Forsaken Fates

by S J Doran

  The boy took to the subject change with unusual cheer. “Sure. I’m a warlock and I’m beautiful. Sarratum-sa says so.”

  He threw back his head with a laugh. “Did she also explain ego?”

  He nodded and swung their joined hands. “Warlocks have ego because we’re damn good at what we do.”

  “Sounds like something Amara would say.” He was beginning to like this boy.

  Then it hit him that this boy was no more than an apparition. As in, he was dead, no longer existing in any corporeal sense.

  “You’re a demon right?” The boy looked up at him, and how could he not smile back? “I know how to trap demons and make them do what I want.”

  “Oho,” he chuckled, “that so? Well, I know how to trick little warlocks into thinking I’ll do what they want so I can bind their souls.”

  “Is that how you got the Sarratum?” There was honest curiosity in his eyes, so Cass didn’t bother taking it as an insult.

  He swallowed hard. “Your sarratum and I met when we were young. How old are you—were you?”

  The boy shrugged.

  “Well, we were a bit older than you, I think.” He held up his hand above the boy’s head for reference. “She was my only friend.”

  “I had a friend.” The boy nodded. “Do you think she’s sad that I had to go?”

  They were silent together for a moment, swinging their hands. “I think she’d be sadder if she heard you didn’t reach Saṃsāra. Why are you lingering here? Did you have no one to light your way?”

  “I had to wait until it was time,” he said with a nod, his voice somber with purpose.

  “We have to go this way.” The boy tugged on his hand.

  “Do you even know where we’re going here, kid?” Shadows upon darkness, as far as the eye could see. Perhaps the boy saw things differently, being of this realm.

  “Can’t you see? She told me you are made of the same as her and you’d know the way if you wanted.”

  “Sure,” he scoffed, looking around, still seeing nothing but shades of black. “She who?”

  “Princess Avrogale.” The boy tugged his hand and pointed to a spot off in the distance, where there was another flickering light, this one lighting up a familiar figure. Mara.

  “Hey kid, can you run?” With a giggle that made Cass smile in turn, the boy let go of his hand and zipped ahead, transformed back into a ball of light, dancing ahead and showing him the way.

  He settled for a light jog, not trusting his feet over the uneven terrain he couldn’t see. His eyes stayed focused on the figure that was growing closer, despite that she seemed to be walking away from him. His new buddy stayed just far enough ahead to keep the path somewhat illuminated, darting back and forth with clear impatience.

  The silhouette of Mara crouched to the ground and he sped up. So close now.

  He ran in, yanked her to her feet and into his arms.

  She shoved him hard and stumbled back, dropping to her knees and covering her face, tremors shaking her frail frame.

  “Mara? I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He crouched in front of her and she lowered her arms, her eyes vivid against the dusty contrast of her hood.

  Mara’s eyes. Not Mara.

  He scrambled back, right into a body. Levistus. His advisor was looking close to death, waxen and pale.

  “Cassius.” Not-Mara finally spoke. “Y-you look like your father.”

  He swallowed hard and nodded, distracted by giggling from his new little buddy.

  He stood in front of Mara, dancing from foot to foot, reaching out for the small figure hiding behind Mara’s bare legs.

  Cass got to his feet, leaving Levistus looking less than healthy, ignoring the lady who shared Amara’s eyes and walked over to her. The next moment he had her against him, wrapping her in his cloak. “What happened to your clothes?”

  “Drying, I went fishing for demon in the bog.” She let out a sniffle right as he completely wrapped her up in his arms.

  “Mara. Amata,” he whispered, rocking her back and forth. “I lost you — and… are you crying?”

  “No…” she sounded out of breath, her gaze fixed at something over his shoulder. Her eyes suspiciously watery when he tilted her face up to his, her lips parted on a smile. “You met Mal.” She nodded towards the two children who were holding hands and jumping around excitedly. “Cass?”

  His eyes were stuck on the little girl, his mind trying to reject the possibility that his aching heart had already accepted.

  “How?” He squeezed Mara a touch too tight, her soft grunt shaking him out of his shock. “Why?”

  Dropping In

  There was very little that could have made this excursion worse. Coming face to face with the child that could have been his was an unexpected depth. He’d given zero thought to her soul even having made it out of the Hells.

  “Mal was the boy… I felt it when you lost him.” He tore his eyes away from the specters and looked down at Mara. “It hurt you.”

  “I don’t understand,” Mara whispered. “I made offerings so he could move on.”

  “They’re fucking with us. Why else would they throw what we’ve lost in our faces like this?”

  “Perhaps,” the lady who looked so much like Mara approached demurely, speaking hesitantly, “you are being offered closure. Not all have the opportunity for such.”

  He met Amara’s eyes with a question in his own.

  ‘Benzosia,' Mara mouthed.

  He tore his eyes away from the devastation in Mara’s to look at the former queen of the Hells. The Lady Benzosia had been Consort to his father for millennia. Until he’d killed her. Rumors and speculation. No one knew for sure, except maybe the lady herself. Would it be tactless to ask? Since when was he tactful?

  He turned on Benzosia and she flinched back from him, the smallest of movements, and one he recognized well. Did he look that much like his father? Perhaps his tumultuous emotions were showing as anger… but he’d never intentionally hurt a female.

  “I don’t believe it’s anything so benevolent as closure.” He reached behind and picked up Mara’s hand, pulling her flush to his back. “How is it both of their spirits managed to make it here?”

  Between his own madness and Mara dying that day, he hadn’t had the peace of mind to worry about the soul of his would-be daughter. Leira and Glasya had seen to ending her existence before it started, and he’d been negligent in seeing that she’d moved on. But someone hadn’t.

  “Why wouldn’t you look at this as a blessing instead of trying to see an ulterior motive?” Benzosia tilted her head, a few golden curls spilling from her hood.

  “Why?” He scoffed. “Our kind don’t get blessings of any sort.”

  “Cass,” Mara whispered, tugging on his hand.

  He turned to look at her and instead his eyes went back to the impish spirits that were no longer playing but watching them intently. The little girl, his little girl, was crouched low to the ground hiding behind the boy who stood braced, guarding her protectively.

  “She’s afraid of me?” he whispered, heartbroken. “Mara?” Her hand tightened on his.

  “Not you.” Mara looked up at him, the sadness in her eyes calling to the sorrow in his soul. “I… just tried to call her over.”

  He let go of Mara’s hand and walked over to the two, stopping when Mal crossed his arms over his chest and gave him a vaguely familiar mutinous glare. He dropped to his knees, closer to her level and looked at her.

  Her hair hung in messy loose curls, a dark shade of caramel with a single stubborn curl right in the middle of her forehead. Just like his, only lighter. She peeked around Mal at him, her large brown eyes sparkled mischievously, lit up with hints of gold, the thick lashes tangling together in the corners.

  He held out his hand, coaxing, praying.

  “She’s shy.” Mal glared, the glow from his eyes fading until they looked a more natural yet still otherworldly shade. “And scared. I won’t let anything hurt y
ou,” he spoke to her over his shoulder, then turned to glare back at Cass.

  “I wouldn’t hurt her,” Cass said, holding up his hands in supplication. “Why is she afraid?” What did she even have to be afraid of? She was already dead.

  Mal turned his back to Cass and picked up the girl's hand. “Come on, you promised to be brave.”

  He turned back to Cass, his expression making him look far older than the child he’d been trapped as. “Her mother hurt her, of course she is scared of them. I told her it was cause it wasn’t actually her momma and Sarratum would never do anything like that.”

  Dark gods, it hurt. Near as bad as losing Mara… knowing that he hadn’t been strong enough to protect his unborn child. He hung his head, fighting to breathe. A tiny hand pressed into his, firm and real.

  “My princess,” he whispered, running the side of his finger down her plump cheek. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t enough. I wasn’t strong enough… dark gods. I’m sorry.” He felt the hot trails of tears soaking his cheeks, didn’t care. His daughter shouldn’t be here. She should be in his arms. Alive.

  She smiled and a dimple etched into her cheek at the corner of her lips. She looked back to Mal, who nodded and ran off to Mara.

  He felt Mara step up behind him, recognized her energy before her fingers tangled into his hair, but he didn’t look up at her, he couldn’t tear his eyes off his little girl. What should have been his little girl, had she been given a chance to live. If he’d been powerful enough.

  Her little arms wrapped around his neck and a sob choked out. She felt so real.

  He pulled her in tight to his chest, marveling at the feeling welling up inside of him. He should have protected her, she had been his to protect and he’d failed. He leaned back and brushed the curl from her forehead, letting the silky strands run between his fingers. Mara had been right. She would have been enough to make him happy, enough of a future. And he’d failed her.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered brokenly.

  “I thought you’d be safe. I had no idea she’d do anything to harm you — baby girl — if I’d known I would have chained her to the wall.”

  Mara hissed in a breath and he heard her stifling a laugh. His daughter didn’t seem to be disturbed by his honesty.

  “You’re to be my father,” she said with a nod. She had a slight french accent, as she would have if she’d been raised in his home on the mortal plane.

  He let out a mangled sob of a laugh. “And you my princess.” He gave her the same nod back, swiping his sleeve across his eyes so he could see her clearly. “I made you a room, it was…” his throat tightened to the point he couldn’t speak.

  Mara’s hand rubbed across his shoulder blades, soothing him so he could breathe again.

  “Mara,” he tugged her down beside him. “I want…”

  “You know I can’t…” Mara’s voice broke. “We’ll find a way.”

  Hells now he was an insensitive ass on top of a weak one. “No. I didn’t mean…”

  “Sarratum! Did you bring her chocolate?” Mal was jumping around again, like he’d already eaten a pound of sugar. “I told Odie about chocolate, did you bring her some?”

  Odie? Cass scrunched his nose. Maybe he’d chosen an unfortunate name for her. Lucky she wasn’t going to be stuck with it. Mara sniffled beside him and he turned to her in shock.

  He jumped to his feet and pulled Mara up into his arms. She was his only priority, bar none.

  Not Levistus laying on the ground looking close to death. Not his father’s deceased wife who was Mara’s grandmother. Not even the two souls that could have completed his and Mara’s family. It was her. Just her.

  If they had no future with anyone but each other, why bother trying to preserve anything?

  He cradled her face in his palms and brought his lips slowly to hers, the spark between them igniting like flash fire. With a soft moan her body melded to his, he could feel the heat of her through the thin robe, the vision of her wet, in nothing but her underwear crowding out all other thoughts. Her fingers dug into his hair, anchoring herself to him as his hands wandered down her back to bring her closer.

  “Son,” his mother’s voice hit him like a kick to the chest. He looked up and snarled at her, pleased when her steps faltered.

  Odette and Mal were giggling with their hands over their faces, Benzosia watched them, Levistus’s head cradled in her lap, his mother and Ereshkigal walked steadily towards them.

  “Mara,” he growled softly. “I’m done. I can’t do this anymore.” He closed his eyes as her fingers brushed down his cheek.

  “You’d give up hope?” Benzosia’s voice interrupted their moment.

  He shot her a look. “I have nothing left to hope for.”

  “A future?” his mother said as she and Ereshkigal stepped up behind the two children. “Everything you’ve wanted?”

  “All I want is her.” He stared down at Mara while he spoke, a thrill lighting up his insides at the way her eyes sparkled with happiness.

  “You could have it all,” Ereshkigal said, her tone one of airy nonchalance. “If you could control your power. Your mother tells me you’re in need of a way to restrain it?”

  “He lacks discipline we learn from the time of our creation,” Avrogale said and everything inside him tightened into a ball of fury.

  He stepped away from Mara and turned to the two goddesses, a flash of power lighting his palms with blue flame. “Lack… discipline? Did you even know my father?”

  “What I mean, son.” He growled and her mouth flattened. “Cassius. Is that you have never had to control your immediate needs in order to reap larger rewards.”

  That silenced him. He hadn’t. He was demon born, raised to be hedonistic in his wants and desires. He took what he wanted, when he wanted, damn the consequences.

  “And he claims to have none of your power.” Ereshkigal chuffed, gesturing at the blue flames licking across his palms. “You’re removed from the seat of your power, what do you think you’re drawing on?”

  Just like that, the flames doused, his insides going cold.

  Veil

  “Now use it to send them along,” Ereshkigal said coldly.

  “What my aunt means to say… Cassius,” Avrogale interrupted, and he listened purely because the words had frozen him in place. “They need you to send them through so they can be reborn. They can’t linger here.”

  He reeled back, only Mara’s firm hand on his back holding him steady. “I don’t have the power to do this.”

  He might have inherited something of his mother’s divinity, but never noticeable power, and nothing he could pinpoint. Perhaps, as she’d said, her addition had merely enhanced what his father had donated to his make-up.

  “Of course you do,” Ereshkigal raised a brow imperially. “Think on what you’re feeling and focus it.”

  “Rage? Betrayal?” He swiped at his face again. “Here I thought my father’s cruelty set the bar — but now… you’ve found new limits to destroy what’s left of me,” he spoke directly to his mother, pleased to see her face paling, satisfied his words hit their intended mark.

  “Don’t be sad,” his princess’ soft voice cut in, her hand pressing over his mouth. “I can’t just stay here, I want to grow up.”

  But not with him. He’d destroyed that chance.

  “You spoke to me of Saṃsāra,” Mal stepped up, putting his hand to Odette’s back in a show of support reminiscent of him and Mara. “You would deny us the opportunity?”

  He stilled his thoughts, focusing on breathing and the feeling of finally being able to hold his little girl, meeting his would-be son, knowing he couldn’t leave them in Kur to wander. Now he was left to wonder how her soul had escaped the Hells. How had he not thought of that? She hadn’t been left to be destroyed…

  “How?” he looked over to Ereshkigal, then back to his mother. “How do I send them on?”

  “Son.” She bit her lip at his wince. He still wasn’t okay with this�
�� with her. She kept trying. “Cassius. The flames you can call up will be enough to open the veil, and to guide them on their journey.”

  “I don’t…” He’d been enraged when he’d tapped into that font of dormant power that resided in him, wasn’t sure if he could recreate it.

  “Can I…” His mother held out her hand to his, and after a moment’s debate he held his up and let her take it. He felt the jolt when their hands connected, much like a static shock that continued ... yes, humming, through his entire body.

  He’d felt this when they’d arrived. He’d thought it had been Mara.

  “... what you’re doing is opening a portal, of sorts.” Ereshkigal was saying, and he’d missed the first part, lost to his musings.

  “Like my hell-gates?” He knew how to do that, he’d never given thought to how he’d done it though.

  Ereshkigal nodded and continued speaking. “A flame to break through the Ether. Feel it, the force inside of you, capable of tearing through reality as you know it. Let go of the physical constructs and just focus on that power.”

  He wasn’t magically trained. He glanced up to Mara, hoping she could explain better, but she was watching his daughter, as though committing her to memory; so she could write it in her books and remind him, perhaps.

  The power thrumming through him gave what felt like a sigh, and he saw flames spark to life beside them, a line at first, parting to reveal a void of nothingness.

  He grinned up at Mara, giddy with his accomplishment. “Mara… I did it.”

  She gave him a sad smile in return, one hand petting down his daughter’s hair, the other gripping tightly to Mal’s. Right. He’d never see her again. She’d go on to be someone else’s princess — someone who could protect her. Mara was once again losing the boy she’d been close with, possibly her only chance to be a mother. It just wasn’t in their destiny to be parents. But they had each other.

  He scooped the little girl back into his arms, one more time. He just needed to hold her so he could remember the feeling.

  She moved away first, kissing him softly on the cheek, “I’ll be seeing you, à bientôt, papa.”