Pet: Revelations - Chapter Eight (Patreon)

Remus

It’s ironic to look at this world that was once my home. It is beautiful, there is no doubt. The clouds that swirl overhead and the stars that glitter in the distance make it no competition to any world I’ve ever seen or conquered. And now, as I stand near the open columns that overlook more of it, I am faced with the certainty of its brokenness.

This world is fractured, just like my family. My mother remains in her prison, my brother remains unconscious, and my sister remains by his side now that we have arrived. And Iris…she’s barely speaking to me.

“You said we would be equals.”

I try to think back to the moment I made her that promise. I try to force myself to feel that way. I spoke those words because I felt them at the time, and I wanted them to be true. But I can’t even place myself in that mindset now. It’s as if I am disassociating from who I was with her. And now I am faced with a decision I must make soon, for her sake. A decision that I don’t know that she will welcome any longer. I don’t know if it will be good for her mentally. I feel more disconnected from her lately. I cannot say the right thing, and I cannot make her smile. Everything out of my mouth hurts her.

I slowly hold my hands out in front of me, my distress growing. I hurt her. I hurt her in a way that is unforgivable. And I can see it so clearly. I can feel what I felt at that moment, my rage transpiring to ending what we had created together. I release a deep breath, pushing the emotions from my mind. They are clouding my thoughts, making it difficult to focus on the issue at hand.

I turn away from the view, making my way down the winding steps of the immaculate palace. It is just how I remembered it as a child, except now I can see much more detail I ignored as I ran through the halls, always excited to find my father. But never my mother. I knew she was my enemy long before she showed me, I just never acknowledged it until I had to.

The cold vice that grips me each time I think of those moments I was held in that prison—the years. The cries and begging that went unanswered. Wanting simultaneously to exist and to die. It’s a hatred so powerful that I would do anything to see her hurt. But for now, I must bide my time. I am in Kuron’s world, and I must understand it before I make any moves.

Xion is already by Ezra’s bedside as I enter the room. She is still as disheveled as she was on the ship, pouring her grief into Ezra’s condition. She is seated by his bedside, her eyes finding me once I open the door. She’s been uncooperative since we arrived. She doesn’t want to see Kuron, she doesn’t want to stay in her room, and she refuses to leave Ezra.

I know she doesn’t trust Kuron, and for good reason. But she also doesn’t know the truth. And I still don’t know when I would tell her.

“He’s better,” she says as I enter. She’s right. He looks much better than he did on the ship. I’m sure Kuron was hoping the travel time would kill him. But he clearly doesn’t know how stubborn our brother is. Even close to death. And while he is slowly recovering, he has a long way to go before he opens his eyes.

“The doctors here are familiar with the injury. It will take him a while, but he should be fine,” I say.

Xion scoffs, looking at me.

“Kuron let him rot on that ship, Remus. Are you going to continue to lie to me?” she asks.

I narrow my gaze. “I am not lying. He is going to be fine—”

“You know that’s not what I mean. I may be grieving, but I am not so filled with grief that I can’t see how none of this makes any sense. We were attacked. Ezra almost died. Then, we were forced to return, our mother put in a prison which we haven’t even heard from her yet, and you are working with the Celestivine who caused all of this. Why?” she asks.

I quietly cross the room, standing over Ezra. The color has returned to his face, but his breathing is still shallow. He is partially the cause of all of this. He is what our parents would do whatever it takes to end or save his life. Xion and I are the product of that desperation. And she doesn’t even know it.

She stands, pulling my attention. She’s extremely weak. I doubt she’s fed properly in the past weeks, and yet she stands up to me over Ezra, her rage pushing to the surface, just like our mother.

“I have been dragged from my home. Ezra was almost killed. You cannot keep things from me—”

“Like you did?” I ask. As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I cannot stop the emotion that pours out of me.

“I already apologized for that—”

“Don’t play dull now, Xion. You said it yourself. Just because we are grieving does not mean we cannot see. And I am grieving as well. And you know why. Why did you think it would be best to keep that from me? Even now?”

Her anger disappears, replaced by shock, and is followed by guilt.

“It wouldn’t have done you any good knowing—”

“And that is what I am doing!” I shout. The floor beneath me cracks as energy pours uncontrollably out of me. Fear flashes in her eyes, reminding me of who I am—what I am capable of. So, I pull in a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down.

“You don’t know what it’s like knowing the truth. The uncertainty that haunts me is torture. I can’t do that to you. Not now. Not after—” I trail off, not knowing how to finish my sentence. It is clear she is channeling her grief into caring for Ezra. “So if I need to keep things from you for a little longer, then that is what I’m going to do. And you will only know when I decide.”

She looks away, her brow furrowed in frustration as she shakes her head, tears falling.

“It isn’t your place to decide,” she says.

I scoff, looking at Ezra.

“Was it your place to decide? To hide what she lost? Why was it your place to decide I shouldn’t know the truth? That I didn’t deserve to know,” I say angrily.

“And have you told Iris? Have you told her that you are the cause of her losing a life? That when she passed out in my home, bleeding, that it was because you caused it?” she shouts.

Silence drifts between us as we glare at one another. At this point, Ezra would have joined the conversation, calming both of us down. But he can’t right now. Not at this moment. We are imbalanced, our trust broken, and our bond damaged.

“That is different,” I say.

Xion scoffs, sitting back down.

“Sure,” she says. After a moment, she breaks the silence.

“I will see him. I will see Kuron,” she says.

“Do you think you are in any state to—”

“I don’t care. I will see the bastard who did this to Ezra-- who attacked us in our home. Someone has to stand up to him,” she snaps.

I release a breath of frustration.

“You’re not thinking straight,” I say, shifting my attention to Ezra. I am once again bombarded with doubts. Is this another intention my mother has embedded?

“Why do you look at him that way?” Xion asks, pulling me out of my thoughts.

“What did he do to you? What did Kuron tell you that you would look at your own brother as if he were…nothing to you? You went overkill on Earth because of what they did to him, and he wasn’t in any true danger. And now, you stand far away, looking at him as if he is something to be destroyed,” she says.

I am at a loss for words. I don’t know how to respond. She’s right. But once again, on Earth, I was deep in my mother’s hold. The only thing I did for myself on that planet was take Iris. It always comes back to Iris.

I take a step back. “I have to go. I just came to check on him,” I say.

“Yes. Go to the Celestivine who did this to him. I will see him soon,” she says. The hate in her gaze is something I can’t stomach. We’ve always been close. And no matter what, we’ve always been on the same team. But now, we are so divided that I can’t think of a way to mend the bond broken.

I take a deep breath, pushing my emotions down, so that I feel nothing as I look into Xion’s eyes, ready to shatter her existence as I had mine shattered.

“Fine. If you want the truth so badly, I will give it to you. But don’t expect me to pick up the pieces when I warned you.”

Iris

Something heavy is lying on me. I feel more exhausted than usual, being in this place. I sleep more, and I don’t know if it’s because I am depressed or just tired from the travel. But as I wake up, there is someone lying on me.

I slowly open my eyes, and the first thing I notice is the ceiling. And as I look down, I see Remus. His arms are wrapped around my ribs, his head lying against my stomach. His breathing is deep, and as I angle my head, I see that he’s sleeping. My eyes widen as I study his ethereal features.

His lashes look wet, like he’s been crying.

But there are no tear streaks left, no redness, nothing. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Remus sleep. And though I am angry, something tells me not to wake him up. So, I lay my head back on the pillow, content to study the mural on the ceiling to the sounds of his deep breathing.