Half-Bloods R • 1: Fallen World

Epilogue

Their footsteps echoed throughout the white hallways. A pale, shimmering door parted, giving way to a dark grey room. In it, sat a large desk, various shelves, and filing cabinets. Behind the desk sat a figure, her father, his hands clasped beneath his thin chin. A clock ticked next to him, yet its hands never moved.

Audrey and Evan dropped down onto a single knee.

"Father," they said simultaneously.

Their father was a thin, aged man with short, blonde hair covering his balding head. His sunken eyes traced the lines of a small paper packet. He looked up at the two with dull eyes.

"I've read your reports, your performance was shameful. Evan," he groaned.

Her bother looked up, a naive light in his orange eyes.

"Your failure was especially disgusting, you've beaten that devil into a bloody mess, a mere inch away from death before. Yet, you were not only forced back but you were nearly killed!" He stood and walked to Evan, stopping just in front of him, "Stand."

Evan quietly lifted himself to his feet, keeping his head low. His eyes were fixed on the clock, the never working clock that the two siblings had made when they were young.

Their father slapped Evan, and Audrey flinched at the sight.

Evan didn't move, he didn't say a word. Even if he wanted, he simply couldn't. Audrey did the same.

"Audrey," her father's head pivoted toward her, "You failed to kill even a single Chimera, and don't think I forgot about Docenia. She had the chance to kill the pyromancer, yet she left the girl to bleed! I can barely recognize you, my perfect little girl, where did she go?" He kneeled in front of her and placed a hand against her cheek, "Where is she, Audrey?"

She pulled back, falling to the floor and pulling herself into the corner of the room.

"I'm sorry," she whimpered, scratching at her arm.

He stood and took another step forward as her nails dug through her skin. She continued scratching, letting blood flow, and exposing raw flesh.

"Audrey," he whispered, "You're ruining yourself. You are my creation, my beautiful and perfect creation, why are you torturing yourself?"

She stopped, realizing that rivers of tears now covered her face, that her arm was drenched in blood, that her father was watching her with judging eyes, and that her brother had a sickened face. She crumpled into a ball and cried. Evan moved to her but was pulled back by their father who shook his head. He whispered into Evan's ear, and her brother's eyes went wide. Evan grabbed and pulled her to her feet, leading her out of the room and into the pale hallways.

"I could help you escape," he murmured.

She shook her head, their loyalty was to the Order, it always would be. Evan sighed, and the two walked in silence, though, they didn't take the same path they had before. They walked through twists and turns and made their way to an elevator with a pale red door. It was the only thing in the dead-end hall, save for a single light above it.

"No. No, please. Brother, please! Don't take me down there, Evan! I don't wanna go there, please!" She squealed.

He looked at her with dead eyes, "I'm sorry, Audrey, but I don't have a choice here."

He pressed the call button and she tore away for a moment, but he quickly grabbed her by her other arm, squeezing tight. The doors opened, and her heart dropped. He pulled her into the dim, dingy elevator and pressed the only available button. Room nine.

She began to slip down as she beat at his chest, and her words turned to incoherent whines as she shook her head desperately. The doors opened after a small bell sound echoed in her ears, and she let out a horrified scream.

• :: • :: • :: • :: • :: • :: •

Jake, standing in darkness, grabbed the saw and placed it against his table-bound arm. He gritted his teeth in a crooked half-grin and pulled the blade back through his flesh. He pushed the saw forward, laughing as pain surged through his body. Blood began to seep from the wound as he sped up drastically, laughing as he destroyed his arm, enjoying every grinding slash against the bone, every severed vein, and artery. He stopped and peeled the saw away, tossing it away.

He lifted his bloodied arm, the forearm hanging limp, and grabbed the limp chunk of his body. He pulled, gleefully watching his flesh and muscles stretch and snap like gooey mozzarella.

He paused, his eyes locking on to the now single vein that held his arm together. He pulled it up to his face and bit through it, then spit out the foul-tasting, rubbery tube.

Mana began to rise and bubble at his shoulder as a rancid smell rose into the air. A thick, orange liquid began to pour from his arm, and suddenly, an overwhelming pain gripped his body. He fell to the floor, the arm piece rolling away when he let go.

"Christopher!" He growled, bloody tears leaving his eyes.

New flesh and muscle began to replace his forearm, bones grew like a demented tree from his arm stump. He smacked his new, unformed hand against the ground, the bones clacking against the pale tiles. Blood vessels and muscle began taking proper place, as skin crawled up and coated the new arm.

The bubbles of mana exploded into small flames, singing his skin as the black ooze drained off his body. He pushed himself onto his feet as the door to his dark room opened, shedding away the shadows. The Minister stood before him, wearing a pale white mask with small glass openings for his dark green eyes, and pale robes.

In a distorted voice, the Minister said, "It's time."