sanctuary | on hold indefinitely

twenty-three | ignis

The full moon waned between the clouds behind Musa Ali's house, its silver glow reflected in the sea like a distant torch guiding them towards the horizon. It felt a million miles away from Farah, as though she was seeing it cast its light from a different planet entirely. A harsh wind whistled outside of the car, uninviting, ominous. Beside her, Filix sat, his bruised, bloody knuckles tightened around the steering wheel as they came to a stop on the gravel drive leading up to the house. A light was on in one of the front rooms, lighting the garden into four square segments of soft orange. Her father had always stayed up late, and it seemed as though he had never rid himself of the habit even now.

She tried to picture the man she had once known jotting something down frantically or sitting with his feet propped on the couch as he read, glasses perched on his nose, but she couldn't. She hadn't thought of him in so long that she barely remembered what he looked like, couldn't remember whether he had the same, sharp features as her or whether those had been inherited solely from her mother.

"Are you ready, Miss Lee?" These were the first words that Filix had spoken in hours. He spared her an emotionless glance as he shut off the engine. The headlights were turned off with it, leaving them in almost total darkness save for the moonlight.

"I'm ready," she said calmly, unclipping her seatbelt.

Filix rifled through his glove compartment, pulling out the obsidian blade that he had threatened Farah with only yesterday. It seemed sharper and blacker now than it had then and far too dangerous to remain unsheathed, yet he handed it to her without care, letting the hilt fall into her palm.

"Do you really have it in you to kill your own father?" His voice was amused, sinister, as though he was a horror movie fanatic waiting for the first kill.

Her eyebrows arched in surprise as she eyed the dagger, running her index finger along the smooth, cold metal. "You want me to kill him?" She hadn't expected for this to end well, but killing him was not something she had given a second thought to. Now, it seemed obvious that it had always been the plan—Filix would never let a Healer and a traitor walk away from him alive, relative or not.

"Why do you think we're here, love?" He let out a cold laugh, voice dripping with venom. "To have a sing-song by the fire? Your father abandoned his family. For that alone he deserves to die."

"And you want me to do your dirty work?"

He put his hands up in surrender. "He's your father. I thought you'd want to do the honours. Don't you want to prove to me what you're capable of?"

"Of course," she whispered, her heart hammering against her chest. She made a special effort to grip the knife with steady fingers. "You're right. Let's get this over with, shall we?"

Filix smiled in satisfaction, his boots crunching on the gravel as he opened the door and stepped out. Farah mirrored him, walking around the car and standing beside him so that she could get a complete look at her father's house. It was big and old - probably once a farmhouse. She would be doing him a favour, she told herself as they walked to the door, in stopping such a small man from rattling around in such a large house all alone.

"Aperio," she demanded, drawing power from the obsidian that the blade was made of. Open. The red door swung open so quickly that it was almost pulled off its hinges, a gust of wind generated from the force of it whipping through Farah's hair. She stepped inside, Filix following closely behind. She was unused to being the one to lead for once.

The hallway was cast in shadows, the smell of spices overpowering as they passed through. The walls were filled with art and posters, not family pictures. He still lived alone, then. On the third step of the staircase beside them, a cat stood, its tail swaying cautiously as it eyed up the new visitors. Farah wondered if this was her replacement, his way of filling the hole he had made when he left his family.