Clav

I have never in my life been as disgusted with myself as I am now, as I watch the seven-foot-tall toxic asshole rescue Aden…from me. Like I'm the bad guy here.

But what's really making my heart pound against my ribcage is how a portal appeared from thin air, the way Tarsus and Aden disappeared into it, and how, now, there's no sign any of it even happened.

I lift my trembling hands and examine them like they belong to someone else. Someone violent. I'm not sure if it's leftover from my blinding rage, or if it's a product of what I just witnessed, but shock rolls through me, making me nauseous. Racing into the restroom, I puke into the toilet. When I finish, I rinse out my and wash up, then return to the bedroom.

Sweat still beads on my forehead, and the room spins slightly. I bury my face in my clammy hands. What I saw is impossible, isn't it? A portal. People walking in and out of it. Did I imagine this? Was that a real fireball I downed earlier, or did Aden drug me so he and his pal could keep playing pranks on my dad?

Shit. Dad.

It all slowly comes together as I gather my wits about me. Of course Aden drugged me. He's been in on this prank the whole time. He's been stalling, keeping me distracted while Abaddon and Tarsus do whatever tricks they want to pull on my dad.

A panicked moan escapes me as I pull on my shirt and vest, not bothering to button either down. I've just wasted all this time thinking there was an actual portal that made them disappear, when in reality, they probably just walked out the door. I mean, the portal was right in front of the door, so I must have hallucinated the door swirling and turning into a black hole.

Fury infiltrates my bloodstream again as I cross the room. Blinding red rage. I grab the door knob with trembling fingers—probably an after effect of the drugs—jerk it open, and stride out of the room. There's going to be hell to pay when I find Tarsus and Aden and their little cosplay bats in my backyard taunting my dad.

It's dark out, shafts of moonlight breaking through the bare branches above as I drive at a dangerous speed. Nausea continues to build in my stomach until I'm sure I'm going to have to pull over to puke again. I probably shouldn't even be driving right now—who knows whatever Aden drugged me with—but I have to get home. Because if they're pranking Dad right now, I need to be there to call the cops.

Goddammit, Aden knew too much not to be in on the prank. How did I not put the pieces together sooner? Of course he was stalling me. I'm such an idiot.

I roar into the gravel driveway and shove open the door. There's no activity in the backyard, and when I step into the shed and flip on the lights, there's no sign of life. It's quiet in the house when I get home. A subtle chill hangs in the air, making the hairs on my neck stand up on end.

"Dad?" I call. My heart begins racing when I hear no answer. I jog down the hall, when I see Mom's light on in their study.

"He's already asleep, ," they say, looking up from their desk. "Everything okay?"

"Are you sure?"

They shrug. "Check if you don't believe me."

Approaching Dad's room, I creak the door open and peek in. A deep sigh heaves out of me.

He's out, his mouth slightly open and some drool forming a wet spot on his pillow. He snores loudly, telling me he's breathing and healthy as a fucking horse. A wave of relief washes over me as I quietly close the door, tears of gratitude burning my eyes. I'm staying up all night. I'll keep an eye on the backyard, my phone ready to call the cops the moment I see those assholes out there.

Mom is chanting in their study when I step in. The smell of burning lavender infiltrates the air, setting my muscles and mind at ease. To some, the musk-sweet aroma might seem new-agey and somewhat repelling. To me it means home. A bleached coyote skull sits on the desk, next to a copper statue of Mother Earth, full, round tits hanging out over her swollen belly, which is supposed to represent her pregnancy with the earth. Posters of skeletons and anatomical art decorate the walls.

I don't feel drugged anymore. But then, I didn't really, earlier. Not until Aden pushed me to my limits. Then I lost it.

I've never lost it. Not since I hit puberty, you know, a solid decade ago. I'm usually a pretty chill dude, super positive, able to laugh at jokes made at my expense. What else would make me lose my shit like that, if not some kind of drug? Then I must have hallucinated.

But now. Now my mind is crisp and clear and I need to figure this shit out.

"Some assholes might come over and play a prank on Dad," I tell Mom. I don't bother telling Mom that these assholes possibly drugged me. Why bother? I sink onto the leather couch against the far wall. "I hate that people try to take advantage of Dad's…hobby as a demon hunter."

"Probably some students from his English class." Mom stares at the canvas they're working on—a spiral of tiny bones fitted on a black tapestry. They've always been fascinated with bones, even going so far as to create some sick art with my teeth that fell out when I was a kid. Some moms have framed pictures of their children decorating the house. Mine has a bone-art tapestry made from my teeth.

"I've never seen these guys before," I say. "Besides, they're too old to be in high school. I don't think they're even from town." I would recognize both Aden and Tarsus in a heartbeat. They're beautiful and flawless.

Mom places the bone in its place on the canvas. "What do these kids look like?"

"One is a boy with shaggy blond hair and green eyes. The other…well, they were in cosplay so it's hard to tell. But they were tall and lean, with pale skin."

"What was their cosplay?" They're looking at me now, and for fucking once I actually have their direct attention. Because Mom usually acts like everything in my life is minute and small and not important, even if it's important to me. But Dad must have said something about these guys because Mom is looking at me expectantly, waiting for me to go on.

"Um, well, they had, like, a wig of long white hair. It was way too silky and fine to be real hair. And they had, like, these enormous antlers." I gesture with my hands, trying to show them the size. "Which, I mean, I'm not even sure how they made them stay in place, because they looked like they popped right out of their skull."

"Tarsus was here?" Mom's voice has lowered to a shocked whisper that makes a chill shudder down my spine.

"Yeah." I blink in surprise, lowering my hands. "You know them?"

Mom just stares at me, mouth slack, the wheels turning in their head. They often live inside their head, thinking about how they're going to word something before it leaves their lips. I've always admired that quality about them—their ability to think carefully before speaking. Instead, I seemed to have taken after Dad—even if he isn't my bio dad—spewing the first thing that comes to mind and sounding like an idiot.

"It must be time," Mom says. They wet their lower lip with their tongue as they pick up another tiny mouse femur, coat it with their hot glue gun, and carefully place it onto the design.

"Time for what?" I finally ask, my foot tapping anxiously on the floor.

Instead of answering, Mom puts the final piece on the tapestry, finishing off the spiral made of tiny bones. "Do you know what the spiral symbolizes?"

Are you fucking serious? I roll my eyes. "Now's not exactly the time for one of your words of wisdom, Mom."

"It's one of the most ancient symbols, spanning across worlds." They trace their finger from the freshly placed bone, following the spiral inward. "It represents our journey inward to truly know ourselves." Finally, they lift their gaze to mine, their gray eyes pale as the moon, their skin white as moonstone, their coarse hair the same shade as the bones they craft with.

I heave out a sigh and roll my eyes. "How do I begin this journey?" I ask, deciding to play along because god knows Mom won't give me any answers until I humor them.

Bending down, they pull their bottom drawer to their desk open, shove some papers aside, and pull out a knife with the hilt all the way to the point made of black jagged stone.

"This obsidian dagger never misses its mark."

I stare at the dagger. Now that's a relic that would have made a great add-on at the cosplay. "Okay?" I take the dagger. The stone is cold, the blade heavy in my hand. "That's sick." I place my finger on the point, but Mom smacks my hand away.

"That'll turn you to ash if you draw blood with it. Even your own blood."

I blink at mom. "I think you lost me."

"Listen closely, then, ." They stare at me, dead serious. "You were born out of wedlock twenty-three years ago in the field out back."

I blink. "This field? That our house is on? I thought you didn't move here until after I was born."

"I didn't own it, but I lived inside this old house." The wrinkles in their face seem to deepen. "I wanted to stay close to the place where you were born, because in the exact spot you were born, a portal was created that opens up to the Fae realms." They meet my eyes. "It's the same portal where Dad's so-called demons enter the human realms."

Thunder fills my ears. This isn't a time to joke around, but Mom doesn't look like they're joking. In fact, in all the years I've known them, Mom has never cracked a joke. Not once. Knowing Mom won't deal with me when I'm panicking or overwhelmed, I keep a calm expression on my face and wait for them to go on.

"The house was hardly functional," they say, looking at their knotted fingers. "With a leaky roof, rotted floors, and no place for a fragile human babe to be raised in, but it provided respite from storms and a hiding place from strangers. I'd steal grain and goat milk from the farm down the road to feed us." They lick their lower lip and glance out the window, their mind traveling to a past I never knew about.

"Rick was traveling around the country to different haunted houses in search of portals like the one on our land, and he found us living here." Mom huffs out a laugh. "Mortals are so easily won over. I agreed to marry him if he fixed up the house for us to live in. Living on demon lands as a demon hunter seemed to be a thrill for him. I let him fall in love with me, let him build a life for us. I wasn't about to go out and make a living in the mortal realms myself."

I blink, trying to put all this together, and the first question that leaves my lips is, "So there are actually demons crawling up from hell onto our land?"

Mom clicks their tongue and shrugs. "I wouldn't call them demons. They're just…faeries crawling up from the Fae realms, not hell."

"Fae realm? Like in the books I read?" Just like Aden said. My heart is racing now.

"Similar traits to some." They pin me with those gray eyes, not a hint of humor to be found in their expression. "They've been coming to get you. You're a Fae king, , cursed to live in a human body."

The room begins to spin. "Mom. I…"

"But you belong to that world," Mom is saying as they slip on their shoes and stand. "And I'm going to take you back."

I'm pretty sure I'm going to puke again—until it hits me. God. Oh my god. There's no way—

"Is this…a surprise birthday party thing? Because that's not really your jam." Or mine, to be honest.

Mom is throwing their knitted woolen shawl over their shoulders and placing their woolen witch's hat upon their head. They glance at me, but no smile cracks on their face.

"No, . This is very, very real, and I need you to understand the severity of the situation, the world we're about to step into." They jerk their chin at the crown in my hands. "Put that on."

I nestle the antler crown on my head. "So, um, where are we going?"

"We're going to the portal," Mom answers.

Of course. A portal, like the one Tarsus stepped out of. The portal that leads to the Fae realms, which opened up when I was born, because I used to be Fae but now I'm human somehow. Cool, cool. I chew my lower lip, my panic threatening to swallow me whole as I follow Mom outside. My hands are clammy again, the world threatening to spin out of control, but, somehow, I manage not to pass out.

"You're not even going to say bye to dad?" I ask, suddenly breathless.

They pause and look at me, then look past me in the direction of the house. "He'll only try to stop us. And when he fails, he'll follow us." Mom clicks their tongue. "Your father wouldn't survive a day in the Fae realms."

"He's more resilient than you think," I mutter, following close behind. I mean, he battled these so-called demons—Fae—for years. "So, if I'm a Fae, are you even my real mom?"

They stiffen. "I'm…your aunt." They look back at me. "I begged to carry you, birth you, and raise you, so I could watch over my sister's child. Humans are so frail and you wouldn't have survived a day out here as an infant."

"You're…Fae…too?" An even larger wall seems to erect between us. The lies.

"Yes."

"Where are your pointed ears?" I'm honestly not sure whether to laugh or cry right now, to be honest.

"You'll see them soon enough, ."

Mom seems to know exactly where they're going. We cross a log over a creek and I peer down into the laughing brook that seems to be mocking my confusion, moonlight glinting off the black ripples. Trees groan and creak around me, though there's no wind. It's almost like they're talking to each other in some ancient language, as if our presence is a serious disturbance to their age-long slumber.

We take a turn downhill, and I keep my ears open to any strange sounds around me. The thing is, every sound seems strange in the forest at night, even my own feet as they crunch through the autumn leaves.

"We're here."

I look up for the first time, studying my surroundings. It doesn't look much different from the rest of the forest. I'm by a bog that has always given me the creeps, with a constant mist hanging over the black water. The trees are covered in more moss than usual this time of year.

Mom steps into the water, walking deeper and deeper until it's up to their waist.

"Mom…what are you doing?" Mom has always done things out of the ordinary. Danced beneath the full moon. Made charms out of bones. Left milk and oats out every night for "wandering souls". But swimming in the dead of night….

They turn to look at me. Standing waist-deep in the black water, with the moonlight dancing off their bone-white hair, they look unearthly.

"Come on, . No need to be afraid." Then Mom disappears beneath the still surface.

I wait for them to emerge, because what sort of portal involves walking into water? Where's that wormhole I saw earlier? I wait, and wait, and wait, until I start to worry.

Kneeling by the water, I dip my hand in, breaking the glassy surface. There's a gentle pull tugging me, like a current beckoning me to follow it. It almost…it almost feels like my very blood is pulling me toward the water, toward the bog. I jerk back, my heart racing. But Mom still hasn't emerged from the water. Ever so slowly, I reach into the water again.

This time, the current doesn't let me go. It wraps around my arm like skeletal fingers and jerks me in with such a force, I hardly have time to drag in a gulp of air before cold water rushes into my face and over my body. The shock of cold water snaps me out of my head.

Holy hell. This is all real. None of this is a hallucination induced by some drug. None of it is a staged or themed birthday party. Everything Mom said was true. The portal Aden and Tarsus walked through was real. The bat person Dad nearly killed…was he real too?

The static noise of water fills my ears and I slam my glasses against my face so I don't lose them in the current. I'm kicking my legs and reaching for anything solid, but there's nothing but water, water, water all around me and an angry current pulling me deeper.

My feet scrape against the muddy ground. Before I lose the traction, I kick myself up, reaching for the surface of the bog. My head breaks out of the water and I suck in a sharp breath, thrashing my arms to keep from sinking. I clamber to the shore and collapse onto my back, dragging air to my lungs.

I take my glasses off and shake the water off my face and hair, then use my finger to smear the drops off the lens, though it does little good. When I put them back on, everything is still smeared. I stare at the branches above. The trees suddenly seem larger than the ones I left behind. No moon shines like it was moments ago. The sky is just dusky and dark. It's more humid here, warmer, like summer.

I breathe in, more slowly this time, inhaling a strong sulfuric scent that nearly chokes me. Some strange energy infuses my body, like everything packed beneath the dirt—living and dead—is whispering into the marrow of my bones. When my glasses seem to clear, I sit up and scan my surroundings, and a sense of trepidation makes my back muscles tighten.

This isn't the same place I was five minutes ago. I glance across the bog to find Mom already wringing out their long bone-white hair—which isn't so coarse anymore. No—it's as silky as Tarsus' hair, nearly glowing against the dark. They seem taller now, somehow. Their ears are pointed, their skin flawless as porcelain, and they look thirty years younger.

It's Mom…but it's not.

I can't breathe. I feel like the whole world is collapsing on me, and I'm reaching out for the one hand that's always been there to guide me, but the hand belongs to someone I don't even recognize anymore.

No wonder nothing I ever told Mom seemed important enough to hold their attention. They're not even from our world. How petty and shallow the worries of humans must be to them. Running out of milk, school grades, doing the dishes, mowing the lawn. All those trivial matters must all seem like silliness to Mom. Their whole life has been an act.

My whole life has been an act. I've been the star actor, with Mom pulling the strings.

"So literally my whole life has been a lie." The words escape my lips in a shocked whisper.

They turn fully to face me. "." They say my name quietly, their eyes filled with a tenderness I'm not used to seeing in them as they round the bog. Reaching out, they cup my cheek, but I stumble back from them, my heart thundering in my chest. They frown slightly. "It was for your own protection."

"Did you even love me? Or was I just some duty to you?" I rake my eyes over their unearthly tall and lean body, taking in the flawless skin of their face. "What the hell are you?"

Their eyes shine, nearly glowing silver despite there not being any moonlight. "I left my home behind so I could be with you." Even their voice is younger, more crisp than it ever was before. "I know I don't express my love the way many human parents do. But I gave up everything to watch over you in the mortal world. And I would do it all over again if I had to. And if you ever decide to return to the mortal realms, I will stay by your side until your dying breath."

Until your dying breath. I wonder if Fae are immortal. If Mom will live forever.

The sincerity in their eyes nearly makes my heart break. Because Mom has never spoken to me like this, looked at me like this.

"Does Dad know?" I snap, not hiding the bitterness from my voice.

"He knows nothing of this realm, nor is he from here." They speak in that low timbre, and I have to trot to keep up and hear everything they're saying. "Your real parents, your Fae parents…are gone. Your mother died in childbirth centuries ago. You never knew her."

I blink. "Excuse me." I swallow. Hard. "Did you say centuries?"

"Oh, honey. This is all so much for you to comprehend, isn't it?" They stroke a finger down my cheek—a cool, young, long finger—and it's probably the most affection they've shown me in years. "I forget you have a mortal mind right now, limited to so much information."

I flinch and pull away.

"All your previous memories were wiped away when you took on a mortal form."

My jaw hardens. I have never felt more estranged from my own mother than I do now. Like a giant, cold wall has been erected between us. Like they're nothing more than a stranger with the uncanny appearance of my mother. Chills pop out on my skin.

"Did you ever love Dad?"

They sigh heavily. "He was…a great protector."

I don't press the issue. I don't really want to know any more about how Mom felt about being stuck with me in the mortal realms and how inconvenient it was for them. How they must have felt like they were wasting their life in a world they cared nothing about. Waiting for me to grow old. Waiting for me to die so they could be done with their duties. How trivial my life seems now. How utterly shallow.

"Come now," they whisper. Their throat convulses in a swallow and they lower their hand. "We're headed to the colony of bat-folk. You must make Abaddon believe you remember everything."

Abaddon. The one who's been sending all those bat creatures to get me.

"And if I don't convince him?"

Mom stills, then looks at me over their shoulder, their gray—no, silver—eyes filled with trepidation. "If you don't convince Abaddon that you are Sovereign icle, the Prince of Ruin, the ruler of the Spine Empire…then he may kill you."

My throat closes. It's suddenly too hard to breathe. Home. I want to go home. I want to sit in front of the TV and watch Ancient Aliens with Dad while we eat out of a giant bucket of popcorn.

Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.

A giant black form drops from the tree branches above, and I jump back, a scream clawing at my throat. The dark form stands on its hind legs and spreads black, membranous wings, one of which has a fresh wound. It's the bat Dad caught.

I shove my glasses up, making sure my eyes aren't playing tricks on me in the dark.

"You came back," it hisses, tucking its wings in. I stumble back, tripping and falling on my ass. I forgot how terrifying the beast looked. It's easily eight feet tall, with large black eyes and an upturned snout. Its large ribbed pointed ears are perked, probably picking up vibrations and sounds even I can't sense. Its eyes flash in the darkness, twin orbs paralyzing me in place as it walks closer—no, crawls—on its hind feet and wings.

It looks at Mom and hisses, "It's about time you brought him."

Mom lifts their chin. "I wanted him to be ready. Now go, take him before someone else finds him."

The bat turns toward me.

"Wait—what?" I cast a panicked look at Mom, but they're completely collected.

"I'll be at the caves by dawn, . Remember what I said. Pretend to remember."

I stare at the approaching bat. "P-please don't take me."

"The colony is waiting for you." It steps closer. "To make the sacrifice." Its lips curl over fangs that could sink into my carotid and drain my blood. "We need you, sovereign."

I turn to leap back into the bog, but claws dig into my shoulder and I'm lifted off the ground. My stomach swoops without the feel of the firm ground beneath my feet, and I wrench and pull, glancing down at Mom as they become smaller and smaller below. Through the bit of moonlight breaking through the clouds, I can see Mom just staring at me, worried while pressing their mouth into a firm line as they nod, telling me—or themself—that this is what has to be done. The beast carries me higher until we're soaring above the dead, wiry trees and I can see the entire forest at a glance.

I stop struggling—the fall back down would be lethal at this point—and instead gape at the dark, jagged forest below that stretches on for miles and miles toward a spikey mountain range where many of the spikes are capped with snow. This is definitely a different world. Indiana doesn't have mountains like these. We seem to be headed toward the tallest mountain of them all, except no snow caps this one. Instead, orange lava crests the spikes, seeming to pierce the gray clouds above while smoke billows out of its throat.

A fucking volcano.

And we're flying straight toward it.