Abandoned (Born From Shadows #2)

When reality mixes with fantasy

what can you do,

except sit back and watch the mystery

unfold into the story-

a story as twisted and broken as you are.

Until, like the story, you reach your climax

and are left to pick up the rubble of your conclusion.

The conclusion of your consciousnesses.

Was this his story? To live without knowing, or was that the mystery? Kol couldn’t tell. He didn’t know what to do. Give in to the wall or keep layering on the bricks? Should he still be a worker for the night? Or should he succumb to the light?

He didn’t know.

What was right and wrong anyway? Did it matter if he did the wrong choice, was there truly a greater force that would come for his soul if he did not? Then who was the judge of morality?

He didn’t know.

But the wind gave a source to these thoughts as it glided past his body.

They had been flying for a few hours now, and Kol’s muscles had begun to shake. He had wanted to call out to Tyrion to take a break. But he had endured through worst than a few sore muscles.

Apparently, he didn’t even have to call out to Tyrion. The other Fae had begun to descend, lowering in altitude and Kol followed him down, all the way to the ground.

His legs almost buckled beneath him, but he managed to land. “A minute longer and I would’ve fallen out of the sky,” Tyrion said. Kol however spent that moment to examine his surroundings. It was a small clearing with animals scattering away from them like diffracted light in all directions. Tyrion brought out a flask containing water from a small leather bag strapped to his waste. After drinking a small amount, Tyrion offered the bottle to him. Kol ignored the gesture, his thirst was minuscule compared to what he was used to.

“You need to drink,” Tyrion told him.

His grey eyes darkened slightly. “Don’t tell me what to do,” he sternly replied.

Tyrion raised his eyebrows, “Still as much of a prick as before. Just now you’re a brooding prick.” When he didn’t reply Tyrion took another sip of water and then said, “my point exactly.”

Kol’s left hands curled slowly into a fist whilst settling down upon them. Tyrion sat down on a nearby rock and stared at him, in a way Kol found it disturbingly uncomfortable. It was like Tyrion was analysing every movement, and he hated it.

“Stop staring at me,” he grounded out.

“I was so happy when we got you out. I knew you would be different, but it’s like the person I knew died. I found you, but now I realise I never actually did,” Tyrion annoyingly stated.

“Your point?” Kol asked.

“Do you know how hard it is to grieve someone who is still alive, standing before you and breathing?” Tyrion questioned back. Kol let out a sigh, not enjoying the direction this conversation was heading, so he didn’t try and continue it. He just stared out towards the forest.

“Do you ever wonder who you were, who Kaycion was? What it was like to be happy? If you just let me in I can still save you,” Tyrion continued.

“I don’t need to be saved. Least of all by you.”

“Then who? The woman who tortured you for sixteen years? Do you think she saved you?” Tyrion angrily spat.

Kol whipped around to face the other Fae. “Shut up,” he replied.

“No. I will not just grieve and move on. Kaycion if you jus-.”

“My name isn’t Kaycion!” he yelled cutting off Tyrion’s words.

“Yes, it is!” Tyrion said, getting up from the rock. “Your name is Kaycion Harrowthyn! Your sister’s name is Harlot Harrowthyn, your mother was Tabitha Harrowthyn and your father was Carter Harrowthyn. Do you even remember them…him?”

Kol was stunned for a moment. He had a sister? A family…They never came for him, they obviously didn’t care much, he concluded.

“You don’t even remember him…” Tyrion said in shock.

Kol ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “So what if I don’t remember? It’s none of your business,” he replied. “And why would I even want to remember?”

“Because your memory is a part of who you are. Without it, you will be lost forever, never fully whole. That’s why you can’t use magic, your split. Let me help you,” Tyrion argued.

“Just shut the fuck up!” Kol yelled, feeling rage dance through his body. He didn’t quite know who he was angry at. Himself or Tyrion? The wall was shattering faster than he could build.

“I know you are scared, Kaycion. I know it hurts, but sometimes going through a small amount of pain now can save you from a lot of pain later. You aren’t going to find all happy memories, but they are your memories, your past. If you don’t like who you were back then, then fine, your past doesn’t define you, but it is a part of you. And without it…”

“I’m lost,” he finished off Tyrion’s sentence. “What if I like being broken? Not everything has to be perfect in life.”

“You are right. But I am not asking for perfection, I am just saying that you don’t have to live in the dark. Tatianna is currently risking her life to find answers to questions that you can discover in a heartbeat if you just let me in. There is a war going on in your mind, and right now you are losing. Now I can give you battle strategies, lend a band-aid to seal a wound but I can’t go in and fight with you. In the end, you have to be the one to charge into your enemies. Into fear, anger, self-hate. Or else you will fall to a point where you are in a corner, surrounded where no strategy or band-aid can help you. You are a tough soldier I can tell, don’t give up now,” Tyrion replied. Kol couldn’t explain why, but for a strange reason, Tyrion’s words were getting very convincing.

Kol pressed his hands against the side of his forehead, his brain pounding beneath his skull. Aching at the mere thought of remembering everything…he was Koltalla. That was all he needed to be, yet deep down he craved more.

“Fuck,” he groaned. This was his choice to make, his first decision in a very long time. A battle within his mind with Kaycion on one side, Koltalla on the other, each fighting for control. He couldn’t pick which one would land the killing blow.

“I think we have had enough rest, let’s go,” Tyrion said in disappointment. Kol looked towards the ground. This was reality, his reality. He wasn’t locked up, not anymore. He wasn’t made to bend for someone else. It was his life…his entire life.

He made up his mind, watching as Kaycion pick up the hammer and slammed it upon the chiselled outer wall, taking down Koltalla in the process.

“I’ll do it,” he whispered, yet Tyrion’s hearing picked up on it and folded his wings back in.

“I need you to say it,” Tyrion stated.

“I want you help get my memories back,” he spoke, voice clear.

Tyrion’s lips switched into a smile. The other Fae did not wait for him to hesitate on his decision and attacked the wall between their once united minds.

Kol wanted to keep building, he wanted to throw Tyrion out, but instead, he relaxed his mind, embracing each falling brick till the flashes came through. One memory at a time, it all flooded in. He felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“Leave me alone,” the young Fae mumbled through tired breaths.

“Your hurt,” replied a slightly older Fae, almost at settling age. Kaycion ignored him, he had to get home before dark. However, when he looked at the other Fae he couldn’t help but feel drawn to him. A small spark ignited in his blood. Kaycion put the thought aside, but it seemed the other Fae was experiencing a similar thing. They both stared at each other, eyes locked unable to break away.

He knew what this could mean, but he never thought he would find his other half at all, let alone so early in his life. He often wondered if he would die before finding the Fae with whom he would one day share his mind with. Yet here he was.

Kaycion snapped his mind out of it, remembering what he was doing here in the first place. Stuttering in fear he said, “I-I’ve go-gotto go.” He turned around and ran back to his home. Even though he found his bonded, he feared he would never get to see the other Fae again.

It was so much, so much for him. All the pain, so much pain…Kol let out a slow breath trying to steady himself but his legs gave up on him, collapsing against the rock Tyrion was previously sitting on. However Tyrion did not let him rest, he kept breaking down the wall.

“Ky,” a small voice uttered at him. He looked down to see a pair of brown eyes staring at him with fear. “What is mommy doing?” she asked.

Kaycion eyes glanced over to his sister, her hands clutched tightly to a stuffed cat that was dirty with her own blood, but she didn’t mind. He did, he hated seeing that toy. It was a reminder of how he couldn’t protect her.

“She told us to wait here,” he whispered to his sister, not knowing where their mother was either. “She’ll be back,” he promised.

“I want chocolate. Chocolate make me feel good,” she told him.

He nodded his head, “I want chocolate too, but mommy said we have to wait for her.”

“Is papa coming too?” she asked, pulling at all his heart strings. “I don’t want papa to come.”

Ky…not Kol. Ky was the name they always called him. Fuck. It hurt. His heart pounded so hard against his chest that it felt like someone was trying to rip it out. “Please, make it stop,” he begged Tyrion, but he didn’t stop, letting another memory push through.

“Ky,” said Tyrion. “She’s ready for you.”

He looked at the mirror briefly, at those dark ringed eyes to match his fully grown wings. He took in a deep breath and walked into the bedroom. He couldn’t bear to look at her.

“Ky,” his mother whispered, her voice weak. No amount of magic could help her. He had called in every Elf he knew, but her illness was incurable. There was abnormal cell growth in her lungs, and her Fae blood caused it to spread faster, trying to heal what needed to be destroyed.

He felt so useless staring at her skeleton body. “Take care of Harlot,” she wheezed, coughing mid-sentence. “Please,” she finished.

He finally looked into her eyes. “Mother,” he muttered. “Just…” Then he heard it, or rather, didn’t hear it. Her heart beat no longer slowly thumped in his ear. “Mother!” he shouted, running to her side, shaking her body and begging for her to keep fighting.

Wake up.

His mother was dead. His mother had died, it was like he was reliving it all over again. Like he could see the pain in Harlot’s eyes when telling her the news. “Please stop,” he begged. “It hurts,” he told Tyrion.

“I’m sorry,” Tyrion replied and broke down the last piece. It was all coming back to him, every last one.

“Hey idiot,” said a female voice, walking up to him with the purest smile on her face.

“Hey stupid,” he replied to his sister with a smile.

“You ready? Everyone is going to be there looking at you. Even King and Queen Fiducia,” she told him.

“Way to say no pressure,” he replied.

“Ky,” Tyrion said walking into the room, looking as groomed as ever. “You are going to be late.”

“They can wait,” he told him.

“The next Fae Commander everyone,” Tyrion sarcastically remarked to the near-empty room.

“Shut up,” he told the white-winged Fae.

They weren’t all bad. The further he moved the better they got, and the less pain he felt. He finally found himself able to breathe once more before he got lost in another memory. The ambush that led to her. Everything that happened before the ambush, they had just been there to investigate the suspicion of creatures rising from the Dark Lands. Then she attacked.

She wasn’t good.

She had killed everyone under his command.

She almost killed Tyrion but he…he forced him to run.

She was the enemy…and he had been helping her.

“I’m sorry,” he told Tyrion, who looked at him now confused.

Take a step- lie, hide.

Keep your foot in the door.

Slip and you fall

through the world’s cracks.

A dimension of pain, suffering

with guilt whispering,

you, it was always you.

Now you’re back on the floor begging -

screaming,

hold on to me.

But hope’s back was turned

the moment truth burned.