Chapter 28

4.8K 225 312
                                    




•❅─────────✧❅✦❅✧─────────❅•
28 - Two Sides of a Coin

•❅─────────✧❅✦❅✧─────────❅•28 - Two Sides of a Coin

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

•❅─────────✧❅✦❅✧─────────❅•



WARNING: This chapter will contain underage drinking and non-consensual action, viewer discretion is advised.



A name was meant to be a blessing, but in several cases, it could be a curse. In The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, a name was a title, a prove of honor. A name would depict each being to be equal to those aristocrats. Bonded them with a lifestyle full of extravagant Ball, mannerism class, and whatnot.

         It started as a pride, exclusivity, that Regulus wore like a charmer. But the surname was heavier than a crown, it wasn't just a mark of family it was the core of magic to them. Deep to the marrow, to the mind. With that name, the idea of blood purity that entitled their status higher above everyone else was planted in a pristine mind, sculpted out of an innocent soul.

Then came rules, with rules came rewards and punishment. And fright became the pressure point to follow the rules — coercion. But not every soul could be molded just the same in a precise box of mindset as in factories. From that struggle came rebellions, namely Andromeda and Sirius. That left Regulus, fright sank to his skin, his brain, and expectation placed onto his shoulders. Regulus thought everyone was born the way he was. The boy thought it was mundane to live and think the way he was. To shove down doctrines that he didn't know was poison.

        A poison that made him numb with facades day to day, kept his chin up with pride and concealed his feelings, becoming the epitome of a heartless man. Regulus had always thought it was normal to be that way, but then he felt despair consumed his being. He wouldn't be surprised if he died from sorrow that built up in his heart, downed it like a drink. Before he was dragged and drowned by the death to join them in the pit of despair.

Then once he was drowning, Regulus would be laughing because dying would be better than living the way he lived. Truthfully, he didn't know if he ever truly lived, he was a fine product and furnished in the name of Black. His blood tainted with ink, dark as the night that slowly left him hollow and none would be there to save him. As much as he tried to be the brightest star in pitch-black sky, he was a boy, a mortal with flesh limits and soul that bonded himself to feel.

       Right now the burden was exceeding his mental capacity, the poison in his head was overwhelming. Perhaps, it was just the firewhiskey that burned his bloodstreams to distract his mind from reciting the bad news he just received.

        Regulus tore his gaze to the sky, a letter was on his hand and his vision swirled before his grey eyes. Though, he could pin out the sparkling eternal stars that were hung above or the freezing water of the lake that echoed his screams. His voice filled with rage, lungs heaving as his eyes traced out the neat handwriting on the letter. The boy didn't know how he got there, all he wanted was to be alone so he could explode, so he could cry and sobbed his heart out. He propped his back against the frosted bark.

GYMNOPÉDIE  Where stories live. Discover now