Blood Bound

Chapter 13

Sebastian 

"Nicholas. I'd never think I'd see that face again after all this time."

I turned back to see Father huffing exhaustedly, and witnessing the state he was in right now, I was sure the messy, littered condition of the office would pale in comparison. Jasper seemed to notice it too, a plaster of sympathy for the old man on his face as he picked the overthrown trinkets off the floor. I too was in tow, not wanting to burden Father with anything else.

Flitting the dust and dirt off my clothing as I manoeuvred to sit down on the opposite couch, I cocked my head in question at Father's confession. Jasper plopped down beside me like a boulder, uncaring for his lack of manners or elegance as he spread himself across the seating.

"He was one of Rory's men indeed, son. I'd recognised his sinister anywhere." He whispered softly, yet his eyes did not follow. He stiffened till he was rigid, like an atomic bomb on the cusp of release. I rested my eyes over Father's figure, my eyes persuading him to reveal the looming truth that he is shielding behind iron doors.

He frowned as he realised the predicament he was in now, and with a dragged sigh, he unraveled a chip of our tragedy: "If Nick is here, I'm almost positive that Rory is just around the corner, boys." He shook his head in conclusion, clearly unrest about this revelation.

"We watched her burn, Father. The lot of them were slaughtered that night."

"She's a powerful witch, Sebastian. It wouldn't be a complete surprise if she did manage to cheat death. I'm sure she had people who aided her in her cause." He countered.

It took all my strength to will myself into a state of pacific, flexing my fingers in my enclosed fist, drowning out the echos of the yapping flames against my skin. Now it truly felt like a never-ending cycle of terror that would be illuminated forever till the end of time; we thought we could outrun the ghosts of our pasts and bury them underground, unfortunately, it seemed that we were bound to always be tied to the skeletons that trail behind us, a river that conveyed the morbid story of my history and identity.

I don't believe that any word, phrase or feeling could explicitly translate the deep-rooted, volcanic emotions I harboured for Rory. She contaminated everything that I have ever came to cherish. She poisoned my life and Father's, she condemned us to a monstrosity that could never be looked at in a bright light, and she guaranteed to bleed us dry of our livelihood.

More so, I had to find out that the person I came to trust and love to the highest degree was only manipulating me for their less than morale motives. It was numbing to find that Ariana had twisted my vulnerability to suit her demands and her goals, and I being the lovesick fool I was, I never saw the signs that had been there. I was blinded to soak in the reality, far overboard in this fantasy, this ignorant bliss. And I'd believe she really did reciprocate the string of passion I weaved for her.

But it was not meant to be. And I would never let myself forget the errors of my rashness. I'm much more intuitive than that, how daft must I be if I could let myself fall to my knees for a woman who was bent on ruining me?

She may profess that she loved me in the end, but the words failed to meet the desire and taste I once craved. They were only remnants of a broken promise and betrayal; I simply could not return those affections then. She made her bed the moment she brought herself to me, and so she must deal with her repercussions.

Dealt with it she did when she was delivered to the scorching pit. However, what terrified me the most witnessing such a travesty was not the sight of her life melting away, but the barren hollow that deepened in my own. I didn't care anymore, about her, about me, anything.