together.

"I'm not... mad, just really confused."

"I'm sorry. I wish I had more answers, but he won't tell me things if I ask directly."

"What if I asked," I asked suddenly, making Wren tense and he slipped his hand out of mine. His annoyance at the suggestion confused me, because surely that was a good idea? Milo always talked to me.

"I don't like it when he takes over," Wren muttered, making me blink and look at him curiously, "It just gives me a headache and it's annoying."

"Okay, well, isn't this situation a little more important than a headache?" I asked. I mean, I understood that it was probably more than a headache, but what if Milo had more answers?

Wren stared at the bed. He didn't answer. I sighed, drawing my hand back to push the food around on my plate.

I hadn't meant to upset him, and something told me he was maybe even a little jealous? But they were the same person, weren't they?

"Wren—"

"Darling, you can be really insensitive sometimes," Wren murmured. I looked up, startled by the change in Wren's tone. I stared at him as he stared down at the bed, his head tilted at an odd angle before he blinked and looked up to pin me with a hard stare.

One I recognized instantly.

"You know it makes Wren jealous when you don't pay attention to him," Milo said softly, reaching out and brushing his fingers by my cheek. I sucked in a shuddering breath, his fingers seconds from leaving my skin and I couldn't bear the thought, so I grabbed his hand in mine and held it to my cheek.

Milo gave me a helpless smile.

"Gods, it's hard to say no to you, especially when you get all puppy eyes," he whispered. I swallowed thickly, blinking through the wave of pain that hit me at that moment.

Yes, I had known Milo was there this whole time and he had directly communicated with Darling this whole time, but not me.

I didn't get to talk to him.

Tears rushed into my eyes and blurred my vision and I blinked rapidly, trying to clear my vision so I could absorb the Milo that looked back at me through Wren.

"Oh, baby, please," Milo managed, his voice choking. I opened my mouth to try and speak, to ask him the questions I had, but suddenly all I could do was sob.

Milo's breath caught as his own sob broke his words and I felt his arms go around me. I buried my face against the side of his neck, wrapping my arms around him, hanging on for dear life. I couldn't bring myself to loosen my hold, couldn't stop picturing his body laying on the floor like that, and knowing Bethany had been the one to do it, the one who walked on eggshells, the one I had thought would have some modicum of sanity left.

I sobbed.

"Milo, I'm so sorry," I whimpered and Milo squeezed me to him, cradling the back of my head to him, "I should've- I should've listened to you— Milo, oh gods, Milo, Milo, I'm so sorry, please forgive me— I'm sorry—"

Milo couldn't answer because he was sobbing so hard against me.

I lost track of how long we held each other. It was only when we needed more did we break apart, just to cast breakfast aside so Milo could climb into bed next to me, holding my head against his chest.

Our sobbing subsided into soft whimpering.

"Don't you apologize to me," Milo sniffles after a few moments, making me look up at him tearfully, "Don't you ever apologize for anything. You're-You're everything to me, Jasper— gods, I shouldn't have baited her, but I was so sure— I was so sure she had finally found someone who had a hold on her— I was stupid and reckless—"

"Milo, no—"

"Jasper, it was never my intention for you to get hurt," Milo whispered, stroking my cheek, trailing his fingers across my bottom lip, a tender touch that resulted in more tears falling down my face onto his hands, "Gods, if we had just. If we had just stayed quiet. Apollyon told me to stop. He told me it was only going to get worse— I just couldn't — can't fucking stand letting them get away with it, Jasper. They killed— they killed us, all of us, ours—" Milo choked on a sob, his hand sliding down my chest to rest on my stomach. I blinked rapidly, looking up at him.

"Nami?" I whispered. Milo sniffled helplessly.

"They never had a chance," he whimpered, and I surged up his body to take him into my arms again as he wept, "No matter how many times, one of us was killed, one or the other, and it was always when they were just starting to grow. It was always right after we found out."

My nausea swirled at that. Every time? I thought back to that first bloody battlefield, the corpse— my corpse, laying craved open like a fucking animal. I grew sicker as I remembered Mother's absolute insistence on having my reproductive organs removed, save for those that deemed me a male, in her narrow mind.

Stumbling into our bathroom at the apartment, finding those pregnancy tests in the garbage.

"Why?" I whispered, finally remembering why I was torturing myself in the first place, "Why is this happening, I don't understand, if anti— Atisalum can tame Beasts, surely they're good?" Milo sniffled, blinking away the redness in his eyes before he stared at me tiredly.

"The world sees Beasts as monsters. They are unbridled chaos and immorality. Beasts are carnivorous animals hell-bent on destruction and misery... except that wasn't the case with the Atisalum. We were treated poorly by our own parents; gods, angels, they're both shit for parents," Milo muttered, then paused as he got a faraway look on his face before turning to me, "We clicked. To our people, the Beasts were merely unfinished. They were chaos and where there was chaos, there must be peace. We completed each other. Each connection was a blessing."

The way he said blessing was innocent, but it seemed out of place. Almost like he was hinting.

"A blessing by the Source," I murmured. Milo touched my lips again, like he was memorizing the way they felt.

"Yhwhwa does not see Beasts as incomplete or helpless," Milo mumbled, pausing with his fingers on my cheek now and there was an odd glimmer in his dark eyes, something almost gold... unless it was a trick of the light, "He has seen enough trauma and believes himself all knowing and wise, when the truth of the matter is... he's fucking terrified. He's a coward, arrogant with his flock of sheep, and he didn't lift a finger — didn't even look at me when I begged for mercy, begged for a chance to see you again, even if just for a moment in our respective resting places."

"Anyone who controls a Beast is corrupt," Milo sneered, "He said that to me, me, as if anything I did was wrong. The only fucking reason I retaliated was because of you, of Nami— they dared to send me a threat, telling me to cease my control and surrender myself and my pet to the proper authorities in Heaven."

"I was sitting in our cabin," Milo's voice caught and he cupped my face in his hands, those dark eyes boring into mine as tears fled down his cheeks, "I was fucking knitting baby shoes when they sent their messenger to my door with the head of my brother's son. You were asleep in the other room with a hot iron under the pillows for swollen ankles. We had no weapons in the home, unless you count the knitting needle I used to skewer the messenger. Who the fuck saw us as deadly and dangerous?"

He choked on another round of sobs.

"Apollyon was devastated. I was scared. We needed to do something. We needed to stop this before it got worse and Apollyon wanted to hide," Milo gasped, as if the idea was ludicrous, but then he teared up, "and maybe that would've kept us alive for who knows how long but what kind of life would that be to hide and flee for the rest of our lives? However short it would've been? Plus I had never heard of Hades, nothing positive anyway."

"Apollyon trusted him," Milo murmured, "How could he trust any god after what they had done to us? I didn't understand it and I didn't listen and I just kept fighting, kept thinking sooner or later we could vanquish Yhwhwa once and for all and never have to worry about it again."

"Except they started their purge and our numbers started to dwindle so fast. Before I knew it, I was fighting alone on a battlefield and you were laying at my feet," his breath hitched before he continued softly, "I was scared. I was just so scared. Gods and angels alike abandoned us. I couldn't be sure Hades wasn't like them. Everything I'd seen and heard of him... he didn't even love his own sons enough to protect them from misery. I couldn't risk everything I had left for someone who wasn't even willing to look at his sons in public. So I thought if I could just rally enough troops, enough angry demons and fallen... maybe I could just end this myself. Save my people, my family, my everything."

"And I failed," Milo choked, "No matter how many times we met again, everything would fall apart. We were meant to be together, and yet it seems as if the very universe itself is trying to keep us separated and it hurts, gods, Jasper— every second we're apart is agony because I never know when the last time I'll see you, when is the last time I'll get to see your beautiful smile." He fingered my lips as I parted them as he sniffled, leaning down to kiss me gently.

"Or hear your sweet deep voice," he whispered, pulling back as I gasped softly, then gave him a moan that made him smile tearfully, "Jasper, no matter what happens, I need you to know that I love you and I will always love you. The universe may seem intent on keeping us apart, but it will never succeed, because at the end of day, Jasper, baby, my Darling— you have my soul. My heart. My eternity. Even when All Things End, we will be a constellation in the heavens, forever linked, forever together."

My heart was caught between absolute agony, and a strange calming peace as I choked on a sob.

"I love you, Milo. I love every part of you, every you that exists now and forever. I love you, Wren, my sweetest Wrenny."

Milo smiled faintly, closing his eyes and settling his head down against the pillow. I held him in my arms.

When I opened my eyes some time later, Wren was studying my tattoos, his finger gently tracing against my skin in a way that gave me goosebumps. He noticed immediately, then peered up at me.

"Are you okay?" He asked softly. I paused for a moment to consider that. I didn't know how to answer and that was dumb because I could just say fine, but somehow the lie seemed pointless.

"Sorta, kinda, not really," I admittedly, then grimaced and sniffed, rolling into my back and blindly grabbing for some napkins, "Ugh, my face hurts." Wren frowned, sitting up and reaching over me to get the box of tissues out of the nightstand drawer. I stared at him as he handed me a few tissues.

"Do I really cry so much you have to keep tissues on hand?" I asked dryly. Wren gave me a droll stare.

"Yes, but you're my crybaby, now shut up and blow," he said, holding tissues to my nose when all I did was wipe at my nose. I raised an eyebrow at him, then shrugged and blew.

"Were you aware of... everything?" I asked as he disposed of the used tissues and reached for what part of our breakfast didn't get knocked on the floor.

"Yeah," he answered softly, and when I didn't say anything more, he turned back to me, then away, only to do a double take when he realized I was flushed, "are you shy now? Everything we have said and done."

"Okay, having an emotional breakdown is different from letting you finger me during a family cookout," I deadpanned. Wren sputtered for a moment and when I grinned at him, he turned away.

"How does saying that not embarrass you?" He managed.

"Niko."

"You have got to get over it, Jasper, Niko snitches on everyone."

"Kay, but I'm his uncle Jasper, his favorite uncle, so that should count for something."

"He's spoiled for choice," Wren relented with an eyeroll, making me grin, "but you'll have to take it up with Kitten." I scowled.

"I'm sorry, Kitten?" I asked. Wren smirked.

"Ryk's Beast. Niko named him Kitten because the guy was all over Niko before," he explained. I blinked, not sure which of those things I had issues with first.

"He didn't... name him, name him, right?" I asked. Wren snorted.

"That's what you have a problem with?"

"Yes and no," I muttered and when Wren arched his brow, I scowled, "It's... Milo taught me that only certain people are allowed to name Beasts."

"Certain people?" Wren pressed.

"Our handlers," I replied, making Wren frown slowly, "It's kind of the first step to the relationship." Wren stared at me, like he didn't quite understand what I was hedging at. I tried to figure out the calmest way to explain to him that naming us was claiming us. It was... the word ownership made it sound like we were objects, but it wasn't that. I suppose it was more like claiming responsibility for us. It was how we formed our connection with our handler.

Of course, Hera had twisted it so that we felt desperate to strive for approval from our handlers, rewarded with a name.

A name gave us identity, it gave us purpose, it gave us foundation.

To have no name was to be abandoned.

An abandoned Beast was a deadly Beast.

Knowing Niko named Ryk's Beast made me uneasy. Wren had also mentioned that Ryk's Beast was all over Niko when they met. It sounded like Ryk's Beast smelled the Atisalum in Niko's blood and wanted to be tamed. Except somehow I doubted Niko wanted that from Ryk, and I very much doubted River would approve of it.

That just made Ryk's problem that much more complicated.

I sighed, raking my hands through my hair before looking at Wren, who frowned at me.

"Think of our names as our collars," I said at last, making Wren incline his head slowly in understanding. I stared at him and he stared back before his eyes widened slightly.

"Oh. Uh, but Niko's already..."

"I know," I said grimly, "But Ryk's Beast might not realize that. For now, don't use the name Niko gave him. It might trigger something." Wren nodded, then paused.

"What about Beasts with no name, but a partner?" He asked. I frowned.

"Seems weird not naming your Beast," I said. Wren gave me a deadpan stare.

"The King of Atlantis, as far as I know, never named his Beast," he stated and I blinked because I knew that, but I had completely forgotten. I had seen those two together; the King and his handler, and I had never once thought there was an unnamed Beast between them. The way Akin showered his family with love and affection, I was a little surprised he hadn't taken the initiative to name him.

"That's very strange," I said at last and Wren shrugged.

"They're a bit strange themselves."

"Because of the leather?" I asked. Wren rolled his eyes and elbowed me.

"Because of who they are as people, but I like to think we're all a bit strange sometimes."

"Kay."

"Anyway," Wren said, frowning, "So, that explains why the angels crashed the palace then, why Yhwhwa sent Jeremiel. He was the angel in charge of the antichrist project, or whatever they wanna call it."

"That's basically what it was," I said dryly, "Jeremiel was assigned to lead the hunt of Atisalum. Angels on his team were sent to scour the earth and beyond for any sign of antichrist behavior. The moment a connection between an angel and a god was made and Jeremiel's people heard of it, they were there to take the baby. Half the time the gods themselves were willing to get rid of them."

"Not always," Wren said, looking at me and I frowned.

"Milo's parents?" I asked. Wren shook his head.

"I don't see any memories of them at all. It's like they don't occupy any space in his head so they're unimportant."

"Accurate, considering everything that happened to them," I muttered and Wren nodded in agreement, "But they didn't seem to do well when our Beasts woke up, and I'm not just talking about mine either. I saw Seven, Kali, and Xiphrus get ruffled. Those angels went down fast."

"Jeremiel was successful in his war against the Atisalum before because he was dealing with a bunch of ancient self-righteous gods and killing infants," Wren said, making me frown at the edge to his voice and I glanced at him to see him glaring at the floor, like just the thought of those crimes enraged him, then he blinked and looked up to meet my eyes, "But he's got a much bigger problem on his hands now."

"Yhwhwa knows there are surviving Atisalum and Beasts, on the same team," I muttered, "It's only a matter of time before Yhwhwa launches a war against us. We already have Hera to deal with. The fact that he isn't gunning for her, the one who stirred up this shit in the first place, is beyond me. That was my whole purpose in letting D'Angelo go. So he'd let Yhwhwa know and he'd put a kink in Hera's plans."

"Oh, I doubt he left Hera alone," Wren murmured and I looked at him curiously, "Something tells me Hera's about to get a wake up call from Yhwhwa too. That should throw her off our trail long enough to buy us time to regroup and figure out what to do next. Of course, it all boils down to the fact that we need to kill Hera, but it sounds like Yhwhwa might be a problem at some point too."

"Gods, this is giving me a headache," I groaned, laying back slowly on the bed and Wren sighed, getting up and heading to dim the lights, "Why does it feel like the world is crumbling down around us?"

"Don't let them make you feel like Chicken Little," Wren said and when I stared at him blankly, he frowned, "Chicken Little. The story about the— you know what, never mind. Point is, we should have more time than we thought to figure this out. At least we're not alone anymore." He reached out to touch my hand and I took it in mine, drawing his fingers down so I could kiss the tip of them. He smiled and let me drag him back down into bed.

Once he was settled in against me again, he groaned and shoved a pillow at my face.

"Goddamn it, Jasper, no, we need to get out of bed."

"Do we, though? Who said?"

A knock at the door actually made me growl as I propped myself up over Wren, who smirked at me, amused.

"Yeah?" Wren called.

"Yeah, uh, is Jasper awake and decent?" It was Ryk's voice. Wren frowned and I quickly got off the bed, heading for the door with Wren following right behind me. On the other side of the door, Ryk stood looking absolutely exhausted. Dark circles under his eyes, a little red, and very grim.

My heart ached.

"What's going on?" I asked. Ryk's pretty cat green eyes gleamed in the lights.

"Blaine and Cerberus are on their way. Hades... We want you to be there with us when we talk to them, is that alright?" He asked. I swallowed thickly.

Fuck.

I felt Wren's hand in mine and I looked at him to see him looking at me, his expression brave, like he was telling me he was ready to go through hell and back with me, all over again. I clenched my teeth for a moment, giving his hand a squeeze before I turned to Ryk.

"Yeah. I'm ready."