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“There he is! Kill the fiend!” Stayrus huffed, flying above the clouds to avoid the arrows being shot at him. A simple fire blast was enough to scare away the humans hunting him. He was the Abyss Dragon. He wasn’t going to be killed by a measly mortal. He landed in a field of datura on the outskirts of an old village. He stretched his wings and laid down among the red flowers.
Stayrus sunbathed, eyes closed. A gentle breeze blew, tussling his silver hair and a few dark red petals landed on his face. He rolled over, brushing off the petals. The valley was peaceful and quiet. No one dared to bother him here. He huffed, tail flicking angrily. He hated the fact he was still hunted. Humans were truly greedy creatures. They wouldn’t stop hunting until they’ve killed the last dragon, which so happened to be him. Greedy creatures were just the creatures Sylus fed on, but even he couldn’t withstand attack after attack from humans.
He was still a young dragon. He hadn’t had enough practice or control over his magic to keep him from dying so easily. Stayrus barely had any memories of his mother, but he did remember the way she commanded her magic and abilities. He remembered the day she’d died, and the way he’d still tried to assimilate into the same species that had killed his kind. He mutilated himself time and time again and still was outcasted. He’d learned very quickly humans only saw a monster.
“Whoa! Look!” Stayrus cracked open one of his eyes, turning toward the childish voice. Two small redheaded boys looked at him with wide eyes. Stayrus tilted his head. No human had ever dared to approach him, much less children. “It’s a real dragon! Kieran, look!” the louder of the two boys pointed and grinned at Stayrus. The quieter boy, Kieran, tilted his head, hiding behind his brother.
Stayrus chuffed smoke. “Most aren’t dumb enough to approach me,” he mused, looking at them with deep crimson eyes. “I could kill you in an instant.” His comments did not deter the two small humans looking at him. Instead, it only seemed to excite them. “Who are you?”
“I’m Luke, and this is my brother Kieran,” Luke said proudly and apparently having so sense of danger or self-preservation. Kieran was wearing a hooded cloak, almost hiding part of his face.“Who are you, Mister Dragon?”
“…my name is Stayrus,” Stayrus hummed, amused by the two boys. “Why are you here, little ones?” He tilted his head, bristling. It wouldn’t be above the high priests to use children to try to capture and kill him. He should’ve flown away by now.
The twins glanced at each other. “Just explorin’,” Luke shrugged, “finding stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?” Stayrus raised an eyebrow.
“Stuff,” Luke repeated before hesitantly asking, “do you know where we can find healers?” His voice was small and barely audible.
“Why would children like you need healers?” Stayrus scoffed. Now that he thought about it, he could smell the metallic scent of blood. An unfamiliar protective instinct burned in his chest. Had these children been hurt by something? Kieran slowly took off his hood and Stayrus bristled. His face was marred by scars, and not just any scars. Stayrus recognized the scars of a scourge. “What happened?” he asked softly, a clawed hand gently tilting Kieran’s head to see the irritated scars.
“I…we got caught stealing,” Kieran whispered, shaking slightly.
“We didn’t have anyone but ourselves,” Luke scoffed defensively. “And we were hungry.”
Stayrus opened his mouth to say something when he heard the distant yells of the army. He growled and spread his wings. He needed to get to safety, but he didn’t want to leave these orphaned twins alone. Without thinking, he grabbed them and took to the skies.
Thus, Stayrus was no longer alone in a world that wanted him dead. The twins had no where else to go, and the dragon gave them protection and a home in his cave. He showered them in gold and whatever riches they wanted. Stayrus found himself growing more and more protective of his boys. His? Since when had the twins been his? That didn’t matter anymore.
But all good things must come to an end.
“WHERE ARE MY CHILDREN?” Stayrus roared angrily, destroying buildings and raining down chaos. Luke and Kieran cried and struggled against the high priest’s army. “Let them go,” Stayrus snarled, tail lashing. “Your qualms are with me, not them.”
“You kidnapped and brainwashed these poor children, fiend,” a knight holding his blade to Kieran’s throat yelled. “They must be cleansed, and perhaps in the next life they will no longer be tainted by your powers.”
Stayrus’ blood went cold. “Don’t hurt them,” he snarled, his magic flaring. Red and black mist burst forth and tendrils grabbed at the knights.
“Dad!” Luke cried, biting the knight keeping him back. He tried to run to Sylus.
Blood splattered. Stayrus saw red. The next thing he knew a broadsword had been plunged into his chest.
Sylus had search for Luke and Kieran, holding onto a small hope they’d reincarnated like he had. But Emcee hadn’t cursed them like she did him. He still searched. Being reborn a fiend once more, Sylus searched Philos up and down. He’d befriended an albino crow he named Mephisto before he was summoned and found by Emcee once again. While helping her find what she needed, he still tried finding his boys.
As he died in that casket with Emcee in his arms, his heart broke as he accepted that he’d never see his sons again. He only prayed they were happy in the afterlife, that associating with him hadn’t damned them.
‘I’m sorry.’
In the current timeline, Sylus was now a ruthless criminal, leader of Onychinus and practically running the N109 zone. He’d long given up trying to find his sons. Mephisto didn’t reincarnate either, so Sylus had built a mechanical crow so he’d have at least one of his family members while he waited for Emcee to return to him.
Sylus had confronted one of his enemies at the Solon Hotel, using his evol to kill him quickly. It was all quite boring, and he didn’t even need to show up to have the guy killed, but Sylus wanted to send a message, no matter how boring it was. He stood up calmly and turned to leave when something caught his eye out the window. In the distance he swore he saw a flash of red and black.
“Go,” he ordered Mephisto. The crow cawed and fly out the window into the night, ignoring the way his heart clenched. It couldn’t be. They were dead, nothing but ghosts of the past.
Mephisto returned with nothing, and Sylus left it at that. Later in the week, he was attending a concert. He sat in his seat, eyes closed and a hand on his temple as he waited for the concert to begin. Maybe this would give him some entertainment for a while. He paused, hearing soft footsteps behind him.
“Mind if I borrow two – no, three minutes of your time? Let me have a go at killing you before the concert starts.” Sylus froze. He recognized that voice. It was slightly older, but he’d know Luke’s voice anywhere. "You might want to open your eyes. It could get messy, even for Onychinus' boss-man.”
Water splashed all around him, and Sylus opened his eyes, looking at Luke and the dart in his hand. “What’s your motive, L—” he cut himself off, not wanting to show his hand too early. Despite having Luke’s face, Sylus sensed a lot of anger toward him.
“My reason for wanting to kill you, huh? Hmm...” Kill him? His boys wanted to kill him? Sylus tried to ignore the hurt in his chest at Luke’s words. Luke’s hesitation warned Sylus of Kieran being nearby. He might as well take advantage of this. If they wanted him dead, they’d have to work for it.
“If you want to kill me, at least use a method that's less boring.” His evol activated and misty tendrils grabbed them, holding Luke and Kieran down. Sylus watched shock dawn on their faces. Sylus threw them out of the concert hall, taking measures to make sure he didn’t hurt them, and sat back down to watch his concert. But he was no longer thinking about the concert. Luke and Kieran were alive. And they wanted to kill him. He took a deep breath.
What happened to his kids?
The next time Sylus ran into Luke and Kieran was when he was in the middle of taking down a fighting ring that was operating illegally. Not the everything in the N109 zone was illegal, but he had rules the club had blatantly ignored. His team had broken in and started fighting. He was about to enter the fray when Luke and Kieran fell at his feet, literally.
Sylus ignored their speech about wanting to be his loyal followers, scoffing and looking at the fight ring. “If you want to join Onychinus, prove yourselves,” he said, dropping a knife in front of them. He had a reputation to uphold. As much as he wanted to just scoop up his kids and dote on them, he couldn’t with his men and enemies watching. This way, he could get a feel for their fighting skills.
Half an hour later, the twins returned with a blood soaked knife and satisfied smiled, but Sylus could still sense something off about them. His aethercore couldn’t find a desire, yet he stared at them, searching.
Since we're on borrowed time anyway, why don't we go out with a bang?
Sylus froze, tilting his head. Borrowed time? Anger flared in his chest. What had they been through to make them believe they didn’t have long to live to the point they had wanted to kill him? Sylus looked at them, scrutinizing and studying them. Before he could say anything, Kieran staggered, the knife slipping from his hands as a blood curling scream erupted from his throat.
Sharp, jagged crystals broke through his skin, covering his shoulder and face. Kieran screamed and curled in on himself, clawing at the crystals. His other hand gripped the knife. Sylus saw Luke grit his teeth and stumble, holding the same area Kieran was injured. Did they feel each other’s pain? Frozen in shock, Sylus watched Kieran dig the knife into his face, prying the crystals out with a pained scream.
“Don’t worry about me,” Kieran gasped as Luke scrambled to him, taking the knife.
“Let me help you,” Luke urged, “I’ll help you.” He held the knife steady.
Sylus approached them, shaking slightly. He could remember their small bodies in that courtyard, bleeding and growing cold. “If you do this, you’ll both die.”
“I don’t care!” Luke snarled, cutting out the crystals, crying out in pain with Kieran. “I’ll die with him.”
Sylus felt his heart seize. He couldn’t let his sons die. Not again. His evol lunged at them, curling around them and the energy surging into them. He had to find the source to stop this. He didn’t register the fear on their faces as fear of him until Luke cried out.
“No! Don’t!” he coughed and wheezed, looking at Sylus with a new look in his eyes.
I don’t want to die!
“Then live. Keep fighting to survive.” Sylus shattered the crystals, watching them sag in exhaustion and pain. “Dying in the N109 zone is easy,” he murmured, looking at them. “Staying alive in the real strength.” He caught them as the pain got to much and they lost consciousness. Sylus brought them back to his manor, tending to Kieran’s wounds, cleaning and bandaging them up. Blinding rage filled him. Sylus had seen those crystals before right before some one with protocore syndrome became a wanderer. He only knew of one organization that could do this.
Devour them… Kill them…KILL EVER!