Once my dizzying vision subsided, I was finally able to make out Tom's solid form clearly, including the menacing look on his face. It was contorted into an expression of hideous fury - wrinkled nose, snarling, jagged teeth bared, beetroot eyes inverted. Even his aura of flames illuminated around him, contrasting against my own - green versus orange - two complimentary colors colliding.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" His voice was sharp and vicious, taken over by a low, demonic octave. If it wasn't for the strength and booming volume in his voice, I would've not been able to hear him over the ringing in my ears.

Honestly, his anger was not what I was expecting. I'd thought he'd at least be somewhat impressed. Despite it, I couldn't help but respond to his chaotic introduction with wittiness.

"It's just like the good, old times, right, brother?"

Something of his madness felt too surreal, too hysterical to be true - and over a bunch of pathetic mortal lives, nonetheless.

They were the same lives that we had traumatized as kids, sneaking out to the surface to cause mischief. Even then, Tom envied how intimidating I appeared and how easily the humans ran from the sight of me. I presumed it was because of my wings, considering that humans didn't have wings, nor had they ever been in the presence of a humanoid with wings.

Something I said had only provoked Tom more than ever because his grasp on the collar of my shirt tightened, forceful enough to tear through it.

"I am not your brother, Marco!" He bellowed and, if it were possible, I witnessed his anger intensify, boiling over. The flames around him flared in response.

I forced a laugh and the effort made my head prick with a sharpened pain. "Am I supposed to believe you?"

This time, Tom didn't fire back right away. I watched him survey me up and down, studying me. His death grip on my shirt loosened, slightly yet enough for it to be noticeable. He shut his eyes, shook his head, then retried. When he opened his eyes again, they were their natural hues.

The anger on his face fell away and the expression became more… baffled. Curious.

"How… how are you doing that?" His voice was composed and I met his stare, at my smoldering green outline. I flexed my fist and my fire diminished at last.

"What do you mean?" I asked. It was a serious question yet, for some reason, Tom couldn't answer. He was struck dumb with awe.

Then, when he found his words again, he spoke.

"The - the fire! How did you do that?" He fumed, tugging more vigorously at my shirt, as if aggression would shake the answer right out of me.

It was an odd thing for Tom to be questioning. Afterall, he knew I had powers, considering I've had them for practically my whole life now. If anyone should know that, it would be my own…

Brother…

Unless, Tom was telling the truth - that I really wasn't his brother.

Still, even if it were true, it was still too ridiculous to accept.

I would've responded with another witty comment if it weren't for the fact that if I was truly being honest…

"I-I don't know."

Silence hung over us for a long, hard moment. I saw his jaw noticeably clench, a hurried second of contemplation.

His eyebrows rose, his mouth hung open, his hyperactive eyes scanning me through, searching for a fault in my act. When he found I was just as flustered as I was, he eased off me, backing away completely now.

Finally free from his hold, I had to stagger out of the rubble of brick. The same white pain from my impact came back to overwhelm me once more, making me wince.

A commotion emerged in the distance - wailing sirens, various flashing lights, more cars. I saw Tom's deer-like ears perk up at the sound, alert and shifting behind him, towards the streets.

The law enforcement - how cute.

A sudden urgency struck Tom immediately. He looked out to the streets and when he turned back, his stare dropped to the ground, darting back and forth as if to think frantically.

"Shit." He hissed through his tight teeth.

He reached out and yanked me closer, causing me to stumble and I almost fell from the demanding and forceful action. Every move I made was disorienting and afflicting.

"We need to go - now."

With that, he raised his hand towards the sky. A ring of fire arose around our feet and when it ascended, it confined us in its spiral, a blazing vortex.

But, just as quick as it had come, it had left, swallowed up by the air, sweeping over us like a current.

The ground reappeared once again, yet we were no longer on the streets. Tom's portal of fire had transported us home.

I couldn't even recall the teleportation back. All I knew was landing by his feet. I hit the ground, my equilibrium faltering. The white pain came to invade behind my skull again and I groaned from the overwhelming light-headedness, trying to overcome my whirling vision.

I was oddly aware of the metallic taste in my mouth. Iron - blood. I must've bit down too hard on my tongue during Tom's takedown.

I took note of all symptoms, every ache and throb and twinge and pang.

A strong force hauled me upwards, hoisting me onto my feet.

A wall struck me from behind and my arms surrendered to the chains, cold, thick cuffs restraining me. The cementing weight of control released and when I dared to look up through the haze of heavy pressure in my head, I found Tom with his hands out, telekinetic gestures towards me, the one manipulating and hindering my movement.

The pain of my wings and my infection prevailed, relentless and excruciating more than ever. I tensed, allowing myself to give in to the swarming, intense sting.

The realization was gradual and when I was finally able to make sense of my situation - that I was chained up and imprisoned - I wrestled against the cuffs that suspended my arms above me.

Unfortunately for me, however, my feeble attempts were in vain. My strength had diminished and my fight probably seemed more pitiful and trying than impressive and threatening.

"What… what are you doing?" I mumbled, a disoriented daze taking over, still fumbling hopelessly against the chains.

When my fighting became less and less, Tom approached me closer.

I looked up to meet his face and almost immediately, I had to look away. Despite the blurriness and filminess of my eyes, I could still see the obvious expression on his face - a glare sharp enough to impale me.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw his expression change. Slowly, I turned back to him, to see if it was true, and found that something had softened. The fury had melted away and a new emotion reigned supreme on his face.

It was a deep, long stare, as if he was simply looking through me. It was as if his eyes were locked, intensely focused on the wall behind me, just like he had been doing for the past weeks.

An unsteady breath in and out. Then, his face fell to the ground.

"I don't want to fight with you." He began, rubbing his arm, biting his bottom lip. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen either." He surrendered his hands out in front of him, as if to try to reason with me.

"What are you talking about?" My voice was rough and scratchy, probably from yelling.

"You really don't remember, do you?" He started again, the expression of sorrow on his face when I looked up.

"No. Just tell me." I mumbled.

Seriously, what was he hiding? Why couldn't he just tell me?

Tom took in a deep breath again, as if to prepare himself. I waited. He closed his eyes. Then, he spoke. It was the truth - I could tell by how every word was handled with caution and the difficulty it took for him to speak.

"Because of me, I made you do something that… hurt someone… someone who turns out was really important to you." He rubbed the back of his neck, defeated.

Tom must have read my blank, confused face when he opened his eyes because he sighed, out of hope to make me understand. "The memories you have of us aren't real. They're fake. You're…" He choked, restarted, his fists clenching by his sides. "You're not my brother. I-I'm sorry."

I gazed down at the motion of his hands, trembling noticeably. Tom had never struck me as vulnerable or easily daunted but now it was unveiled, leaking through. The uneasiness of his voice, the rattling breath leaving his chest - something of his heavy confession frightened me.

A hollow pit plummeted in my stomach.

He was telling the truth. And though I knew this, I couldn't bring myself to accept it. It made a knot tighten, a churning sensation weighing in my gut.

Still, with the truth, something of the reasonings behind it all remained hazy. I searched desperately for the faults and cracks in his explanation, for some sort of flaw to call him out for, yet the slicing pain in my head made it hard to concentrate.

"No, I-I don't understand…" I muttered. "Why…?"

"You asked me to. You said you... didn't want to remember what happened. So I erased your mind. I gave you new memories to replace the old ones as a way to keep you from asking any questions. I don't know. It's… complicated." His stare wavered, eyes drifting to the floor.

"Wh-how?" I shook my head, trying to still make sense of everything but my skull felt like it was going to explode. "Why?"

"If I can't make you understand, then maybe… maybe she can." He said, lifting his face again.

"She?" I repeated.

"I-I'll be right back." He concluded, leaving me alone in the Great Hall, trapped there, chained up like some animal in captivity. Like a maniacal demon worthy of confinement.

"Wait," My plea was only a squeak, a helpless sound. My chains jangled as I shifted in place, with every movement I made. "What do you mean she? Tom, what's going on? Tom, please! Let me go!" The more I wrestled my chains, the more they chimed and clattered.

Tom did not respond. His back was already towards me and his figure shrunk into the faint darkness of the hall. I wanted to scream out in frustration, but my body was too exhausted to even utter a single noise. All I wanted now was to sleep.