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“And what does a demon know of honor?” Castian scoffed.
“He knows of it and uses it to destroy you petty monkeys.”Ashiya chuckled, and his presence quieted.
The Middle of the wall split, and without another word Castian pulled it open giving another cursory look around himself as he entered the dark abyss. The sound of the door shutting was like stone hitting stone and felt final.
The many torches along the wall immediately lit up. Castian was greeted with the sight of many portraits that hung along the wall.
For a moment, Castian was once again that fifteen-year-old boy being guided by his father down a mysterious corridor.
“Castian, look upon your lineage and feel proud,” Lord Castro Napier said as he motioned toward the walls. “The men and women made the sacrifices and necessary decisions to lead us ever further to the future.”
Castian, then fifteen, felt intimidation but also fascination as they walked from portrait to portrait. His father telling him the names and history of each, not once stumbling in his story telling. Not once confusing their titles or names.
He followed his father, his pride growing at each story of a person who shared his blood. At the knowledge that he’d be the next to add to the foundation of the Napier dynasty.
Once they arrived at the end, his father stopped in front of a part of the wall that was blank. He looked at him, his light blue eyes holding love and something else that Castian hadn’t been mature enough to read then.
“When I have finished my duty, and pass it on to you, my face will appear here," he said solemnly. At that time, Castian hadn’t known then his father had meant when he died. He’d just been excited that his father was treating him seriously and not like a child, like he did his younger brother.
“I would preach to you of family, and loyalty, but that would be a disservice.”
He’d look at his father in confusion, “Why father, didn’t you say that family is everything?”
His father nodded, and turned away from the blank wall and made his way towards the end of the corridor, “But there are times, as you saw on the tapestry; that one must strike down a weed that has popped up amongst the roots.”
At that time, young Castian hadn’t understood his father’s words, nor had he taken them to heart.”
“Hello, father, I’ve returned.”
He stared at his father’s portrait. His father appeared older and with wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. Castro Napier was no longer the man he was in Castian’s memories, he looked withdrawn and sad. It broke Castian’s heart. But there was nothing to say, as he wasn’t looking at his father in the flesh but a likeness. A painting of oils and brush.
He couldn’t help but wonder if his father had fond thoughts of him in his last moments or had his father damned him a traitor as the light faded from his eyes. Overwhelmed with emotion, Castian slammed his fist into the wall near the portrait ignoring the blinding pain that rushed up his wrist.
The bitter reality that he’d truly lost his father and mother, while he rotted away in the bowels finally hit him. The last thing they’d seen of him was a chained madman on his knees. Disgraced before them and the council. His mind in the hold of a demon, that none had ever dared to try and bind with. Something he knew to never do, having had the stone laws of the Warlock families beaten into him from childhood.
And yet, he knelt as a criminal for defying them.
He didn’t know he was crying, till the sting of his warm tears slid into the cut his teeth made in his bottom lip. Closing his eyes, he damned Tillon.
How many times had he’d looked at the information from that smarmy detective only to doubt his eyes. Wickham Row had many things including men who could be paid to investigate things that Castian couldn’t. The first chance he’d gotten, he’d paid someone to investigate what happened to him.
The greatest event of shame for their family had all been created by Tillon. At the time he hadn’t been able to figure out who’d put that little bastard up to it. No matter how the sleuths dug, they could not find the origin of the evil bastard’s plot. After coming here, Castian felt like had a good hunch as to who’d pulled the strings.
Pushing away from the painting, Castian continued forward making his way down the hallway. His main focus was the room that could be found at the end of the long corridor.
As soon as he reached it, he felt both shock and confusion. There were tall, glass chambers filled with clear liquid there to greet him. Beings of all types were captured inside; some shifters were frozen mid transformation. Their bodies were so still, he wasn’t sure if they were alive or dead.
Entering the large chamber, Castian felt disgust at what Tillon had done to a place that was supposed to be used for rituals and to honor the ancestors. He walked deeper into the room taking in the changes, but as he drew his eyes up he realized the chamber ceiling had been lifted and steps circled up and along the walls there were thousands upon thousands of containers, each one holding a single person. Slowly, some things started to become clear to him.
“I do not like this.”
Ashhyl had never sounded scared before, and hearing it in his voice made even Castian uncomfortable. Before he could stop him, Ashiya took over his body. He felt his mind completely absorbed, as if he was being suffocated. Right before true panic could set in, the black disappeared with an abruptness that made him gasp. Sputtering, he sucked in air.
“What did you just do to me?” He demanded as he bent forward and inhaled.
Ashiya claws clinked against glass,“There is nothing your kind would not do.”
Finally, able to breathe normally, Castian straightened and looked at what the Demon was talking about and felt his blood freeze. Inside of this tank, there stood a woman, her body appeared to have been stitched together in a similar fashion reminiscent of Frankenstein. Where her right leg and left arm met her torso there were clearly iron pins to keep them attached. Castian eyes drifted over her trying to figure out what exactly it was he was looking at. He spoke to Ashiya, when he asked, “She’s—human?”
