The Darkness Within

Muses and Monsters Prologue, Pt. 1

A/N: Prologue Pt.2 is going up next. If you're interested in this story, give it a read on Inkitt, or let me know and I'll start posting it here. 

Prologue, pt. 1

Carson Ajax

"Remind me why I agreed to come here, again?" My best friend asks from beside me, sulking in his lush velvet seat as if we're at a mortuary rather than one of the finest theatres in the state.

My eyes scanning the patrons in the main auditorium below the box I share with Seth as they settle into their seats in preparation for the performance, I say drily, "Wipe that scowl off your face, you ungrateful fuck. Do you know how much tickets for box seats here cost?"

Seth Balor, my reluctant friend and even more reluctant companion, answers, "Well over three grand each. What's your point? This is a production hosted by college level dancers, not professionals. The directors are teachers, and the stagehands are students. The fuck am I gonna see here that's consequential?"

I roll my eyes, casting him a sidelong glance. The performance we're attending is not just put on by college level dancers, it's put on by dancers who've been hand picked from around the world for their talent and invited into a very selective, very elite four-year program. Somebody who hadn't danced professionally by the time they grew pubes wouldn't even be considered as a candidate; every single girl and boy in the program is the real deal, and the list of alums has some world-famous names.

The fact that Seth and I happen to attend the same university that is home to this dance program—albeit in entirely different studies from the finer arts—combined with my father's copious yearly donations to the dance program, means that I'm obligated to attend at least one or two of the performances that the department puts on throughout the year in affiliation with the best performance theatre in vicinity.

"Get that stick out of your ass, Balor. Aren't you artists supposed to appreciate all art?" I ask, smacking the top of his head with a rolled-up pamphlet of tonight's performance; a contemporary take on the traditional ballet Sleeping Beauty.

"I'm a double major in science and engineering," Seth says flatly.

"Who spends half his nights locked in his apartment, working on his newest painting or sculpting project," I point out.

At a fresh twenty-one years old, Seth is already acknowledged as a polymath by the scientific, engineering, and artistic communities worldwide. There is absolutely no denying the guy is a genius, with several of his paintings and sculptures on display in museums around the world, a few of his inventions having already been patented and introduced to commercial marketplaces with insane success, and one of his invented chemical formulas getting classified by a three-letter government agency that was very disappointed when Seth turned down their job offer last year.

"Exactly; sculpting and painting. When done properly, both take a deeper understanding of engineering, geometry, anatomy, and physics. The sort of dancing our school's program teaches isn't even entirely classical ballet, which means it requires no knowledge of the finer arts and might as well be nomadic."

I shake my head, lowering my voice as the lights dim on the walls around us and the ceiling. "You're a fucking snob. I should've come alone."

The only reason I'm here is because my father sent me a very clear email last week as to which school functions I'm expected to attend this upcoming schoolyear in order to reflect properly on his shiny, philanthropic public image. An oil tycoon with an international trade empire and more money than he can spend in five lifetimes, my piece of shit sperm donor is not the sort of man to take no for an answer. He's not even the type to ask a question; he issues orders and expects everyone around him to obey.