In front of him stood a man he knew he cared for, knew he loved, and he would damn sure be devastated if anything happened to him, yet Soren’s pain…stirred nothing inside him.
It was selfish, he knew. But then, he’d been this selfish for fucking years. His own pain never let up enough to allow his brother a chance to mourn freely and loudly… Ender couldn’t see past his own hurt to even acknowledge or comfort the man. The sympathy he should have felt, the empathy, it wasn’t there anymore…
“I can’t help you. The friend, the little brother, you are looking for died with them all those years ago.” Ender laughed when Soren’s expression didn’t change. Standing up, approached the Harpy. “Come now, Toddles. Surely you knew all that’s left is a shell. You forced me to fucking keep going, to live, but you still failed. You got the body, but the soul died, regardless of whether I’m still kicking or not.”
“You only wish you were a shell. But deep down, under those fucking scales and the shields you are cowering behind, you—” Soren poked him in the chest. “—are fucking in there. Or is it someone else screaming out in pain as they call out to people that have been dead and burned to fucking ashes for centuries now?!”
Ender flinched back, the words feeling like strikes, before his anger flared up. Hissing loudly, he flashed his fangs as they dropped.
The sound grew louder when Soren started to poke him in the chest again, harder this time with each word he spoke. “You don’t fucking scare me, Ender.” The man laughed. “You have never fucking scared me! And that’s not going to change now. But I do know you are hiding something. Let’s just hope it doesn’t blow up in all our damn faces.” With that, the Harpy stormed away.
Ender winced as soon as the door closed again behind the man. Sighing heavily, he rubbed his face before flopping back down on the couch with a groan. “Hell, Soren, you are just as fucking trapped as I am.”
And the man would remain trapped for as long as he refused to give Ender up…the fool. Two fools, that’s what they were.
He sighed again. Tired indeed.
Ender smelled the smoke long before he ever saw a hint of the fire in the valley. He should have seen the smoke though. And if it was any other day, he possibly would have. But that day, the clouds were so thick, so gray, that beyond comprehension, it managed to hide it just long enough that, even amongst his growing panic as he rushed towards his home, his family, his life, his very reason to live, Ender had managed to hold on to hope, despite the sounds of dropping bombs. But as his eyes finally saw into the valley below, that hope died. His breath caught in his chest as he let out a soundless scream.
Ender jerkedawake on a wheezing gasp. Staring wide-eyed up at the ceiling, still struggling to breathe, he sat up, shakily clutching at his chest as his heart clenched painfully while it thudded away.
His bones ached with each tremor that made its way through his body, the fear from the memory tricking his mind into thinking he tasted smoke. Ender’s wheezing breaths filled the silence while he sat there, chilled to the bone. The trembling only worsened as he slowly regained control of his breathing.
“Can’t be…” Ender rasped hoarsely. Swallowing hard, he roughly rubbed his face, and groaned, “Oh, fuck,” when the taste in his mouth tauntingly remained, as if to call out his denial.
But it was too soon! It was too FUCKING soon for the nightmares to start… But—no!
He took a few deep breaths in and out. “Calm down,” he hissed.
It was too soon. Which meant this was just a wayward nightmare screwing with him. It happened. It wasn’t like he didn’t have them at other parts of the year. Yep, and if he just ignored the fact that this was how things always started, every single year, then things were a-o-fucking-k.
No, no…it was too soon. Just a fluke. Ender slipped from his bed, hurrying to shower as he continued to tremble.
Cranking it up to full heat, he groaned as he stepped under the spray. Yet, while his skin warmed, inside he still felt cold. But then, he supposed he hadn’t felt truly warm since Cooper died…
Ender shook his head—nope, not going there!There were other pressing matters anyway, at least more pressing than his long-dead husband. Like Cyrus and his foray into breaking one of his family’s more often than not arbitrary rules. A man they’d possibly be running into today as they attacked Riker…
Cyrus Grimm and Killian Neftlem, a handsome couple for sure, but a pain in his rear. When he’d first figured out whoRiker had kidnapped, he’d been unsure of who he was there to help… But the longer he thought about it, considering what he knew of Cyrus…
Which wasn’t much, to be honest, at least not personality-wise. However, if Ender assumed that the reason he was here was Killian, knowing the Siren after his many, sometimes entertaining, interactions with him hacking-wise, he knew the man was not the type to sit back and do nothing just because he was caged. While Killian could wait patiently, and wasn’t easily goaded, not to mention that he usually knew the exact right time to attack, he also had a bad habit of leaving himself open and vulnerable at the worst fucking moments.
It wouldn’t surprise Ender if that was exactly what was going to happen, and it predictably would end with his death...or at least it should have.
Ender chuckled. Well, he was there for a reason, wasn’t he? They had always planned to attack and then board, but there was no harm in him sneaking on and preemptively seeking out the Siren first, right?
He snorted when the urge that had got him there in the first place reared its ugly mug. “Well, that answers that. Fine, fine,” he sighed, before huffing to no one. “But only because I want to…and the Siren is pretty.”
Well, that and also because Killian getting murdered in front of Skya would scar the poor little Nymph. He’d prefer Severo and Seri’s child not have to suffer anymore scarring memories. Though he feared there was no way for her to get out of this without at least a few more…ugh…
His eyesstrained and sweat dripped down Cyrus’ body as he tried to see the faces—any face, for that matter—of the people set to attack before they arrived. But just as he had every time before, he saw movement and people fighting. He could identify the traffickers by their clothing actually being in detail, but when he tried to see the people fighting them, it got blurry. He was sure now that the clips he was seeing were something that was set to happen, that this wasn't the old timeline, but the new. It was just that the FUCKING threads wouldn’t tell him anything else of importance!
He couldn't even see the before. All Cyrus could see was this small stretch of moment during the fight, which had them coming upon others who were already there. He had read no emotions. In fact, Cyrus didn't read a damn thing that would clue him in to whether the people there would attack them or not.
“Still nothing?!” Severo huffed.
His gaze slowly slipped to the Shadow Dweller, who was sitting next to himgawking, before he snapped, “You know it’s a bit hard to concentrate with you sitting there, constantly asking!?”
Yeah, no, that was a lie. Regardless, he was getting jack shit.
