The Good Son

Chapter Nineteen

Sins of the Father

Cassiopeia walked into her father's study with a weary expression on her face, clearing her throat to subtly catch his attention as she took a seat. He looked up, noting the drawn look on her face and sighed, was it truly too much for a father to ask that his daughter would smile again.

"What's wrong?" he asked and it was that alone that reminded Cass why she loved her father so dearly. Why she had always depended on him, the man who had raised her, who had always been there, sometimes irascible and slightly inflexible but always present. It reminded her that he would not always be there for her but that was a thought for another day. She couldn't afford any more stress right now.

She just needed her daddy.

Because he never beat around the bush when he saw something wrong with his children, he always got right to the point and once he discovered their problem he always had an answer to allay their fears.

"It's Albus," she sighed, "The wards have become too weak. He lost control so badly the other day. I can't reinforce them any more without killing him . . . I'm scared dad, I can't lose him too."

Draco gave off a low moan of despair, he was well aware that after single every one of Albus' incidents the wards were worn down but he had never expected them to have faded so deeply, not during his son-in-law's lifespan at any rate. Cass trembled at her father's dismay, he was supposed to have the answer not diminish her already fleeting hope.

"How bad was it?" he asked through pursed lips.

"He destroyed an entire acre of forestland with his bare hands," she whispered, as if speaking some dark secret that should never see the light of day. Draco gave a low whistle and for the first time in his life he actually looked his age – a man in his early fifties.

When did the platinum start fading to grey?

"I don't know Cassie," he said in a strained voice when he took in her questioning look, "He's so powerful, I don't know what to do." Her heart sank, breaking ever so slightly at his words.

"Is there nothing we can do?" she asked, her voice breaking.

"Hermione and I will do everything in our power to find a way to strengthen the seals without hurting him. I love him like a son, Cass. I promise I'll find a way to help him, you just need to make sure he doesn't lose control again till we have a solution."

"I can do that," she said, a spark of hope taking root in her.

I lost Leo, Albus . . . I am not losing you as well.

(*)(*)(*)

Kat let out a low scream of pain, followed by a quick gasping breath as she dug her nails into Xavier's arm. It killed him, that she was in so much pain and he could do nothing to alleviate her hurt – then again, he reasoned, it had been her decision not to use an epidural.

It had been in the early hours of the morning that her water had broken and he had quite embarrassingly lost his head and panicked. It had taken a sharp slap from his fiancé to calm him down sufficiently so he could floo them both to St. Mungo's. It wasn't his fault though, when the woman you love calmly wakes you up and announces that she is about to pop out a baby then one is entitled to succumb to panic.

It would seem that one is not entitled to running around in one's boxers whilst trying to shrink a baby's crib to take with them to the hospital.

Still he was excited, if slightly apprehensive, about his child's welfare especially considering that he had watched his close friends lose two children already.

Another scream pulsed through the ammonia and antiseptic which flavoured the air drawing him away from his musings as she painfully dug her talons into his wrist hard enough to draw blood. Outside he could hear his future in-laws (whom he "lovingly" referred to as Adolf and Eva because for some reason they didn't like him) pacing the corridor whilst his own mother seemed to be gently tapping her foot upon the ground. His father as usual wasn't present – not that that surprised him; he had long since realised that his dad wasn't much of the fatherly type – although he had hoped that his dad would show up for the birth of his first grandchild. At least his father supported him, however distantly, and wasn't like Albus' father.

"We're almost there Kat," he said soothingly as her black-varnished nails ran red with his blood. Merlin she had a grip. This was said to be the greatest physical pain known to man and though he highly doubted this fact he made sure never to mention it when there were any women present.

"WE?" she shrieked, "I DO NOT SEE YOU PUSHING OUT YOUR SPAWN!" The midwife chuckled, balking slightly at his glare before reassuring the couple that their boy was almost there.

"Our boy is almost here Kat," he murmured reassuringly, knowing she was slightly irrational at present and not letting it faze him.

"Well hurry up and GET HIM OUT," she screamed, stifling a second shriek as she gave one last push and the sound of an infant crying filled the room. She slumped back into her pillows, sweat beading her brow as exhaustion replaced the pain that had creased her face.

Xavier could only beam as his newborn son was placed in his arms for the very first time.

"Matthew," he murmured softly, "Our boy." Kat managed a light smile as she clasped his arm, her eyes tearing at the sight.

"Matthew Xavier Avery," she agreed, her heart welling with love as she noticed that he had his father's eyes.

(*)(*)(*)

"As one life ends, another begins," said James to himself as he stared out the window, taking in the pouring rain. It had been exactly a year since his brother had lost his son and though he wanted to be there for Albus more than anything; he knew that today was a day that Al would rather spend with just his wife.

It was ironic that today was also the day he found out that Alison was pregnant with their first child. The first anniversary of his nephews death would forever mark the day he had been told he was to be a father. He should be thrilled that his wife was expecting a child but on this day all he could think of was the one his brother had lost.

It hadn't been Alison's fault that she told him today, she had forgotten the significance of the date in her own glee at having seen the tiny pink plus sign on the little white stick. Her smile had faded the second she saw the hollowness in his hazel eyes, when she saw the toy in his hand and realised what she had done.

She had marred the news of her pregnancy with James' hate for his father, the father who he would dearly love to Avada. Because his father had broken Albus, meaning that he had hurt James by extension.

He fingered the battered lion in his hands and sighed again, the toy that had been owned by each of the three brothers and had been left on the floor of Albus' old bedroom when he left their childhood home, the stuffed toy that Remy had played with before it had once more been given to James – this time so that he could present it to Leo on the day he was born.

The day that had never came.

If he had a son then the toy would go to him . . . but James just wanted to fling it away. It had once been a symbol of brotherhood and love.

Now it was an icon of loss, the loss of first his brother and now his nephew.

(*)(*)(*)

A year had gone by since her son had passed and whilst her relationship with Albus had weathered the storm the physical aspect of their marriage had waned considerably. It wasn't her fault, nor was it his, it was because they both were afraid of what followed their lovemaking. Their wounds had both been too raw for them to consider it; it felt too much like they were trying to make a replace Leo with another child. Even if she was on her contraceptive potion it still felt as though they were betraying his memory.

She remembered the day she had visited Kat in the hospital and had felt like bursting into tears as she watched her friend breastfeed her newborn. It had hurt so much but she had been strong, and if her lip had trembled slightly or her hands had shaken as she brushed her fingers over Matthew's tiny fist then Kat didn't acknowledge it. She was grateful for it, she didn't want to be pitied – she just wanted her child back.

Before that day she had never truly known envy but seeing the mother and son had enlightened her as to what jealousy felt like.

She was still very unsure about this latest enterprise, having been coaxed into pulling this stunt by Rose, Francesca and Kat. All three girls had been scandalised to learn that although Cass and Albus had finished each other off sexually in other ways the couple hadn't actually made love since her miscarriage. So Rose had come up with the brilliant (Cass had several other choice words for it) plan to "kick-start" their love life again. The only reason she had even been swayed was that Francesca had pointed out that it wasn't disrespectful to Leo for his parents to sleep together. What was disrespectful was for them to deny him the opportunity to watch out for any potential siblings he may one day have. It was moments like that when she was thankful for Hugo being engaged to a Healer who specialised in psychotherapy.

Her husband's secretary was absent from her desk, which wasn't at all surprising considering it was lunchtime. Walking past the organized desk and filing cabinet she reached out to open the door to Albus' office. She stepped back warily as the door opened first bringing her face to face with Delphin Zabini.

"Hey Cass," he said, before his eyes widened at the long coat she was wearing, "Isn't it a bit hot out for a coat?"

"I'm feeling a chill," she said, though in truth the coat was quite stifling in the heat. Though she couldn't really take it off considering the clothing, or lack thereof, that she had on underneath. Then she froze, noticing that he was still staring at her and she flushed as she remembered that he probably recognized her attire. She had after all, borrowed this coat from Rose.

Delphin waggled his eyebrows suggestively, "Why Mrs. Potter," he said with a smirk, "I didn't know you had it in you."

"Shut up Delphin," she replied, forcing herself to smile so as to hide her blush as he took his leave. No doubt he and Rose would be having a good laugh tonight when he got home. Despite Rose having given up curse-breaking since returning home and was now teaching at Hogwarts, she did not live at the castle. Instead she floo'ed there every morning and returned to her and Delphin's apartment every night.

Cassiopeia entered the office, breathing a sigh of relief when she noted that her husband had no other visitors. Using her wand she magically locked and barred his door and sealed his personal floo before turning to face him, a light grin on her face as she took in his raised eyebrow. He opened his mouth to speak but before he could do so, she let the coat fall to the ground and stepped forward. Her grin changed to a smirk when his eyes widened and darkened, not with his Shadows but with lust.

She had after all had her outfit chosen with particular care.

The skimpy green and silver lingerie set would never have been her first choice but Rose had assured her that all men had a fetish for their house colours. She hadn't believed it until Kat, Francesca and Hermione had all agreed. The latter's admission had caused her to shudder, there were some things a daughter did not need to know.

"Hey," she whispered in what she hoped was a sultry voice; the art of seduction had always eluded her because it had always just seemed natural with Albus in the past.

"Hey," he managed to respond, his mouth dry as she straddled his hips.

It wasn't until later, when the two of them were putting his desk to good use that she realised how much she had missed losing herself under her husband's loving, slightly rough – just how they both liked it - touch.

(*)(*)(*)

"Harry that is sick," said Percy in revulsion. His stomach roiled at the idea his former brother-in-law had just put forward, it was despicable, even to him. He glanced nervously at the clock, it was a quarter to ten . . . fifteen minutes now.

"We need a way to get close enough to end his reign of tyranny," pointed out Harry in that same grimly determined voice. A spasm of pain crossed his face, his heart was pumping on nought but magic now – without a steady stream of energy to keep it beating he would be dead in minutes. Cassiopeia's life debt had exacted its full toll on him when he had accidently caused her to miscarry.

"But this is not the answer," said Dennis Creevy, Seth Finnigan nodded in agreement. "If we do this then we become worse than the enemy Mr. Potter," pointed out the Irish youth, worrying his lip with his teeth in anxiety.

"It is the only answer," snapped Harry. Their world was in ruins already, it needed to be saved . . . by any means necessary.

"Harry, this is madness," said Percy, trying to calm his friend, "its pure evil." Twelve minutes left. Tick Tock Tick Tock, the hands of the clock seemed to be moving slower and slower and a soft sheen of sweat broke across Percy's shoulder.

He missed Audrey and Lucy, he hadn't seen either of them in months and he just wanted the nightmare to be over. He had signed up to the Loyalist movement to gain revenge for the death of his daughter but when revenge had come it had left nothing but bitterness to his wounds. Albus and Cassiopeia had not been the cause of his daughter's death; that crime lay at the feet of Sophia Williams – who had not been seen since the day his daughter had been poisoned.

No parent should have to lose a child and it sickened him that the Loyalists seemed to revel in the grief they had caused to the Outcast leaders, the Slytherin Potter and his Malfoy Princess. Harry had seemed repentant the day of the attack to be sure but then Percy had caught the man staring at his scars –the scars he claimed had been caused by Bellatrix Lestrange, not that Percy believed him – and after that he seemed remorseless.

For the Greater Good, he had said, but this didn't feel good. It felt like cold blooded murder. Which was why Percy had now done what he had in the hopes of atoning for his mistakes, he needed to seek redemption now that he saw beneath the propaganda of the Loyalists.

Ten minutes till the stroke of eleven.

"Surely there are other ways," said Seth Finnigan, his expressionless voice masking his own personal conflict. He was all for the downfall of the Outcasts but he was to this day haunted by the sight of the blood staining Cassiopeia Potter's skirts as her child died within her.

No matter his vendettas and prejudice, Seth still had a heart and it bled for the sake of the child his prejudice had slain. But he was in too deep now, he already would be condemned to the Black Cells of Azkaban if caught or worse, killed on sight for fighting behind Harry's banners. This was the only course of action left to him.

Harry gnashed his teeth at their naivety, how else with they save their world? Malfoy Holdings now controlled half of the commercial ventures in the country; they were the controlling force of almost every industry. Under Draco and Hugo, legislature had been changed giving the Slytherins more power than ever. Rose, who now thought Ancient Runes at Hogwarts was now the deputy-headmistress; once Minerva eventually retired The Outcasts would have full control over the youth.

Why did nobody but him understand that the time for fighting nobly, the time of using hostages and giving ultimatums was long since gone? They needed to remove the head of the snake and his plan was the only way they would get near enough to Albus to take him out. The boy was too powerful to be killed in a head on fight. The fact that the Outcast government had branded him and his Loyalists as fugitives did not make their mission any easier either.

"You won't be able to pull it off anyway," said Seth as he tried to dissuade their leader, "You need the hair of the person you want to change into."

"I have the hair," shrugged Harry, reaching into his coat pocket and extracting a small pouch. Reaching in he pulled out a few strands of platinum blonde hair, brittle and aged.

"You didn't," Percy was in disbelief, his eyes wide, "Tell me you didn't, Harry."

Now Percy knew he had made the right choice. Five minutes left.

"I did," said Harry in a voice laced with power. If he closed his eyes he could still remember breaching the wards in the dead of night and shovelling the soil aside to recover his perverse bounty. Some would call it sickening and deplorable . . . he called it their last resort. He grunted suddenly as his heart gave another tremulous contraction as it failed for a second before being re-started by his magic. Gasping, he glared at his followers.

"It must be done . . . for the greater good."

The clock struck eleven and suddenly Harry tensed, feeling the wards around his home come crashing down, the fidelius charm sundered from within. He snarled, glancing around the room as he sensed the aurors charging towards the cottage from all sides. Seth seemed unknowing; Dennis was glancing from side to side as if catching on that something was not right.

A blasting curse struck the front door, it held barely under Harry's magical reinforcements as he sought out the betrayer. Chancing a look out the window his heart plummeted. It would appear that every auror in the department was besieging his headquarters.

"Harry Potter," the deep booming voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt echoed through the suburb, "We have the place surrounded, come out with your hands in the air!"

Now there was fear in the room as the Loyalists tried to apparate and failed, the aurors having already placed anti-apparition wards on the home. Cursing under his breath, he yanked the invisibility cloak over himself and vanished. Taking the stairs two at a time as he made for his room upstairs where he had his broomstick kept, he pointed his wand at Seth and hit the boy with an Obliviate. It wouldn't do for the aurors to learn of his plans and from what he could see Dennis had already been taken down by a killing curse. He tried seeking out Percy as he ran and failed; cursing vehemently he dashed into his bedroom and grabbed his broom, planning to make an invisible escape. Yes, his followers would be caught and prosecuted; no doubt some would be killed.

But the only way to win a game of chess was to sacrifice a few pawns. It still left Harry feeling uneasy, he was but one piece left on his side of the board. Albus had a veritable army against him.

"Going somewhere Harry?" asked Percy Weasley as the eldest Potter threw open the window, his hands sticking out from beneath the cloak. Harry glared menacingly at the Weasley who held his wand aloft, pointed at the spot where he knew Harry stood.

"You called the aurors," stated Harry coldly, "I should have known. You betrayed us in the last war as well."

"I did," replied Percy, ignoring the job against his actions during the second war, "But this is not a war Harry. This is a misguided vendetta that needs to be ended." A spark of red hissed on the tip of his wand, ready to stun.

"Oh it will end alright," said Harry and before Percy could act Harry slashed his wand through the air.

The jet of green light struck the bespectacled Weasley in the chest, draining the life from his body the moment it made contact. As he fell all he could think of was how he would never see his girls again.

(*)(*)(*)

"We've rounded up the Loyalists," said Kingsley with a weary sigh, a weight of his chest now that the trouble-making organisation had finally been quelled, "But unfortunately our informant was killed."

Hugo gnashed his teeth, Percy Weasley may have been his least favourite uncle at one point in his life but he did have fond memories of the man. The fact that he had joined Harry Potter's cause had been understandable considering the fate of his daughter. The way Kingsley seemed to speak about his fate however seemed to imply that he hadn't been killed by their side.

"Who killed him?" asked Hugo pointedly.

"Harry," responded Kingsley with a strain of sadness in his voice. Harry Potter had once been a trusted friend of the former Minister and it still hurt that the man had fallen so far.

"Why am I not surprised?" asked Hugo humourlessly, "I assume he is on his way to the Black Cells as we speak?"

"No," answered Kingsley, "He escaped. Interrogations have yielded that he was in a meeting with Percy, Dennis Creevey and Seth Finnigan at the time. Unfortunately Creevey was killed when we took their headquarters and Potter seemed to have cast a memory charm on the boy."

Hugo spoke through gritted teeth, the anger in his voice barely contained, "See what you can do to break the charm, I want Potter found and arrested before he can cause any more trouble."

The rest of the meeting passed smoothly, though Hugo noted with grim satisfaction that all was drawing to a close.

(*)(*)(*)

Albus laughed lightly at his brother-in-laws joke, his arm around his wife as the small party sat around the soft blue cotton of their picnic blanket. Hermione and Draco had left to take a short walk around the scenic countryside, today was Cassiopeia's birthday and the entire family had decided to have a day out to celebrate rather than a stuffy indoor party. They had just enjoyed lunch, Rose and Delphin had disappeared to the nearby lake to go for a swim whilst Hugo had been unable to attend; he was currently on his honeymoon, having finally married Francesca. The wedding had been small, nobody was in much of a mood to celebrate – the Manor still swam with the sorrow of losing Leo Potter, Albus had felt guilty that his brother-in-law hadn't been able to throw a huge wedding because of the family's sadness. But Hugo and his bride had both assured him that neither wanted a big event in any case and that they would have preferred to elope but Hermione and Mrs. Montague had forbidden it. It had been eighteen months since his son had died and whilst the pain was fading, if only slightly, it was still an ever present part of his life.

There was a rustling in the nearby rose bushes and Albus was on his feet in an instant, his wand drawn and pointed at the noise. Cass and Scorpius were close behind him, their wands held warily as they surveyed the area for the source of the disturbance. One could never be too careful these days; especially since Harry was still out there. Even without the Loyalists at his back the oldest Potter still posed a significant threat to the family. Cass had been especially wary of coming out without protection today since she had just discovered that she was finally pregnant a second time. She was planning on telling Albus tonight when they celebrated her birthday beneath the sheets of their bed. Yes perhaps they still grieved, they would always grieve, but her friends had all reminded her that she and Al couldn't just stop living their lives.

The bush rustled again as a tiny hand appeared from behind it, closely followed by the body of a child, toddling towards them, not more than one-and-a-half years old. Albus' eyes widened, he was dimly aware of Cass letting out a strangled sob before dropping to her knees beside him and of Scorpius grabbing him as he too fell in shock.

The boy had platinum blonde hair, the exact same shade as his mother, yet it was as dishevelled as his fathers. Almond shaped eyes glimmered emerald green in the sunlight, flecked with Malfoy silver, his pale skin a shade darker than his maternal family. He smiled, a sad smile that had Cassiopeia clawing at her own face, anguished screams escaping her lips as she tugged at her hair. Because those eyes were all it had taken for them both to know whose child that was.

"Daddy . . . It's me," said the little boy, looking at Albus, "It's me, Leo."

Something told him that such a young child should not be able to speak so clearly but he couldn't comprehend something like that right now. Albus was on his knees now, just as his wife was, tears streaming down his face as his own screams of pain echoed across the meadow. His boy, his sweet boy, stood alive before him. The sight brought back all the pain he had felt on the day Leo had died – all the pain he had forced into the bottommost recesses of his heart so that he could survive and go on with his life.

The pain . . . it came back, harder and stronger than it had ever been.

"Why didn't you save me, daddy," Leo asked tearfully, "Didn't you love me?"

"I tried to save you," Albus pleaded, wishing in that moment that he was dead and his son was still alive, wishing that they could have traded places. It hurt, it hurt so badly. Scorpius was shivering, not knowing what to do as he held onto his brother-in-law and sister; it was all he could do to keep them both from running for the child. There was only one thought was resounding through Cassiopeia's mind, the same thought that was echoing through her husband's. . .

He would have been so beautiful . . .

"You let me die, daddy," cried the boy accusingly, "You don't love me." Nobody noticed the toddler draw a wand from his back pocket; nobody saw the flash of victory in the emerald eyes. . . But they all saw the streak of green light and the whispered Avada Kedavra . . .

"Protego," cried Hermione, coming up just in time to block the killing curse before it hit Albus, still cradling his wife as the pair huddled broken upon the blanket. "Expelliarmus," she added, sending the toddlers wand spinning through the air; she caught it and froze, she knew who this holly and phoenix feather wand belonged to . . .

Draco acted with a savagery that the family had only seen once before, when his face had been lit by anger after Harry's Expulso curse hit Cassiopeia in the stomach and he punched the illusion of his grandson in the face, splitting the toddlers lip. A second punch slammed into the toddler's stomach and Hermione followed it up by hitting the boy with a revealing charm. Cassiopeia was still screaming, fighting her brother and husband to try and reach what Albus now knew was an illusion of his child. He could feel the darkness trembling against their bonds.

The toddlers skin bubbled as Hermione's charm took effect and the boy seemed to grow drastically, the polyjuice potion wearing off, replaced the Boy-Who-Died with the Boy-Who-Lived.

"You monster," spat Hermione, she had known he had slipped, that he hated anything associated with Slytherin but this . . . this was something so despicable that not even Voldemort would have tried it. Imitating a miscarried child just so that he could kill Albus and try to end the Outcasts . . . Merlin help her, she was disgusted to have once counted him as one of her best friends.

Harry Potter glared at them furiously, rubbing his bruised face, his wand far from his reach in Hermione's grasp.

"You . . ." Albus said, drawing himself to his feet, his eyes full of hate, the emerald green burning an inky black, the Darkness shrouding his entire body with sinful energy. He could feel the wards snapping under the growing pressure; for once not even Cass' presence was enough to dim his rage and grief.

Let us in . . .

Albus closed his darkening eyes to try and control the powerful evil energy surging within him, shaking violently as his emotions swirled, lending furious power to the Darkness and breaking the binding runes that held the shadows at bay. A dark Shadow flitted across the green grass from the meadow before tearing herself from the ground and coming to float beside Albus.

Bellatrix cackled in exaltation as her masters own sunlit shadow shuddered and a dozen other Shadows burst free, flitting around him and whispering in his ears.

So much pain . . . The world is suffering . . . End it all . . .

Cassie, a broken shell of herself, reached out to help her husband, to try and bring him back to himself. She needed to fight back his darkness, to do what she always had and save him from the Shadows. "Albus," she whimpered his name, a soft plead as she clasped her hand onto his arm.

He roughly pushed her aside, Scorpius catching her before she could fall as he watched his best friend lose control.

"Don't get too close Cass," choked out Albus, "I can't . . . too strong."

End the suffering that is the mockery of life. . .

And the truth was made so clear to Albus in that one sentence, life was suffering and to live was pain. The Shadows swarmed from the earth around him like a black cloud, dozens of them rising at his behest and lending him their power. In that moment the Doors of Death seemed to be cast open as he drew them fought from their rest, summoning them to his growing madness. And his consciousness expanded as they merged with his tattered soul so that he could feel the entire world beneath his fingertips. He had always been powerful but now . . . even Merlin and Morgana would quake before him, falling like leaves in a gale.

Everybody suffered. . . He could feel it, he could feel the pain of every parent who had lost a child, every child who had buried a parent, every girl who had been raped, every boy who had been beat up and abused . . . he could feel the pain of every living creature on the planet. He was so magnificently powerful that he was keyed into every spark of energy the world over; every atom was at his fingertips. The darkness called to him, asking him to end the pain, to end his own pain, to end it all.

And Albus Severus Potter listened . . . he let the darkness in. He heard his family scream his name like forgotten whispers on the wind, inconsequential fragments easily forgotten to his feral mind as he turned to face the man who had impersonated his late son.

He extended his arm and clenched his fist; smirking as every bone in his father's body shattered. Leaving the man still alive but in excruciating pain he apparated to the outskirts of where it all began. To where he would stand as he ended it all.

He stood in the deserted street of Hogsmeade, his dark energy pulsing around him, his eyes so black that the whites had vanished as he began the fateful walk to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Above him the sky was darkening as a great storm brewed, beneath his feet the earth seemed to tremble and quake.

A Shadow appeared beside him, so dark and malign that it made Bellatrix seem like a kitten by comparison. But standing alongside the Being that once was Albus, the Shadow seemed weak and docile, a mere imprint of Darkness instead of the sheer depth of the damnation and desecration that welled within the young Potter's tormented core.

"Tom Riddle," acknowledged the Lord of Shadows, he who had once been a man but was now perhaps a deity, "Let us finish this." And Voldemort bowed with grudging respect, for even in his own arrogance and power he recognized a strength that was older and more powerful than he could have ever hoped to be in life.

The Shadow that was once The Dark Lord merged with the Man who had become a God and that day love lost.

And the Darkness won.

(*)(*)(*)

A/N: Thoughts?

Please do remember to leave a review; I am hoping to get to 200 before this story is done.