His living room felt empty, void of the warmth it once emitted. It was always bare, only having the essentials, but now it was even more desolate. The fan in the room was unplugged and stuffed into a corner, and the heat was almost as suffocating as his emotions. Vesta took down all of Karen's stuff and packed them into boxes. Her mom came to pick them up yesterday.
It had only been a couple of days since the murder. To Vesta it felt like weeks. The only thing left to remind him of his girlfriend were the flowers that he bought her, now left in a vase on the kitchen counter, and a ring he gave her a month before. It was something he received from Alden when he was a kid. Vesta took it as a reminder and was satisfied it fit on his little finger.
Vesta groaned into his hands and rubbed his eyes with his fingers. He managed to get ahold of the authorities, although he had to hide while they handled the cleanup. He was still wanted for earlier allegations and couldn't risk being taken away. Karen's mom had informed him there were no leads on who the killer was. Lenny and Clay were questioned, but that was the end of that. With nothing to go on, the case was practically dead even before it began.
He knew he couldn't stay in his apartment anymore, memories too fresh they were painful. But he had to come back one last time. Alden was still trying to clear his name. Yet, he had to see the place. He wasn't in-love with Karen. God, he hated to admit it, especially since she was dead. It felt wrong to even think that at this point. Vesta loved her like a best-friend and all that did was blow up in his face.
Vesta stood up and grabbed his backpack off the couch. He made many memories on that old thing, especially with how often he was kicked out of his own room. It wasn't the most comfortable piece of furniture, but he would miss it. The Inn's on his way to the South were anything but luxurious.
Boots walked over the stained carpet - he tried to get out the blood stain and failed - and to the door. He inhaled, exhaled, and turned around for one last look. Old memories flowed through him, the good and the bad, the harsh and the cherished. The thought of him leaving was sickening, mostly because it was like starting a new chapter in his life, partly because it was the only place since he could call home - being an orphan kept him from ever settling down. It was easy to say he had no intention of coming back. Change, as for any human, was a hard concept to accept. Thanks to his upbringing, he was less than human.
It was time to head over to Alden's and see if he had a plan figured out to get Vesta over the Border. He was out all day yesterday getting supplies, feet aching and body sore.
It was already afternoon by the time he made it to the Flower Shop. A couple people were strolling around, and after a quick look at their outfits, Vesta was happy to see none were from the Order. He was getting tired of having to tip-toe around them. They weren't hard to miss, considering their favorite piece of clothing was the most vivid color to the eye.
A scowl crept onto his face as he thought about the asshole that was trying to get him in trouble. Vesta hoped that cigarette burn would scar.
"What's with that sour look?" Alden asked upon seeing him, worry apparent on his features.
"Nothing. I just remembered I forgot to take out the trash before I left." Mostly true. Anyone who was with the Order was nothing more than a piece of garbage.
Alden looked at him quizzically, saying nothing in reply to his offhanded remark. "Are you ready to go? Are you sure you want to do this?"
"Of course I'm sure. You know what, I haven't been so sure of anything in my life." The sarcasm was dripping from his words. "This is a life changing moment, you know, old man?"
A sigh. "I'm serious, Vesta. Life in the South is nothing like it is up here."
"Please don't tell me you're going to start that father shit again. I don't need a lecture." Vesta set down his backpack and sat onto a stool next to the counter. Alden stood behind it, hands folded on the countertop.
"They don't have the order we have. Their country is ruled by gangs and they are the authority. The strong survive and the weak are picked off one by one." Alden had a faraway look as he spoke about the South, like he was remembering something from long ago. "It is not unusual to find a dead body lying in the streets."
"Sounds a hell of a lot better than here. With the Order breathing down our damn necks, it's near impossible to do much of anything and you know it."
"I can't argue with you there. I left the Counsel for a lot of reasons, but that was one of the bigger ones." Vesta watched as Alden bent over and fiddled around with something below the counter before he reappeared with a rolled up piece of paper.
"What's that?" he asked, eyeing the paper suspiciously.
"A map." Alden unfolded it.
"Of...?"
"If you would hold on a second. . . Here." He pointed to a black line that seemed bolder in color and out of place. "This is the Border and over here," his hand traced a faded red line down the map," is where you need to go."
"And that is?" Why couldn't Alden give him straight answers? He hated guessing games.
Carefully, as to not tear the paper, he circled the spot on the map with a red marker. "A safe place."
"Enough of the bullshit. Are you going to explain, or is this cryptic crap all I'm going to get?" His patience was wearing thin. Sadly, he didn't have much to begin with. Anger overtook his senses and rationality flew out the window with ease.
"A friend lives there. His name is Seere. Tell him my name and he will take care of you and get you situated over there." Alden's voice was solid and unwavering, his conviction and trust in the man openly obvious to anyone. "I'll try to let him know ahead of time, thought you shouldn't take my word on that. I heard there's trouble brewing on the Border, so I won't make any promises."
"S'good enough." Vesta rolled up the map and pocketed it. "Is there any trick to getting over the Border unharmed?"
Alden's lightly smiled at his question. "Run fast and don't get caught."
"That's it?" Vesta's eye twitched in annoyance. "You're kidding me, right?"
"No, I'm not. The Angel's don't like anyone leaving their city or anyone entering it. Merchant's and the few people with a travel pass are the only ones allowed to navigate the Border." A finger found its way to Alden's chin and he silently stroked pale skin in thought. "Blend in with the early morning crowds and sneak in."
"You make it sound so easy." His hand hovered over his pocket, debating if smoking would calm his rattled nerves or not.
"Don't get caught," he reminded him again, this time with a firmer tone.
Vesta held back an eye roll. Alden was acting strange, but he found it in his best interest to ignore it. A cigarette was sounding better and better by the second.
"A word from the wise, you should probably quit smoking. Cigarettes sold by demons are usually laced." A smug look formed on Alden's face.
Why did he look so goddamn happy? "Good, I need something with a stronger kick."
"You'll change your mind when you find yourself stripped naked on the side of the road."
"You're really starting to annoy me." A customer came up to the counter then, hands carrying a potted plant. Vesta kept whatever else he was going to say inside and stood up.
With the map, a person to meet on the other side, and a bag of supplies, he felt oddly lighter than he did before seeing the old man. "See you on the other side." The irony in that comment had Vesta regretting ever having said it.
Alden nodded and turned his attention to the customer. Vesta left the shop and headed towards the Border.
A couple hours in and Vesta was already entering the Outer City District. Dirt, dust, and smoke were all too noticeable in the air. He caught himself coughing more than once and he often rubbed his eyes on his dark green jacket. The stench of the Outer District paled in comparison to the Border District, but that didn't make it stink any less.
Vesta was by no means well off, but he caught more than a couple people eyeing him and his belongings. Damn if he was going to give any of his stuff up. He'd fight tooth and nail before they got their grubby paws on any of it.
The afternoon turned into evening and the light began to subside. Vesta wrapped his jacket tighter around him and picked up the pace. His stomach growled in anticipation of a meal that was coming closer and closer by the minute. The Border District had a semi-decent Inn on the main path, at least that was what Alden had mentioned. It wouldn't be long now.
Sometimes, he would think about Karen, and then he would dream of the impossible and piss himself off before he had to stop himself. He didn't have the luxury of being depressed and distracted, anything could happen to him now that he was farther away from the Order's influence. They mostly stayed away from the outer districts, terrified for their life. It was understandable; if they were captured they would probably never see the light of day again.
Vesta meandered the path and felt his eyes close more than once. He was positive he would master sleepwalking before his trip was over.
He had to hurry. Once darkness hit it would be near impossible to travel. Sleeping in an alley meant certain death, he was sure.
The Inn he was looking for stood merely a few feet away from him. The only thing keeping him from running in and finding a bed to pass out on was a group of gangly looking idiots hanging outside the entrance. His luck had been fairly good till that moment, but a creeping feeling couldn't help but simmer in his stomach.
His approach must have alerted them and their gazes fell upon him. The boredom was stripped from their faces and replaced with something akin to hunger. Why did everyone want to pick a fight with him? It was really starting to tick him off.
Vesta narrowed his eyes and made to push past the group, but a heavy hand held him back by the arm.
"Where do you think you're goin'?" The man's breath reeked of alcohol.
"Get the hell off of me." Vesta shook his arm free and stepped back. Their original eye color was faded to the point that the red of their sclera took over. It was the side effect of a popular drug, a name he couldn't remember.
"Nice shoes," one of the guys spoke. Vesta wasn't sure which one.
"What's in the backpack?"
"Hey, cool jacket. You won't care if I borrow it, will ya'?"
"I call dibs on that ring."
The ring. He forgot he had it on. There was no way in hell he was going to let those druggies have anything of his. He was outnumbered and most likely outmatched, but he would fight even knowing he would lose.
Before they had a chance to attack, Vesta flung his fist forward and it smacked into the person closest to him. He could hear a crack and a groan, someone swearing, and the smell of sweat and B.O. as the other members of the group jumped him. Punch after punch landed on his face and body, even a couple kicks to his ribs.
He managed to break free momentarily to punch one in the gut and, out of sheer adrenaline, bite one on the neck. His little victory didn't last long, seconds later he was assaulted from behind. As he fell to his knees, they assaulted his sides. The fight was moving at lightning speed, the pain started to numb and his emotions were running haywire. Vesta knew he was going to blackout soon and silently cursed the fact he was dumb enough to take on so many guys himself.
They were holding him down now, pain coursing through his flesh and his nerves frayed. He would hold out as long as he could, this pain nothing compared to what Karen had probably felt before her last breath.
Even though he wouldn't remember it until he was awake, he was slightly proud of the fact he bit one hard enough to make them bleed.
xxx
Vesta woke sometime after the sun came up. His head was throbbing, but even that pain was dull in comparison to how his lower extremities felt. He wasn't sure of the damage, though he had to guess a few bruised ribs and a concussion was somewhere on the list of why he was feeling like shit.
A quick look around helped him surmise someone had dragged him to the side of the Inn. His backpack was missing - no surprise there - and his ring was nowhere to be found. Surprisingly enough, his cigarettes were untouched in his pocket and his clothes were intact besides the dirt caked on from his earlier rumble.
He looked a little rough around the edges, but now he supposed he blended in better with the trash around. Vesta stood up, took a few steps a few steps, before coming to realize he was favoring his right leg over the other. The short journey left to the border was going to be anything but enjoyable, as if it was at all.
With the help of the buildings, the way to the border was less painful than it could have been. His stomach kept growling and refused to give in; he could feel the acid eating away at his insides. It was a shock he had yet to vomit, although the feeling wasn't far away.
Kids played around in the streets, vendors waved customers in, guards patrolled along the border and a wild dog searched an overturned trash can for food. The Border District was barely more livable than the Outer City. The Border was cleaner than the actual Border District, but only by a bit.
Vesta scanned the Border and watched carts come in and out without a problem, the owners waving some ID card around. One or two people were stopped and inspected, but mostly it was free reign. Alden must have been getting senile in his old age. There was nothing secure about the area. Anyone could walk in and out without as much as a glance their way.
If anything, it raised his spirits and gave him a spark of hope. Vesta watched for a few more minutes before braving the deed himself. It was now or never. He'd be lying if he said his heart wasn't racing in his chest, or if his anxiety wasn't already through the roof. He left everything he knew for a chance to get away from the chains, the people, that held him down.
He reached for his hood and pulled it down over his eyes. Vesta kept his golden-green orbs down, afraid the color would alert a guard. He was told numerous times over the years that his eyes had a strange color to them. It tended to draw people in, and not always the right kind.
Vesta kicked an empty can aside with his boot. Trying to avoid all of the litter was a game in itself.
"Almost there," he mumbled, excitement coursing through his veins as the end came into his view.
He was tempted to pick up his pace, but decided against it. It was one thing to look eager, not to mention his appearance would only make him look suspicious.
Vesta stepped over the invisible line that separated Oratio from the demons, so close to one another yet so distinct in their own ways. A guard only a few feet away didn't even notice him, too busy telling off a fool that managed to get caught. The man was frowning, obvious to anyone he wasn't a noble, law-abiding citizen.
Feeling accomplished, Vesta lowered his hood and spared a glance ahead of him. Even though he had lost all of his belongings, he still had a smidgen of optimism at his situation. That was owed to Alden's enigmatic friend he had to find now that task one was crossed off his list.
Vesta's eyes finally focused and settled on two people in front of him. Crimson orbs and blond hair observed him. The one with the unmissable red eyes widened before his hands reached behind him, although the small things happening around him passed by unnoticed.
He continued to move forward, momentarily forgetting about them to take in the scene around him. The broken down wood buildings were replaced with warehouses and some tinier steel structures that surrounded them. Wagons of all kinds littered the streets and people hovered about them, delicacies only found in the demon realm lined up in a way that was appealing to the eye, reds and oranges the more prominent color. The sun, blinding in the North, faded the farther south one looked, once cerulean skies lost in an inky blackness.
One line divided the two, but they felt worlds apart. It even smelled different, the wafting scents of foreign food lingered.
Even with the hundreds of people in the surrounding area, he felt empty, the atmosphere devoid of any pleasure or fondness. To figure out what was truly going on, it would be a while before he could place it.
It was then, after hearing the sharp sound of a gun going off, that he finally came to terms that the world was out to get him. His vision blackened, the smell of gunpowder was the last scent he remembered.
3: Chapter 3: CECILIt was a cold morning. Cecil absently wondered why he always forgot to bring a jacket. If his brother wasn't so busy with seeing out the operation, he was sure he would have already been scolded. The day of the smuggling operation was a busy one.
Noor and Ose were bickering on the other side. It was discernible something wasn't going as planned, their heated gazes only encouraging his thoughts. Noor was tapping his foot and had his arms crossed, while Ose had his normal placid look as he either tried to calm him down or rile him up. It was hard to tell from his position.
Looking for an Angel in disguise among a throng of people was no easy task. Cecil knew he should stay focused, but the conversation he had with his father earlier in the week had him in disarray. The only good thing that came out of seeing him was his connections. The Border security was lightened within a day of him asking.
Cecil shook his head and let his vision wander back to the border. It was a good thing he braided his hair; the wind was strong.
"So far so good." Phenex came up from behind him with a bored expression.
"Not enough excitement for you?" Cecil teased.
"Hardly. This is starting to cut into my gambling time."
Phenex was a frequent gambler and a pretty heavy drinker, although he couldn't hold his liquor and often found himself getting into a brawl or two. He was a loud mouth and was a known smartass, two things that didn't mix well with alcohol. In the end, Noor would have to pick him up and would end up yelling at him the whole way back.
Cecil had accompanied his brother a couple times, the pattern never ceased, neither did they. For all of their fighting, those two were really close. He was envious of their friendship. He didn't have anything like that, instead he drowned himself in books and had his fair share of cat naps.
"No angels?"
Cecil nodded his head. "No, sadly. They look so much like ordinary humans; it's hard enough to find them on their own, let alone in a crowd of people."
Phenex grunted at his reply. "They look like assholes. It can't be that hard."
The Angels were regal in nature and often had ivory skin with silver eyes, but even that varied. Cecil had yet to see one up close, but Phenex had a bad experience with one when he was younger. He refused to talk about it, though he did relay the group with striking details on their looks. To be so close to an angel and to live, it was almost unheard of.
Cecil knew they existed, for if demons did, then angels would as well. That didn't stop fruitless musings, for without having seen one, he had little to go on. Gut instinct would have to be enough.
He cast another glance at his brother and Ose, the lack of action boring him more than he would have imagined. A nap was sounding good.
A gunshot sliced through the calm, eliciting screams from passerby's. People trampled over each other to get away from immediate danger. That was all it took for Cecil to focus.
Noor had a gun in his hand, touching his leg, but otherwise still. Where did the shot come from if not him?
Cecil turned his watch on the Border and found what he was seeking. A lone man lay curled on his side against the dirt ground. It was difficult to tell much of anything from where he was standing, and instead of running away like the rest, he went straight to the stranger.
Cecil wanted to say he was only curious, yet it felt as if a stronger force was pulling him.
He approached and knelt down while pushing black hair from what looked to be a man's face. He was burning up, sweat permeating on his forehead, but Cecil was more worried about the wound. It wasn't on his face, no blood clotting an invisible wound. He turned the body onto its back.
Noor came up behind him then, his overbearing presence impossible to miss.
"I think he's the one," his brother said, voice as flat as the abyss.
Cecil listened to his words, too absorbed in the man in front of him to truly take them in. Blood poured from a wound on his abdomen, small spurts gurgling out in consecutive second after second. Even if he was less-than useful in a battle, his medical skills had won him respect where fighting had not.
A hand found its way to Cecil's arm. It was torrid even on his already warm skin. "You don't have to do this. If he really is the Angel, we can just..."
It was at that comment that Cecil turned towards his brother, eyes alit with a fiery rage. "What? Let him die?"
Noor opened his mouth and closed it. Good. He didn't have time to hear his brother complain. Angel or not, this man did not deserve to die right as he passed the border. Not as long as he was around to do something about it. Death was an unpleasant thing, a once lively body turned lifeless and cold in mere seconds. Even the most vibrant of eyes turned dull when faced with the loss of all one's energies.
Cecil ripped a part of his shirt off and held it to the wound. The man before him grimaced in pain, but stayed unconscious.
Noor's voice floated to his ears and one he didn't recognize, but from the tone, it had to be one of the guards.
"He was trying to sneak in." It was a clipped sentence that left no room for argument.
Cecil pushed down harder on the wound, but the piece of shirt he ripped off was quickly becoming tainted with blood.
"You sound so sure. I have every reason not to believe you." It was a known fact that Noor had an extreme dislike towards any person of authority.
"Did you check to see if he had a traveler's pass on him?"
Cecil needed to take out the bullet. All of his tools were back at the warehouse. Trying to convince his brother would take time, something he had little of. Phenex stood off to the left of Noor, examining the situation and waiting to move. Cecil waved him.
"No, but I can assure you-"
"Ose." Cecil heard his brother's voice sharpen. Ose appeared next to him, head bowed. "Take him in for questioning."
"You don't trust my judgment?" The guard's voice was seething.
"If you have any problems with what I'm doing, you can always tell that to my Father, Dantalion." The guard's face flinched at the mention of his name.
Without another word, the guard turned and walked with Ose, but not without glaring at Cecil on his way, who was too busy helping Phenex get the stranger onto his back.
"Cecil, what are you doing?" Instead of sounding angry, Noor just sounded tired. He was used to Cecil's rescue missions, especially when they were younger, back when baby birds and frogs were his usual go-to for first aid.
"Phenex said he will take him back. Please, brother, we can't let him die." Cecil's words held an edge to them Noor hadn't heard in a long time.
"Once he's stable we have to talk."
He shook his head in agreement. "Even if he's not our angel, he is from the other side. He might know something. Isn't this why we're here? Don't tell me you're going to forget everything, letting hatred cloud out your rational thoughts."
It was a shot in the dark, and he knew that, but he would do anything to prove to Noor that the mysterious man was worth the risk. It was odd, but Cecil wanted to help him, like he was being sucked into the man's gravitational field. He felt a tingling sensation where his fingers had touched the man's face.
"Please." Never asking for anything, always obeying, always understanding, he knew Noor would say yes. It was rare for him to be so selfish.
Noor nodded to Phenex, but failed to notice he had already left with the man on his back.
By the time Cecil had sealed up the wound and cleaned the rest of him up, the man had already started to wake, but only for minutes at a time. The stranger's eyes were glossy and didn't focus on anything for more than a moment before closing once again. This happened for another couple of hours as he slipped from the conscious world to the unconscious one.
He snuck a couple sleeping pills into the man's mouth when they arrived at the warehouse and helped him swallow it with a glass of water, gradually pouring the liquid down. For the most part, the pills were to help him relax, but also because the group wasn't ready for him to awaken.
Cecil often found himself sitting by the man's bedside, staring at the numerous cuts and scars that adorned his body or simply looking at his face. It was impossible to find it in him to believe the man before him was an angel. If he was compared to what Phenex had to say about the one he had encountered, nothing matched.
The stranger's hair color was a dark black, and his eye color was not silver, but a curious gold with flecks of a mesmerizing green. Ivory skin was far from an accurate description; his face may have been pale, but it was far from perfect. A small scar ran down the side of his right cheek and even with the color drained from his face, a somewhat faint gold blended in leaving the smallest trace.
He was more unusual than anyone Cecil had ever met. He was drawn to him, like moths to a flame, bees to nectar, but even those weren't all that good at explaining his true feelings. It was hard to explain, but then again, feelings weren't something anyone understood.
The door to the room opened and Cecil backed away from the man's resting spot. His blue eyes met Phenex's taller frame.
He was about to say hello, but stopped when he noticed the metal cuffs in Phenex's hands.
"What are those for?" It was a stupid question to ask, of course. Noor wasn't taking any chances, which meant he believed him when he said that the man lying in the bed could be their so-called "angel”.
"Noor thinks he will try to run when he wakes up." It was all the explanation Cecil was going to get out of him.
"And what do you think?" Cecil was curious to know. Phenex and Noor often disagreed.
"He'll try to beat the shit out of us." Phenex smiled, obviously amused.
"I have to agree with you on that. Though, it might hurt a bit if he tries."
"No pain killers?"
"No. Just a few sleeping pills. They should ware off by tomorrow morning."
Phenex clipped the cuffs around the man's wrists. He took care in moving his arms around, probably because Cecil was watching his every move. It would become an issue if the wound opened back up.
"I can get Ose in here if you want to, uh, rest."
Cecil hummed, keeping quiet. He had every intention of staying where he was until the stranger woke up. He felt compelled to watch over him, even though he knew Noor would be in here if he didn't get something to eat.
"I'll go get some food. Tell Noor to stop worrying."
Phenex stretched his hands over his head, smiling. "How did you guess?"
"You're here and not at the bar, for one." The two shared a laugh and then Phenex left, stretching his arms behind his back as he went.
Cecil waited a couple more minutes before leaving, his stomach growling nonstop. It had been a long day, and a hot, simmering bowl of soup would calm his nerves along with his aching stomach.
He shoved the food down fast, his appetite more ravenous than he thought. After finishing up the last bits of soup, sleep, something he had ignored since taking in the "angel," was starting to come down on him full force.
Cecil's eyes drooped close, only finding himself waking after almost falling out of his chair, his arms catching the fall in a less-than-elegant fashion. Although the sleep from his body wasn't permanently gone, he felt more awake. He couldn't have fallen asleep for very long, although without any way to tell the time, it was hard to be sure.
As soon as the stranger woke, they had to question him—by all means necessary. If there really was a war on the horizon, the demons had to know. Noor's smuggling business was nothing more than a cover-up, a way to get information on the other side. Well, Cecil would be lying if it was a complete cover-up—his brother thought him ignorant, but it was, for the most part, just an act. Using the carts, Noor sent over their people along with a mind-numbing drug that anyone who came in contact with became mindless corpses, only fixated on their next high. Anyone taking it turned aggressive and obsessive on stealing. It was a tactic their Father had thought up, he was positive.
They reminded Cecil of the Unclean, but a more intelligent version, if only by a scant amount.
Cecil shivered involuntarily at the thought. He wasn't a fan of war, but if it was their people or the Angel's, the obvious answer would be their own. It was no secret that the higher ups in Oratio wanted the demons wiped out, but why they were biding their time was beyond him. Unless they had some sort of weapon, waiting for the right moment to strike.
Exitium was ruled by what people called The Crown Princes of Hell. They took residency at the highest point of the mountain, also the safest. Even if war broke out, the main demons would be safe atop their thrones.
He had to stop thinking about such things. If they could figure out what the angels were up to, if that man had any info on the inner workings of the city, the war could be stopped before it began.
Cecil pushed his chair back and brushed off his shirt, scowling when he found a splash of broth on it. Changing clothes would have to wait till later.
It wasn't safe to leave the stranger alone for too long, so while Noor and the others planned out their next moves, Cecil would continue to watch over their captive. He scrunched his face at the word.
The walk back to the room was quiet and uneventful. Cecil took his usual spot on the floor next to the bed and sighed. Saying he was lacking sleep was an understatement.
Someone must have uncovered the black-haired captive, so Cecil took it upon himself to cover him back up. He pulled the blue sheet up and let it fall right below his cuffed hands. They looked tight and constricting, the skin around them becoming red and swollen. He ran his a finger over the red spot, frowning. Cerulean blue lifted up to check his face.
His eyes widened in surprise at what he saw and hesitantly peered forward. The man's eyes were open, a scintillating gold and green met Cecil's ice blue.
He was awake. Even he didn't move to get up, his biting gaze pierced through Cecil's and left him speechless. The rage and loathing pointed at him was enough to make Cecil shake in fear, but he refused to move. Instead, with all of the courage he could muster, he stared back at him, gaze never wavering.
The pull he felt towards this man was undeniable now. Even though he was scared, another sensation took over him: longing to know, understand. The feeling of familiarity was hard to ignore.
"Who are you?" Cecil whispered.
But the man never answered, those auric orbs never looking away from his own.
It was in that moment that, with a thrumming heat flowing through his skin, Cecil realized everything was about to change.
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