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I DREAM OF A GIRL IN A GILDED CAGE, her limbs bound by magical chains, her thoughts filled with a semblance of freedom when she could never really escape.

Escape was like a mirage in a deserted land; so tempting, so desired by the heart to be true yet it was just a fiction of imagination created in desperacy.

That desperacy is what led the girl to drag herself through the stone floor of the cathedral's bedchamber, the clinking of the chains around her ankles creating a screeching noise with every step.

Her vision was as hazy as a newborn babe, nothing but blur of too bright colors of the too bright room she was jailed in.

She lifted her arm to shield her eyes, only for it to fall limply to her side half-way through the action. The world spun around her, her frail, thin body clashing against the steel door with a thud so loud it nearly shattered her bones.

Not bothering to try again to lift any part of her, she clasped her fist tightly around the doorknob. Her breathing was hollow, sweat gleaming above her brow.

She just had to get out get out get out.

It felt like putting her entire life into twisting the knob, but when she did turn and it clicked open, she wanted to laugh. Manically.

She felt like she was going insane. They hadn't locked her. They'd thought she'd never be able to even wake up from unconsciousness with how much they sedated her.

Fools. Fools. Fools.

She was going to escape. She was going to run faraway and never come back. Never look behind. Do hell with everything and everyone. She was done.

In what felt like centuries' span, a real smile pulled up on her lips as the wind carressed her skin and the corridor of the cathedral greeted her.

She was free. She was finally finally finally free.

Even thinking of it was a doomed omen because the next second, she spotted a woman standing a few feet away.

Her features were nothing but foggy, yet the girl knew from memory the woman was beautiful. As beautiful as the gold from the mines carved into fine jewellery; the colour of her luscious hair resembled the precious metal, matching the intricate embroidery of gold thread woven into her billowy white robes that dragged along the floor.

The girl couldn't see but she knew those burning gold eyes—cold and calculating and menacing—were fixed on her shackled self.

Her footsteps stumbled, her limbs felt weaker then they had before. The girl trembled, feeling her freedom drain down down down the sink.

Through the haze of fear and defeat, she spotted the small figure of a silently sniffling boy standing next to the towering form of the woman. He looked her age, younger even.

One glance at her though, at the chains and menacles bound on her wrists and ankles and the boy looked terrified.

The girl didn't know why she did it, perhaps she'd truly lost it, perhaps insanity had afterall embraced her.

But she couldn't stop the wide smile stretching across her whole face before the world went dark and she collapsed to the floor.

***

THE SUN IS A BLAZING ASSAULT the moment I jolt awake, eyes wide and breathing labored. A trail of sweat eases down my temples, my hair sodden wet as though I'd just taken a bath.

Every pore of my body felt akin to being dropped in a lit furnace, the heat of it so scorching, so burning, so itchy. Flashes of a thousand unpleasant things, of a thousand forgotten faces, linger in front of my sight, my heart thudding a wild beat.

I glance down at my palms flattened against the soft mattress of the bed, notice the way the duvet is burnt under my handprint, the way my fingertips glew with luminescent blue light.

Snatching my hands to my chest, on instinct, my gaze darts to the couch where Joshua is sprawled over, sleeping like the dead. His long lashes frames the soft features of his face making him look so vulnerable, so young, so. . .breakable.

The beast inside me roars as if wanting to break my only constant friend. Terror seizes my veins at the craving it wishes to quench.

Calm down calm down calm down.

But the paranoia, the whisper of darkness keeps creeping up my bones, keeps urging me to destroy destroy destroy. Everything and everyone. Until there's nothing left.

No no no. Get out get out get out.

The haunting whispers follow, paying no heed.

When it becomes unbearable, I rise off the bed in a flurry of movements, panic dominating every other emotion.

Grabbing a duvet from the closet, I dump it on Joshua's corpse-like sleeping form, snap my fingers to bubble him in a protection shield before exiting the room on silent steps.

For a minute too long, I lean back against the shut door, breathing and exhaling, breathing and exhaling.

Away. I need to get away.

Before I could comprehend where I was going, my footsteps lead me down the array of stairs to the floor below, coming to a halt at the floor-to-ceiling glass window overlooking the backyard.

A canopy of wild bushes and trees surrounds the entirety of the yard. The sun gleams down at the men and women dressed in cloaks and hoods, strapping weapons on their bodies while chattering amongst themselves. A group of shadow hunters preparing for their endeavors.

Esmeralda stands tall and fierce amidst them, her ebony hair bound in a tight ponytail and her ashen eyes lined with dark kohl. She's adorned in black leathers, her crimson painted lips giving rapid orders and information of numerous locations to the hunters who listen attentively.

In more ways then one, she resembles a warrior trained to lead a warfield.

"When Esme's mother died, the court lost our best shadow warrior. It was like a part of the pillar that kept the court intact, fell." A sorrowful sigh reaches my ears.

My head quips to the side, half expecting it to be Thanatos. Yet my eyes narrow in surprise at Emerick standing beside me, a hand flattened against the glass, gazing down at his sister.

The sunlight does wonders in illuminating the sharp features of his face; his golden skin gleaming and the dark charcoal of his hair revealing little strands of brown hidden between them. Joshua was stating the truth when he mentioned how the siblings were ethereal beauties.

"Esme's mother never made me feel the loss of my own mother. My mother passed away when I was very young due to an illness. Esme is pureblood with both pureblood parents. For me, I was a half-blood with a pureblood father and human mother. But Esme's mother, she made sure no one ever made me feel any less than the purebloods." He leaned his forehead against the glass, loosing a breath, "I have no idea why I'm telling you all this."

Esme and Emerick are half-siblings. Noted.

"Maybe. . ." He continues, "It's because I want you to know Esme is protective of Master Thanatos as his second. She feels like it's her duty to ensure his safety. Her loyalty is the fiercest of us all, just as her mother's. Somehow, Esme feels she's the only one who could cover her mother's loss. While it is true in forms, she carries the burden of living upto it. Any hindrance, and she'd blame herself for it. Esme might come around as overbearing and mean at times, but she means well. I apologize if any of her words have hurt you by far."

I just stare at him for a nary too long, before glancing back at the ground below, "It doesn't bother me, you need not apologize."

There's a peaceful stretch of silence with none of us speaking, both our gazes set on the shadow hunters departing one by one to carry their assigned tasks. Then. . .

"Does it ever feel suffocating to live under the same roof with the person who killed your parents?" I whisper into the quiet, my breath hitting the glass and creating a foggy blur.

Despite the easy-going tone I pose the question with, something in me listens with perked ears wanting to know whether it truly affected someone else as much as it did me.

Emerick pushes away from the glass, his eyes dart skywards, "I think. . .yes. At times. But I can't really blame master Thanatos. I don't know why he'd struck the debt, why he needed so much powers, but I know whatever was the cause, it did him more damage than he bargained for. And as sickening as it sounds. . .it gives me comfort."

It was strange how I understood exactly what he meant, to feel like that. It was that odd satisfaction of knowing that for all a person who'd wronged you had done, they'd paid twice as much.

"All of you do know about the debt." I muse, not a question but a statement.

"As my historian father would say, we share history—the pureblood shadow creatures and Thanatos." Emerick draws idle circles along the fog that my breath left on the glass, "Purebloods were hunted by Dyrk long before Thanatos killed most of them. They hid from the master manipulator, taking refuge in camps and always moving around. It was on one of these travels, master Thanatos, then a young boy barely the age of ten at the brink of death, stumbled across our camp. He was bleeding so much, he looked sick. He had no powers to even heal his own wounds."

Something about his words confused me. Why was Dyrk dispersing pureblood shadow creatures?

A distant memory of Thanatos' neck wound being patched up with haggard stitches lingered in my mind. Could it be. . .he was losing his powers?

But what need did have of the powers to strike the bargain to begin with? If he'd ended up at near deathbed on the camp, what had truly happened back to Thanatos when he was ten?

The more I knew, the more the questions grew. It was like being stuck in a never-ending circle.

"Master never told us of the debt." Emerick's fingers pause on their drawing, "At first, when he started killing the purebloods, we were furious. Every half-blood hated him but we—even all of us together—couldn't do anything because Thanatos was suddenly too much powerful. It was as though Dyrk himself had infiltrated our camp."

He sighs resuming his glass drawing, "But then master Thanatos asked us all to follow him to Shadowland, a kingdom just for us made out of his raw powers. Even if we didn't want to follow him, not after he'd killed most of our parents and relatives, we had nowhere else to go and we knew we were safe as long as we weren't purebloods. Because it was common knowledge he only took down the purebloods. I was worried for Esme but master gave his word he wouldn't hurt her if situation didn't call for it. In other words, as long as Dyrk didn't know about her and ask master to kill her. Besides, as time passed, we figured that it was Dyrk who made Thanatos kill the purebloods in return of the debt."

They knew, about the debt. About Thanatos being Dyrk's assassin. About the mess of this entire situation all of them were entangled in. One way or another.

"Why hunt your own kind?" I make two parallel dots on one of the circles he'd drawn, changing the topic.

Emerick stares at the dots, "We hunt and capture the syldras. They're breeds among us shadow creatures who can't die. They can be born in any bloodline, regardless of their breeds. It could even be that the first child is a syldra, the others are not or vice versa. Their birth body withers when they cross five years of their lives and then they live forever in different human skins. They're like demons possessing a living body, once they possess a human's body, the person would remember nothing of themselves."

A frown marks his features, "It's an invasion against will for many, except for some fools who summon a syldra to live in their body thinking it'd grant them powers. Dyrk is also a syldra shadow creature with psycho-kinetic powers, that's why he can't be killed. Syldras are menacing by birth, it's in their soul. That's why the shadow hunters capture them to protect the humans from involuntary invasion of their body."

That was more nobler than I'd given them credit for, I suppose.

But it proved how a lot of information my council members had gathered, weren't entirely true and were just a watered down version of it.

Shadow creatures can be killed, except for the syldras.

"What of Thanatos? Can he be killed?" I do not expect him to answer.

Yet there's a vague disappointment when he shakes his head with an apologetic smile, "That's against my loyalty to the court to reveal. Just as master Thanatos isn't allowed to reveal the entire extent of his debt with Dyrk." He draws a half 'U' below the dots I'd made earlier making the circle look like a smiley face.

I draw two crow 'V' above the smiley face's head giving it a girly look, "You're quite accepting about all of this."

He smiles at the feminine smiley, "You have to make do with whatever you have. And in truth, we're just puppets of the show and the master manipulator holds all our strings. Might as well be a functioning puppet than a discarded one."

"That's twisted." I fight back my own smile, feeling delusional for finding all of this humorous when it was anything but.

"Aren't we all?" Emerick's smile widens as he turns to glance at me, onyx eyes alit with a softness that made him look so youthfull, so. . .attractive.

I'm about to answer when my attention snaps back to the ground below beyond the glass, following Esme's surprised addressing of Thanatos.

"Master, is there an issue?" Esmeralda had finished sending off the hunters and now rushes behind the shadow king, her high heeled boots digging in the muddy patch of land as she tries to catch up to his long effortless strides.

Thanatos is adorned in wounds and cuts; his expression a stony fix, his hair an awry mess—the different shades of those luscious strands sticking to his temples. There's a hand mirror tightly clutched in his white knuckled fists, a mirror with its reflective surface as dark as obsidian black.

Even in dirt sodden clothes, bloodsoaked wounds, he pulls off the unearthly charm of his presence well, somehow intensified with his face set in a stoic scowl.

"Fools, all of you. Fools." He grumbles, but those double coloured eyes switch up, staring straight at me.

I raise an immaculate brow in return.

What did I do now?

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Lemme know your thoughts on the updated chapter🤧

Any idea what Thanatos is edgy about?

Okay this is certainly too early but. . .

Are you team Thanatos or Team Emerick?