“But do you remember the reason?” Eira asked him.
Raphael chuckled. “Spot on.”
“I remember many things. Including your father’s loyalty, long ago. He’s been a sore disappointment, I’m afraid,” Pyrr shot back.
Lumi scoffed, crossing her arms. “He’s digressing. He doesn’t remember. Also, your father and Inalia are now on equal footing with Leb and Sebbi, and they’re likely off Cerix, away from potential attacks and destruction.”
“Oh, and let’s not forget that Inalia doesn’t have a child of her own, and Brendel can’t afford to lose Cerix at this critical moment,” Eva added, smirking.
“You made me. You made my people possible. How are you so fine with destroying us?” I asked Pyrr, unwilling to cut him any slack. Out of all the Hermessi in this world, he was the one who angered me the most, because he was practically rooting for my planet’s destruction. I just couldn’t tolerate the mere thought of it.
“Taeral, please. Don’t make me resort to more violence,” he said, though there was a clear menace in his tone, sharp and eager to cut deeply.
Why wasn’t he, though? Why weren’t the four elements of my home planet pouncing on us? We had Eirexis, and we were dangerously close to Zetos, too. If Brendel were here, all-out war would’ve broken out by now. I’d already be teleporting us across hundreds of miles, to get as far away from them as possible.
Eira looked at me. “The other three aren’t intervening, either,” she whispered. Aside from the cold and uncomfortable rain and winds, there wasn’t much else to describe as Hermessi opposition to our presence here. Eira was right. Even if Pyrr was more of a pacifist, the other elements would’ve cut in by now.
“I control Water, Earth, and Air,” Pyrr said. “They will not attack you without my say-so.”
“Oh, good. Can you tell them to turn the faucet off, then?” Varga retorted, pointing at the dark sky. “I’m soaked, and I didn’t bring a towel.”
Pyrr didn’t move, but the rain stopped, all of a sudden. This was all peculiar, to say the least, and it put me more on edge. Any other creature in my shoes would’ve been thankful for this type of Hermessi behavior, given the mission… but it made me feel uneasy. It was the exact opposite of what we’d prepared for, and we weren’t sure how to proceed.
“Why are you not attacking us?” I asked.
“Because I am hoping you have more sense than your father,” he said.
I pointed an angry finger at him. “Don’t you dare talk about my father! Brendel is using him to try and stop me from retrieving Thieron! And by hijacking us like this, you’re helping her!”
“I am trying to protect my son,” Pyrr snapped, his flames swelling bright and furious.
Silence settled over our group, as his motivation became clear. I nodded, unable to hide my disgust. “I knew it. Your child trumps the needs of your people. How pathetic,” I said, my voice trembling and my eyes stinging with tears I could no longer hold back. “I’m ready to let Brendel do whatever she wants with my father, and you—”
“My son,” Pyrr cut me off.
I blinked rapidly, wondering why he’d interrupted me. “What? I… Yes, I get it. She has your son!”
“Your father,” he said.
The realization hit me with the force of a battering ram to the chest. I nearly lost my balance. Pyrr stayed silent, waiting for me to speak up and draw the conclusion. One quick glance at my team, and I knew they, too, understood the horrifying truth.
Pyrr and I were both in pain over the same person.
“Your son. My father,” I managed.
“Yes,” he replied firmly.
“Sherus is a Hermessi child,” Lumi breathed.
Amelia pinched the delicate bridge of her nose. “And no wonder no one knew, because fae are the easiest to confuse with Hermessi children, since they share so many of their traits. Wow…”
“Is… Is that why you’re here? To save my father by stopping me?” I blurted, overcome by a whirlwind of rage and despair. My blood ran cold, as the bigger picture formed in the back of my head.
Pyrr nodded, and I wanted nothing more than to douse him in cold water and stomp him out for this. How dare he? I had gone through all kinds of hell to save my father, my mother, our kingdom, our friends, and every other innocent creature out there. I’d spent most of last night coping with the possibility of losing my father in the process… I was tormented and eaten alive by guilt, and here he was… the almighty Pyrr, tossing everything and everyone to the side, just so he could save his son.
My father.
“Say what you will, Taeral, but I will do whatever I can to protect my son,” Pyrr said.
What a complicated mess this was. What awfulness.
What a ridiculous standstill, as Pyrr and the other Fire Star elementals were ready to do everything in their power to stop us from saving billions, just so my father could live. It painted me in the worst of lights—ready to basically cause the death of my own blood to complete this mission and stop the ritual that would claim many more lives than just my father’s.
Eira
It made sense. Well, to me, anyway.
I’d felt something coming from Sherus when I’d seen him in the fae sanctuary. Nuriya had assumed it likely had something to do with his power and fae heritage. It certainly involved heritage, but not related to the fae, directly.
Taeral had told me about his grandfather, the king that Sherus had been forced to remove. I understood now that Sherus’s fae father wasn’t his biological father. I wondered how Pyrr had pulled that off. Had he possessed the fae to impregnate Sherus’s mother, maybe? It seemed reasonable to assume that. What did that imply for Sherus’s right to the throne, though? I figured that, for the time being, that was literally the last thing anyone might think about, given the circumstances.
“No one knows about it?” Taeral asked, staring at Pyrr. His shock was understandable. I should’ve realized this sooner, but my own Hermessi child capabilities were still not fully clear to me. I’d sensed Inalia before, but I’d blamed it on our frequent close proximity while growing up. I’d thought it was because we were so carefully attuned, aware of and protecting one another. Then again, I’d felt my skin tingle sometimes, when Hermessi were nearby. I hadn’t paid enough attention to Sherus, clearly.
“I made sure of it,” Pyrr replied. “It was for Sherus’s own safety.”
“How well did that work out for you?” The Widow Maker scoffed.
“Brendel knows more about us than we think,” Pyrr said. “I did everything I could for Sherus to grow up feeling like a full fae. He had no idea. Maybe he does now, in spirit form. I’m not sure. But he never thought to push his abilities, to discover his true limits. I shadowed him whenever I could, making sure he’d never get the idea that he was different in any way.”
