"That’s where we’re the same, but different. You see," the Tenebrae whispered harshly, "I have nothing to live for either, but where it makes you resigned, it makes me so very angry."
The Tenebrae played his part well, after all. No one knew he was a god living in a male’s skin. They thought him to be an errant, reckless creature, consumed by rage and grief, finding comfort in the gods and stealing one’s name…
He moved his vessel’s hand. Blood spurted over his face as the blade cut a jagged line across the King’s throat.
The King gurgled, hands growing slack before he fell to the ground with a hollow thump.
Dead.
He was dead.
And that meant the Tenebrae could now step into the role as the conqueror King of Luna.
He was just aware enough of the fear and disgust that rose inside his vessel’s mind.
Blood soaked his palms and skin. He dropped the blade to the floor, and it clattered.
Somewhere in the distance, a babe cried out for a mother and a father that would never hear her cry and never come for her. Ever again.
With red-stained hands, the Tenebrae gripped his hair and stayed kneeling over the dead male’s body.
A soft, pleasing laugh echoed throughout the room, and he looked up, in a daze, chasing after the sound.
"Enora? Is that you?"
But as soon as it started, the laughter ceased, and the room was still in the wake of death, clinging to the walls and turning the air heavy, as blood stained the white floor.
"Forget about the whore. She betrayed you." The vessel’s lips were moving as the Tenebrae forced him to speak. "Enora betrayed me. I killed her. We killed her. She’s dead. She will never hurt me again."
Somewhere in the words, in the rage, they blurred into one. Caliban’s pain became the Tenebrae’s, and perhaps, his fury was forced onto his vessel, in turn.
He clenched his bloodied fists, pressing them against the ground as he forced himself to stand.
"Never again."
The Tenebrae was ripped away from the memory by a knock on the door.
He pulled away from the cracks in the window, his shadowed green eyes reflected back at him.
"Come in," he said, donning the mask of Caliban with ease, forcing the darkness in his eyes to abate—never wholly, but just enough to look natural to the unsuspecting eye.
The doors to his study opened with a low whoosh, moonlight slanting across the ground as one of his Umbra entered, a Luna fae with short white hair and blue eyes with soft shadows. The Umbra slept inside the other male, awaiting the Tenebrae’s command. He didn’t even know it—most of the Umbra didn’t. Until it was too late.
The male bowed his head, his white robes fluttering around him. "My King, we have received word from our scouts. The castle of Serpentis is being rebuilt. The damage is great, but the overall structure remains."
The Tenebrae nodded. "And the Princess? Luella? Has she been found?"
"No, my King," the male said lowly, with deference, afraid to bring the news to him—they should be afraid. "She has disappeared entirely."
"My brother?"
"Gone, as well, my King."
The Tenebrae growled, low and vengeful. He hated not knowing. Gods were meant to be omnipresent, omniscient.Seeall,knowall—but he was no longer unbound and free. Trapped in flesh, he saw only what his spies saw and heard only what was reported to him. His Umbra could go far, but not everywhere. Not to her.
In a blink, he found himself before the male, one hand locked around his throat as he spat in his face. "Find them! Or you and everyone you love will die for your inadequacy."
"Y-yes, my King. I swear it to you, we will find the Princess and your brother, and they will tremble in the face of your might," the male stuttered.
