Pet: Revelations - Chapter Nineteen (Patreon)

Unknown POV

Eoua is alive with gossip. Kuron and Me’Rite’s children have returned. After over five hundred years missing among the cosmos, and an uncertain future for this world, Kuron has returned triumphantly with the key to saving all Celestivine.

And yet, no one but the council has seen or spoken to them.

Today, however, that changes. I quietly take in the glittering palace as I approach among the servants. When I was young, it held such promise of a hopeful future. Now, however, I see it for what it is. Just as I see this entire world.

It’s been a week since Kuron returned, and all servants were banned from Eoua. Even entering through the portal was forbidden, making me curious about the children of Kuron. Though servants have been banned, the rumors still made it through. Some say Kuron’s son is as cruel as he is, lobbying for Me’Rite’s death before even the elders of our world. That is something that has never been done.

“I heard the Omniel's son returned with outsiders. That’s why he threatened the council for their safety. Living among those worlds must have tainted him.” I hear servants gossiping near me, pulling my attention.

“You know better than to wag your tongue above your station. I suggest you get rid of that temptation before you are the Omniel's next feeding source,” I hiss.

They narrow their gazes at me, moving away from me in the pack, but it does little to bother me. That kind of gossip is enough to have us purged from existence. It gives us reason to hope; To hope that the Omniel's son who was missing might have a different outlook on this world than his father.

Not only is that a dangerous sentiment, but impossible.

Celestivine do not know mercy. They do not know the meaning of equality. They cannot; it just isn’t in their nature. They create to destroy, and destroy to create. Damned be anyone who isn’t powerful enough to be noticed in their eyeline.

I pull in a trembling breath, my hand closing into a fist as I try to calm myself down, but as we enter the looming palace, with two more Celestivine to serve, I feel my resolve beginning to crumble.

Remus

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

In. Out.

Concentrate.

Feel the energy around me—the world around me. The particles that make up everything from the solid ground to the invisible air. Every little thing that will use my energy. Draw in that energy. Control that energy. Convert that energy. Release it.

Repeat.

My eyes open as pain shatters up my arm. I slowly look down to find my bone peeking up at me through broken skin; my blood trickles from the wound, pouring into the grass. This is the result of not being able to convert energy properly. If it is inside my body, it will violently release.

For some reason, I smile. The pain is…refreshing.

I pull in a deep breath, closing my eyes as I focus on the wound. I don’t use my hands; using my hands was necessary before. It helped me get a better understanding of the makeup by touch. But not now. Now, I only need to focus, engaging the cells in rapid reproduction as I fix my bone, sealing the wound. In less than five seconds, my arm is as good as new.

I’ve always been good at rapid healing, ever since my release from my mother’s prison. It makes sense now why I was so obsessed with it subconsciously. It was nearly dying as a child on Xyrannis that began all of this in the first place. It not only propelled me into a state of consumption that I wasn’t ready for, but it showed my mother that not only would I not acclimate to her tampering, but I would destroy the world she came to care about in the process.

I slowly open my eyes, taking in the empty garden. I came here to find peace before I have to face more of this world. But peace doesn’t seem possible. I hold my hand up, studying my skin. The area where my bone protruded through is smooth, as if there were never a wound.

I scoff to myself.

If only I were as good at mending the relationships in my life as I am at wounds. Wounds are easier, though. I know what it takes to fix them. People are more difficult. Their feelings are complex, and I can’t understand them any longer. My mind slowly drifts to Iris, and instead of the usual patience or longing that accompanies thoughts of her, I find myself vibrating with a foreign emotion as I recall our conversations this morning.

“Who are you to determine what has bearing on my life?”

Now, I laugh, lifting my face to the sun. She has always been this stubborn—too stubborn to see that she is doing more harm than good by going against what I say. Knowing will do her no good.

If she knew what happened in my past, she would resent my mother and my kind enough to try and fight among people who think her existence here is unnatural. If she knew that every day she wakes up in this world, it is siphoning energy from her, taking more and more of her life unless I step in, she would be in constant fear, unable to do anything about it.

And I couldn’t explain to her why I can’t bond with her again, which is what will protect her in the long run. I can’t tell her that each time I touch her body, I can feel everything about her life force. And that when I touched her on Xyrannis, I knew that she was pregnant. I cruelly took that from her, making it impossible to touch her in that way now that the guilt constantly eats away at me.

Her desire to push back and not listen to me makes me angry. It makes me angry in the way that my siblings refuse to see that everything I have done is for them. That they sulk in their spaces with their lives because of me.

I have lost the ability to communicate as I used to. As more energy passes through me, and places in my mind continue to open up, it is becoming harder to accept their emotions. I just need them to listen to me. I know what is best for everyone in the long run.

I feel a heavy wave settling over me as I stand. I don’t know this feeling, but I find myself embracing it. It helps push the unnecessary emotions that cause injuries like the one in my arm out of my mind. I do not need to consider anyone’s feelings. I alone know what is best for everyone.

I quietly study the garden, pulling in a deep breath. As I release it, I release more of the energy I just manifested into its roots. If Iris does decide to leave the room today, she will be able to absorb energy from the garden. It takes me a little longer than usual to infuse the garden, but just as I finish, I hear the sound of footsteps above.

The servants have arrived.

My days consist of shadowing my father. Even though I have ruled over entire empires prior to him discovering me, I have been missing from this one for over five hundred years. A lot has changed in that time, including the servants who walk among the Celestivine.

Because the nature of our return was so delicate, all of Eoua was shut down upon our arrival. Now that my mother’s sentence has been resolved, and Kuron knows that I can hold my own in this world, business as usual has resumed, prompting the return of Celestivine. Both like me, and the servants who walk the halls.

I shift my attention to the servants who stand quietly against the walls in an attempt to remain invisible. My father briefly taught me the history of their existence when I was a child. I don’t recall there being so many. Things have clearly changed in the five hundred years I have been missing.

I quietly stand, crossing the room as I approach one.

“Remus,” Kuron calls to me, but I ignore him, my attention captured the closer I get to one. She keeps her eyes trained ahead, and the longer I study her, the more I realize I cannot sense any energy coming from her. Her hair is dark, mimicking the black swallow of space. And as I reach for her, lifting her chin, forcing her eyes to meet mine, her irises are the same. Even as she tilts her chin to the light, none of it is reflected in that pitch-black gaze.

It’s almost as if they are walking black holes, swallowing all light and sound.

I release her chin, and an audible gasp escapes her as I reach for her arm, taking in the black veins beneath the sickly gray hue of her flesh. It is the same ruptured energy that fed on Ezra after Kuron attacked, except it doesn’t affect them.

“What do you call these beings?” I ask, standing tall.

I turn to face Kuron. His expression is irritated. I know the way the Celestivine feel about these servants. I feel it as well, the disgust mingled with distrust of what they are. But I have also been among aliens my entire life—I even managed to fall in love with one.

“They are nameless,” Kuron says.

I turn to face the servant. She is visibly trembling before me.

“Are they?” I ask, studying her.

“Yes,” Kuron says. “They are unimportant to today’s lesson, Remus—”

“What do you call yourselves? Surely you don’t call yourselves Celestivine,” I say, gauging her reaction.

I hear Kuron setting down the pages he was focused on, watching the exchange. She opens her mouth to speak, and I narrow my gaze.

“Look at me,” I say, letting my anger hang in the air.

She slowly lifts her gaze, her trembling becoming annoying.

“We-d-do not call ourselves anything; we are nothing,” she whispers.

I narrow my gaze, but I don’t react. She is lying.

“Hm,” I murmur, standing tall. I go back to facing my father, making a mental note to keep an eye on these servants. The one positive thing to come from my abduction and life among the stars is that I’ve learned never to underestimate those who are seen as beneath you.

Iris is a shining example of that.

I return to my father’s side, gesturing for him to continue with his lesson.