The Eternal Dance of Light and Dark

by The King of Ravens

Having just survived a nine year long civil war, those of Lucael would be forgiven for entertaining the notion of peace. However, new threats are rising, and as the son of the king, it is Caiellis's job to combat them, despite his youth. But as the leaders of a rival nation declare war and mysterious figures pull strings in the shadows, Cai will be drawn into the fate of the world.

37. A Hero's Death (Part III)

You know when I said that the next chapter would be the final one in this war? I lied. I'm almost finished with the last chapter of it, literally on the last short scene, but instead of giving you a chapter of 100000+ words (which is ridiculous even by my standards) I'm going to split it up into three parts. It makes it easier to read, easier to review, and easier for me to proof read and change if necessary. Anyway, Part IV is coming out on the same day as this, and Part V should be tomorrow. Thank you for reading my story, and please review.

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"Don't you want to see your son? Don't you want to see where you left your little boy? Don't you want to see where this takes young Caiellis?" the creature asked, its grin broadening and enlarging to ludicrous levels as it stretched across its face, some of its black eyes moving to accommodate this new expansion of its mouths. It stayed like that for a few seconds, clearly waiting for some sort of reply from the man in front of it, before snarling petulantly when there wasn't one.

"Very well. You don't have to reply. I'm going to enjoy watching you squirm, no-fun-Marik!" the being screamed at the man sat silently, and the king could feel himself being pulled into another form of vision – even though this one was different, as he could ascertain that instead of being dragged into the past he was being forcefully thrust into the present. A glimmer of light in the darkness, the ever expanding eye of an incandescent star that consumed all light around it and used to it fuel its own harsh luminescence, was shoved towards Marik, though this time he felt the horror going with him, following the Lucerna monarch on his kaleidoscopic journey of light and sound. The king could taste ash, and blood, on his tongue, although the latter of those was tainted and heavily unnatural whereas the former was perfectly mundane but still carried the foul stench and flavour of corruption.

Before he could open his eyes, the man was assaulted by a menagerie of different sensations. He could feel the blood that was infusing his taste buds with the coppery tang of somehow vibrant vitae, running down his face and cheeks, and even though it felt like aeons since he had felt anything in the real world his mind instantaneously identified it as the Rain of Gore. Then, he felt pain, a stinging and aching sensation coming from his lower abdomen, and he briefly recalled being stabbed in the gut several times by Enforcer-general Fraetus Etin on his rampage through the City of Pleasure and its Welkalite defenders to get to this point.

The king could smell the ash that had fallen onto the battlefield, and his nostrils curled at the foetid reek of corruption that permeated and stained everything within the city. He could feel the presence of the Archdemon Rakdos in his sixth sense, and with a bit of focussing past the immense blot of the demon he could pick out his own angel, Akroma, stood not too far from him, next to the strange White and Black combination of the twilight Orzhova that the king could only just pick up on.

He could hear the muted sounds of violence in the background, the roar of clashing armies and the screams of the dying all blending into one cacophonous din of noise that howled in the king's ears, although for now he was powerless to move or block it out. Above it all, the Tempest of Craving blocking out the baleful red orb of the Welkalite sun rumbled and laughed tempestuously, drowning out the war cries and shouting of those battling underneath it. Every one of his senses seemed working apart from sight, although the king could not move of his own accord as his body staggered forwards.

"Are you able to fight now, dad?"

The voice pierced into Marik's paralysis, its youthful tones flooding his mind with pure relief as the king's heart skipped a beat.

Caiellis! He's alright!

The king tried to turn, to open his eyes and respond to his son, but found that he couldn't, found that there was nothing he could do at the current moment in time. Caiellis was fine for now, but he might not stay like that for long, not was the Archdemon here to terrorize him and subject him to immense amounts of agony. He wanted to turn, to call out to his son and hold him in his arms, although he knew that the last would not be practical within this savage battle and could be delayed until after he saved the Lucaelian force and his children from the threat of this demon.

Caiellis's voice was full of a selection of different emotions: there was fear, for himself and for his father who had evidently fallen unconscious in some way even though he could feel himself moving now without his own mental orders to do so, and there was exhaustion and pain and numerous other things that didn't bear thinking about, things that Marik could solve now that he was conscious even though he was sharply aware of the presence of the horror by his side – or at least that was what it felt, though clearly the creature was invisible to Caiellis otherwise he would have reacted differently and helped his father.

The king's eyes suddenly snapped open, attacked by light and darkness from all sides as the piercing blue orbs took in the scene around him, though for some reason Marik was staggering like a drunkard and he was powerless to stop it. His roving pupils instantly found his youngest son, and the man's reassurance was palpable.

Caiellis was not fine, not in the slightest, but he wasn't hurt very much apart from a few scrapes and burns, and seeing his son in a condition that was not life-threatening made Marik want to thank every god that humans had ever conjured up to satisfy their needs to feel a part of something greater. He instead mentally praised the angels, two of which were right here, for ensuring that his youngest son was kept safe. However, he was still fatally cognizant of the horror's words, and knew that there was still something he needed to watch out for.

Caiellis was covered in blood, some of it his own but most of it the vivid crimson gore from the Tempest of Craving, and the thick liquid matted his medium length and wavy brown hair down on his head. His gaunt and innocent cheeks were pale where the scarlet rain wasn't staining them, although he had a small cut that bled underneath his lip which probably wasn't causing him much pain but still made his father wince – or would have made him wince, if any of the mental impulses from his own mind were actually stimulating movements.

His green eyes were filled to the brim with the same emotions that his voice had carried, acutely reminding his dad that the boy was far too young for this type of brutal warfare – or any type of violence, for that matter, irrelevant that Caiellis with his angel excelled at it. He was exhausted, that much was evident, and terrified, though Marik knew fully well why – being left to fight an Archdemon alone was one of the worst experiences in the world. His son should have waited for him or his brother before rushing off, although he had clearly only been wanting to help and Marik was only angry with him at that because of the fact that he had almost got himself killed.

It seemed that Caiellis regretted that uncharacteristically rash but incredibly selfless course of action now, and the relief was stark in his eyes, mixing with the hope that his dad would help him now and that he would not have to be alone any longer. It made Marik think that Caiellis was much younger than his thirteen years when he looked at his father like this, eyes full of hope and trust in his dad that the man was sure he hadn't seen since he was thirty one years old. It made him regret that this trust had been lost, although he had seen the same anxious hope within Caiellis the first time he had seen the boy after the war, and Caiellis had clearly and sadly thought that favouring his father with that again would be a sure fire way to have it shoved back in his face.

It was sad that only in the most desperate situations was it brought out, but the king was honestly very surprised that the kid still showed him that confidence and faith that Mark would fix everything like he always had done when Caiellis had been much younger after all that he had done to the boy. It showed that, deep down, Caiellis still loved his father just as Marik loved him, and it told Marik that after this battle should he try to repair their relationship he would be welcomed, though not quite with open arms. This savage battle that was one of the worst Marik had ever been in (which made it definitely the worst which Caiellis had been actively involved in) simply put their arguments into perspective and showed that in the grand scheme of things that ultimately they were pointless. He would make reparations with his son when they were all safe and the impudent Welkalite threat had been put down, and Marik's mind lit up with anger when he heard the horror snickering by his side and muttering something to itself under its breath.

All that mattered was that Caiellis was safe enough now, as while Marik would give anything to whisk his sons away from this hellscape of forbidden pleasure the fact that he wasn't severely hurt or damaged meant the world to Marik, though he wished that he knew where his eldest son was now and whether or not Alexander was alright – as while he couldn't be fighting the most dangerous foe, the boy was still alone and battling against the Welkalite army which had many powerful leaders that could easily match his firstborn.

"Be quiet, Caiellis!" A voice thundered, and Marik was utterly confused until he suddenly realised that the words had been shouted out of his own open mouth. Caiellis rocked back as if physically pushed by the words, taking a step backwards from his furious sounding father as fear sprang back up in his eyes, already starting to eclipse the hope that the boy had tentatively allowed to grow when his dad had arrived.

What? I did not want to say that! I didn't even think of those words! Aghast, Marik watched as his son blinked in stunned bemusement mixed with fear as he took another step back from his father, this one more than intentional, although to his credit it seemed that the boy had not yet given up on his dad and there was still a faint glimmer of hope within his emerald orbs.

The sniggering of the horror seemed to get louder and louder until the abyssal denizen of the darkness could no longer hold it in and exploded into full on laughter that didn't quite drown out Caiellis asking for clarification upon what Marik meant.

I didn't mean to say that, Caiellis! I didn't – angels damn it, speak! Do something! Marik shouted in his head, trying to raise his fists and bash some sense into himself or stop himself from moving, but the horror's hysterics were growing ever higher in volume and his evil amusement was starting to make terrible, terrible sense to Marik as he failed to move a muscle of his own accord as he hefted his broadsword with one strong arm.

"You know full well what I mean, you pathetic excuse for a Lucerna! I never want to hear your whining voice again, you worthless brat! And now I'm going to make sure that I will never have to!" boomed from Marik's mouth, the words snapping and accusatory, and the king felt everything around him grow cold. Now he understood what the demonic horror in his head, stood next to him but at the same time not, had meant by this being the grand finale. He couldn't do anything to stop the words spilling out of his lips, couldn't do anything to stop his face from twisting into a snarling sneer of disappointment and violent hatred in spite of being able to feel the contortion of his cold features.

Caiellis flinched back again, his eyes becoming wide and hurt like they sometimes had done during their arguments, during the times that Marik hadn't been paying attention to him, but in most other instances the emerald orbs would blaze again and burn with defiance of his father. Not this time. This time, Caiellis was too scared, too affected by the traumatic experience of fighting the Archdemon alone and wanting too much for his dad to come and help him to be angry at him. Somehow, despite the distance between them, Marik was able to see himself in his son's frightened eyes, and what he saw froze him to the bone.

He was terrifying, even to himself, which meant that he must have been extremely frightening to his young son whom he towered above, with blood-slick white/blonde hair and with that same blood pouring down the ornate armour that made him even bigger and more threatening to the boy who looked up at him in fear that should never be. But what was worse was that he was wearing the exact same expression he had been when strangling his smallest son and he had looked at himself in Caiellis's mirror, the same murderous yet cold and calculated contortion of his austere features making his poor son even more scared as the boy instinctively backed away from the imposing figure of his king and father.

Stop this now! Stop moving towards him! STOP!

None of his shouted thought yells were having any effect as he spewed another line, condemning and damning his baby boy who looked as if he was about to burst into tears and run from this horrible place but stayed. Marik's heart ached more than it had ever done excluding Emili's death and Alexander's closeness to it when he heard what was said to Caiellis, and his blood boiled when he realised that this was something he, in an argument with his youngest, would say, albeit twisted and distorted by the intent to do violence.

That made it all the more believable, and while Marik would love to say that Caiellis would see through this ruse of possession and work out that his dad was under the malevolent influence of another, the truth was that this was a realistic way in which he might act in his son's vision of him, and what his baby boy saw of him fitted with how he was acting now like a horrible jigsaw puzzle of interlocking misery and pain.

The stream of spewed invectives made his son flinch with each one, the unconditional hope that his father would somehow make everything alright in the boy's eyes that Marik barely ever saw in his son and wished he could deliver upon slowly fading and being replaced by not just fear, which was bad enough as it was a father's nightmare to see their children scared and know that there was little they could do about it, but a kind of sad acceptance that scared Marik to his core. It scared him because it symbolised how bad the relationship between him and his son had got if Caiellis was simply accepting that the expected thing for his dad to do was insult and damn him.

"I know you hate me dad, but we need to kill the Archdemon Rakdos so that we can save our Lucaelian force-"

Caiellis's protests were interrupted by another blast of rage from his father, and at the back of his mind Marik could feel the anger coursing through him and infusing his limbs with dark and violent strength before he pushed it out, refusing to give in. What his son had said had been a representation of his current thoughts, and it sickened Marik to think that his youngest son thought that his father hated him because nothing was further from the truth – yes, his constant defiance had been extremely grating on Marik's nerves and the boy had sometimes wanted to make him mash his face against the wall, but his sons were the most precious things to him on the planet and they were what made living warm and bearable.

During the civil war, his existence had been nothing more than that; it was not a life, he had merely been there, and apart from the time of bliss and pleasure which he had shared with the flirtatious Lucaelian captain which beguiling Aksua had masqueraded as there had been nothing to make his life worth living apart from bringing traitors to righteous justice at the end of his sword and banishing foul creatures from the kingdom. Even that had only ever brought limited positivity into his life, and would never fix the hole in his heart which had needed love and for someone to want him, Marik, not the king of the nation, a hole which was now beginning to be filled once again by the love of his children if he didn't screw it up like he was doing now.

Caiellis … I'm so sorry … I don't mean anything of these things, please, you have to know that I would never say this, come on, you have to know! This isn't me!

His son was shrinking away from him now, thought not yet outright fleeing because they all knew that there was nowhere he could go, and out of the corner of his eye Marik could see Akroma launching herself at Orzhova in another part of the ruined hellscape the courtyard they were in was becoming. Marik wished he knew what was going on with the Angel of Wrath and why she was assaulting her dark sister, that either he was somehow controlling his seraphim or she was being influenced by dark forces just as he was.

Or, even worse, perhaps Akroma was attacking Orzhova out of her own free will, and that, seeing Marik rounded upon his own son, the emotionless angel had decided that this was a perfect time to be getting rid of her disgraced sister as well while her Summoner insulted and distracted his own son.

This was awful, worse than Marik could imagine, and he winced as he said: "Oh, did you think that I had simply failed to notice that it was your failures that led to the Summoning of Rakdos in the first place?! How damn unexpected of you Caiellis, hoping that I wouldn't see your mistakes! If you were going to place your family and the army in massive amounts of danger by fleeing from them, you could at least achieve your objective with a modicum of success!"

No … it was not Caiellis's fault that Rakdos was Summoned, so stop saying that now! Yes, maybe the boy did fail to stop the Summoning of an Archdemon, but that is because a thirteen year old should never be expected to stop the Summoning of an Archdemon in the first place! And besides, he killed Tradax, who would still be alive with his own greater demon at this time if not for Caiellis!

Marik could sense his own anger at his youngest son taking off in the middle of the battle without any explanation within the words that he had just shouted at the boy, which made him even more incensed that the horror was twisting them to suit its own needs and hurt Caiellis. His rage had been borne from his protective instinct, his anger at the boy flaring due to the fact that he could not protect him with the lad in another part of the city and the reality that deep down he knew that if his son had trusted him more then he wouldn't have done that.

"When are you going to take responsibility for your mistakes, instead of blaming them on everyone else?! Huh?!"

Marik knew now that that wasn't true, only he had been blinded by pride and anger at the time and had failed to realise it. Caiellis – and Alexander, it seemed, though both of them did the same as their father up until this point where he started making mistakes with his sons and paid little attention to them – punished himself far more for his mistakes than anyone else did. The king had seen far too much of his baby boy doing that to himself in the past hour or so to ever think differently, and now that the mental block on his mind had been removed he could recall numerous occasions in which Caiellis had taken out his failure upon himself.

It was strange. Marik could feel himself moving towards his son, feel the gruff and horrible words rumbling in his throat, feel the hot Rain of Gore trickling down his skin and the pain in his stomach where he had been stabbed. But at the same time, part of him was still in the Mind Realm, part of him could perceive the hard wood of the harsh cathedral pews that he was sat upon, could discern the presence of the foul horror which had instigated this madness next to him and sense the feeling of being trapped within a place which he had once felt was somewhere he could find solace and peace if only for a brief moment but had become somewhere that he desperately needed to get out of.

I have to keep trying, I can't let this go on, and I can't – I will not – let Caiellis be hurt by me again. It will ruin our family even more than it has already been destroyed, and I cannot let that happen. Marik roared his defiance of the bounds on his psyche and the control of his body in his head, although once again nothing happened and he continued to pace towards his son, hefting his sword with the intention to use it in the bloody work of violence and spewing insults and condemnations at the poor Caiellis who looked as sad as Marik had ever seen him.

It seemed like instead of the anger that the king would usually be greeted with should he start one of his argumentative rants with the boy, the defiance and will to oppose his father had left the youngest Lucerna, replaced by fear. Marik knew that obviously his son had no longer cared about their arguments and had only been extremely glad and relieved that his father had arrived, and now that he was being damned and verbally abused by a person that was supposed to support him and give him strength through his words he couldn't bring himself to defy or rail against him.

Marik desperately hoped that his son would, that the boy would be filled with the obstinate strength that he had tried so hard to crush out of him the past few days, but it seemed like as usual Caiellis would defy his expectations and the horrors he had witnessed before his dad had arrived had drained the resistance and strength from him. He couldn't blame the lad for assuming that the friction between them meant nothing in times of peril like this, because that was true and all Marik had been thinking about was how to save his sons and help the army by doing so.

Perhaps at the back of his mind there were thoughts as to how to punish the thirteen year old for this, but only because Marik and Alexander had been so damn scared by the admittedly heroic stunt that Caiellis had pulled and it had chilled him to the core to realise that his fragile baby boy had gone into this city of debauchery alone to face the greatest threat whilst he and the others had to battle their way through hordes of enemies to get to him.

"I told you, dad. I was trying to make up for my mistakes by coming here and facing Tradax alone so that no one else needed to go through the pain of doing so."

Son, you didn't need to feel that you had to atone for your mistakes. Everyone makes them, and while the fact that you are a prince means that any that you make will be heavily exacerbated and probably affect people around you, you are only thirteen years old. All you had to do was to learn that defiance in the middle of a battle is wrong and that you should also be frank with your condition instead of trying to hide that you aren't suited for battle at the moment (this applies to you as well, Alexander). You shouldn't have thought that you had to come here to atone for some sort of crime. I shouldn't have made you feel that way, and I'm sorry.

But, angels damn it, what is the point of thinking that when Caiellis can't hear you? Wake up, damn it all, wake up and be there for your sons! Do not let this bastard horror get the better of you!

"This is so fun!" came an excited whisper next to him, the every syllable of the malicious voice oozing with spiteful and nasty elation, and though Marik couldn't see the horror he nevertheless bristled against the words. How dare this being enjoy his son's torment, how dare it manipulate him against Caiellis! How dare it!

Marik grimaced – whether he actually did or not was irrelevant – as he heard the next few words that the real but possessed him directed at his son, the words full of hatred that he would never feel towards any of his family which sliced barbs of loathing and resentment into the boy, loathing that was not real but a manifestation of his hatred towards demons and his dislike of the arguments that had become the bane of his existence and had made him angry irrespective of the horror's presence or not.

"You've had your chance to make amends for your failures, and now, before I kill the Archdemon and lead the Kingdom of Light's army to victory over the Welkalites, I'm going to make sure that you never have chance to make mistakes that will cost the lives of loyal Lucaelians any more!"

No, I am not! I AM NOT!

Marik strained against the bonds preventing him from controlling his own body and making it act as he wanted to, but as the horrible events unfolded out in front of him it was like he was he was merely an observer and that nothing could be changed. He was imprisoned in the suite of his own meat, able to feel everything that his body could but unable to change its actions, and with a resounding burst of horror the king leapt towards his son, his broadsword held in a two-handed grip as he launched himself at the small boy.

Marik shouted and cried out within his head, barely aware of the sensation of his fists pounding on the cathedral pews within his Mind Realm and smashing the wood into splinters. Time seemed to slow to an agonising crawl as he leapt through the air, his movements enhanced by the powerful White mana flowing around him which responded to his wrath and his desire to slay the demon after this battle, augmented by his want to punish the crimes of the guilty – whether or not that was the actual intention of the true Marik or those crimes were real or not.

Caiellis was frozen up in fear, that much was evident from the silent fright etched into his young features, the disbelief that even after all that had happened to them while fighting to end the control of the demons on the City of Pleasure, his father, the man supposed to be his salvation and his protector against the forces of the darkness, would attack him. He was terrified, and Marik wished that he could gather up his young son in his arms. Instead, he was hurtling across the courtyard towards his paralysed and scared little boy, and inside he was screaming, shouting frantically at Caiellis to move out of his way and avoid this attack.

For a moment that stretched out across aeons of time, the forty year old king thought that his son was just going to stand still and let his father's greatsword carve him apart. He tried desperately to translate the feeling of the handle of the blade gripped tightly in his gauntlets into motion away from his precious son to stop the sword from hacking into him, and though his grip tightened even more to the point where it would break bones had they been subjected to it and there was a slight movement of his hands nothing came about because of it. It was not enough.

A surge of golden mana washed through his youngest son, and Marik gasped in relief as Caiellis, suddenly broken free from his immobility, darted backwards, the boy using every advantage gifted to him by his lack of weight and powerful magical energy coursing through him in spite of his exhaustion. He sensed that the magic had not come from the youngest Lucerna himself, but that the Angel of the Black Sun had given it to her youthful Summoner even whilst embroiled in battle against Akroma who stopped Orzhova from coming to Caiellis's aid and swatting aside the king. While he was still not convinced of her allegiance or motives, it was very clear that Orzhova cared deeply about her Summoner, though he had barely ever seen the two together every time that he had he had discerned that she protected him with all of her might.

That certainly wasn't unique to her, as all angels did the same for their own Summoners and, for example, Aurelia was no different, but because of the dark seraph's stained reputation the king found it surprising, which was odd come to think of it. Not that there was any time to think of it, and Marik felt his huge sword cutting through the air where Caiellis had been stood. It made him feel sick to think that, had it just been him and his son, it was quite possible that instead of hacking apart empty space his blade would have ripped apart his fragile youngest, and that sickening nausea turned to boiling and volcanic anger and wrath which the king wished he could make surge out of him and free him from the control of Aksua's beast of murk.

"Dad, please! Stop this! We can fight together against the demon, and once we have one I can pay the price of my errors!"

Caiellis was desperate now, and Marik didn't blame him. His son's pleading was panicked and agitated now, the distress tangible and thick now as Marik turned to glower threateningly at him again. Now that he was actually looking at his son instead of being relieved that he was alright, Caiellis's wounds looked worse than he had originally thought, though perhaps that was because of the Rain of Gore perpetually splattering the boy with crimson vitae as the constant torrent of blood from the heavens poured over them both.

Marik winced when he recalled that his fragile son's fighting style depended almost entirely upon being able to access all of his healing because of the fact that he was more frail than most and still a young child. However, that obviously hadn't stopped him from ending the Master of Rapture and resisting the power of an Archdemon until his father got here, and Caiellis was holding on through his wounds and pain like a champion. He had so much to be proud of in both of his children, although he barely ever showed it and when he did it was not nearly enough. He spent far too much time reprimanding and chastising Caiellis instead of praising him, and it showed in what his son thought of him.

Angels above, Caiellis should have been told by now by his father that he had no errors to be paying the price for, but instead of informing his son of that and absolving him of the guilt over the death of the soldiers he had been sent to aid in Fort Egetau, he shouted more obscenities that must have been believable for Caiellis, a boy who had barely seen his father happy or proud of him in this past month or so.

"And risk having you stab me in the back as I risked my life for you fighting against the Archdemon?! Not a chance!" Marik was well aware that his son would never think of doing that, and the horror was too if he had been in the king's mind and paid attention to reality, but it knew the perfect things to say that would rattle his youngest boy and make him believe that his father truly wanted him dead.

Marik could feel himself begin to charge up mana into a destructive bolt of wrath which would be flung at his son, and so tried to do everything in his power to disrupt the channelling process with rogue emotions and thoughts of peace instead of divine fury. He could sense that he was having a little effect, so, emboldened, tried to stop the mana build up completely until a fleshy tendril made from shadow stuff wrapped around the representation of him still in his Mind Realm and inhibited this response. Marik could only watch in horror as the bolt of light, its power only reduced ever so slightly, blasted at Caiellis.

The boy blinked in shock and hesitation for a second as if not expecting the attack, but still managed to raise a shield of imperious incandescence mixed with dark but not malicious shadows that wrapped around him. His father's holy light pierced through it, though it was weakened by the defensive abilities of his son, and Caiellis was sent tumbling on the other side, scraping his body on the shards of rock and debris scattered on the floor of the Redhand mansion courtyard as he bounced, his weightless form making the impact more painful.

The thirteen year old quickly and admirably pushed himself to his feet again, wiping blood and what suspiciously looked like tears from his expressive emerald eyes. Marik wished that he could go back and teach his son what he knew about mana, as while he had spent time with both of his boys watching them spar in both magical and mundane ways he had never taught them anything to do with it. He had noticed that sometimes Caiellis would emulate a technique that he had seen from his dad, but had paid no heed to it apart from feeling a little irritated – petty, he knew, since he should have been proud that his son was learning from him, but at the time he had been annoyed because he thought that if Caiellis had wanted to use his magic he should have asked how instead of doing it himself, despite the hypocrisy that he knew he would have probably turned the boy's request down.

His son was an exemplary warrior, which was something that Marik wished he didn't have to be proud of but was because that was something valued in the martial culture of Lucael, but instead of congratulating him on that and praising him because of it his annoyance with the boy had made him pick apart and dissect his techniques to find weaknesses, to focus on the things that needed improving instead of commending him on the things that he did well, bringing forward every one of the boy's mistakes instead of applauding his myriad and exceptional talents.

"Dad, you know I wouldn't do that! Please, dad, stop! When have I ever hurt you before?!" Marik was aware that the only times that Caiellis had ever hurt him it had been verbally and because he had already been thinking the same things himself, the only very few times where Caiellis had insulted him being in their arguments where he had been just as bad and when he brought up his mother, the mother that he had never had and barely been given the chance to know before his life had been ripped away from him and he had been tossed into the centre of a brutal war that had nothing to do with him at the age of four.

I know that you wouldn't ever intentionally hurt me, and I wish that I could say the same for you – but I know that I have hurt you. That is inexcusable, whether or not I am possessed, and I need to stop this now! Angels damn everything! Why can I not fight this?! Am I not supposed to be a Lucerna king, one of the most powerful individuals on the planet?! Why can I not stop my family being hurt then?!

Marik shouted some more of his son, horrible, horrible things that had a hint of a terrible truth within them that the king did not blame his son for at all. However, he felt immensely guilty for it, and knew that he had thought similar thought – he had been worried for both Caiellis and Alexander, as the older of the two had took off within the city without his father being able to watch over him as well. The eldest prince was still only seventeen, and that was very young in the grand scheme of things, and Caiellis teleporting to the centre of Usnaan without anyone with him to aid him had meant that Alexander had become extremely agitated and distressed, even moreso than Marik who had to face the fact that both of his sons were now in huge amounts of danger.

And, deep down, even with the horror that Aksua had Summoned controlling him now and forcing him to do things that he knew his son would never forgive him for, worse things than Caiellis had done, he still resented his youngest son for leaving his brother alone to face the last vampire whilst he remained relatively unharmed. He was well aware that Caiellis hated himself for it, even though it was not really his fault, and Marik's fear for his eldest son had latched onto his anger at his youngest and fuelled it into starting their endless arguments and their first shouting match. That was where the youngest Lucerna had become sick of just taking his father's insults and accusations without saying a word back, and his worry for his brother had allowed him to speak out as well.

"You left your older brother,myeldest son, to die while you pranced around in happy fantasy land! And now, because of your idiotic fool's errand, you have forced me to abandon Alexander to try and help you! Your brother, who has only just recovered from life-threatening wounds could be anywhere in the city and fighting for his life against thousands of Welkalites without me at his side and able to protect him, all because of you stupidly abandoning the rest of the force disobeying my orders and causing an immensely powerful demon to be Summoned!"

Caiellis's eyes showed that he had come to the same realisation before his wrathful father snarled the words, and guilt flooded through those green orbs that were so much like Emili's. Marik leapt at the boy again, swinging his sword in a wide arc that left contrails of thrumming mana in the air as it cut through it. Caiellis blocked this time, deflecting the tremendous force behind the huge blade away from him instead of fatally attempting to block all of it, and golden spirals of White mana encircled the left side of the boy's body and pulsed into his crystalline blade as the two relic weapons ground against one another in a flurry of divine sparks.

Marik could feel the strength behind his son's blade slacking as the boy tried to somehow get away from his father and stop the much stronger man hurting him, even though Caiellis's eyes highlighted that he felt he deserved any pain that was coming. The king felt himself bringing his huge strength to bear on the sword of his son, pushing the boy backwards as he stumbled across the ground and tried to keep a steady footing – as otherwise his father's sword would crash into him and that would be the end of it all. He had driven his son into a corner, and Marik pressed in on his sword as the boy scraped against the last remnants of some sort of wall or pillar from Jarred Redhand's private family residence which had all but been destroyed in the ascent of Rakdos.

Marik saw the pain in the thirteen year old's eyes as he was shoved further back into the rock pillar, and his breathing was strained because of the pressure on his chest. He tried to pull back, visualising the motions in his head and not letting the presence of the horror next to him distract him in any way, focussing on his baby boy's pain so that he knew that he needed to help him and not let any of his family be hurt, but his body would not relent and the next thing he knew he was growling at Caiellis again, his hot breath ghosting over the terrified boy who was trembling with fear and strain as he tried to stop his Sword of Glass being thrust into him by the force of his father's sword.

"You don't pay attention, you never listen, and I'm fed up with all of your questions! You're incapable of obeying orders and that puts other people at risk! I fucking warnedyou … I told you that someday you were going to get one of us killed!"

Caiellis slid out from underneath the blade, twisting his slender body away from his large father and using his lack of height well as he managed to extricated himself from being pressed into the hard stone which had grazed his back. Marik's blade sliced into the pillar, hacking apart some of the hard rock but getting stuck within it as his eyes instantly turned to his son. Adrenaline flowed through the king's bloodstream, and he automatically raised mana that would allow him defend himself from attack now that he was wide open and vulnerable to assault as he wrestled with his blade.

Then it hit Marik. Caiellis wasn't fighting back at all, he was barely even defending himself from his dad – if not, this would have been a perfect time to strike him. He knew that his son was a conservative fighter, preferring to attack only at the most opportune moments instead of rushing blindly in with constant aggression, but even then it was clear that Caiellis had chosen not to attack. One look into the wide and scared orbs of his son told the single parent that there was no way that Caiellis would ever attack him, because he didn't want his father to be hurt even with all that the man had done to him and was in the middle of doing now.

That made the king feel even more love for his gentle youngest, who, even after all that had happened and all that had been said, still wished to give his father another chance. Or perhaps Marik had already had all of his chances, and Caiellis simply wanted a non-violent way of subduing him because of the fact that he couldn't bear to cause harm to someone who he was related to and whom the kingdom loved. Maybe he was only doing this for Alexander's sake, because he knew that his older brother was getting on well with his father and loved to receive his praise and attention, or maybe it was because deep down Caiellis still loved his father as well in spite of what the king had done and said.

It didn't matter right now, and Marik wished that there was nothing stopping his son from killing him at the current moment. He would gladly die if it meant that his sons would be out of danger, though he knew that Caiellis was not going to do it no matter how much he wanted him to. His son was far too kind and compassionate, just like Emili, to do that. He wrenched the blade free, turning back to the boy as the king pounded on the walls separating him from control of his powerful body and magic. The horror kept giggling, though the king could barely hear it over the sounds of the battle (if it could be called that) between father and son.

"Dad, why do you think that Rakdos is just letting you do this?"

The king was sure that he would have blinked in surprise had he had power over his motor functions. Somehow, with all the emotional trauma of seeing his son in pain caused by his father and powerless to stop it, and being overwhelmed by his parental instinct to protect the boy from any harm that would come to him, he had forgotten completely about what the Archdemon was doing through all of this. He instinctively tried to crane his neck and look over at where he sensed the atavistic and primal blot of the demon Rakdos, but the horror controlling his movements kept his gaze sternly fixed on his youngest son, who's green eyes were occasionally flicking over to the demon while he protected himself from his mad father.

It was the most infuriating experience in the world, not being able to move of his own accord and being forced unwillingly into enacting actions that he never would have done had he been able to impose control on his body, but that frustration was eclipsed by the mounting sense of fear for his family that he felt. Trust Caiellis to be thinking of the greater threat as well as surviving the onslaught from his dad that his dad was doing everything to try and stop, and while Marik was extremely concerned about the presence of the Archdemon at the current moment his main objective was re-establishing his control of his own body so he had to be utterly focussed upon that task. This was something that he could not fail at, because if he did then his son could be scarred forever or even killed by the hands of the one who had been essential in creating him.

He knew that with every insult - "little brat!" -, every damnation - "pathetic burden of a Lucerna!" he was driving Caiellis further and further away from him, not that the boy was anywhere close to begin with, especially after Marik had wrapped his hands around the youngster's slender throat and probably made him endure one of the most upsetting experiences of his poor life.

He was slowly but surely breaking the little bit of resolve that his desperate and exhausted son had left, and it hurt Marik to see that the hollowness which he had become intimately familiar with over the past month after reliving his first conversation with the boy had resurfaced in his green eyes.

Caiellis looked ready to cry, to start sobbing and give up completely on life, just let his father take his life so that he could get away from all the misery and pain that constituted his sad existence, and Marik wished he could tell his son that everything would be alright, that daddy would fix everything instead of ruin it and put the boy in even more danger. He leapt forwards again, attacking with a mixture of physical and verbal attacks, and Marik wasn't sure which of them hurt his son more. He could see that the hope had been dashed in his son again, which was so, so sad, because after being forced into watching himself break his son's hope for the first time he had wanted to be able to appeal to that and deliver upon his duty to protect him.

Keep fighting, Caiellis. Show your old man what you are worth, defeat him and then defeat the demon. I know this is so much to expect of you, too much to expect of you, but right now I know that you are also not safe with me and that I am in a much better condition than you. I know also that you can't beat me without my help, and I will try as hard as a can to break this control. Just hold on, and don't give up, and I promise I will save you, Caiellis Noctis Lucerna, my youngest son.

Marik whipped another sword strike with his large blade in the direction of the kid, who predictably dodged backwards again and made no moves to retaliate or even dissuade his father from moving towards him without hurting the man. The king knew what was coming next, had anticipated Caiellis dodging like that so that he would not have to bear the brunt of the blade, so pre-emptively tried to get a hold on his powerful White mana so that the physical him manipulated by the horror could not use it. He succeeded in delaying it for a second, hopefully enough for his son to do something about it although he could tell that Caiellis was not expecting this form of attack, and screamed out in pain and hatred of the darkness when the magical assault was cast.

Blades of wrathful luminescence descended from the sky and launched themselves at the boy, who, aided by the modicum of time given to him by the efforts of his father, blocked a few on his sword as swept more aside with a shield of shadowy light. One hacked into his back, drawing blood before the boy managed to deflect it and destroy it, and Marik could feel his heart in the Mind Realm begin to pound faster as he caused his son pain. He wanted desperately to cry out a warning to the boy as he shot forwards again, the horror obviously realising that the king was able to counteract the effects of any mana generation much more easily than the movement of his body, but instead settled on trying to restrain his actions as much as possible.

Caiellis almost dropped his sword on the first strike, though his dad soon pulled it away and scythed another at him. He dodged this one, ducking wildly as it cut off strands of his brown hair that Marik was only thankful wasn't his skin. The king was glad when his son fired bolts of light around him, delaying him only slightly because of his reluctance to direct them straight at the imposing and furious form of his father.

I can't give in … I have to keep trying, for Caiellis and for the Lucaelians who depend upon me! I can not give up now! Keep going, my son! I will break out! You have my word on it! I will not stop!

The king smashed apart his son's first attempt to stop him, the boy's lack of mana because of the amount that he had used so far and the fact that he was utterly bereft of conviction that would empower it showing in the weakness of the golden chains flung at his dad. Despite the fact that Marik could feel little apart from what was happening in reality, the king kept trying, refused to give up on his son and let the horror have total control to do whatever it wanted to his baby boy.

The second try succeeded only in wrapping chains around the king's sword, though Caiellis lacked the strength to pull it away. Before Marik had a chance to notice the generation of wrathful White energy his son was afflicted with a silencing aura, stopping him from preventing what was next.

A massive shockwave of divine force that Marik felt shouldn't be able to be directed at someone as pure and innocent as his youngest son crashed into Caiellis. It sent him flying, his slender fingers accidentally letting go of his blade, but the boy smartly used to opportunity to wrench his father's own massive greatsword out of his grip. Marik couldn't fault him for making the most out of a grim situation there, but he knew that without their weapons his son was at an even greater disadvantage due to his lack of physical strength and the fact that he was small and thin.

Marik's foot smashed into his boy's side as he tumbled with an audible crunch that had the king even more horrified. He knew the sound of ribs breaking quite well, and his armoured foot had been driven into his youngest son with considerable force.

Why are you doing this?! He thought, furious at the pain which had just been inflicted upon the boy but also deeply scared for his sake. Now that Caiellis had broken bones and no way to repair them this fight would be even more one sided, and Marik would be lying if he didn't say that the pain his son had been given had hurt and rattled his father a significant amount.

"I'm sorry, Mariky-boy, but I distinctly remember you saying that you wanted your son to stop arguing with you. This is simply me helping you with that!" the horror cackled, and rage flooded through Marik. This sick being enjoyed seeing him powerless, revelled in seeing his son in pain, and although Marik hated it with every iota of his being he couldn't blame it because it was a creature of the darkness that feasted upon the despair and pain of those on the side of the good. "And besides, this is my way of getting back at you for destroying the greater part of me, meanie, and stopping me from feasting on baby Caiellis's dreams as much as a wanted to!"
Marik directed his mind to stop his arm reaching towards his son, though it did not. He could feel the gauntlets closing around his son's upper left arm, and although he was not touching the skin through his metal gauntlets and then the boy's light armour that did nothing to protect him, the connection was a horrible one and the king could sense his son's fear through it. Then, now free hand which had been holding his sword squeezed, weakened just enough not to break the bones. In frustration, the horror laughed vindictively as it instead made the meat suite of the king hurl his son bodily into some more ruins of the mansion once belonging to the apparent Protector.

No!

Marik saw the boy bounce off of the unyielding rock, his head bursting on the stone in an explosion of crimson blood that had the king filled with despair, though at least the fact that Caiellis's eyes instantly flicked up to where his father was striding purposefully closer meant that he wasn't incapacitated by the violent landing.

You will not hurt my son!

The horror was perfectly happy with taking its time instead of charging towards the boy, and laughed gleefully at the pain in the youngster's wide eyes as he stared, terrified, up at his dad, unaware of the mental battle going on within him and only able to perceive the sadistic hatred shown towards him by the supreme monarch. Marik tried to stop each and every footfall, mustering up his determination and shouting that he was the master of his mind and body, though his defiant words fell on deaf ears and he continued to stride menacingly towards his stricken son.

The invader of the king, instead of allowing the slowness of the man to reflect the indecision that he felt because of the two conflicting wills within him, twisted it so that it looked like Marik was savouring this time and the pain that he was causing to his son – which, in essence, the predominant force within his head was. Once again, Marik saw himself reflected in his son's concussed eyes, and he appeared unstoppable, implacable, with no hint that this was exactly what his father did not want to do. Caiellis couldn't see him clearly through the haze of pain that was probably clouding his vision, and the king hoped that the concussion was only minor and would not inflict any long term damage to the boy.

Marik saw the magical tether attached to his son's Sword of Glass before the horror did, and was then filled with despair as the being moved him towards it, snapping it by standing on it with a boot infused with mana.

"Thank you for that, Mariky-boy! I wouldn't have noticed that without you!" the horror loudly giggled in cruel hysteria, and Marik cursed himself as his son's expression became even more hopeless and terrified.

It was horrible that the thing that would be his baby boy's undoing was the fact that he had dared to hope, dared to allow himself to build up a belief that when his father arrived that he would be safer than before, and dared to let out his emotions because of the terror he had been consumed by at fighting the Archdemon alone. And then, because of that, he had been cruelly rejected by the one masquerading as and controlling his dad, which had hit him incredibly hard. Marik wasn't sure that the expression of loss and despair and terror on his son's face would ever leave it, but it was his duty as a parent to aid him and ensure that it did.

I'm so sorry, Caiellis … Angels I'm so sorry … I would never do this to you, you have to believe me … I don't want this … I don't want you to be hurt. Keep fighting, my son, keep on going no matter what my failure to protect does to you. I know that you can do it, and I'm going to make sure that you don't have to.

Marik reached down and grabbed the front of his son's leather armour, easily lifting him off of his feet with one hand and pressing him back into the wall as he did so, scraping him along it to maximise the pain that he was in.

The inadvertent shriek of pain that emerged from Caiellis as his broken ribs were ground against one another sent icy claws stabbing into Marik's soul, though he could not give up now. His sons, and the Lucaelian army, were counting on him, and, up in the heavens of the afterlife, Emili was as well. His wife would be disappointed if he failed his sons now, especially after all that they had done for him in showing him unconditional love and making him feel human again instead of a divine extension of wrath and the will of the loyal Lucaelians, but, even more importantly, his sons would be hurt, which was something he would do everything he could to stop.

GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF HIM! Marik roared in his mind, met with the malicious laughter of the spawn of the nether realms next to him. He wished that he could destroy it, though imagining its eradication from his mind in his head did nothing no matter how hard he tried or how much he wanted it obliterated.

"You worthless little shit," Marik hated the words that came unbidden from his lips, hated the way that they filled him with acrid bile as his tongue made the motions of them in his mouth. His son gasped in pain and in sadness, his endeavours to pull away achieving nothing and only causing him more pain as the king felt himself increase the pressure on him. Then, the king heard the next words that he spoke, and his heart went cold once more with sorrow.

"To think that Emili, your mother, my perfect wife, died to save you..." The king punctuated the words by shaking his head in disgust for his son, pulling him back and relenting the pressure on him for a second before slamming the thin and helpless adolescent back into the wall. The man knew that while that was true, she had died because of his mistakes, not Caiellis's. The boy had been four years old at the time, for angels' sake!

"I should have just left you there to die along with her."

The words hit both Caiellis and the mental Marik, the last true piece of the king in his mind, like a powerful blow. No … no … I can't believe that I let myself say that to him … no … that is the worst thing a father could ever say to their child! I'm killing him, emotionally and physically, and I can't do anything about it! Why?! WHY?! I need to fight, damn it, I need to save him before this goes any further.

However, Marik's mind was frozen up as his son, mortified, started gasping in pain once again and finally let out the tears that had been slowly building up in his eyes. The king had seen his son crying too much, and had he been able to perceive the horror in the Mind Realm next to him he would have seen the foul creature extend several fleshy tongues out of its many mouths and lap the air in front of it as if it could taste Caiellis's anguish.

"Dad … no … you don't mean that ..."

Caiellis's distressed pleas were met only with malicious and spiteful disdain, and Marik agreed with his son. What a failure of a father he was, letting his children get into situations like these. He didn't care if they were Lucerna heirs or not with access to their own First Sisterhood angels, he didn't care that they were masterful warriors and strategists even at their young ages, he didn't care that they needed to learn to fight so that they could protect the kingdom, and ultimately he didn't care that the loss of life would be reduced because they were here leading the soldiers and taking down the most formidable foes. They were only children, they were his children, and as a parent he should have protected them, both from the physical demons of the world and the emotional demons of the mind that preyed on young teenagers still finding their way in the world.

Caiellis should not be in this position, and he should not be angry at the boy because of the fact that his brother was in danger as well. Alexander should not be virtually alone and battling against scores of enemies. Neither of them should be in this war, but that was the Lucerna way and Marik should have protected them more than this. He was a failure, but there was still time to redeem himself, and that meant saving both of his sons now and slaying the Archdemon that tainted the world with its noxious and corrupt presence.

"Do you really think that? Let's see then. I had to leave my eldest boy, my only trueson... All alone in the capital city of Welkas with the largest army he has ever fought against just because I had to come fix your mistakes."

No. It is not Caiellis's fault for that. It is not Caiellis's fault for any of this, do you hear me! How dare you blame my son for this! How dare you make it seem like I hate him and want him dead, how dare you hurt him and how dare you make him cry!

"Aww, but Mariky-boy, his tears are delicious morsels of pathetic sadness, don't 'cha think?"

Go to fucking hell!

The king battled against the malevolent and evil directive of the intruder to his most private space, his determination to aid his sons inviolate and strong despite the fact that it couldn't do much, and had Caiellis been able to focus through the agony he would have seen one of his father's eyes twitch and baulk at the pain inflicted to him as he placed his free hand on the boy's shoulder and squeezed painfully hard.

No … Caiellis … don't give up! Please, baby boy, don't give in! I'm doing everything that I can! Please!

Caiellis was drifting away, locking himself up inside of his mind and hoping that it would take him away from the pain of living. It saddened Marik deeply to see his son like this, to see that Caiellis would rather die that continue on in this way, that instead of trying to hopelessly fight back he wanted to hide himself away in the sanctuary of his thoughts where no one could harm him ever again. A vicious backhand brought his son back to semi-awareness, and the king shouted in rage at the damage inflicted upon him, the abuse wreaked upon his youngest son that the innocent and young boy didn't deserve in the slightest.

What upset him even more was that Caiellis clearly thought that he was worthy of this pain because of what he had been unable to stop happening to his brother and the soldiers that had died protecting him. That sorrow turned to even more wrath and rage, even more of a desire to break out of the hold the darkness had upon him and tell his son that these mistakes were not his fault, that his father should never have let him be abducted and not listen to his warnings about the negotiations in the first place, and that he should never have been expected to lead those soldiers in their desperate situation in the first place – if Marik had truly listened to his concerns about his lack of mana and paid attention to the obvious fact that he was barely able to fight to the capacity required in that situation then he wouldn't have ordered it.

And Alexander was not his only true son, he had two wonderful, handsome and determined youngsters to call his own. He only wished that he had noticed that sooner, and instead of becoming bogged down in the arguments with his youngest – inadvertently giving the horror in his mind a conflict to latch onto and negative emotions to feast upon – and becoming nasty due to this new novelty of having his authority challenged, he should have told his son that while he didn't accept dissent and that there would be clear punishments set in place for it he loved him no matter what mistakes he had made and that he would always do so. He had tried and failed to communicate that, and now it was almost too late.

Focus! Focus, angels damn it, Marik! If you let your son be hurt or even, angels forbid, die, there will not be a spot in the vilest hell of hells worthy of a useless man like you!

Marik jolted back into paying attention to what was happening in reality instead of being lost within wistful thoughts, remembering why he tried not to think of his sons during battle because they were his greatest weakness but also his greatest strengths. He noted that his mind had consciously taken him away from the scene – not that he stopped his resistance to the horror's control – because he couldn't stand to see his son in that much pain knowing that the pain was coming from him and that he didn't mean it, didn't want it to happen.

He pressed his face closer to his son's virtually touching the boy, and, if he concentrated hard, he could hear the vulnerable teenager's pained breathing as he tried to force air into his lungs with the pressure on them, and he could feel the warm breath on his face.

One part of Marik detachedly commented that at least the fact that his son's breaths were not flecked with blood meant that he wasn't internally bleeding, and that same emotionless and clinical part of his psyche also informed the rest of the king that his own breath was indeed infused with tiny droplets of blood that indicated as to the seriousness of the wound he had suffered which he had given absolutely no thought to after waking up and finding out that he no longer had control of himself.

"Your brother, my precious Alexander who will one day make a great king, could die at any moment just because youthought that it was acceptable to disobey my orders and rush into the city on your own! You could have at least got yourself killed without allowing this to happen! Alexander could be murdered at any second because of the fact that you made me have to run after you! He is the best thing that has ever happened to you, you worthless, useless, disgusting little brat! And what is worse, your mother who almost died giving birth to a son we never wanted, died to save your pathetic, miserable existence! The most perfect woman on the planet gave her life for you!"

Stop this! Please! Caiellis doesn't deserve this! Please, I will give you anything, just stop this...

Marik wouldn't usually resort to bargaining with the creatures of the abyssal blackness because he knew that any infernal contract made would damn his soul forever and corrupt him, something that could not happen to a Lucerna. But the pain in his son's eyes was convincing him, begging him for it to stop, and Marik would given anything to make it stop and give his children safety.

"I don't think you understand the point of bargaining, Mariky-boy," the horror admonished, almost softly chastising the king, the pleasure in its voice palpable enough to touch, "You see, they are usually made when both sides have something to gain from the other, but right now, I have everything that I want from you! There is nothing that you can give me that I don't already have, and there is nothing that I want more than to see you betray your own son!"

Although its rasping sibilance started off quiet and almost thoughtful, almost human apart from the orgiastic enjoyment it was deriving from the pain caused to the two Lucernas, it soon became a shrieking scream of exultance and rose to an extremely high pitch that cut at Marik's ears when he was back in the mind realm.

The bastard horror had seen how much Caiellis had been affected when Marik had brought up that he had been a happy surprise to his parents, and had decided to add this into the mix to cause Caiellis even more emotional distress and make him think that his father had never loved him or wanted him in the first place, and now he was going to kill him. The boy was giving up, and Marik hated himself more than anything because of it, allowing Caiellis to believe that this was the truth and having not acted better in the past to let his son know that he thought nothing like this, that Caiellis was precious to him and he would stop any harm coming to his son if it was possible.

"SO YOU COULD WHAT?! WASTE HER SACRIFICE ARGUING WITH ME AND PUTTING THE KINGDOM AND THE ONLY SON THAT I EVER WANTED IN DANGER?! YOU CAN'T BE MY SON! NO SON OF MINE WOULD BE THIS PATHETIC, THIS PITIFUL, THIS SELFISH OR USELESS! EMILI WAS THE PERFECT WIFE, AND ALEXANDER IS THE PERFECT SON, AND YOU HAVE CAUSED THE DEATH OF THE FORMER AND ENDANGERED THE LATTER! TELL ME NOW THAT I DON'T MEAN IT!"

Marik roared that in his son's face as he punched him, the horror measuring the strength behind the blow perfectly to cause a bruise to form and inflict large amounts of pain upon Caiellis but ensure that he was still fully conscious so that he could revel in the boy's torment. Marik was still screaming inside of his own head, bashing his fists on everything around him as he flailed within the Mind Realm, thrashing in a desperate attempt to escape and come to the aid of his son who thought that his father was killing him and who could be emotionally and physically scarred forever if he didn't help fast enough. The more pain his son was in, the more desperate he became, the more he tried to force himself out and the more his adamant concentration was replaced by panic and desperation.

"Dad … please stop … please … I'm sorry … I didn't... dad … please … I'm sorry … I just … wanted to-"

Marik could hear the horror laughing in sadistic hysteria as he forced Marik to move his hand round and place it on his youngest son's thin throat, the bruise that he had caused with his violent actions yesterday a lingering purple contusion that was still stark on his pale flesh despite the blood from the Rain of Gore and his baby boy mingling together as they stained it scarlet. Caiellis had snapped his eyes shut, as if hoping that this was all a terrible nightmare and that he would wake up at the end next to his father, brother and mother and everything would be alright. Or perhaps he was so traumatised by the events of yesterday and the occurrences of his violent abduction that he couldn't bear to face them again, couldn't bear to have his father's simultaneously cold and furious sneer of disgust the last thing that he would see.

NO! YOU WILL NOT DO THIS! YOU WILL NOT HURT HIM!

The hand on the boy's throat tensed, as if it was trying to crush the life from him but was met with some unexpected resistance, and the intruder to the king's mind scowled and snarled in annoyance as the man's body refused to enact the savage actions that it had in mind. Marik howled in rage and fury, his will becoming a burning spear of hatred for the darkness that would try to make him hurt his own children that stopped the horror making its host begin to choke his son.

NO! YOU WILL NOT HURT HIM! STOP! I WILL NOT ALLOW THIS! NO! NO! NO! NO! MY SON WILL NOT BE HURT!

"You are a persistent bastard, aren't you?! Can't you just sit still and enjoy the show?!" the horror hissed, and Marik felt shadowy tendrils of gloom wrapping round his body in the Mind Realm. He thrashed, unable to control himself in either realm but refusing to let his youngest son be subjected to the awful actions of the day before which had almost ruined their relationship beyond repair and had scared the boy, placing him under huge amounts of trauma and sadness.

"Dad … stop … I only … wanted to help."

Caiellis's terrified begging, imploring his father to stop hurting him, sent a surge of rage throughout the man. He refused to be frozen up in fear and concern for his family like he had so many times when they had been hurt, he refused to allow his youngest son to die or be hurt thinking that his father hated him. The king ripped apart the horror's fleshy tentacles, the Mind Realm shaking around him as the force of his defiance of this possession flooded through his limbs and mind.

The creature shrieked in fury, and the king was vaguely aware of a disconcerting and painful sensation of being slammed forcefully into a stone wall hard enough to crack it, yet the pain did not register and all he could see was his son's face, the eyes screwed shut as tears of pain slipped out of them and his mouth whispered pleas for mercy, pleas for an end to the pain.

Instead of letting the king simply stand still as the two inhabitants of the man's mind battled for supremacy, the horror screamed its irritation of the forty year old and, remembering that it still had overall control and the only thing that Marik was preventing was his son being strangled, placed the Lucaelian's large hand on his son's mouth and chin, forcing the jaw shut so that no more of his pitiful imploring could be heard by his true father.

"Shut the hell up, Caiellis! Just shut up!"

I WILL NOT LET YOU HURT HIM, YOU BASTARD CREATURE! LET GO OF HIM! GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF HIM!

The king could feel himself being smashed repeatedly into hard stone that should have shattered with the force of the impacts but were part of the sanctified walls of Akroma's cathedral and thus were impervious to such mundane attack, yet at the same time what was far more prevalent was the sensation of his son's tiny and delicate hands, so young and fragile, pawing at the hand and arm forcing his jaw shut. He wished that Caiellis was strong enough to pull him away, but the king knew how strong he was and how weak the boy was without his magic in comparison.

"I'm going to make you pay for disrupting this, Mariky-boy! I had a grand show in store for you, but you had to go and delay it, didn't you, my king?!" the spawn of psychotic nightmares half hissed and half insanely shrieked at him. Marik was still resisting all his might as he felt his body straining against itself, trying to move his hand downwards so that it would be placed upon Caiellis's neck. Then he felt pure darkness encircle him, and flood into his ears, mouth, nose, suffocating and drowning, a tide of murk and sticky ooze that slowly overwhelmed his defiance as he thrashed, trying so damned hard for his youngest son as his body was subsumed in the dark.

The Marik in the Mind Realm was swallowed up in blackness, unable to act, see, or help stricken Caiellis, and that left the rest of him only able to watch in horror as control was slowly, inexorably, but surely returned to the creature possessing him. He couldn't move, and he couldn't help his son, but that didn't stop him from trying, expending all of his energy to desperately aid his youngest who was in one of the most perilous and painful situations of his entire life of just thirteen years.

The horror laughed as the king wrenched his hand away from the boy's chin, Caiellis still whispering hauntingly and sadly and sobbing silently, and then slammed him back up against the wall by his throat.

STOP! STOP! PLEASE! STOP!

Marik's howls of anguish accomplished nothing, and his son's saddened whimpers were cut off in a violent gasp for air that was pushed out of him by the impact. Even through the gauntlets of metal, Marik could feel his son's pounding heartbeat, exactly like it had been the previous day's morning, although this time he was fully conscious of his actions. He simply could not change them, and was forced to watch as his son's air was cut off by the hand of the one whom he called father and had trusted to solve his misery and danger, but had only placed him in more of it.

Marik screamed incoherently as he saw his son's eyes snap open again, the sudden prevention of his breathing causing Caiellis to look upon his father again. If the king's heart wasn't already broken by what he had seen, what horrible things he had witnessed, it was shattered even more by the fear in his son's eyes. This was even worse than the night that Emili had been murdered, because then, even though it had been his fault and had been the most awful thing he had experienced, there had been nothing he could do to stop the demon killing her in that one moment.

Now, with his son's throat in his large and seemingly gigantic hands in comparison to Caiellis's own, he was here, there were no excuses for allowing this to happen, but he could not stop it. The betrayal in his son's eyes was evident, and Marik wanted to apologise more than anything, wanting to stop this any way he could even if it meant that he would suffer for an eternity, but the horror was perfectly happy with how this was turning out and that meant there was no one Marik could turn to in that respect.

STOP IT! STOP CHOKING HIM! PLEASE! HE CAN'T BREATH! LET GO! LET GO OF MY SON!

Marik was able to feel the vicious and sadistic smile on his face, could see it in his son's wide and increasingly bloodshot eyes as the boy coughed desperately, his small and slender fingers scrabbling on his father's gauntlets, but even when they found purchase on the slick metal-clad and painfully constricting fingers and thumbs of his dad's hands they could not even move them an inch, let alone force them off of his neck. He could feel the sensation of his son's throat moving beneath his thumbs and fingers, and he could feel how he was forced to increase the strength and pressure of his grip, squeezing the life from the boy whom he now loved with all of his heart. He wished for his eldest son to arrive and hack him apart for daring to touch his younger brother in anger, or for Orzhova to beat back her sister and smash the king away from his youngest son, but no one came and Marik knew it was up to him to help his son, a task that seemed impossible but one that he would never give up on as long as he drew breath.

STOP! YOU'RE KILLING HIM! STOP! HE CAN'T BREATH; HE'S DYING!

Caiellis's cheeks were quickly becoming tinged blue as he let out another choked sob, the king pressing his thumbs in even harder to choke off all noise, eliciting a strangled yelp of pain from the boy as Marik screamed inside of his head. He was drowning in blackness and could not breath himself, though whether that shortness was the shadow pouring down his throat and nose or the effect of seeing his son in pain was irrelevant to the king.

PLEASE LET GO OF HIM! TAKE ME INSTEAD! STOP HURTING HIM! STOP KILLING HIM!

The weak impacts of Caiellis kicking against his father's chest that had gone virtually unnoticed by the forty year old until they stopped ceased, and eventually, when he couldn't even force a desperate cough to obtain life giving air into his lungs, his fingers that had been pulling without any success against his dad's strangling hands fell still.

NO! NO! NOOO! STOP! STOP! Stop … stop it … stop killing him … let go of my son … I can't lose him as well … I can't let him die like this … I'm killing him … why can't I move my hands? He can't breath … Caiellis can't breath … and I keep squeezing harder … I can't stop it … I can't stop it …

A thin trickle of blood dripped down from the corner of Caiellis's lips that were tinged unnaturally blue by the lack of oxygen getting into his body, mixing with his pained tears of distress and forlornness. His eyes became even more bloodshot and began to glaze over; Caiellis's vision must have been fading and greying out because of the utter absence of air, and Marik tried harder to pull his hands away as he began to succumb to his own despair.

He was killing his youngest son, his precious and fragile and intelligent and innocent and young baby boy, and he couldn't do anything. He, the king of a huge nation with gigantic reserves of powerful mana to call upon, the blessings of the Sanctum Angelica and the devotion of the people of Lucael, could not stop his hands from wrapping round his second son's neck and crushing with a killing strength.

Caiellis's arms slowly fell numb by his side, his eyelids beginning to flutter as he juddered for a second in his father's grip, the fact that the man was lifting him easily off the ground contributing even more to the strangulation. Marik screamed and screamed and howled and shouted and cried and thrashed, but not one of those things removed his hands from the boy's neck. Caiellis was dying, and it was with a sickening sensation worming through his stomach mixed with a terrified trembling of his spine that the king had never felt unless in situations where his family members were close to death that he realised that the horror, instead of snapping the fragile boy's throat and being done with it, was slowly killing the littlest Lucerna.

He was making sure that the boy felt every bit of his forced descent into unconsciousness, putting as little pressure as possible on his carotid arteries so that the restriction of blood flow would not cause him to go blissfully comatose within only a few seconds of an unfolding loss of sensation like the blood choke that Alexander had administered when the king had forced the two to spar yesterday evening that seemed to the man like years ago. The evil being was letting him slowly choke to death by limiting – well, completely cutting off – his oxygen, causing the boy huge amounts of pain as he slowly drifted off into numbness and could not take in any breath.

He's … he's dying … please stop this … I can't watch this … I can't watch another member of my family die … this is all my fault … WHY CAN'T I STOP IT?!

Marik met his son's eyes one last time as they struggled desperately to stay conscious and awake, Caiellis still instinctively clinging onto his life even though it was clear to all intents and purposes he had mentally given up and accepted his fate, accepted his apparent punishment for mistakes that Marik had convinced the boy that he had made. They were still filled with fear and pain, fear and pain that the king wanted to erase almost more than he had wanted anything in this world, though the darkness was surrounding the king and stopping him resisting in any way.

His son was dying in front of his eyes and his emerald green orbs were beginning to become faded, losing their crystalline lustre in a way that was so familiar to the king as the image of his son choking to death and trying to eke in one last breath was interspersed with that of Emili dying in the arms of the demon, although this was somehow worse because it was him that was stopping his son taking in essential air. Caiellis's eyes began to slowly close, but before they did so the king leaned forwards again, Marik disturbed to the extreme that he could not feel the little puffs of his son's pained breathing like he had before.

"Why don't you do us all a favour, and just die?"

The words were infused with Marik's own real malice and hatred of the forces of the darkness that enshrouded and threatened the Kingdom of Lucael, and the king could feel the horror inside of his mind leeching off of the emotions of disgust and aversion he felt towards the being right now, which made the words that he would never have dreamed of saying to one of his young sons, controlled or not, sound even more true.

It did not matter that Caiellis was probably too far gone to hear the words, that most likely his son would not be able to perceive what had been said over the pounding in his skull caused by the lack of oxygen. They had been said, and, deep down, Marik knew that his son had heard and that that would be the last thing that he heard before he gave out.

More tears dripped down his ghostly pale cheeks, the last wracking but choked whimper of the boy showing that he had indeed heard the words cut off by increasing the pressure of his hands even more.

Caiellis … my baby … I'm so sorry …

The Black Sun on the youngest prince's cheek, glowing with a melancholy purple light which had gone ignored by all because of its familiarity, suddenly pulsed. It was scintillating, brilliant, and haunting and dark and bright all in one moment, and Marik could have cried out in joy to see the face of Orzhova materialising out of the golden shadow of purple stained glass. He was vaguely aware of the horror in his head screeching in frustration and irritation, pain flooding through his entire being internally and externally as the angel in front of him, formed from the blinding light of the darkness, smashed the king away with an explosion of light and the horror within his Mind Realm did something that caused him huge amounts of agony that did not touch the relief that he felt.

Orzhova glared at him, snarling something spiteful and full of protective malevolence, and her glittering onyx eyes were full of hatred directed at him. He knew that he deserved her hatred, her loathing, for what he had allowed to happen to his son, but it still filled him with fear to see such an awe-inspiring and terrifying being glaring down at him and spinning her scythe. Marik spat something condescending and angry back that the real him paid no attention to over the frightened pounding in his head as he truly came to terms with how close his son had come to dying in his hands.

I'm so so sorry, Caiellis, I'm so sorry.

He was still desperate, but to see and hear the boy breathing again – even if that breathing was ragged, panting and pained, full of anguish and sorrow – was one of the best experiences of his life. Caiellis fell to the floor without his father's hands lifting him up off of the floor, and Orzhova stood protectively in front of him, her scythe glinting in the flames of the burning city. The king was dimly aware of the Angel of Wrath making her way to his side as the Angel of the Black Sun retorted angrily and full of malice, to what he had said to the dark seraphim.

He couldn't concentrate, filled with equal amounts of relief knowing that his son was alive for now and dread in being completely cognizant of the massive danger that he was still in. He processed that the horror in his head would still want to harm Caiellis, even more so now that he had been thwarted on two occasions by the forces of the light, and the king could feel the foul being's itch for vengeance from here.

However, it was not nearly as powerful as his, not nearly as strong as his need to atone for his crimes and mete out retribution for what had happened to poor Caiellis. The Angel of the Black Sun didn't block out the view of the small and fragile boy completely, and the creature of blackness dominating the king's body kept his gaze fixed upon his youngest son, as if taunting the man whom it controlled that it could easily get close to murdering the boy again should it choose. And the sad thing was that it was right, Caiellis would have been drained and exhausted and almost broken by the traumatic experience of having his own father almost choke him to death, and that meant that Akroma and Marik who had expended as much mana as his youngest son and was in better condition would be fighting against Orzhova alone.

No matter how powerful the Angel of the Black Sun was she could not hold off the combined arms of the supreme king of Lucael and the daunting Angel of Wrath, but Marik was going to make sure that she didn't have to. It was irrelevant that he had accomplished almost nothing so far by being in his mind, because in combat even a slight delay or hesitation could be fatal and he intended to ensure that it would be. It was his duty as a father to cause as much disruption to the horror's – or Johnias's, as he recalled that the being had mentioned his traitorous twin brother – plans as possible, and he had already failed Caiellis once.

Orzhova had given him another chance to make up for his failures and save the life of his baby boy, his little youngest son who was filled with innocence and teenage defiance that didn't quite eclipse the former, and he would be failing both of his children if he let the smallest and most fragile member of their tiny family die now. Besides, although Marik did not want to think of it, there was still an Archdemon to kill after this, and if he gave up now, accepted that he could do no more to aid his son despite all the evidence pointing towards that inevitability, then Rakdos would be free to rampage throughout the city and poor Alexander would be left without a father and a little brother to torment.

His son's face was ashen, streaked with blood and tears and tinged heavily blue and purple by his traumatic experience in his father's hands, and the thirteen year old was shaking, in a state of shock from almost dying. He tried to stand up but only succeeded in hurting himself further, and Marik was reminded of the time in the midnight siege of Fort Egetau where his son had tried so hard to get back up and impress his father, though all that came about because of it was causing himself more pain because of his wounds. Also, according to Choirmaster Esmelde who Marik had no reason to distrust and reminded him of what Emili would be like if she was a doctor, apparently the first thing that the smallest Lucerna had done when Iridis, Seraph of the Sword, had deposited him in the camp, was to conjure up a weak version of his wings and attempt to fly back. He had crash landed after a few seconds and heavily exacerbated his injuries.

That, and the painful nightmare he had been in which was made all the more agonising by his wounds, was what had prompted Marik to delegate the moving of the army to someone else and sit by his youngest son like he should and comfort him through the night, not that Caiellis would ever know and probably never would as Marik didn't want to take credit for it because he blamed himself for the boy being caught in the explosion in the first place.

His worry for his son had stopped him being able to think clearly and lead the soldiers to victory, mixing with his anger at the boy blatantly disobeying his direct orders and causing the soldiers to die. He had been stern and harsh because he knew that if he had been comforting, soft and sympathetic then for one Caiellis wouldn't learn the errors of his mistakes and obvious insubordination and secondly he would not have been able to concentrate at all unless he pushed his parental instinct to the back of his mind and focussed on the battle at hand.

However, he wished that he had been less cold and stern with the boy, making him attempt to stand on his own – something that, to his credit although Marik had refused to realise it at the time with his harsh fury at his son (that was well deserved, he didn't dispute that at all and Caiellis knew that he had messed up badly – he just shouldn't have been allowed to participate in the battle at all because of his lack of mana), he had tried to complete with all of his determination not to show himself up and to be the perfect prince that his father wanted. This reminded Marik of that, his youngest ignoring his fragile body and the fact that it had only been a few seconds since he had almost been pushed into unconsciousness because of the lack of air and trying to surge to his feet.

Caiellis was coughing and gasping for breath, his head bleeding heavily and his eyes wide open and bloodshot even though the air was returning him, and Marik shuddered at the thought of what had happened, that he had reduced his youngest son to this and that he had almost strangled the boy to death. He had only had to hold on for around a minute after he slipped in unconsciousness – or maybe even less than that because his son was so fragile – and his baby would have died in his hands. The thought horrified him now that he could think clearly about it, although he couldn't hear the words that were being spoken between him and his son's dark angelic protector over the pounding in his skull because of his son getting so close to death in the hands of the person who was supposed to protect him from the evils of the world, not subject him to them.

Marik forced himself to calm down and think objectively about what had happened, an impossible feat in itself with equal amounts of anger and horror surging through his body. But he would be no use to his son in this anguished and distressed state. There were some slight positives to the situation – Caiellis's tongue was not swollen, or if it was it was only ever so slightly enough so that the king could not see it, which was good if anything could be considered good in this horrible event. Furthermore, although Caiellis had sustained numerous wounds which were heavily accentuated by his small and delicate body, he was still evidently able to move and push himself through the pain.

Marik hated to compare his sons' situations, knowing that this one was just as awful because Caiellis had almost been strangled to death by his father and had been assaulted emotionally a huge amount to the point where he had given up, not that there was anything he could have done to remove his dad's hands from around his throat with his magical powers silenced and also distracted by his distress and emotional agony enough so that they could not break through the barriers that his father placed upon his mana, but at least the fact that Caiellis could move and stay conscious despite the pain meant that he was in a much better condition than Alexander had been when he had been torn apart by that bitch of a vampire Aksua.

Golden mana wrapped around his son, the Angel of the Black Sun taking the opportunity that this lull in the battle presented to bless the king's youngest son with numerous enchantments and auras that would make it easier for him to bear the pain and stand even with his concussion and light-headedness due to being deprived of oxygen for so long and then suddenly being gifted with an unlimited amount of it, if not heal it because of the malicious Rain of Gore which completely countered the youngest Lucerna's fighting style.

He got back to his feet, and Marik sneered something awful at him, something that right now Marik in the Mind Realm couldn't hear over his own thoughts or process it at all, though it was something that when it came to remember this awful battle he would be able to recall. It was something about his son being a disappointment, a pathetic Lucerna, but the only pathetic one here was Marik, the father who couldn't protect his own children and was even hurting one of them right now.

Marik refused to pay attention to the battle, even though he knew that after it he would remember every single detail through his eyes. He knew that focussing on Caiellis's pain froze him up and drowned him in anguish, prevented him from acting to save his baby boy and stopped him from doing anything to save him. Instead, he placed his efforts within his own mind, knowing that by disrupting the horror as much as possible that Orzhova may be able to triumph over the king of Lucael and protect his son from the one who had possessed him.

Furthermore, he was clearly a better human warrior than this horror could ever be, and although the being had the full selection of his fighting memories to draw upon and enact in the combat the being was not him, could never be him, and as such would never be able to fight in his skin as well as the one who owned it was. In addition, he could still remember watching the fight and instinctively noticing something before the denizen of the shadow that was commandeering his every movement had, which had been extremely detrimental to his son as it prevented him bringing his weapon to bear and having the ability to fend off his father at close quarters since his magic wasn't focussed enough for him to use.

Marik realised that once again he had been played for a fool and that it had worked – since he was a father, he had been unable to look away from his son's distress and danger and become agitated and horrified by the sight of it himself, and the horror had used that to its advantage in wielding his gaze so that he would predict his son's actions and see it before the being controlling him did. If he concentrated all of his mental power into harming its control and paid as little attention to the battle as possible then the horror would have to divert its power to stopping him and fighting his son's angel – although it seemed like Caiellis wanted to continue fighting once he had recovered enough to do so and deal with his hate-filled father – without his inadvertent aid.

Then, something caught Marik's eye out of the corner of his vision, and it sent another shuddering rhythm of cold trembling up and down his spine. The Angel of Wrath was stood next to him, but she had been changed – her emotionless grey eyes were glinting red and not just because of the hellfire they were reflecting, and her expression was contorted in anger and hatred directed at her disgraced sister. Marik had never barely ever seen anything slightly resembling emotion from his angel, something which as a young boy had unnerved him but now he knew that it was because she was ageless and so far elevated above humans that all she needed was to fight against the darkness, but the only two times he had was when Orzhova had chosen Caiellis to be her next Summoner and on the night where Emili had died, which had also been the night that Johnias traded away Akroma's peaceful sister Serenity for an Archdemon of his own, sacrificing the youngest angel of the First Sisterhood to gain more power and help his own selfish goals.

Now, she was more angry and frenzied than Marik had ever seen her before, the halo that was normally unable to be viewed by humans above her head spinning and emitting a bloody red light that lusted for violence and revenge. Marik knew that Akroma hated his son's angel, but to see that hatred displayed like this was awe-inspiring. He did not know if it made the Angel of Wrath stronger or weaker, as her hatred of the forces of the abyss normally increased her power but it might have been tainted by the anger that was consuming her heavenly and flawless form, or if this was something that Akroma had done to herself or had been caused by the Lord of Riots or even the horror of Aksua saturating the Mind Realm with its corrupting presence.

However, one thing was for certain that he realised with a sinking feeling – Orzhova, who currently had less mana than the Angel of Wrath due to the fact Marik sensed she had been Summoned twice after being destroyed once already somehow and Caiellis had less mana overall than his father because of his age and relative inexperience (as the mana pool of a child that could use it expanded and increased in capacity as they grew and matured and reached its optimum capacity at around the age of twenty three (though it differed for different youngsters), though it could still be augmented further it could never get larger naturally) with magic and certainly Summoning compared to his dad, would definitely have to hold off Akroma on her own. The Angel of the Black Sun would be utterly distracted by the fuming and fanatical Angel of Wrath, which meant that Caiellis would be alone against his human but still very powerful father once again.

Marik wasn't sure that his youngest son would be able to deal with that again, though as he looked into Caiellis's green eyes (which were still bloodshot from the violent strangulation which had made him completely helpless against his dad), he could see the pain of hurt, rejection, and the fear of the man who wanted to kill him instead of love him and protect him, emotional turmoil and sorrow at being told that he had never been wanted in the first place and blamed for the death of his beloved mother, the injuries of his brother, and the entire predicament the Lucaelian army was in now. However, even with this whirlpool of emotions that Marik could get lost within forever and that could reduce even the harshest grown men to blubbering infants, there was the construction of powerful fortifications that the king had grown all too used to seeing from his second son, the barriers that would prevent the emotions leaking out of them in the form of tears or distracting the boy too much.

He wondered how long Caiellis would be able to keep that up, and what scared him the most was the sheer hollowness in his son's eyes. It was blank dejection, a sad realisation of the fact that he was no longer wanted – or never had been, if the horror's words were to be believed – by his father who had tried to choke the life from him and clearly would not hesitate to do so again, but also a kind of resignation to all of this, like he didn't deserve more because of these apparent failures that he had made over the course of his young life that he now took to heart and blamed himself for, like he was worthy of this violence and hatred because of what he had done. That terrified Marik in the extreme, because his son looked like exactly how he had done after the first meeting with the king after the nine years of the twin Lucerna brothers' war, and even worse than that – which was immensely bad because at that time Caiellis had brutally cut himself, so if he felt even worse or even more suicidal who knew what he might do because of how much he hated himself.

Even in those cold eyes that desperately tried to hide emotion from the piercing gaze of his father that Marik knew was close to destroying Caiellis's new shell, the king could see a grim determination to "atone for his crimes" within them, a hatred of the Archdemon and the boy's adamant will to set that right by eliminating Rakdos after he dealt with his father, and even through it all it made the king feel slightly proud, though more horrified. Horrified because it showed how little Caiellis valued his life due to what had been said and done to him, a young and vulnerable teenager that was going through an extremely hard stage even without the pressure of being the son of a king, the stress of a war that he should never have been allowed to be in due to his age and innocence, the fact that his beloved older brother had almost died only a week ago after a traumatic abduction which had almost had him strangled then as well, and it showed that Caiellis thought absolutely nothing of himself.

There was a million things that Marik wished he could say and do with his son, say and do with both of his sons, but it was too late for that now and it was his fault that Caiellis was like this now. He wished he could escape from his prison, because he didn't think that Caiellis would be able to fight against an Archdemon alone in his current condition at all, but he had to believe that he could because otherwise that was countenancing the death of his youngest son, something that he refused to consider despite the severity of the situation – and if he was being honest the boy might even die in the next fight against his father if he couldn't keep up this act of accepting everything. Even if he could, the king was more than a foot and a half taller than the boy, definitely over twice his weight and had far more strength and muscle and mana to spare.

That just meant even more that Marik had to be able to help from within. He had never felt so powerless, so useless, so pathetic, even in the night that Emili had been taken away from him and her sons, but that didn't mean that he had any excuse to do nothing and leave Caiellis to this fate. As a father, Marik had done nothing at all for his youngest son, or his eldest either for that matter, but from now that was going to change. He could feel himself lifting his broadsword again, but as he knelt down to pick up the weapon a strange sort of relief and satisfaction encompassed Marik.

The pain that wracked his body when he moved it was utterly ignored by the brutal taskmaster overseeing the movement of his limbs, but it did not go unnoticed by the king who was peculiarly glad that his wounds in his stomach that had gone without any form of treatment or healing were this bad. It would given Caiellis more of an advantage, something that the youngster who should never have been expected to fight and kill at such a young age desperately needed in this dire circumstance.

"I'm going to make that bitch of an angel regret saving poor baby Caiellis from his fate. But really, I'm surprised that you haven't given into the temptation to do that to your son already without my coaching, because honestly that other brat of yours is much more suitable for leading your pathetic armies against the forces of darkness and is also much less irritating and whiny," the horror commented, almost idly, though its voice was full of violent frustration at being thwarted at the last second by something that Marik had never seen from his son's angel before. He had had the boy in the perfect situation, and now he was going to have to start it all again – and what was worse was that his wench of a seraphim was furious now and the kid seemed to be able to control his delicious crying,

"Oh well. It seems that I will have to do it again. The look on both of your faces when your son was in your hands, desperately trying to pull daddy's squeezing fingers off of his neck and draw in a breath as he fell into unconsciousness was something that I will savour for a long time, and something that I want to happen again. Only this time I will make sure that your useless Akroma will stop the Angel of Black Sun from saving your son's pathetic life. How does that sound, Mariky-boy?"
The king ignored the horror, knowing that it was taunting him to try and affect the concentration that he had created, although it was still swirling around him and cascading into his ears, nose and mouth, something which would have drowned him in the vile murk had it occurred in the material plane but did not affect the mental him in the Mind Realm now that he had managed to create a sanctuary of adamant determination around himself.

"Oh, I forgot that you couldn't talk when I have you like this. But you can still think, and I'm getting a bit annoyed that you are ignoring me, Mariky-boy. You know that I will just take it out on your son, since Caiellis is such an easy target for a Lucerna," the dark being hissed at him, the words on all sides of the king though he did not hear them in reality as he took a step forward ready for battle. The father of two could not hear the words, refused to hear the words, and they blended together into one constant sibilant snarl that threatened to break down the walls of the haven within his head that he had created from his desire to protect his young sons. Marik didn't let himself be fooled by the fact that the horror was taunting him and baiting him into responding, because although his first thought was that it was doing so because it was worried by his new surge of resolution that had come about due to the trauma of his smallest child, the being had been jeering and provoking him ever since he first woke up in the Mind Realm only a few minutes that felt like hours, or even days, ago.

He refused to pay attention to the battle, though he did not do so because he wanted to hide from his son's pain. He felt himself and his baby boy clashing again, the youth having retrieved his weapon as Orzhova held off the frenzied Angel of Wrath, and every impulse that he felt the horror sending from his brain to his nerves and limbs he opposed. If the horror wanted to step forwards, he would send an imperative to step backwards, if the being wanted to carve his sword into his son, he would urge his body to step away and drop his sword, and if the spawn of the infernal nether tried to use him to conjure up his White mana he would gather up as many conflicting emotions as he could which would disrupt it.

Pain surged all around the king, some of the worst physical torment that his mind had ever been subjected to, but it was nothing in comparison to what he had seen or what other members of his precious but small family had suffered.

When measured against Caiellis's own abuse at the hands of his father the pain that the man was going through paled. He would not allow his son to be placed in the same position again, not after seeing the fear and terror in the boy's eyes as his air was cut off by his own dad, and something inside of Marik which he wished he had had access to earlier when his baby was being choked to death pushed itself to the forefront of his mind, some deep inner determination not to lose and allow his son to be abused and hurt because of the nefarious and evil plans of those who were jealous of his power and envious of Marik's family.

Marik could hear his son, and he could see the boy as the two fought, Caiellis still pleading with his father's sensibilities and telling him that even if he hated his son then he should be focussing on the Archdemon, and it saddened the man to think that his youngest son thought he was not just disliked or resented but hated by the man who loved him and his older brother more than anything but had found it almost impossible to show that love and truly express it in a way that it was obvious and undeniable. He should have made Caiellis certain that he was loved and wanted no matter what, and now that he had failed to do that it made his betrayal seem all the more believable for his self-loathing son.

He could see the boy, but that was all that he concentrated upon, denying his mind the chance to see what he was doing and predict his strategy, listening to his little boy and blocking out the sound and the pain from the horror inside of his head, the mental parasite of his austere Mind Realm that had caused all of this and put his son in so much pain, though the creature borne of dark nightmares was not solely to blame for that. He was trying to help in any way that he could, not allowing himself to give in with the feeling of hopelessness that gnawed away at him from within.

Perhaps if he wasn't a king with responsibilities to aid the people of Lucael, and more importantly right now perhaps if he wasn't a father with the duty to ensure his children were safe and happy, if he had no family and no one that relied upon his help, then he would have given up, accepted that there was nothing that he could do in this circumstance and surrender the last vestiges of control to the being that already had virtual domination of every part of him. But because he was a king, a dad of two young sons, he had a desire to oppose any harm that would come towards the innocents of the world, he had a need to stop injustice and evil wherever it reared its ugly head.

"Dad, we can work this all out, please, I don't want this and neither do you..."

Had this happened a few hours ago, had Marik not seen what he had and realised that his son somehow still loved him and thought that he could help even after all that he had done to the boy and all that he had failed his sons, he would have wondered why Caiellis kept trying to reach out for him. He had throttled the boy to within an inch of his life and would have kept going until he died if not for his angelic protector of Orzhova, had kicked him, punched him, thrown him around and smashed his head open, but even through all of that Caiellis did not give up on him.

It touched Marik's heart, and he wanted nothing more than to reach out to his son and drag him into his arms, Archdemon and the hellish environment around them be damned, but he could not and had to satisfy himself helping in any way that he could. The horror was getting more and more frustrated, especially since Marik's wounds were beginning to have an active effect upon his body and were weakening his movements as he ground his relic blade against the Sword of Glass which he had given to Caiellis only twelve days ago yet had seen so much violence and shed the blood of so many enemies, once again wishing that the boy would lash out at him and use the full array of powers against his father that Marik knew the youth had at his disposal.

The horror wasn't even bothering to have Marik use any of his own, because with the state that Akroma was in and the fact that the king had used up quite a bit of mana already with having her Summoned for so long (although he still did have enough for almost an apocalypse level spell) combined with the man's defiance meant that he would never get the chance to cast more powerful spells. Besides, the king had a feeling that the being could never muster enough White mana out of him for that either, because those spells required the correct emotions and targets to enact them upon and his innocent second son certainly didn't come under the latter category.

Caiellis shouldn't be here, fighting for his life against his own possessed father as one of the most powerful demons is existence watched and waited until he had finished. Caiellis shouldn't have to kill at all, not with his gentle and kind heart that he had inherited from his mother, and though Marik was normally filled with the martial pride of his nation and wanted his sons to be good warriors in the deepest recesses of his mind he knew that he would prefer it if neither of his sons had to fight for their lives or for the lives of others at all. He had never particularly hated violence, knowing that it was a necessary and sometimes glorious part of Lucaelian life and it was what had allowed them to survive for so long, and he took pride in how adept his sons were at prosecuting the twin arts of war and battle, but now that he was a father that actually saw his children he knew that he would do anything to get them away from violence and wished that they didn't have to have similar lives to him.

However, right now that was quite irrelevant and the king banished the thoughts from his mind as the intensity of the simultaneously stabbing and burning, freezing and corroding pain that melted the flesh of his mental self and cut apart his nerves increased to the point where he could barely ignore it and push it away. He resolved to grit his teeth and get through it, his son needed him and he had been given this chance by the Angel of the Black Sun to ensure that Caiellis lived through this ordeal against his father who should have been helping him against the probably very amused Rakdos. He would not allow his hands to go anywhere near Caiellis's throat, not let his blade or any part of him touch the boy with the intent to hurt.

"Oh, so you don't want any part of you to "touch him with the intent to hurt"? That is perfectly fine by me," the horror laughed and chittered, giggling vindictively as it gradually became more and more insane as the fight went on, the king's defiance reducing its will to keep up the semblance of being at least similar to humans. The only reason Marik could actually understand what it was saying was because it was inside of his mind and controlling his body, as otherwise the horror's words would have been a mixture of strange sounds like the grinding of teeth combined with the wet slapping of raw meat and a keening wail that would have split apart any human's ear drums had it been in reality.

Marik snarled in hatred as he felt himself channelling wrathful White mana, his personal mental intruder sapping away his own emotional strength so that it could fuel the casting of a spell. The eldest Lucerna tried to fill his mind with thoughts that this was wrong, self-doubt in the righteousness and rightness of one's actions one of the greatest ways of counteracting White mana, but the splitting pain that was the culmination of every single headache he had suffered in the hands of the horror and enemy mages who had tried to access his mind and turn him against his soldiers stopped from interfering with the generation of mana, though he had already caused enough of a delay that it was rendered much weaker.

Caiellis screamed out in pain as the magical bolts pierced into his back, ripping through the parts of his clothes that weren't already torn or scraped open by the amount that he had been attacked and abused and drawing blood where they stabbed into the skin. The king had intelligently chosen to target places on his youngest son that aided in the generation and wielding of mana apart from the head (as that was arguably Caiellis's most protected section apart from his broken ribs and his throat, which had an awful bruise on it that threatened to send Marik insensible if he looked at it too long and imagined his hands squeezing around it like they had done only minutes ago – making his son's determined recovery even more commendable), because that was currently Caiellis's most valuable asset as he had demonstrated earlier when Marik had been refusing to concentrate.

The scream split through Marik's head, the man sensing that it had been entirely involuntary, and as the horror smiled sadistically right in front of Marik's face as it surged around him and tried to crush the resistance from him, gnashing and tearing and stabbing and biting which barely had any affect on the Mind Realm Marik. It simply bolstered his resolve, his burning desire to never let his sons be in pain ever again after this awful day shining around him as he tried to do everything he could to help his son or even restore control to himself.

"How d'ya like that, Mariky-boy?" the horror questioned, somehow using the colloquial dialect that Johnias had often used in an attempt to make himself seem more down to earth and boosting his natural Lucerna charisma even more even while it spoke a completely different language to anything ever spoken by humans not contacting the darkness or invoking rituals of Black mana, words and sounds that would split apart the lips of those speaking them and sear themselves into the minds of those listening not penetrating to the shield of thoughts that the king had created around himself. It was a little bubble of defiance and resistance in a sea of darkness, but even a small bit of opposition for Caiellis's sake would help the boy.

Although it was cracking under the strain and Marik knew that it was only a matter of time before he was forced under completely and would only be able to watch him battle with his youngest son, he simply refused to acknowledge that fact because it would do neither the eldest nor the youngest (or even the middle for that matter) Lucerna no good.

"Hmm?! How do you like that?!" the horror was getting insistent, pressing down on Marik despite the fact that the man could not see it. All he could see was his youngest son beginning to break down after weathering the pain and the words from his father that had barely stopped and had not become any less horrible. Caiellis coughed once more, a wracking and wheezing sound that had Marik wondering in horror whether or not his son's throat had been damaged by the monumental strain and pressure he had put it under, and saliva that was flecked with blood dripped down his chin before it became masked by the bloody torrent of the Rain of Gore, the Tempest of Craving above still rumbling its approval of the slaughter in the City of Pleasure as crimson lighting flashed.

The cough that afflicted Caiellis's mistreated and injured body almost had him dropping his sword and clutching onto his broken ribs, ribs that Marik had smashed apart through his involuntary violent actions. It was clear that Caiellis wanted to wipe it away from his face even though it could no longer be seen, but that would require letting go of his weapon with one hand and he was already being pushed back across the blood-slick courtyard to where he had been lifted off of his feet and choked against one of the last remaining walls.

The boy's pale where it was not stained crimson and young face that radiated innocence and despair far beyond his thirteen years which had been packed full of sadness, hardship and huge amounts of emotional and physical pain, began to contort in pain. Then, like a floodgate had been opened and the boy couldn't stop it any more, couldn't hold back the tide any longer, Caiellis began crying again, clear tears spilling out of his wide, bloodshot (though less then when he had been trying to pry Marik's tightening hands off of his neck) and terrified eyes and sharply reminding the king once again of his young age.

Caiellis … I'm so sorry that this is happening to you … please just hold on and keep fighting against me … I believe in you, my son, I know it doesn't count for much after all that I've done to you … but I believe in you and I am truly sorry for this.

"Stop it! Please! Dad, just help me … I'm scared … why … why are you doing this?"

Angels above, Caiellis, I know you are scared – heck, I am terrified – and you have every right to be. The man who is supposed to protect you from this sort of violence is subjecting you to it, and no matter how many times I mentally (or physically after this battle) apologise for it it will never be enough. Please just keep going though, for all of us. I couldn't bear to see you die … I couldn't bear to see you in pain either, but I had to watch it. I wish I wasn't doing this, I truly do kiddo, just don't give up. Keep going strong Caiellis, I know that you can do it. I don't want you to die so young, you have so much to live for, and you need to keep fighting and not let my horrible words get to you at all baby boy. You need to live, for me, your brother, "Uncles" Tristram and Tybalt, for your mother in heaven, for all of the people who look up to you and are friends with you, and most of all for yourself. You are so young, and have been through so much, and there are so many opportunities that you haven't yet had the chance to take. Keep going, stay strong. You can do it, my son.

The boy took in a deep, shuddering breath, clearly fighting to get himself back under control as Marik could feel his face twisting into a malicious and horrible leer as he smiled mirthlessly back at his crying son, though Caiellis refused to let the tears get the better of him right now. He kept having to take painful steps back as Marik forced him into a corner again, and the king pondered desperately whether or not the horror wanted to choke Caiellis again or simply remind him of that traumatic experience and weaken him by doing so, not take the risk of having someone else interrupt him and finish the boy off as soon as possible, though the reasons behind it apart from its own evil lust for the pain of innocents escaped the Lucerna patriarch – or perhaps that was it.

Either way, the why was irrelevant, and the king put everything he had into slowing himself down and distracting his body from the battle at hand. The boy took a deep, shuddering breath that probably hurt him quite a bit, though the torment in his wide green eyes was constant and unrelenting, and he was forced back further into the wall which had been the site of the closest (to Marik's knowledge at any rate) the thirteen year old had ever got to death.

"Dad … I love you..."

The words were heartfelt and true, drenched in mournful sadness that Marik knew might not ever be erased from his son, and it provoked on final surge from the king against the control of the one that was making him do this to his own son. It was not lost on him that this was one of the very few times that his son had said that to him after the civil war, and an even rarer one where he truly meant it, although something was itching at the back of Marik's mind that his son had said it the day before when he had been in the throes of a horrible headache caused by this bastard horror that had been the bane of all three Lucernas and had done more damage to them than some demons.

I love you too, Caiellis. I just wish that you knew that. I just wish that I had given you the chance to know that, through everything, through all of our arguments and fights, I love you, and I only ever did anything in the best interests of you and your brother or the Kingdom of Light.

The king, over the horrifying sounds that the horror was making to punctuate the agony that he was in (having seemingly not yet realised that the pain was nothing in comparison to the emotional hurt that the being of the shadows had made him go through, but then again it was not human (not even close) and could never understand that), heard the malicious being giggled slightly, though whether it could hear Marik's thoughts from within the small but as of yet inviolate shelter inside his mind that he had created for himself or was laughing at Caiellis's declaration of love for his father was unknown.

"That feeling is not mutual."

The untrue words were growled out of Marik's mouth, full of a grave finality as all of the participants of the fight could sense that it was ending and that its climax was about to be reached. The king was sure that his son would have nodded or sighed sadly in despairing resignation if he hadn't been sobbing and crying, but instead Caiellis shook his head, so softly that Marik wasn't certain whether he had done the actions on purpose or not.

That feeling is mutual, my son, no matter what bile is spewing out of my mouth now. And I am going to make sure that you will survive this fight with the possessed me, and that I will break out and help you against Rakdos like any father worthy of the title (not that I am anywhere near that) should. I promise you that I will do everything that I can for you, Caiellis, because you are my son and I do love you, it only took me far too long to see and admit that.

Caiellis shot forwards, unexpectedly aggressive when he had seemed that he was resigned to being backed into a corner, though Marik knew instantly that it was because the boy would rather die fast at the hands of his father's blade rather than being slowly (in comparison) and painfully strangled to death. It was a desperate attack, and incredibly reckless though his son certainly wasn't able to rely upon his usual patient tactics to win this battle. It was horrible that his son even had to consider such a thing, and one of the main goals within Marik's reign was to make sure that no children had to think about their own deaths – one that was lofty, especially with the civil war and the abyss surrounding Lucael, but the king had always maintained that if one did not have ambitious objectives then there was little point in having them at all.

A gigantic pillar of radiance, one that the boy must have been charging up for quite a while now unbeknownst to his opponent, blasted out of Caiellis, though the horror was not caught off guard by it and neither of Marik. His son must have been very desperate to – no, really? Caiellis is fucking desperate? Well fucking done!

Marik tried to lower the defensive mana that surged around his imposing yet wounded form, but it was like trying to stop a tidal wave of light or douse an inferno of hellfire with a single cup half full of water and it was effortless for the physical king to absorb the force of his youngest son's admittedly powerful blast of mana that was nowhere near the power level of the Lucerna king in front of him with his own magic augmented by the holy crown sat atop his bloody brow on his Lucerna greatsword that thrummed with the White mana that it had just soaked up, Caiellis's so similar yet so different to his father's own wrathful magic.

GET AWAY, CAIELLIS! GET BACK FROM ME! Marik screamed into his head, although none of that translated to his physical form as he hefted his sword and prepared to launch an eviscerating strike at his youngest son that would disembowel his baby boy and send his internal organs spilling onto the floor. He wrestled for control with the horror for a moment, who in response sent several pulses of white-hot pain ricocheting throughout Marik's skull, but it was no contest and soon Marik was powerless to help his son. The rogue Summoning of Aksua's noxious tendrils were dug too deep into Marik's mind, its malevolent influence spread unchecked too far along his body as he was about to strike.

Then, as if adding insult to the injury, as if it wanted to cement its position as the true commander of Marik's body and to ruin Caiellis's emotional state even further, the horror sent one more spiteful pulse of words throughout Marik's nervous system, coloured with more than a hint of finality.

"And it never has been."

The sword flashed forwards, and Marik howled in anguish as he saw it rushing towards his crying son, Caiellis too far out of position and too slow to react in any way to the oncoming blade.

CAIELLIS!

The Lucerna greatsword that had been the cause of so many enemies' deaths hit his son in the upper chest, carving easily through the thin enchantment that he had been given barely enough chance to create and ripping his son's skin open. Caiellis screamed in pain, and Marik did so as well as his sword sliced his baby boy open.

Blood jetted out from the wound, and in the haze of adrenaline and emotional agony Marik realised that his son had leapt backwards to avoid the blade ripping him apart. The horror had discerned this before him and was already priming another attack as his own son's blood sprayed over him, splattering in his eyes, on his face and dripping down his body, somehow distinct from the perpetual Rain of Gore and the blood that was already trickling from Marik's own wounds.

A huge influx of White and Black mana infused Caiellis, coming from Orzhova who still had mana to spare for her plucky young Summoner, and Caiellis wasted no time in efficiently splitting apart the two types of mana. He conjured up a rotating sphere of blinding and imperious luminescence in front of his small left palm, and dropped the Sword of Glass as an orb of pulsing tenebrosity and the blackest despair formed in front of his right, a huge amount of mana given life by Caiellis's emotions and his pain.

The boy then slammed the two spheres of light and darkness together, his eyes locked in determination as the tears pouring out of them began to shine with darklight that made the image of the bloodied and crying youngster fighting desperately for his life as crimson vitae poured out of the quite dramatic wound on his chest, a horrible bruise already forming over the one that his father had already caused as he pushed the opposite forces together into his droplets of blood. Instead of there being a massive explosion as the two collided, there was a release of mournful purple light that started to vitrify the blood of his son, turning the many scarlet droplets into crystals of glass as they pulsed with illumination and formed up around the king, pressing in on him from all sides.

It was a cage formed of bloody glass, the vital fluids of his youngest son trapped within the droplets of crystal that refracted darkness and light all around them until Marik was completely surrounded. He shouted in rage, the king forced to drop his sword as he beat at the fragments, shattering some as they released their payload of Caiellis's blood onto the man, but yet more were appearing and the Lucerna patriarch dared to hope that his son's powerful magic was trapping him in.

He felt his limbs becoming number and number as all energy was sapped from them by the droplets, and then they started singing to the king that was trapped within the cage of them. Marik in the Mind Realm froze, although the physical him dominated by Aksua's rogue Summoning (which was now technically Unbound) did not see the significance of it and kept at destroying the cage. The crystalline glass of his son's blood was humming a mournful but slightly soothing tune, one that Marik remembered from many years ago and one that he would gladly sleep to. It was the one that Emili had used to sing to baby Caiellis as he screamed out in the night and was unable to get to sleep because of the pain his premature body was in, and with his wife unable to hold her son and comfort him in that matter she had taking to singing or gently humming a soothing and soft tune to him until he fell asleep.

Even in the years where she had been able to rock and hug her baby close if he had trouble sleeping, she had kept up with the kind singing that had always brought a tear to Marik's eye. It was something that Caiellis would have been far too young to remember, and his eyes were full of so many emotions that Marik couldn't tell – and he could barely see them because of the spell pressing down on him and restricting his movements, the light obscuring the vision of his son. There was no way that Caiellis would know what the song was, that his mother had used to sing it to him in the past in times of pain, but it seemed that some part of him deep down knew the tune and it had translated into his magic,

It reminded Marik so heavily of his wife, although this was more like a haunting hymn than a soothing song, and the king knew that if he had been in full control of his body he might have broken down and started crying. Even when she was gone, even though she had died when Caiellis was only four years old, Emili had had such a massive impact on her beloved sons' lives, much more than Marik had ever had – in the positive manner, at any rate.

"What are you doing, you damn brat?!"

"What are you doing, you little bastard of a Lucerna?!"

The outraged cries of both Marik and the horror of Aksua infecting Marik's body mingled as one as the king threw his body at the cage, destroying a large amount of the bloody crystals in spite of the man's attempts to heighten the process of his body shutting down which had already begun thanks to his son's powerful magic.

"You'll get us all killed, you foolish brat! Let me out of here, you worthless little shit, so that I can finish with you and then kill Rakdos! Release me now, or we will both die and Alexander will as well!"

The king almost though that his son was going to give up with the mention of his older brother, intending to end his spell prematurely so that his father could murder him and then kill the Archdemon as he said (although Marik knew that there was no way that would happen if Caiellis surrendered to his words now), but to his immense credit and bravery Caiellis steeled himself and increased the potency of his magic. Marik was astounded at how gentle his son was being with his father, though it was possible that if any of the magic was converting into being harmful the intensity of the incapacitating spell would be reduced enough so that Marik could break out. The king was not sure that if the roles had been reversed he would have not killed his father, or at least hurt him somewhat in his anguish and rage at what had been said, but Caiellis had not harmed him in any way, probably because he couldn't countenance hurting his family in any way in spite of whatever they might do to him.

"Is that what you really want?! For your brother to die, all alone, just because you had the foolish conception that you can defeat a demon of Archdemonic magnitude alone?! Why are you wasting time trying to restrain me?! Why don't you just finish me off now, eh, Caiellis?!What, are you a coward?! I suppose I already know the answer to that, my boy! You were never cut out for honourable Lucaelian life, ever since you first developed Black mana within you!"

The horror's taunts through Marik's mouth bombarded the boy, who shut his eyes tightly so that he would not have to face them, before opening them wide again and staring straight into his father's furious blue orbs. Marik hated the words, knowing that even though everything that he had said so far had cut very deep that last one was particularly brutal and was something that had haunted Caiellis all of his life and stigmatised him, removing him from his peers because of something that he could never have changed and that wasn't his fault. Not looking away from his dad, the boy drew several elegant sigils in the air that the king had never seen before, and it then hit Marik that he could sense his son casting several spells that traded away his life essence for more power so that he could complete the spell.

He's killing himself … for us all … and I'm here shouting invectives and insults at my youngest son?! I can only hope that Caiellis's mana regeneration and natural Lucerna vitality will allow him to reclaim this life that he is trading for more mana when he spends time recovering from his wounds. It also means that I have to keep trying so that my son does not have to use up much of his life force to subdue me peacefully as he wants to.

"Stop interfering, Mariky-boy! I want you to hurt your son! I want to kill Caiellis so that I never have to listen to his whining voice ever again, and I want to see your pain! You can break out of this! You are strong enough, so do it now!"

Th horror screamed at the king, slamming his Mind Realm body repeatedly into the wall in a pathetic attempt to make him capitulate to its malign will, but the king was filled with solidarity knowing that his son was defeating him and that he would not have to cause the boy any more pain, as well as a worry that he would only give into once his youngest child's spell suppressed him fully that now Caiellis would be left truly alone against the watching Archdemon who would have no cause not to cause him huge amounts of pain.

"Break out, Mariky-boy, or I swear I will cause you more pain than you have ever experienced in your pitiful life!" the being screeched, pressing in against the king and slicing at him with malicious blades of darkness, shredding the mental representation of him apart again and again and again as it showed him numerous images of his beloved wife calling out to him as she was torn apart by demons, Alexander desperately screaming for his father's help as he was abused and fed upon by Aksua, Caiellis struggling to breath in his hands as he snapped the boy's neck. But the creature had already made a fatal mistake, and that was allowing him to see his son. He knew what was happening, that these horrifying displays of violence were fake (apart from the one which concerned Emili, but that had already happened), and so instead of succumbing to the awful visions and images Marik instead focussed upon the sight of his quietly determined youngest son as he kept up at casting his imprisonment spell.

The anguished screams of his family members could not drown the sound of the bloody crystals singing to the king and lulling his body to a forced slumber, and the pain did nothing to affect the forty year old because of his duty to protect his smallest son, his eldest boy and the rest of the army that had travelled from Lucael to here so that they could wipe out the Welkalite threat which consorted with foul demons, preyed upon the innocent who could not defend themselves and had abducted and threatened the Lucerna heirs of the kingdom. The screams of Marik's personal intruder began to blend together and devolve into something that was far less than human, keening wails of frustration and anger at being denied the chance to inflict pain and feast upon sorrow splitting apart the fabric of the Mind Realm as the horror howled and bawled, like a small child having a tantrum because it had to go to bed early and could not do what it wanted.

Marik managed to ignore it, ignore the images filling his mind as he listened only to the lullaby tune of the cage surrounding him, until a soft voice broke into his thoughts when Caiellis spoke to him for the final time.

"I'm sorry, dad."

The words were so simply, but so heartfelt and suffused with gigantic amounts of emotion and sadness that they found their way into Marik's heart. The king would have shook his head if one he had control of his limbs and two he could move them with the effects of the spell pressing down on him and lulling him to a peaceful rest.

You have nothing to be sorry for, Caiellis Noctis Lucerna. It is I that needs to apologise, not you, because you have shown yourself to be an exemplary, brave and selfless young man with a kind and gentle heart and intelligent and brilliant mind. I could not be a prouder father, my little son, and you have shown me that even in these dark times and dire situations that you can keep calm and do go above and beyond your duty.

"You're not my son."

The statement was spat out of Marik's lips, slurred slightly because the effects of his untreated wounds were beginning to have an impact upon the king and his nerves were shutting down to a peaceful rest in the magic of his youngest son. The king winced mentally as he saw his youngest boy instinctively flinch back, his eyes coloured with hurt at the words that were spoken like they were the truth and that Marik wanted nothing more to do with his second son, like he was disowning Caiellis and telling him that he was no longer his responsibility. His son deserved praise and encouragement, especially now when Rakdos was smiling in the corner of Marik's vision in expectation of fighting the youngest Lucerna.

Then blackness unfolded, the king's sight dimming and becoming dark as he looked into his youngest son's green eyes that he had inherited from his loving mother. He woke up in the Mind Realm, surprised to find that the horror of Aksua was no longer doing everything in its power to disrupt his concentration and cause him tremendous amounts of agony, although the entire fabric of his psyche ached because of the mental conflict that had gone on within it.

"You know, Mariky-boy," the being began, sat on the same row of pews from the king, fiddling almost absently with one of its dark tendrils as it assumed a more humanoid form, the one that the eldest Lucerna had found it in when it first made its existence known to him. The horror's voice was almost introspective, almost thoughtful, almost human, although still enough from that that it engendered disgust within the king. It turned to look at the man, who stared back, unflinchingly defiant of its foul presence, into the gleaming black pits it had for eyes that were somehow even darker than its main body of pure gloom.

"You could have saved him. If you had just let me end his life, squeeze the last pieces of breath from his little body, then he would not have to fight Rakdos any more. I could see the terror in his eyes, Mariky-boy, a terror that far outweighed that fear that he felt of you. If you had only let me end him there, then he would be freed from a much worse fate at the hands of the Lord of Riots. He would have died, while not peacefully or without pain, nicely in comparison than what the Defiler will do to your precious little baby. But no, you had to go and ruin everything for me, and Caiellis is going to pay the price now."
The king didn't reply, his lip curling in anger and revulsion for the inhuman being inside of his head, and it smile mirthlessly at him, though it was not a triumphant and sadistic grin like he had expected from it.

"But don't worry about not knowing what is going to happen. I will let you peer into the world and watch as Caiellis is subjected to the ultimate tortures by the Lord of Riots, watch as you come to terms with how much better a fate being strangled to death by his father's hands would have been compared to what will happen. There is nothing better for you to do at any rate. How does it feel, Mariky-boy? For you to be trapped inside of a cage of your own son's blood, powerless to intervene as he is abused and tortured by one of the most powerful demons to ever set foot in the material world?"

The king did not answer. He remained resolutely and furious silent, wondering what it would take so that he could drive this horror from the sanctity of his and Akroma's Mind Realm once and for all.

"I thought you might stay quiet and determined like that, no-fun-Marik. Oh well. This is when I depart, my lord, and I am very grateful at you letting me take control of you so easily. Goodbye, Mariky-boy, and enjoy watching your son die in the most painful way possible. If Rakdos somehow doesn't kill him, then he'll finish himself off soon enough. You'll be next, and then it will be that other brat of yours until the entire army of Lucael is crushed by the Defiler. See ya!"

The horror simply disappeared from the Mind Realm of the king, who was left to wonder for a few seconds where it was going and who it was going to, until he looked out of the circle of vision that suddenly appeared in front of him that showed him the courtyard which had almost been the site youngest son's death and still could very well be. The horror had been right and the powerlessness was eating away at him, especially since he knew now that the being had left and if Caiellis removed his spell then he would be able to help the boy against the demon.

That wasn't going to happen, as there was no chance that the thirteen year old would want to see his father again even if he offered help after what he had made the poor boy go through. He could not blame his youngest son at all, not in any way, and he had to believe that Caiellis could triumph over the forces of evil alone against the Archdemon Rakdos. Marik briefly saw the horror, a tiny little trickle of pure shadow that had almost made him choke his son to death on two occasions, drip out of the ear that it had entered his mind through, plinking to the floor until it was lost to his sight in the blood and the ash.

He turned his gaze back upon Caiellis, who had turned around with the free Orzhova coming to his side and standing in front of him as to protect him from the demon. What scared Marik almost as much as the thought of his fragile little boy fighting all alone against one of the most powerful foes that Marik had ever seen (only equalled by Johnias and his Archdemon that the king and Akroma had only just managed to overcome before he fled, but that was because the demon had been constrained slightly by his twin brother and this one was not restricted by a Summoner) was the sheer hollowness in his son's eyes, the most prevalent emotion in those wide green orbs.

Caiellis thought absolutely nothing of himself, hated himself in fact, more than anything else, and blamed himself for everything that had happened. Carrying around such a huge amount of guilt on his immensely young and thin shoulders would be doing his youngest son no favour, Marik knew that for sure, and it hurt him to see the boy so broken, even though he was trying to appear resolute so that he could fight the demon and not let his emotions control him or allow him to surrender.

The king had to believe in his son, because it was the only thing that he could do, but deep down even if he refused to give form to the thoughts this was by far the hardest battle that Caiellis had ever fought, one that would end with him dead in a second if he was not careful.

You can do this, Caiellis. Trust in yourself, trust in the angels, and you will emerge triumphant over the Lord of Riots. I believe in you, my son.