Chapter XXIII

Slumbering Boy

A lone with Bethania in the crypts of Castle Bane, Demiesius watched the last of Min-jae's mastering wisp away. The potential of ever having to lay Jeremiah to rest in a similar setting was something Demiesius would have rather shared with his son, but this potential would only offer stress he wanted far from Jeremiah. Min-jae would relay all that'd been said, and the stress was likely to follow, but perhaps it would be easier to swallow coming from Min-jae than him.

"Jeremiah has always been a resilient boy," Bethania said then, her soft tone drifting over Demiesius' shoulder. She'd just shut the lid of Florin's coffin. "You two have been at odds here and there through the years, but there is not a moment I can think of where he ever truly resented you. I think if he did, many things would be different from how they are now. "

"This news Min-jae is bringing to him," Demiesius said, "It may as well be a threat. I fear Jeremiah will take it as such."

"A warning," Bethania interjected.

"A warning that has already left a chip in my marriage. I spoke of this same warning to Hamilton some time ago…" Demiesius' gaze dropped when remembering how Hamilton had screamed at him, had looked at him with such hot exasperation. "We've come to an understanding," he added. "But Hamilton would crumble if something more drastic were to reach Jeremiah. So much has been taken from them, and he will be consumed upon learning of Jeremiah's desired distance. I cannot be the one to take yet more from them."

"With the eradication of the Public," Bethania said, looking over the wicker basket of dried white petals on her arm, "That is one less major structure to fret over. I can hardly believe they were plotting to attempt killing Jeremiah as it was. The wounds left from long ago remain so fresh to mortals, yet they cannot comprehend the role they played in all this."

"It started with me," Demiesius declared. "Let us be honest through our discontent; it is possible that if I had never ordered the obliteration of the former House Gregor, none of this trouble would have caught up with my son. I know how far the resentment of mortals can travel. We were once human, were we not? There are instances that sit aggrieved upon our shoulders even now, and with us we carry them onward and onward."

"Now, now," Bethania said, always seeming to be able to find a work-around when necessary. "Was it not the Julius boy who came crawling for destruction on his own after the fact? You must also understand that if that mutt of a human never did so, there is a chance Hamilton would have never been lifted from what darkness kept you apart. Thus, your family would not be what it is now. Misfortune is what makes fate an unruly discourse. Perhaps House Gregor wasn't meant to fall, but Julius' journey to disrupt what more he could is what brought your reunion."

"Fate," Demiesius said, unable to help himself from turning to Florin's stone coffin. "An unruly discourse, indeed. To think a boy from long ago was meant to end the lives of an entire people, just to lay here some four centuries later — for what? It is a wonder if he has not opened his eyes due to a desire to remain asleep."

The moments that led up to Florin's current position turned through Demiesius' memories. The amount of blood made the whole world seem bathed in red, and the empty, rage-fueled glare in Florin's eyes had propelled Demiesius and his fellow elder's worry. Florin's speed, strength, aggression, and lack of ability to listen to reason, to order, had been terrifying.

Dhampirs, Demiesius could admit, were often considered miracles, just as any other wanted child was a blessing to their parents, but dhampirs could also be considered weapons of mass destruction when set loose.

In the end, the only way to stop Florin was to maim him as well as they could before his rapid regeneration kicked in, and Demiesius charged Florin's mental threshold with a powerful outpour of his mastering. Flooding ones' cerebrum incapacitated the brain, painted the world black, blocked all outside interference, and shut down the recipient.

The moment Florin was overrun by a dark and swaying interruption, he'd dropped, as if dead, to the ground and hasn't moved a muscle since .

In the moments following his fall, an idea to end him had been agreed upon by all but Bethania. As she and Florin's own mother remained his only advocates, a chance was given to see if his former self would someday arise. And while nothing of the sort seemed attainable, still the years were given.

"It has been so long," Bethania said, running a light hand down the surface of the stone coffin. "And only time will tell if he wishes to join us again, or if he is meant to prove that time certainly can keep moving with or without the ones we thought held purpose in our lives."

With those words planted within Demiesius, the two started from the depths of the crypt. Before Bethania thought to send a flurry through the chamber to douse the blue flames lighting the area, she and Demiesius froze when an obscure tapping sound rose against their ear. It was faint, almost suppressed under the pour of water from the center fountain.

Brother and sister looked toward each other before turning completely and rounding the water fountain. There was a pause in the chamber, a sudden belief that illusion took hold, but soon the repeated pattern started again as well as a desperate, whispered request.

"Let me out…" the fractured tone begged, coming through faint as ever and in the Romanian tongue. "Let me out. Please. Let me out."

"F—Florin?" Bethania said, and she hurried for the coffin. As not to fling the lid from its place, she tried to keep calm and slowly pushed the two-hundred pound (90.7kg) cover aside.

The first thing to come into view was Florin's hand, and when it could be seen trembling and reaching from the opening, Bethania shoved the rest of the cover until it toppled off and split in two.

Before the two ancient beings lay a boy practically transported from a different time, and when his frightened eyes took in the familiar faces of the ones that put him here, a jitter of terror and confusion caused him to gasp and turn away as if doing so would hide him.

"Do not be afraid," Bethania said in his native tongue. "You are safe, Florin. I swear to you, you needn't be afraid of us."

"I'll be good," he swore, voice so small, and he curled in on himself as the white sheet laid atop him partially fell away. "I swear, I'll be good. I promise! I promise!"

Unsure of touching him, Bethania slowly placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. He was gaunt and his bones were sharp against his pale, light-brown skin, each curve of his ribcage and angle of his shoulder blades showing his true hunger and fatigue.

Upon feeling Bethania's hand upon him, Florin gasped and looked her way, lengthy brunette hair draping over his thin shoulder. With one dark brown colored eye at his left and a light hazel at his right, the fear widening Florin's gaze watered them.

"Florin," Demiesius tried this time, hoping his voice in particular didn't boost the boy's fright. Having been the one to invade Florin's psyche to bring his rampage to a stop, the bark of his old command might instill yet more fear. "You must breathe," he said as soothingly as he could. "You must remain calm. We do not wish to hurt you."

"Don't leave me in the dark," Florin besought. "I'll be good!"

Bethania's eyes softened in regret, seeing how such a long slumber wrecked his sense of trust and confidence. "Oh, Florin," she tried again, keeping with his eyes as the build-up of tears began to tumble down his sunken cheeks. "I have waited so long to hear your voice. Come with me, and I will take you from this place. Be calm and you will never be left in this darkness again."

Settling his breathing as he looked from Demiesius to Bethania, Florin registered her words and a sudden flash crossed his mind, an image of his hands dipped in red, and faces twisted in terror and agony swamped his memory. Suddenly the past screams were too loud, and his tears ran faster, heart pounding, and Florin covered his ears to drown everything out.

"What have I done!?" Florin shouted, nails forming knives, and they scratched down the sides of his face. "Where's my mother? I want my mother! Where is she?!"

When the panicked dhampir hastily climbed from the coffin, the white sheet tangled around his thin legs, and he missed his distressed footing.

Before he could fall completely, Bethania captured his shaky figure and he fell against her, into her solace-rich arms, and Florin's hands closed into clinging fists at the back of her dress.

"It has been a very long time," Bethania said with guilt, "And your mother is gone, but I swore to her I would care for you as if you were my own when you opened your eyes again. Times have changed and so much is different, but you needn't be afraid, Florin. Please, do not be afraid. You will never be alone again."

Still unable to stop his tears from flowing at the understanding that he was without a mother and a father, Florin continued to sob against Bethania's chest.

As Florin's cries died down, Demiesius neared the coffin in which Florin climbed from and withdrew the rest of the white sheet. He gently placed it over the shivering dhampir's shoulders, meeting Bethania's eyes as she looked at him over the top of Florin's head. To say she was relieved was an understatement, and she was grateful more than anything that it seemed what faith she carried for the boy all these years hadn't gone to waste.

"Florin," Demiesius said. "Do you know what brought you out of your rest?"

A moment passed and as Demiesius figured he wouldn't receive an answer, Florin's shivers faded, and he glanced over his shoulder at the man who'd caused the loudest, most fearsome defeat to have ever influenced all thought and movement in his body. With little effort, he recalled the pitch-blackness that'd immersed his eyes and muted his perception of everything. With a mere touch, his world had turned to nothing but dream after dream after dream.

"The dreams," Florin said as Bethania's hand passed over the top of his hair, "They weren't real. Nothing was real."

"You knew you were asleep?" Demiesius asked.

Florin nodded and when his embrace around Bethania tightened, she shut her eyes with a smile and pressed her nose against his head. "You can only dream so much," Florin said. "After a while, someone tells you to wake up. I was…with my parents. For the first time, they told me to open my eyes — to leave them."

With nothing more to say, Demiesius watched Bethania turn with Florin at her side and the two started from the crypt. There was still an overwhelming embrace snared around Florin, but the talks of his parent's insistence on returning to reality seemed to be what offered what more support Bethania was already prepared to give. "Come with me," she said. "Let's get you cleaned, fed, and comfortable."

As the boy from long ago disappeared with his trusted guardian, Demiesius looked toward the now empty coffin whose lid sat toppled and damaged on the other side. Regardless of Florin's recovery, worry still sat within Demiesius. How long one could dream before reality came calling showed to exceed a matter of days.

To dream was to hope.

To hope was to yearn.

What more could Jeremiah yearn for that wasn't here in the waking world? Nothing would be waiting for him in a dream.

Demiesius brought his hands forward then, and he looked them over, inspecting his fingertips as though they were already soiled by blood and effort. He couldn't possibly use these hands against his own son. It would be a necessary thing, but no one would forgive him for doing so regardless of what outcome followed. He would hardly be able to forgive himself.

To lay Jeremiah to rest in one of two ways would feel the same no matter what.

You are strong, my son, Demiesius wished he could transfer his words to Jeremiah's thoughts. Be stronger for yourself, for your child most of all.