“... You encountered him, didn’t you?” 

“Who… do you speak of?” 

“... The one who destroyed the fragile balance… that unscrupulous serpent who slithered and cajoled his way into your pristine garden, subsequently setting it ablaze.” 

Her words slammed into him with the ferocity of a wrecking ball— as the sole survivor of the star children, anyway, there was only one inference he could draw from the vagueness of her description. A foggy silhouette of a man flitted across his vision, girdled by a sinister ring of fire. There were pockmarks, however— like an uncompleted puzzle, craters in his memory— the man was a specter— a barely-there, faceless entity steeped in an enigmatic haze. 

 But he could distinctly recall the sweetness of his timbre; the warmth of his consoling touch; the elegant strums of his instrument— or how his holy form seemed to illuminate like raw gold beneath the perpetual moonglow. When Jevon missed a particular note while he was studying the lyre under his generous tutelage, he would neither chide nor ridicule him. Instead, skillful fingers would come and twine around his own, gently ushering him in the right direction. The breadth of time it took was inconsequential— no, they would have kept at it until he fully came to master the song— and then, in a joyous and enlightening cycle, move onto the next. 

Other times, he would pillow his arms behind his head, relaxed in an argent bed of flowers— and listen with undisguised fascination as the mysterious man recited valorous tales from his homeland. A succubus with a head of viscous snakes whose petrifying gaze could render even the strongest warrior to an immovable block of stone. Reams of lightning bolts cast down by a haughty war god onto hordes of bloodthirsty beasts. Or the ferocious— world-sized titans who had purportedly molded the cosmos, the stars, and the skies in the palms of their hands.

As a denizen of the stars, he was imprisoned by the unwaning night of the upper earth. To him, this enigmatic stranger had been a portal. A glimpse into the beauteous opportunities that dwelled beyond this suffocating enclosure of clouds— this insincere, artificial paradise. Into the sweeping grasslands; the unlimited ravines of the great oceans; the verdant songs of the rolling valleys. Small and fragile and alone as he had been, he subconsciously came to revolve his life— his sanity— utterly around this clandestine brotherhood of theirs.

However... 

“Do you wish for freedom?”  

His reality was completely capsized by a few uncomplicated words— a seemingly innocuous statement that would ultimately lead to the entropy of all that he had known until then. And like a breached dam, he was caught in a torpedo of memories— resulting in an onrush of nausea that caused him to topple onto his knees, a palm clapping over his mouth.  

Kill them, enticed the demon— its voice like honeyed poison, thrusting that vindictive knife into his hands—

Before he knew it, he was standing before the altar of the galaxy— encompassed by vigilant stained glass— pouring rainbows over his contorted expression as he tentatively marched up to the mensa wherein the whitehaired god was sprawled, dressed in those translucent ceremonial robes— scintillating in the enduring moonlight.  

Kill them, as he hesitated on the final step, the demon pushed him forward— a pair of ghostly arms springing out, shoving his back— neither there but everywhere simultaneously. Goading, tugging, flattering— as if the walls, the floors, and the ceilings were uttering dangerous words to him: the distorted voices of the abyss fueling his bloodthirst.  

Kill them all, and you’ll be free at last.  

He raised the point of the blade over their unguarded chest. Even now, he was unsure if they had been awake or asleep— ignorant, or willfully surrendering themself to their fate. They have always been one to preach such drivel, after all— even when it came to their own existence— for death was the natural end result for all things— the archaic and immortal unexempted.  

Carve your way to true freedom— to paradise— with their blood.  

He was promised freedom. He would finally be able to escape this stifling cage with the spilling of their blood— and the demise of their influence over him. No longer would have to yield to the cruelness that was this sheltered fate of his—  

And yet, his hands had trembled.  

They represented the part of himself he despised the most physically incarnated. Furthermore, an easy target. He was unsure why he would hesitate. One leap and he would be free. If he regretted it in the aftermath, he would have already hit the pavement regardless. All he had to do was set one foot after the other. 

And once they fell—  

Once he killed them—  

He could achieve...  

Kill them. 

Kill them.  

Kill them.  

Kill—  

Jevon had not realized he was hyperventilating until he was yanked back into the real world by a pair of arms, scooping him up in an astonishing hug. A hand found its way into his awry locks as fingers, roughened by conflict— as they combed through with startling delicacy like a mother comforting her sobbing offspring.

And, oddly, he felt ensconced— the rapidness of his breath tailed off into a quiet tremble as would his thunderous palpitations abate. Subconsciously, his face came to dock in the crook of a neck as if his body, scarcely ever touched by the delightful hallucinogen known as parental love— instinctively craved her attention.

“... Forgive me, my child,” Antares said as she traded out her godly sobriety for maternal gentleness.  “... I realize that you have suffered immensely. It was cruel of me to thrust the burden of the world on your shoulders… not so suddenly, anyhow. However,” she pulled back to face him head-on, diligently brushing away a blossoming tear with the pad of her thumb.  

“... I came here to warn you. The death of your predecessor was only the beginning; if you fail to take action now, as heir of the stars, then this world… these people you’ve come to cherish… they will be lost to you, entangled in the throes of madness and despair... including your precious prince. Are you content with that, even though you— and you alone— possess the power to alter the tides of fate?” 

"But I... I was the one... the reason why all of this is happening is because—” 

He was interrupted by the harried thumping of incoming footfalls, and with flaring panic, Jevon broke out of the god’s embrace and scrambled onto his feet, using his shirtsleeve to flush away any lingering tears. And from the hedgerows emerged his date, who he recalled he had rudely abandoned in the ballroom— tumbling into a halt and buckling downward, clutching their knees as they struggled to recapture their breath. Jevon kneeled, a concerned hand hovering over one of their quivering shoulders.  

“Xolani, what...”  

When their eye snapped up, Jevon noted that the god had vanished. For she was little more than an apparition it seemed, it surely did not surprise him— and besides, her schemes were the least of his worries at the moment, so he drew his attention away from the invisible elephant for the time being— zeroing in on his friend’s palpable, and worryingly, uncharacteristic distress.  

“Jevon, I...”  

“Xolani, deep breaths— take your time,” he soothed; however, Xolani shook their head fiercely in rebuttal, their proceeding sentence akin to a punched-out gasp— as if a fist had driven into their chest.  

“It’s Roxxy, he— he’s been… something has happened to him, Jevon. I… I’m not sure what yet, but those old fogeys in the council— the ball’s been canceled already, I… I need you to come along with me for now, all right? I can’t face this alone.” 

Never before has he so accurately experienced the sensation of having your heart sink straight into your stomach. 

Roxxy…