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His magic pen sat on the coffee table of the Diasomnia lounge, untouched and unprovoked save for the pulsing presence of blot coating its glowing green gem. The lounge was huge, and Silver could make his way through without the table coming into his sight. But despite that fact, Silver often found himself walking past the table on multiple occasions. His gaze would flicker to the gem before he forced his reluctant legs to keep moving, never mind the slight hesitation that seemed to grow longer with each opportunity. It was like he was pulled into its orbit, constantly drawing near to it without meaning to.
It was Malleus’ constant gaze upon him that gave him the strength to keep moving, to avoid the temptation to just reach and summon his magic, to complete his overblot. He ignored the whispers of his treacherous mind, ignored the fact that he needed to draw strength from his magic as his aching body constantly screamed for rest and reprieve. Uncharacteristic bouts of anger continued to flare within his mind, moreso since Malleus had placed that spell on him that prevented him from falling asleep.
He curled deeper into the couch, burying his face into the pillow as he clutched at the fabric. Though he closed his eyes, his mind was frazzled, buzzing with a nervous energy that he solely blamed on Malleus’ influence. In a rare bout of frustration, he rolled back over, his gaze falling onto the blot covered pen.
Something cold and sharp tugged at the tender flesh of his neck, and with a frown, Silver pulled on the chain. The ring his father gave him glittered back at him, stinging his tired eyes.
“Just like this jewel, please don’t let sadness cloud this child’s eyes. Your parents must have entrusted a dear wish to this ring.”
Silver’s frown deepened the more he peered at the glittering jewels of the golden ring. Had it all been a joke? What was the point of telling him such a worthless lie? He had seen the carnage, how his fa-Lilia had cut down the members of his household before he stormed the nursery with the intent to kill the son of his enemy. When Lilia had first presented him with that ring, had he been laughing at the naive way his human son took his words to heart? Did he find some twisted pleasure in Silver’s ignorance?
A screaming baby, a blood-soaked sword, a shattered cradle, and cold unforgiving eyes spitefully staring at the swaddled bundle as if it was the most disgusting thing it had ever laid eyes on.
With a quick desperation as if the metal on his skin neck had burned, Silver snapped the flimsy chain from his neck and flung the ring away. Something within his heart cried out for the last gift bestowed upon him by his father as it left his presence. But it was never really a true gift if his entire life, childhood, and love were fake.
He didn’t see where the ring fell, but he heard the soft ‘clink’ as the ornament fell against a stone wall before it hit the ground. Tears flooded his burning eyes, his headache increasing with every uncontrollable emotion suddenly flooding him. It was like the ring was the last boulder keeping the dam from bursting, and with a careless tug, everything was released.
His knees hit the ground as he curled into himself, weeping uncontrollably and losing his breath with each sob. It wouldn’t hurt so much if he could bring himself to hate Lilia, hate the childhood he was given and hate the lie he was told. But he couldn’t, not when each lying and loving word still filled him with an aching warmth and a desire to feel that embrace again, not when he still wanted to see Lilia’s smiling face directed at him one last time, and especially not when he desired to return to blissful ignorance and continue to live and leech off of the love of someone who despised and wanted him dead.
At some point, Malleus approached him and knelt upon the floor. When Silver turned his gaze upward, he dared to feel a flicker of hope.
“Please,” Silver rasped, forehead pressed against the cold stone floor. “Put me to sleep.”
Malleus shook his head. “I cannot do that.”
It was just a waiting game. The next time Silver came dangerously close, he would overblot and doom his classmates. Already he felt his control slipping away, his aching limbs trembling as he struggled to maintain some sense of control.
“I…I love him,” Silver stifled, nails digging into the stone. “Please…take it away from me.”
“I won’t because this will only make you stronger. Release it Silver, and revel in the truth you now know.”
The airflow in his lungs suddenly stopped, and Silver lurched forward with a breathless gasp, clawing at his throat as panic filled him when he could no longer breathe. Was this it? Was this how he would die? Suffocate before he had the chance to overblot?
“Silver!” Strong hands grasped his hands and pulled them away from his throat. A clawed hand pressed against his throat, and suddenly, the blockage within him was lessened, and sweet precious air made its way through. Gasping, Silver trembled, still feeling the taste of blot in his throat and how it traveled up his nose.
“Listen to me,” Malleus’ tone carried an unusual authority. Firm hands grasped his chin, and he was forced to look into those unwavering eyes. “You will panic and feel as if you are losing all sense of control.”
“...what?” Silver gasped. When he glanced at his hands, he realized with dismay that the blot was already traveling past his elbows. He couldn’t move, feeling like his mind and spirit were distancing from his body, like he was just submerging into an uncontrollable sleep.
“You will need to let it overtake you,” Malleus continued. “It will feel like an ocean wave crashing down and pulling you under.”
“I…I’ll hurt everyone!”
“You won’t,” Malleus promised. “What is your greatest desire?” He pulled Silver closer, green eyes unusually clear and beseeching. “Why did you become a knight?”
“To protect.”
“Yes.” A relieved smile crossed Malleus’ features. “Serve me to protect your loved ones. Hone in on that desire and use it to beat back the phantom.”
There were so many questions he wanted to ask, protests brimming on his tongue. What if he lost control?
The blot filling his mouth silenced him. But he needed no words to voice his fears. Malleus understood.
“I will be here to drag you back should it come to that.”
But who was here to drag you back?
And Malleus grinned. “Silly boy. Do you see my phantom anywhere?”
And for a horrifying moment, Silver realized just how in control his prince was in his overblot. With one last shove, for that was all it took for Silver to give in, he fell into the tantalizing embrace of the swiftly forming phantom. Instantly, he could not breathe, his mouth opened in a silent scream as tears clouded his vision. There was a hand holding his as he crushed it on a bone-shattering grip, feeling as if he were drowning, but something was keeping him alive. He was screaming and crying, unleashing every single overwhelming emotion that threatened to overtake him.
Hurt and betrayal…
Unwanted, unloved…
A tool, a pawn, a servant, a failure of a knight giving in to the weakness of his flesh…
His mind was no more, his vision cleared to see a haze of pink skies as the sun rose to greet the break of dawn. Birds soared in the air, and for a moment, Silver felt at peace as he could finally breathe again.
He had no one. No family, no home to return to, and a kingdom that no longer wanted him.
All he had left was his duty.
“Meet in a Dream,” he murmured.
On the stone floor of the Diasomnia dorm, a prince covered in blot watched over as his re-awakened knight stirred. Aurora-colored eyes flashed open, a pale hand twitching, only for the King of the Abyss to clasp that hand and guide his knight up.
“There you are,” the king murmured. The knight, without hesitation, bowed his masked head, no longer struggling or striving to escape.
It was only the shattering of a wooden door that broke their attention away from each other.
xXx
Clawing his way out of his dream had not been an easy feat. But fueled with vindictiveness, desperation, and determination, Lilia had waged a relentless war on the dream realm he was trapped in. His child needed him, and he would be damned if he was holed up in some prison.
Foolish. This was his dream, and now that he was aware of it, he could use whatever he wanted at his disposal.
His magic reawakened in ways it had never before, cutting away at the fabric of this reality. Beside him, Sebek relentlessly offered his support, face set in a determined, grim mask. His magic crackled with a fierce electric strength, roaring with the voice of a thunder. Fueled with such support, Lilia’s strength was amplified, cutting away at the fast-growing dark blot.
“Lilia!”
Flinching at the voice, Lilia kept his gaze squarely ahead despite Malenoa’s familiar voice screaming his name.
“Shut up,” he growled. “You’re dead!”
And perhaps it was harsh, perhaps it shattered his heart as he relived this moment all over again, but his rage was only fueled at the being who tampered with his mind and heart by taunting him with the faces and memories of his deceased loved ones.
At the cost of his living son.
Like the tearing of a veil, the fabric of reality split apart, and for a moment Lilia’s vision turned a blinding white…
Before he awoke with a gasp, flailing in his bed as he became tangled up in the sheets. With a growl, Lilia kicked off the blankets and stumbled out of the bed. Sprinting for the door, he grabbed the doorknob, only to realize with slight horror that it was locked from the outside.
He was spent on magic, but he would be damned if his hundreds of years of physical training would be worthless.
With a fierce growl, Lilia began kicking the door down. Upon the second impact, the wood began to splinter. He continued at that weak point, channeling his desperation into the strength of his kicks.
How could he forget that horror-stricken face his son wore? Before the blot had consumed him, all that was on Silver’s face was a heart-broken expression that Lilia had never wanted to see on his son. He could only imagine what had transpired between his younger self and his son in that bloody nursery, and each scenario only fueled his desperation to reach his son, grab him, hold him, and never let go until he knew how much he was loved and wanted.
For that screaming baby within that cradle would become his greatest treasure, the spoils of war, the one thing he would take from that wretched experience. His once hateful and spiteful attitude toward the innocent child was undeserving. If only he had known then how special that boy would be, how much of his heart belonged to that baby, how such blossoming love would overwhelm him to an alarming extent. Truely, it was terrifying how much of a hold the boy had over him.
In a way, he was glad that he had killed the Knight of the Dawn, for no one else could lay claim to his precious son.
Finally, the door shattered, and Lilia sprinted through the opening. He sensed the magic in the air, the overwhelming taint of blot, as he ran down the stairs. What he saw dashed away at the sliver of hope he dared to foster.
Malleus was just as he last remembered him: imposing, twisted, and malicious. His son, on the other hand, was unrecognizable. Clothed in a twisted version of his official knight’s uniform that melded into the colors of blue and green, he stood to regard the new arrival. Lilia’s heart stilled at the sight. Where the breastplate of the armor should be were the twisted bramble thorns encircling his son’s chest. Thorns snaked up Silver’s wrists in the exposed areas of the armor, drawing blot-covered blood that dripped to the floor. The familiar shape of the Silver Owl’s mask covered his face, leaving a blank and hollow version of his son standing before him.
Lilia’s dagger was flying at the phantom clinging to Silver’s shoulders without a second thought as he leapt from the banister. The consequence was the crick in his knees when he landed, but he ignored the reminder of his own mortality as he raced forward, drawing another dagger. He had a target, and with the precision of an experienced warrior, he intended to cut that phantom away from his son.
But his son was faster; younger and fueled with the rush of the overblot, he cast out a hand and thorned vines shot from the ground. Lilia only had a moment to react as he leapt out of the way, cursing his lack of magic. But he used the furniture as his evasive decoy.
His side exploded in pain as a particular nasty thorn slammed into him. Bracing himself as he hit the ground, his gaze came across something soft upon the floor.
The ring he gifted Silver glittered amidst the chaos, and Lilia scrambled to grab it before the persistent thorns encircled around Lilia, pulling him against the wall.
“Malleus!” Lilia screamed. “What have you done?!”
“Oh my, you’re awake.” Genuine surprise colored Malleus’ tone as he approached. “That’s an issue.”
Lilia strained against the thorns, heart beating wildly. “Silver, Silver please.” He looked at his son’s masked face, searching for any signs of recognition. But when his son merely stared back, unmoved and unbothered, Lilia’s hopelessness grew. “Silver, wake up. Fight against it!”
“He has been fighting for too long, Lilia.” Malleus’ voice cut through. “The past few nights have been a traumatic experience for him. Now, he can finally rest.”
Lilia strained against his bonds despite the thorns digging into his flesh. “Silver, whatever you saw in my dream, none of it was real!”
“Wasn’t it?” Malleus interjected.
Lilia hesitated. Of course, he had stormed the palace and slain the entire household of the Dawning Knight. At one point, he had entertained the idea of killing the knight’s son, of ending his bloodline and completing his blinding quest for revenge.
But how did he justify all of that? Despite the gruesome circumstances of their first encounter, Lilia no longer felt that way and would change their first meeting if only he could look back at that moment fondly. None of this changed how he saw his son, how much he loved him.
“I don’t feel that way anymore,” Lilia promised. “I haven’t for a long time.”
Green magic danced upon Malleus’ open palm, eyes glowing. “Lilia, let us return you to that preferred memory of yours. Give my regards to mother and father.”
Before Lilia could initiate a malicious retort, the familiar sting of Malleus’ magic engulfed him.
But Lilia was a spiteful, vengeful fae. He was born from it, and he latched onto that emotion when he was submerged once more.
His emotions were a torrent of anger, a storm of desire and vindictiveness. With the ring clutched firmly in his hands, Lilia remembered everything. He ignored the celebration around him, and how Malenoa and Levan approached him. He brushed past the queen and began his assault once more on the fabric of the dream realm.
He would accept no other reality unless it involved his real son, alive, well, and brightly smiling as he was free from anguish.
When Lilia awoke, he thought he was still trapped in a nightmare. Who could fault him when the phantom of a golden-haired woman in a tattered blue dress hovered over him?
A dagger shot straight through the phantom’s heart, embedding in the ceiling. The phantom shrieked, falling back as it clutched at the injury, a deep and heart-wrenching wail filling the room.
Gasping, Lilia surveyed his room, his gaze landing on the other figure standing guard at his door.
“Silver,” he breathed, scrambling up. He cared not for the blot covering his child when he embraced him, despising the armor that prevented him from truly feeling his son.
There was no response, and when Lilia pulled back, that damned mask was still concealing Silver’s face.
“Silver, please.” Lilia cupped his face, feeling the cold surface of the mask. His fingers searched for any slip within the metal, hoping to find the source of warm flesh, a sign that his boy was still in there. But it was like the mask was fused to his skin, and tears marred Lilia’s eyes.
“I am so sorry,” Lilia started. “Whatever you saw in there, in my dream, holds no truth with how I feel about you now. I can only,” he released a shuddering breath, “I can only imagine what you saw, and I hate that I caused you such pain.” His hands moved from Silver’s face to clasp at his hands, feeling the prick of the thorns against his skin.
“I love you, my son. I always have. Even when I found you on what was the worst day of my life, you were the source of joy, a blessing offered to me that day. A blessing I never want to lose. Ever.”
His eyes searched his son’s masked gaze, hopeful. “Silver, I love you.”
There was a choked, shuddering gasp, and Silver’s hands came up to push Lilia away, ink smearing his dorm uniform, but Lilia held on. “I love you,” Lilia repeated. “I am so sorry that I never said it enough, but I will continue to say it until the end of time. Silver, I love you!”
Like a doll cut from its strings, his son’s rigid shoulders slumped, masked head bowed as if the weight of his armor was too great to carry. Lilia released his son’s hands if only to touch the edge of the mask. With the tender firmness of a father, Lilia tugged on the mask until it lifted, and he beheld his son’s blot-stained face.
His features were pale. Whereas before Silver’s cheeks were stained with a pink blush, now it was an ashen white. The only distortion to the color were the black ink marks from the tears falling down his son’s face.
When Lilia pulled back, he saw the true form of his child. Blot, he knew, was horrendous and took the victim’s worst shape of their desires, but he was not prepared for his son’s form. Armor of gleaming silver and blue cloaked his son, but the breastplate was jagged, open and exposing the twist of thorns encircling his son’s chest. Lilia knew this, had seen it when he first confronted Malleus and Silver. But he had failed to see what was buried within the thorns of his son’s chest. Visible only because of its bright red color was a single rose where his son’s heart should be, pulsing like a weak heartbeat.
“Oh, my baby.” Tears fell down Lilia’s face, and he clung to his son. “It’s alright my dear,” he said, voice trembling. “I’ll get us both out of here.”
Silver said and did nothing, remaining at his post at Lilia’s door.
The phantom moved from behind his son and hovered near the ceiling, watchful and despondent. Lilia had taken to ignoring its presence as he gently wiped away at the blot staining his son’s face, black ink marring his pale features. His heart continued to break when there was no reaction to his touch. Silver did not lean in or step forward. No, it was like he was carved from stone.
“I can’t let you leave.” His son’s voice was hollow, but at least it was an acknowledgement of his presence.
“We’re both leaving,” Lilia affirmed. He had no intention of fighting his son for the door. No, the barred windows will have to do. Hands on his hips, Lilia surveyed the situation. He forced out a chuckle. “Remind me to tell you the story of when I was trapped in...” He paused, memory flashing back to when he was trapped in the Dawning Knights fortress. “With Baul,” he corrected quickly. “There was no window I couldn't squeeze through. The perks of being petite!”
“We can’t leave.”
“If I have to knock you out and throw you over my shoulders to get you out, I will do it.” Lilia turned to glare at him. “I’ve done it before, and I will do it again.”
How could he even break his son out of this state? He had no desire to fight his child, and even if that was the only way, he was spent of magic and his son could quickly overpower him. Not to mention, based on how Silver was reacting, Malleus may not be aware of his awakened state.
But there was a part within him that shattered his heart. He had hurt his son, deeply and in ways that no weapon ever could. How did he remedy that? How did he make it up to his son?
Arms wrapped around him, and Lilia stiffened when he realized that it was the phantom. “Let me go,” he hissed, but the phantom only pulled him back and away from Silver. “I said let me go!”
“Be silent.” Silver’s emotionless voice caused Lilia to still, and he watched as his son opened the bedroom door. “I will be back.”
And Lilia could only stare helplessly as his son left as the phantom dragged him to the bed. In a sickening form of affection, the phantom ran its claws through his hair much in the same way he would do for Silver.
Lilia pulled away with a growl. “I will destroy you and set him free.”
The phantom only purred in content at their current position.
xXx
When his son returned, Lilia had nearly exhausted himself in his attempts to escape from the phantom's grasp. Even in his son’s presence, the phantom did not let him go.
His son was just within reach, but this damn thing dared to confine him here! He poured every bit of anger, hate, and frustration into his words. “Release me,” he hissed to the phantom, venom dripping from his tone.
He felt the form of the phantom shudder, and he was not blind to the way Silver flinched. For a moment, Lilia went still, his own stupidity staring back at him. The phantom was an extension of his son, a form of his desires. While it was slowly killing Silver, it was also in a sense a part of him, an outlet for his feelings.
Slowly, Lilia brought his hands up to where the phantom was embracing him. With slow movements, he stroked those clawed hands. Stiffening when he felt the phantom rest its head into the crook of his shoulders, he kept his gaze firmly on his son.
“Silver,” he began, words halting.
Come here
Let me hold you
Fight against this
I’m so sorry
I love you
Lilia could not say any of those words, not when his bedroom door shattered. Silver reacted swiftly to confront the attack, sword raised and cutting through the thorns that shot out from the darkness. His son’s phantom shrieked, arms tightening around Lilia and flying him back. From his current position, Lilia saw how a dark figure emerged, clawed hand out and encroaching. It was that very same clawed hand that ensnared his son, and with growing horror, Lilia saw what had stopped Silver in his tracks.
There was a single rose petal falling from his son’s chest.
“Silver!”
Lilia’s scream filled the room. Gasping, Silver’s body shuddered. The only thing that seemed to keep him upright was the clawed hand that broke through the bramble thorns encircling his chest.
“Hm, he loves me, he loves me not?” With a cruel twist, another red petal was pulled from the rose beating within Silver’s chest. His son fell to the ground with a pained gasp, clutching his chest.
“Oh, wrong flower I suppose.” Malleus at least looked intrigued as he studied the petal. “You play this game with daisies, correct?”
When those green eyes landed on Lilia, his heart stilled.
This was not Malleus. Not anymore. Any trace of his prince within that overblot form was gone. Lilia now only realized what kind of a mental onslaught Malleus had to face when combating an ancient phantom. The strain his mind had been under…it was truly impressive he had held out for so long.
Horror was replaced with rage. Yes, Lilia could use this emotion, he had to. It was better than falling into despair when faced with the fact that his two sons were now long gone. “You bitch,” he growled. “I know who you are.”
“If you know who I am, then you know what comes next.” A voice that was not Malleus’ own pierced through the room, clawed hand outstretched. An expression that never once crossed his prince’s face leered down at him, an ancient and forgotten presence filling the room. “I do not wish to be disturbed. It’s time you return to your peaceful reality.”
Movement from the shadows stirred as Silver surged forward, blot covered sword in hand. Malleus anticipated the attack, striking back, but the blow sent him away from Lilia.
“Meet in a Dream,” Silver declared as the mask fell over his face.
xXx
He got used to the shadows lurking from outside the cage. Once he was able to sort through the confusion and terror, it was easier to accept his current situation. Until the crushing sense of hopelessness filled him, for who was strong enough to combat him in this deranged state?
Malleus remained where he was, hand outstretched through the bramble thorn of cages to clasp Silver’s. His young knight could only manage a comforting squeeze in the darkness.
“I hope,” Silver started, voice quiet, “that I don’t hurt anyone.”
“It’s not in your nature,” Malleus assured. He wouldn’t deny that he was terrified, terrified of what he was capable of doing. Even in this state, he was like a spectator. With every fluctuation of his desires, he bore witness to his actions.
His desire for companionship, coaxing Silver to give in to his overblot.
His desire to preserve the life of his loved ones around him, cursing everyone into a thousand years of sleep.
“I’m scared.”
He didn’t know if that confession came from Silver or himself. Regardless, he moved closer to the edge of the cage in spite of the thorns cutting at his skin before grasping Silver’s hand again. Tears fell down his cheeks as he could come up with no real solution, no way out of this. He only hoped that someone was strong enough to break through the blot and end this nightmare before the phantoms consumed them both.
For whom was he to fool? The blot took all of his worst traits and amplified them: his possessiveness, his insecurities, and his arrogance, proclaiming that he had control over the phantoms born from their blot.
But he knew the truth. Somewhere in the darkness, lurking with a burning hatred for Silver and a oozing possessiveness for Malleus, she lingered, chipping away at his control.
He didn’t know why he was suddenly linked with Silver here, trapped in this eternal darkness. Perhaps it was because they overblotted together. Perhaps it was because he had directly influenced Silver’s corruption. Or perhaps it was something deeper and more ancient; perhaps their phantoms were linked, a burning connection that permitted their victims this small bit of companionship on the road to self-destruction.
It may have been Silver’s job to protect him, but it was Malleus’ job to lead in such a way that the dangers his knights were exposed to were minimal. Yet here he was, in the throes of trouble. Both of them.
He could feel that malicious energy encroaching from the dark. On the outside of the cage, Silver was vulnerable and exposed to whatever it was that yearned for his blood. With a determined growl, Malleus pushed himself up, pressing through the thorns that kept him ensnared.
“My lord-”
“Be still,” Malleus instructed. It was such a burning pain to work through, an oppressive force on his mind screaming at him, and yet he persisted, widening a small hole and pulling Silver through. He adjusted his hold on the boy, grabbing his wrists. The jagged thorns of the cage reacted to his interference, growing and stabbing at his skin. With a growl, Malleus pushed himself through instead.
“Malleus, wait-!”
“Hold on to me,” Malleus growled. He couldn’t break free, but he would be damned if he’d remain a spectator as Silver was left at the mercy of whatever lurked out there. Whatever it, she, wanted, it was malicious. The presence, the phantom at least, could not encroach on the prison he was trapped in. Wrapping his arms around Silver, he quickly pulled himself back into the cage, hissing in pain as the thorns continued to cut at him.
Something stirred in the darkness, rushing at them. Hurriedly, Malleus fell back, moving to the center of the cage as that thing snarled on the outside of the cage. Breathless and trembling both from exertion and fear, he pulled Silver close to him as best he could, only to feel the weight of defying such dark magic having him collapse. Now their roles were reversed; Silver caught and held him, tired gaze watchful at the dark shadows dancing outside of the cage, haunting them both.
“Silver,” Malleus started, trying to sit up, but his defiance of the blot in their imprisonment had his body trembling. There was a hand in his hair, gentle yet firm.
“Be still my prince.” Silver’s voice rang firm. “I will fulfill my vow and watch over you.”
And despite the hopeless darkness surrounding them both, Malleus felt a small selfish part of him stir awake, that at least in this terrifying moment of helplessness, he was not alone.