Author's Corner

Thank you so much for reviewing! *throws snickers bars at you* There are a few info dumps in this chapter but they're necessary for informing the reader of certain things and developing the relationship between S and O. This chapter should be good for those of you who are hungry for romance ;) I hope you enjoy reading it and please carry on leaving your comments whether it's questions or thoughts or even just you screaming through your screens!

EIGHTH BLOOD

Chapter 36: Silver string

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'Chaos created the sky and called it Uranus, then made him fall in love with Gaia.

They had many children together, but their son Kronos grew power-hungry and devoured his own children before they could rise up and become more powerful than him. His wife Rhea hid their youngest child, and instead gave him a rock wrapped in a blanket, which he swallowed, thinking it was his son.

Once the child, Zeus, reached manhood, he waged war with his father and eventually imprisoned him in the Underworld. With Zeus as their new leader, his people began to furnish Gaia with life and Uranus with stars, and soon the Earth lacked only two things – animals and man.'

Greek Creation Myth pt.II

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They decided to leave the clearing where the party was and climbed down the path to the beach below.

They walked in silence, but Octavia's thoughts were loud and full. It felt good to have her magic back, and the steady thrum of it rushed through her veins as she broke into a slight jog down the winding path. There were no clouds littering the sky and the moon was out, shining its light down onto the alabaster sands. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore was like music, and she kicked off her sandals and tucked her toes into the soft ground. For a while she simply stood there, basking in the gentle silver light and listening to the ocean's heart-filled song.

Sesshoumaru finally caught up to her and stopped at her side. He was eerily quiet, so she turned to look at him, and found his gaze fixated on the moon above. Again, she was briefly jarred by the sight of his sheer white hair – having gotten so used it black – but the shock quickly left once she noticed the strange intensity in his wayward eyes.

She could see reflections of stars in his irises, and under the moon's ghostly glow, he reminded her of the very first time she'd ever seen him. Frightening and beautiful. Unearthly, but now so comfortingly familiar. She had to admit that she'd missed his vibrant magenta stripes and the waning moon on his forehead.

She'd even missed the giant pelt of fur he had protruding from his shoulder.

"You are staring."

A smile pulled at her lips.

"You're beautiful," she said, then narrowed her eyes and added wryly, "But you already know that, don't you?"

His brows quirked, and his eyes slid down to meet hers.

A burst of something surged in her chest and filled her with giddiness. There was laughter in his eyes, and it made her pulse quicken excitedly. The feeling was warm and brimming with delight, chasing away the subconscious suspense of approaching doom in her heart. It made her forget the troubles, the worries, and in that moment of time, she was just a girl.

"Always so full of flattery," he said, and her magic danced at the tone of his voice.

"Should I really be making your narcissism worse?"

His eyes narrowed but the laughter in them didn't fade.

She felt her smile widen and her magic flared like peacock feathers inside her veins.

"I ought to remove that defiant little tongue of yours," he said. "Or stitch your lips together, perhaps. Then you would learn."

"Would I, though?"

His lips curved into a dangerous smirk and she took a step towards to the sea. He watched her closely, attention completely fixed on her movements. Bravely, she took another step, drugged on adrenaline, and a sense of daring washed across her as she said quietly over the crashing waves . . .

"You'd have to catch me to do that."

His eyes gleamed like a hunter's and she spun around to run, only to find that he was already blocking her path, prompting her to instantly collide with his front. She hit his chest with a soft oof and felt another wave of light-headedness.

Lifting her head and meeting his wild gaze, she grinned.

"Cheater."

"Brazen woman."

"Huh, that new. I don't think you've ever called me woman before. I can't tell if it's an improvement or not."

His suns turned molten and her throat tightened.

"You like it best when I call you by name, don't you?"

She bit the insides of her cheeks, still grinning widely. He was toying with her. She knew he was, but the sound of her name from his lips was unlike any other sound she'd ever heard.

"I do," she said, seeing no reason to lie.

Still trapping his eyes with her own, her hands moved to trail up along his arms. She cursed his long sleeves at that moment, wanting to feel the sizzling electricity she felt from touching his skin, but she made sure her face didn't betray that thought.

If he could tease her, then she would do the same to him.

"I know what you like," she said as her hands went to grip his upper arms.

His youki simmered.

"Do you?"

"Yes. Do you want to know?"

His expression was answer enough, so she leaned up on the tips of her toes until she was close enough to nearly press her lips to his ear. She could feel his breath against her cheek and unhurriedly moved her hands up onto his chest.

He'd abandoned his breastplate and spiked armour, so his haori was smooth and soft.

The faintest of steady drumbeats pulsed against her palms, and her own heartbeat quickened in response.

"You like power, Sesshoumaru," she whispered, "You like my power, but you won't admit it. Probably has something to do with me being human."

She felt him chuckle and he asked, "Is that so?"

There was hardly a gap between their torsos now and she had her cheek pressed against his. Electricity crackled beneath his skin and her magic purred at the intense power he possessed.

"It is," came out as practically a hiss, and his hands came up to touch her elbows.

She whirled out of his grasp and laughed. She felt warm, like her whole body was burning, only instead of hurting it felt good. Even as he stalked closer and caught her waist instead of her elbows, she didn't feel like prey. His eyes were like a predator's, but it was she who was the hunter.

"Your accusations are very bold," he said as he pulled her closer, and she could feel his claws pricking at the fabric of her dress.

"But not untrue."

Her eyes blazed with bravado and his own did the same. The hilarity that she was flirting with an unimaginably powerful demon daimyo crossed her mind for a moment, and she breathed another laugh. He was centuries old and had the heart of a warrior, yet he was entertaining her game. Although it was starting to feel less like a game the more they played.

"Octavia," he called, face mere inches from her own. She thought he might say something mocking or taunt her some more but he just said it again. "Octavia."

"Just because you've discovered my weakness doesn't mean you have to overuse it, Sesshoumaru."

"Do you really think me so manipulative?"

"It depends. Do you think I'm so easily manipulated?"

He chuckled again, and she felt his breath on her face. It was hot and made her grip the fabric of his sleeve.

He studied her, eyes darting back and forth between hers, and she stole a quick glimpse at his lips as he did.

"Octavia . . ." he said again, but there was something else in his voice this time. "Had you only been born like me."

As if a spell had been broken, she tensed and stepped back. He seemed startled by her shift in mood, and she removed her fingers from his sleeve.

"No," she said, as what she thought was confusion came to settle on his features.

Her eyes were firm and there was a certainty to her voice for what felt like the first time in forever.

"I'm human," she said. "Not a demon. Or a goddess, or a spirit, or a hanyou. I might not be normal, and my power might make you wish I was something else, but I'm not. I might be unsure of a lot of things in my life, but that's the one thing I know for certain. The one thing I have. You can't take it from me, it's mine. And I wouldn't have it any other way."

The hunger was gone from his eyes and he regarded her carefully as if assessing her. It didn't make her doubt what she'd said though, because she knew now that strength didn't come from what you were.

It came from who you were.

"Being human isn't weak," she carried on, "I'm not ashamed. It's because I'm human that I can understand."

"Understand what?"

"How it feels to think you're not good enough."

Hostility crept into his features and he frowned. "You speak nonsense—"

"We both know I don't."

She'd learned his behaviour well enough by now to know that aggression was his way of denying the truth. But he couldn't run from the truth forever.

He couldn't ignore what was real and what wasn't.

A monster who had to face his monsters, that was what he was.

"You can't let a memory destroy you. You can't let what your father thought of you dictate who you choose to be. You're as strong as you make yourself—"

"You know nothing, human, nothing of such matters—"

"The only thing you have to surpass is your own judgement."

He stilled then and stared at her with a strange look in his eyes.

It was angry and hungry and feral.

The atmosphere between them had become something of a blend of shared understanding, wrath, and desire. The strangling tension squeezed her heart like a fist and she heard his breath hitch. She was human. He wasn't. He wore a mask to disguise his feelings. She didn't. They were so very different and lived literally worlds apart, but at that moment, they were exactly the same.

It was funny. It was so unbearably funny and fierce and consuming. She looked at him and felt both confusion and empathy at once. She didn't understand the feeling that was arising in her stomach that felt like rabid butterflies. She wondered if he shared her frustration.

He knew she'd never back down to him.

She hadn't before, so why would she start now?

Like all those times she'd challenged him before, she stared at him with a raw ferocity that dilated his pupils made his jaw harden. She saw his throat bob and bit down hard on her tongue. Their auras surged and danced around each other, and her eyes were fixed in a muscle in his jaw that tightened before he opened his mouth to speak again.

"Who are you, Octavia?" he asked. "Honestly. No deception this time. Where did you come from?"

She turned her gaze towards the black sea and sighed softly.

Who are you?

She'd been asking herself that question all her life.

Sitting down on the sand and pulling the crown of flowers off her head, she patted the space beside her and waited for him to join. She held the blossoms in her hands and stroked the soft petals. A warm summer breeze blew through the area, causing the ends of her hair and kimono sleeves to dance. Several petals were plucked from the posy and got caught on the breeze, flying out towards the silent ocean of darkness.

"I'll tell you," she said when he sat down next to her. "But you have to promise to believe me. No matter how crazy it sounds, you have to believe that I'm telling the truth. I can't promise that you'll understand, but I can try to answer any questions you have . . . Is that okay?"

He nodded, watching her intently. "That is fair."

She took a deep breath and began the tale.

"I was born somewhere in the mainland of Greece in the late 20th century. I don't know where, or why I left for England when I was four. I don't remember anything from those first few years of my life. I don't remember my mum, or my dad, or how I even got to England, never mind who I went with. It was like my life only just started then, and I didn't know why I couldn't remember anything from before.

"I lived in a care home in London – that's England's capital – until I was sixteen. The people who looked after me there told me that I came from Greece with my aunt and ended up in the system because she couldn't look after me. I didn't have any pictures of her, and like everything else from those first four years, I didn't remember what she looked like.

"When I turned sixteen, social services gave me an address, but when I went to visit, apparently no one had lived there in years. I thought she might've gone back to Greece, so I learned the language, got on a plane, and went to look for her. The thing about Greece, though, is it's a big place. Really big. And I didn't even know where to start. I had my name, of course, but Petridis isn't exactly uncommon. I didn't have any luck, no matter where I searched . . . A part of me wondered if she actually was my aunt, or if Petridis was even my real name. It wasn't like I had any real way of knowing.

"Feeling defeated, I went back to England. I wanted to get away from all of it, so I moved west to Wales and bought an apartment in Cardiff. I wanted to study art or creative writing, so I applied for university there. It's like a series of tests you take, I suppose, and at the end, you get a certificate saying you're more qualified because of it. I had a job in a little bookshop to pay for my rent, and when I wasn't working, I did drawings to pass the time.

"Just when I thought I'd finally found some stable footing, social services contacted me saying they'd found connections in Japan. Some relatives living in Tokyo, apparently. I bet you can guess it was Kagome's family. I wasn't sure I really believed the claim, but I decided to visit them anyway. Because even if it turned out to be a fake . . . It would have been nice, having someone. Anyone. So, I went to their family shrine, eager to investigate, and then all this craziness happened. I somehow got myself tangled in a spacetime, historical drama."

She thought of the Higurashi family and what they must have thought when she disappeared. Did they know she'd been taken against her will by a force beyond their understanding, or did they think she'd left by her own conscious choice?

"I wonder what they'd say if they knew I'd met their daughter. That I knew she was okay. They must spend every day just wondering how she is and what she's doing . . . I wish I could find a way to tell them. Just so they would know."

His expression was neutral like always, but there was a thoughtfulness to his eyes as he stared out to the black sea.

She played with the flowers in her lap and pondered over the events of her long, lonely tale. Talking about it had made her feel better, but reliving the memories had reminded her of the giant crack in her heart. She'd always thought of herself as ordinary, but her life was full of gaps. Missing characters, the empty family tree, and four stolen years.

"The Bone-Eater's Well," he said, sentence trailing off like the petals on the wind. "It brought you and the miko all that way?"

She nodded.

"How?"

"I don't know."

"The 20th century . . . That is hundreds of years in the future. You expect me to believe that you travelled back in time?"

"I promised to tell you the truth no matter how crazy it sounds. I know you don't understand, but you said you'd believe me. Please believe me. I wouldn't lie. Not to you."

His claws dug into the sand and he cast his eyes skyward to the moon and stars in thought.

It was a lot to take in, she supposed.

Even for him.

"The average man might think you rather mad," he mumbled.

"Are you an average man?"

The ghost of a smirk tugged at his lips.

"I only didn't tell you because I was worried about the butterfly effect. Is that too modern? It's the idea that the tiniest change to history could create a giant ripple effect on the future . . . I wanted to tell you, Sesshoumaru. I really did."

"It would explain your insufferableness, to some extent."

She laughed again, still playing with the blossoms in her lap.

He was looking at her now, though she didn't dare tilt her head and meet his gaze. She wondered what he would say next, the tears suddenly coming spilling out of her eyes, when his hand swept up and wiped the dampness from her cheek. She waited for him to remove it, but he kept it there, his calloused palm warm against her skin. One half of her wanted to lean into it, whilst the other wanted to hiss and scratch it away.

Considering all the time she spent craving intimacy and affection, when she actually received it, she didn't know how to handle it.

She hated how pathetic his touch made her feel.

Swallowing, she finally lifted her gaze and looked at him, his hand still cradling her face. His eyes truly were like fire, giving the impression they were glowing.

Something in him always seemed to waver whenever he was forced to look her directly in the eye. Out of disgust, she supposed, though it never really looked like disgust.

Music drifted down the cliff from the jamboree high above, but she was too lost in the fires of his eyes and the hollowness of herself. His hand was still on her cheek, and she covered it with her own, eyes sliding closed as she gave in and leaned into the touch. She could feel his breath against her forehead, and when he spoke, she heard and felt the words.

"My father didn't love my mother."

She opened her eyes and found his gaze focused on something beyond her in the distance, like he was remembering some long-lost sting of pain that he had tried to forget.

She'd shared the truth with him.

Now he was sharing with her.

"He was heir to the West, and she came from a line of respectable Inugami in the mountains. Their union was entirely political, though I suspect they were at least friends, in some sense of the word. And when I was born, it meant everything and nothing all at the same time. I was no more than a requisite, there to fill the title of successor. That was all . . . It was not like that for Inuyasha."

She let out a shaky breath as his expression turned clouded.

"He met Izayoi after he was wounded in battle with rebels in the south. We assumed he had perished, but she had been tending to his injuries in secret. He kept on visiting her, even long after he had healed. I could not understand how my mother was blind to it. Little did I know, she wasn't."

A dragon represents the strength of a woman's scorn.

"She only left when it became widespread knowledge. I thought it was the shame, but I think she had actually been waiting for an excuse. I resented my father after that. Not for driving her away, but for abandoning his honour so effortlessly. He always preached to me about honour, but he tossed his aside like a carcass without so much as a trace of reluctance or guilt. I never forgave him for that, even after he died. It is not something I know how to forgive.

"I encountered Izayoi only once – after his death and Inuyasha had been born – and resented her the most. Because she was oblivious to the destruction she had instigated. Inuyasha, at least, understood his sin. She was as blind as I had believed my mother to be, only worse. I longed to rip out her throat, but I refrained because I knew the gravity of honour. She, my father, and Inuyasha did not."

"He was a baby," she whispered, sniffing. "He didn't understand."

"And I hated him for that even more."

His hand slid down from her cheek at last and she studied his face carefully. A part of her wanted to wrap her arms around him and hold him, but she refrained and instead cupped his face. Their noses were almost touching and she stared into his eyes, stroking the stripes on his cheeks with her thumbs.

She saw him swallow thickly.

"You know," she said, whispering over the crashing waves, "They say, amartía 'exomologiméni i misí synchoreméni."

"Is now really the apt time for insults?"

"It's not an insult. It's a Greek proverb I learned during my travels. It means, 'a confessed sin is half a sin'. A confessed sin is half forgiven."

He seemed to ponder over the words. Did he grasp what she was saying, or would he continue to deny the cruelty of his behaviour towards his brother? It was true that they fought like a pair of dogs – which was fitting – but even during the short interactions Octavia had seen between them, even with all the flinging insults and brawling, she knew that, in the end, they cared for one another deeply.

"You love your brother."

He snorted, "Whatever gave you that impression?"

"I know you care about what he thinks of you."

"I feel nothing for how others choose to perceive me."

"You're wrong. You always want to maintain this terrifying, untouchable image. You have your swords, your claws, your teeth, and your battle armour. You want people to think you don't care, that you can't feel things like hurt. Or betrayal. Or shame. You hide it away and try to pretend like you don't, but it's not true, it's not . . . You didn't want him to see that side of you. I get that."

"Do you?"

She wondered if he intended it to sound so spiteful.

"Yes," she answered harshly, tightening her grip on his face. "I do. Every day, I tried to make everyone think I was strong and unaffected, but it was a lie. I didn't want them to look at me with pity. I wanted them to think I didn't care because I hated the feeling I got when they looked at me that way. It made me feel small. And helpless. So don't try to tell me that I don't understand, Sesshoumaru. Don't you dare."

His eyes flickered between hers, full of that feeling she couldn't identify, then he sighed through his nose and seemed to give in. He closed his eyes and leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers.

The action was so unlike him that it took her by surprise.

"Why do I listen to you?" he whispered, "Why do I play into your insanity? I cannot help myself. You are a horrible, vile creature. Release me from your grasp this instant."

She didn't know what to say to him.

He was clinging to her, unwilling to let go, and when he opened his eyes to stare into hers, she got the sense that he was going to kiss her. Luckily, he saw reason and snapped out of it before he could do anything stupid, but it didn't stop her heart from shaking vigorously inside her ribcage.

Looks like dumping all of that on him at once broke him.

He rose to his feet and turned his head towards the trees on top of the cliff, where warm and airy music still spilt from.

He didn't look down at her as he spoke.

"How do you coerce such reactions from me, human? Do you ever wonder?"

It sounded more like he was asking himself rather than her.

He was right, though. In the span of an hour, they had gone from flirting, to arguing, to pouring their hearts out, and then right back to arguing again. The relationship between them was undeniably turbulent. They brought out something in each other that neither of them wanted to confront, and despite her speech to him on how his secrets would eventually destroy him, she, it turned out, was no better.

She smiled softly and he turned to look back to her.

"It's because we're the same, I think."

They were connected by a silver string.

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