𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐃│✔

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟑𝟗

Pandora

"Poor uncle will be heartbroken when he hears that you moved on so quickly, sister." He speaks dramatically quietly, but from the growing claws digging in my sides. From the long pause in between breaths he takes. And the way he inspects the desperate clutch at which I fist his blouse. I know Ciaran heard it too.

So very slowly, he sets me down. The affection in his action contrasting the craze in his eyes. Pupils contracted to needle-thin slits. His body makes sure to keep mine out of view when I adjust my dress.

"My apologies, Precious. It seems that I'll have to break my word sooner than I'd expected."

With that, he turns around, not waiting for me to give my thoughts on his next moves. From behind him, I stand by and watch the features of Jonathan morphing into pure fear. Seeing both of them next to each other makes me almost feel ashamed for having let Jonathan terrorise me to death for so long. Because next to Ciaran, he looks like an adolescent who hasn't hit puberty yet. His arms are twigs at each side of his body. The top of his head barely reaching my..., no, the bastard's shoulders.

What did I ever find so petrifying about him?

"F-Fucking Gods, who the h-hell are you?!" He screams, the alcohol in his system evaporating at the boiling fear beneath his words. In exchange, he receives no answer but a smile. One that I have seen him give to a handful of people before. That same smile being the last image they would bring with them to the Realm of the Dead. Ciaran chuckles, approaching my brother in fluent, slow steps. A predator cornering the prey that has uncountable times before preyed on me.

"Depends who you ask," he says lowly, tentatively. The shadows following his every step.

"To the one you know as your King, I'm the voice he listens to. To his commanders, I'm a brother. To your sister, I'm the Prince Charming she tied the rest of her life with."

"Wait, wha-"I oppose, being completely ignored.

"To you?" He nears Jonathan dangerously close, the face of my Clan's future paling.

"Your Grim Reaper."

I hesitate to interrupt when I take account of the small step Jonathan takes to back away, one that condones him as the surrender to this ridiculous authority play. I wouldn't take a child to see who's the strongest here.

"Consider yourself lucky, Your Highness. Angel Messiah personally send me to bring you to his realm."

The warmhearted act would be to stop him, to end his terrorisation and protect my family. That's what the old 'me' would've done without a second thought, since it was her duty. To protect my blood. That's why I never responded to his harassment in the first place. What other reason did I have to give up my mana for others wasn't it to keep my people safe. But, now that I think about it.

Must I really save him?

Sure, I'll lose my only sibling. Would I grieve for this loss? Probably not so much.

Would it make me more of a so-called monster? Yes, definitely.

Do I care? Not anymore, no.

I search for a reason to keep Jonathan alive, yet my heart can't find a corner within that carries some form of affection for him. No, the reason why I still step forward to block Ciaran from coming any closer, is because my mind manages to convince me that his existence is still needed for us. 

Tonight, we're unequivocally witnessing our Clan recovering from its poor economical stance. Killing him now would mean no allies, and hence no guaranteed future to lead us forward. That's why I don't flinch at the sight of his look of betrayal, masked by a pretentious smile a second later. As if wanting to embark me in another dance, he steps further into me. His chest touching mine.