By the time he headed toward his nook, Ares lost sense of time. Didn't really care, anyway, too fucking exhausted – physically and emotionally – when he pushed the plate of it open. Glad that, apparently, all knew better than to try to stop him along the way… If he wouldn't be that surprised to learn that his white-furred brother arranged that.
He didn't really need confirmation to feel the mood ruling among their people. It was there, like a vibration under his skin, and he always put that down to his nature as a so-called Alpha. But while the Seekers' in his care turned more toward a jubilant mood with the return of long-missed kits… it only added to his misery somehow.
Because there would be none of that happiness in Cael's case for them. No, when the male would be ready to learn the truth – Ares half-suspected he already knew and refused to acknowledge – they will be forced to break his heart with it. Cael spent over two hundred years surviving things he didn't even want to imagine, holding on to his sanity by the fragile thread of hope that his older brother would find and save him… and if Ares's suspicions were right, he could never let their uncle know that he was used as means of luring said brother into a trap that cost Ares and his brothers their parents care.
All of this… was so sick and twisted it set his temper squarely on edge the whole day long… or however long it was since his baby brother brought the survivors home. Yet, dealing with the fallout, he had no means to release the pent-up tension that made him nearly shudder and bristled his fur as he silently pushed the plate close and leaned his forehead against it, trying to shove it all deep enough that he could breathe again without feeling like he's going to break along the seams.
He still had so much to do and think about, but he nearly crumbled right there when warm, small form pressed against his back and the sweet, citrus scent of his mate filled his lungs. Damon wound his arms around his waist, tightening his grip until Ares's breath stopped trembling, but his normally so eloquent lover didn't speak, didn't offer empty words as instead he felt a hesitant press against his mind, offering a deeper connection.
He dove right into it, and it felt like magic, the way his head cleared and his breath evened out. He, obviously, didn't have experience in that area, but the way his mate's mind worked felt so… organized and soothing that, especially now while his own emotions were in an uproar, he sagged against the plate with relief while letting his lover in, eagerly drinking into the cool comfort of his calm as Damon with a precision born of a lifetime of practice organized and compartmentalized his emotional turmoil.
He didn't know or cared how long they stood there like that, too fucking drained by the time Damon pulled back though only physically, then gently took his hand and pulled, soon leading him toward their nest. They stopped by it, and while his lover – still silent – set to pry the clothes off his body, Ares leaned in, resting his head against his shoulder, and only moved to help his mate along without the need for words.
His head felt blissfully empty and blank when his lover pulled him down into the furs of their nest, on top of his smaller form after unfurling his crimson wings and wrapping them and himself around Ares's body, creating a warm cocoon for him to drown in. He did, gratefully, soon drifting off into a dreamless abyss that tasted of his lover's lemon flavor.
Damon never was very good at comforting people. Considering his issues, he struggled to find his way among the language of emotions that his twin always seemed so fluent in.
But sometimes, he figured, no words or language were necessary – which, as Ares's mind settled into a cocoon of his logic, he was grateful for. He didn't really need his intelligence or to be good with feelings to understand that there were simply no words in any language that would make this whole, messed up situation any better.
Ares was hurting badly, and now he really understood Rahm's earlier sentiment… He needed to do something – anything – to help his soulmate get through this whole thing with his heart and sanity intact, and he had the idea of how to do that… even if he knew that his lover wouldn't like it.
After a long while, ensuring Ares was asleep as deeply as possible, he carefully untangled himself from his lover's limp form and climbed out of his nest while gently cutting off their connection. Keeping his wings out, he silently dressed in a pair of loose-fitting pants, then with the last look toward his mate's immobile form, he left their nook, heading down the long corridor with cold determination. None he passed on the way dared to do anything but bow, whispering Bast's praises if he didn't miss the apprehension they exhumed at the sight of his expression.
Damon headed into the deepest level of the lair, the part he was before only once when his mate gave him and his twin a proper tour of the place. Into the prison and to his prey on the way, carefully planning ahead with a cold, vicious grin that if his twin saw, he would likely try to stop him. But Raha didn't understand, not yet, at least. Neither he nor Ares really knew why Damon so very stubbornly convinced the Enforcers to leave the fucker in their care.
He not only knew that he couldn't let any of the hybrid brothers deal with him, but Damon had a theory of his own to test. Something that he knew his twin wouldn't even think to consider – an implication of Shtola's words when he first met her.
Allag commanded life and death… and every pleasure and pain and between – and he was out to prove that his brother was wrong in his assessment of their magic. Out to prove that they actually could inflict a pain far, far more excruciating than anyone else – on more levels than only physical.
"Leave," he snapped toward the two Seekers guarding the entrance to the nook at the end of his path, and they didn't even dare to utter a word of protest, which didn't surprise him. They bowed submissively and scampered off – if he didn't doubt that one of them would think to stay down here, out of sight, to make sure whatever he planned didn't turn on him.
He didn't mind stepping into the cell and taking stock of their prisoner. The armless male looked at him and gasped, his dark eyes huge as they took stock of his wings.
"…Allag…" he breathed and clumsily attempted to stand up while Damon's grin grew.
"Hello, stranger," he purred, unfurling his wings for a better effect as he set his hands on his hips and tilted his head, narrowing his eyes toward his subject. "Though before we're through, you'll tell me everything about you, hm? Every single detail of your operation, everything you did… and just maybe if you play nice, I'll let you die," he lied shamelessly, and when the male scoffed at him, his grin threatened to split his face. "And, yeah… don't hesitate to make it a challenge."
"What the fuck a tiny thing like you can…" The male managed to rise to his knees, baring his fangs at him in a threatening grimace… then doubled over with a yowl when Damon, without moving or a warning, shattered the shields around his mind and, using Expression, dug it into his soul, mercilessly extracting the information that Coalition was after… and more. The stupid dismal toward his small shape made the bastard's mind vulnerable – which he aimed for and used with glee.
It felt easier than soothing the fucker's victims before, and his cold detachment worked wonders as he dug around his mind, meticulously trampling every single positive emotion along the way while stocking up the negatives.
Fear, pain, and loss – tenfold for each of his victims.
Emotional pain, mental suffering, and madness were all left behind the male's eyes when he pulled back from that swamp, but Damon was hardly done. The fucker was still alive when he took a deep breath, pulled out of his mind completely, leaving only devastation behind, and closed his eyes, turning to the inside and looking for the connection his twin described. That he felt when Bast answered his Call, but now he felt something darker, lurking and teasing as it seemed to taste his intentions.
No, this particular Primordial God didn't need to be asked or cajoled, eagerly craving his offering instead.
Tartarus, he invited, spreading his arms and wings as the savage, feral mind probed against his own shields.
Child of Bast, the being representing the dreaded, deepest level of Underworld reserved for the most nefarious sinners, accepted his tribute, the memories pulled out from Diazem's mind, and a pleased hiss rumbled through his head in reward. A ravenous, monstrous presence filled the air of the small cell, greedily digging its tendrils into the offered soul. Fitting prey. Delicious and rotten. Mine.
Yours, for eternity, he agreed, bowing deeply toward the darkness thickening the air with screams and oppression. It hissed with glee… and was gone as the male's body tumbled to the ground in a limp heap. A quick, though reluctant check revealed he was still alive, while a probe against his mind confirmed his suspicions: his prey was nothing more than an empty vessel, the mind and soul gone to enjoy the Primodial's hospitality up to the end of time.
Pleased with the results, he left the body salivating on the ground where it fell and headed out of the cell, closing the plate behind him and whistling under his nose as he headed back to his lover, sorting through the learned information.
Well done, Child of Bast, another voice in his head stopped him dead in his tracks. Feeding that soul to Tartarus was an elegant and fitting solution. For it, in my son's place, I'll grant you a favor of your choosing, Son of Bastet.
Son's…? Ah… Erebus, God of Darkness and Nox's husband.
You're too kind, Sire, he replied across the link, tasting of pure darkness and filling his insides with terror as he strived to keep a neutral, polite tone. Thank you, and I'll be sure to use that gift wisely.
The presence pulled back, and he could breathe again, realizing that he was shaking as a leaf. He took a deep, steadying breath and resumed his walk, now more than needing the comfort of Ares's heat.
