"STOLAS!" his wife's shrill voice shouted.
Stolas emerged from his bed with a greasy face and sore back. He had set up a bed in the downstairs billiard room, no longer wishing to share a bed with his now ex-wife.
A spotty sunshine made its way through the drawn curtains. Stolas left them closed. There was no longer any sunshine in his life.
Octavia's words from the previous night stuck with him. His starfire, his life and joy, had forsaken him. Stolas didn't blame her, either. What kind of a father had he been? He had fought tooth-and-nail to keep Stella from going through with meeting Tralix and Valentino. No longer could the gloomy condition of his room bring him down. He was already at his low point.
As per usual, Stella's terrible cry had disturbed him from an otherwise mediocre sleep. Sleep was one of his last escapes from his crumbling life. The divorce had destroyed the last source of stability of his life, with Stella treating him like a dog, Blitzo still refusing to talk to him, and his daughter forced into marriage.
It was a wonderful way to start his day.
Stella threw open the door to his bedroom just as Stolas struggled to dress himself. He didn't pay any attention to her. He had grown accustomed to her explosive temper. She could throw a vase at his head and it wouldn't even register.
"What the fuck are you doing?!" Stella asked as Stolas donned a shirt.
"Getting dressed," Stolas replied flatly as he rubbed crumbs from his eyes.
"Of course you are. Our daughter is fucking missing, you know?"
What?
His stomach recoiled as if he had just been punched. Stolas turned around slowly to face his wife as she paced back and forth across the room with an anxious disposition.
"Excuse me?!" Stolas replied.
"You fucking heard me!" Stella shouted, "Seven days out from the wedding of our dreams, and Octavia's missing!"
Her words were accompanied by exaggerated hand movements, finger flailing every which way. The earrings on her head jingled as she tilted her head with the end of each sentence.
"Of course you're only worried about the wedding," Stolas sighed.
"What was that?!"
"Nothing."
"You're lucky we've got a problem to solve, fucking whore."
Stella grabbed a vase from Stolas's shelf and threw it onto the ground in a fit of rage. All the while she paced back and forth while huffing in frustration.
"That little brat!" Stella shouted, "I knew she wasn't going to stick with it! I broke my back getting this put together, and she RUNS AWAY?! The audacity! That fucking brat doesn't know what's good for her!"
He began to quake with rage. How could she care so little about Octavia's safety? How could she speak of her own daughter in such a derogatory manner. She didn't care about her. All that woman cared about was her precious wedding. The very same wedding that Stolas had failed to stop.
Like water into a cup, he was filled with a great sense of urgency. Stolas hastily dressed himself and sprinted upstairs towards Octavia's bedroom before Stella could catch on.
Various family portraits hung on the walls. They mocked him. Stock images of a perfect family lined the ornate wallpaper that covered the foundation of their mansion. Everything about them was artificial. The posture, the clothes, and the smiles.
Upon opening the door to his daughter's bedroom, he found the only authentic photo that remained in the house. Octavia sat in his lap with a pumpkin costume taking the place of her royal attire. Beaming smiles and expressive eyes reminded him of a time lost to the wind. Those moments had taken refuge in his memory, safe from the corruptive circumstances that surrounded him.
He tried to catch his breath as he scoured the room for clues. He found old CDs, taxidermied animals, and stacks of books lining the walls. Nothing that would help him.
"Dammit, Octavia," Stolas grunted.
How could he function with his daughter alone in the world out there? Age be damned, he knew how Hell worked. They had fought tooth and nail to protect her from the horrors that it had to offer. Yes, Octavia was smart. Of course she was, he had raised her that way!
Book smarts meant nothing out there. Paper wasn't bulletproof.
Stella stomped inside and joined him as they rummaged through their daughter's sanctuary.
"You're a fucking idiot," Stella said as she placed a hand on her face, "Tralix and I already looked. We couldn't find anything. We don't know where the hell she is!"
A familiar voice called back to them, "I don't care where she is, just as long as she's safe and comes back safe and sound."
Anthron's deceptively smooth tongue preceded his appearance in the bedroom.
A prince's eye knew a liar, and his staff could kill a snake.
No amount of velvet or politeness could throw Stolas off his trail. If Anthron had been an imp, Stolas would have turned the bastard to stone ages ago. Everything about Anthron was superficial and crafted. Stolas knew how royals worked. After all, he was one of them. The moth-man was nothing more than a bastardized acclamation of personality traits, each one carefully spoon-fed to him like a toddler
The man's voice carried a soft baritone quality. Even Stolas admitted that it was borderline angelic. Widened eyes half-covered by his velvet hood met Stolas a moment later. Stolas rubbed his face to hide the animosity. The last thing their family needed was another fight.
"I can send out my father's soldiers to search, if you'd like?" Anthron offered, his back straight and his eyes focused on Stolas, "They'll find her."
"Let my soldiers do the work first," Stolas replied, "I don't want to draw away from your father's resources."
Of course, that was a thinly-veiled lie. Stolas had no trust in Valentino nor any of his associates. Stolas's soldiers operated on his payroll. If they so much as laid a finger on Octavia, their pay would be suspended, along with their heads. He imagined that was more than enough incentive for them to bring Octavia home in one piece. Valentino's men were hardly men. They were animals. They would beat, assault, and violate anything with a heartbeat that came within arm's reach.
"Are you sure?" Anthron asked, "It wouldn't be a problem."
"No, no," Stolas said, attempting a smile, "My soldiers know Octavia like the backs of their hands. They'll find her."
"Vox can use his cameras to look for her. He can find anything within a thousand miles of Pentagram City."
"I'll consider it."
Stella placed a hand on Stolas's shoulder, her sharp fingernails digging into his flesh.
"Stolas," she said, "I need to speak with you. In private."
His ex-wife pulled him aside towards Octavia's closet.
"I don't know what the hell you're doing," Stella said, "But I'm not having it. Valentino's guys will find Octavia in no time. Don't you want that?'
Stolas gritted his teeth, "For your information, Stella, I want Octavia home just as much as you do, but I don't trust Valentino's men to do it. For someone who claims to be a socialite, you know NOTHING about what goes on up there."
"Excuse me?"
"Valentino's men have a reputation. I'm not letting them near my daughter. End of story."
"Who said it was your decision to make?"
"She's just as much your daughter as she is mine. We agreed to split custody fifty-fifty. Remember?"
"Which means my word is just as important."
"Do you want those people getting their hands on our daughter?"
"They won't do anything to her."
"We're in hell, Stella. They work for Valentino. We both know why he's famous."
"She's too important to hurt. She's not some peasant."
"Is that supposed to make it okay?"
"I don't know, ask that imp brat of yours. He'll have an answer."
Stella stormed off while Stolas tried to keep his fists at his side. She walked over to Anthron and whispered something in his ear. A few seconds later, the pair walked out of the room and closed the door behind them.
Stolas had been trying to forget about Blitzo for quite some time. The pair had been on rocky terms ever since Stolas handed him an Asmodian crystal. Hundreds of messages had gone unread by his lover. He found solace in his fleeting moments of mental emptiness, where that cursed name was the last thing that would come to mind.
With shaky fingers, Stolas had nobody else to call.
He picked up his phone and dialed that all-too-familiar number.
One ring. Two rings. Three rings, and then that damned voicemail.
"Hey, you've reached Blitz. The O is silent. Leave a message, bitch."
Stolas sighed, speaking into the phone as he paced back and forth.
"Blitz, look. I know we're not on good terms, but this is an emergency. I need your help. Octavia is missing. There's a marriage going on. I-It's a lot. Just…P-Please. I need you. As soon as possible, please."
Stolas dejectedly hung up the phone.
A fly in a flytrap, Stolas was left with nowhere to go. All he could do was scull what remained of his daughter's bedroom. At one point, they had enjoyed bedtime stories and movie nights inside of those walls. A crumbling family along with teenage apathy had set the sun on those pleasant days. All that remained was the occasional star; a microscopic speck of the light that had once been in his life.
He sat on Octavia's bed, the sheets disorganized and the pillow missing.
Part of him wondered if it would be worth it to beg Stella and Anthron to let him use his soldiers again, but he decided against it. Asking Blitzo for help had been a last resort that the others couldn't know about. At the very least, his silence could buy Octavia some time to get away. He would rather she be in the dirtiest alley in hell than with Valentino's men.
Something to his right caught the sunlight. It glimmered like a gem in a mine. Stolas ignored it at first, assuming it to be some other piece of jewelry.
Eventually, he turned around and saw a small ruby poking out from beneath an old shirt atop Octavia's nightstand. Octavia had jewelry, sure, but nothing that extravagant.
Unless…
He withdrew the shirt and revealed Octavia's crown sitting atop the polished wood. The gleam of the rubies blinded him, casting vibrant beams of red across the walls. The gold and velour on the sides made it look more like a Christmas tree than a crown. Stella had taken it upon herself to thrust the responsibility atop Octavia's shoulders. To her, it was a symbol of power and might. She thought it would justify the continued existence of their family through its extravagance.
Stolas saw it as nothing more than a clump of metal. Easy on the eyes, yes, but far from the symbol of power that Stella wanted it to be.
Clouds rolled in and out of the sky outside. One minute, the sun would be brighter than ever, and the next, it would be hidden behind a sulfur cloud. Hopefully, Octavia was somewhere with pleasant weather. She didn't handle the elements well. Perhaps he could get in contact with an Ale and try to keep the weather calm for her. It would cost him an arm and a leg, sure, but they could afford a few limbs from their closet of skeletons.
He held the crown in his hands. The metal was cold against his feathered fingers. The suffering of a thousand Goetias before him seemed to cry out from the blood-red rubies. It was a heavy thing. Stolas had trouble holding it for too long. He couldn't imagine how hard it was for Octavia to wear the thing. She was built like a twig. An adorable twig, but a twig nonetheless.
Once he had his fill, he placed the golden calf of hubris back on the nightstand. Octavia had clearly left it behind for a reason. Stolas would have done the same in her shoes. If nothing else, they had that shared hatred.
The room sat empty. The only recent trace of his daughter that remained, aside from that damned crown, was a half-finished bottle of Dante's Cola.
"Stay safe, starfire," Stolas whispered.
He had no idea how long he sat there. Eventually, his thorn-bush of an ex-wife stormed in through the bedroom door once again.
Sitting on the bed with the blankets ever-so-slightly unadjusted with Stella storming into the room gave Stolas a brief glimpse into his daughter's life. How she must have suffered, having her sanctuary of solitude invaded each and every day. She spent her days forced to live like a teenager instead of enjoying her adult freedoms.
What had he done?
"Stolas!" Stella barked, "Are you just going to sit on your ass like this all fucking day?!"
"You have a problem with that?" Stolas asked, "Looks like you've got it all figured out. You know, sending Valentino's men after her."
Stella grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him up off of the bed. Her beak twitched with anger as small streaks of red appeared in her eyes.
"There you go again, trying to make them the bad guys!" Stella retorted, "You really don't know how bad things are right now, do you?" Her voice switched to a harsh whisper as she leaned in closer, "Everything that YOUR ancestors worked so hard to do is about to collapse. Hundreds of thousands of years of the Goetia name, gone to the dust! Do you really want that to happen!?"
Stolas could only blink, "No. I don't want that to happen. But THIS isn't the solution."
"I should have known. You never gave a shit about us. First the imp, then the divorce, and now this? Some father you are!"
He balled his fists.
"Excuse me?" Stolas asked.
"You heard me."
Noticing the sharp ring on her finger, Stolas swallowed hard and kept his words to himself. The last thing he needed was another set of problems.
"Stella, I'm not going to fight with you, because you've clearly made up your mind. I'm only doing this right now because we both want to protect Octavia. It's very clear to me that we have different ideas on what that is."
"No shit. You never cared about her. All you wanted to do was run off with that little imp of yours. You're the one who destroyed this family. I wouldn't have had to do this damn marriage if it wasn't for you!"
He had no rebuttal. For better or for worse, he and Stella likely would have never divorced if Blitzo hadn't entered the picture. Stolas had taken a gamble, throwing away his marriage to be with a man who hated him. Was it worth it? Had his family been a worthy cost for a few nights' worth of pleasure? For Stella, of course it was. Octavia was the only scrap of that family he thought was worth saving.
"No response, huh?" Stella scoffed, "Seems appropriate. I told Valentino to send out all of his legions. Vox is setting up surveillance around Pentagram City. I'm doing this my way. You had your chance."
Stolas rolled his eyes, "Well, if something happens to her, it's your fault. I hope you know that."
She sighed and rubbed her temples in frustration, "She gets her attitude from you. Somebody had to teach her how to be a spoiled brat. You had everything handed to you, Stolas. All you had to do was not mess it up."
A hand reached in through the doorway carrying a faint British accent, "Is everything alright in here?"
"Not now, Tralix," Stella spat.
"We have protocols for missing brides. This happens quite often in the royal circles. May I recommend-"
"Get out!"
Stella hurled a book from Octavia's shelf across the room. It hit Tralix in the face and caused him to quickly retreat.
"Now," Stella said to Stolas, "I'm going to go meet with Valentino. We're going to fix this. And you will not get involved. Do you understand?"
"Or what?" Stolas asked.
"What did you say?"
"What are you going to do to me if I get involved?"
A twisted grin spread across Stella's face.
She spoke with a sadistic whisper, "You know, crazy things happen to little princesses like Octavia. Hell's a dangerous place. I'm afraid for my little girl. She's out there all on her own. It would be awful, but not surprising. Nobody would suspect a thing."
With that, she flashed one more smile with a twinkle in her eye. The same smile she had given him when they were first married. Stolas's stomach lurched at the sight of it.
"I'll see you later," she said, walking towards the door, "Or maybe not. Just remember that none of this has to happen. It's for the family."
The door slammed shut.
He waited a few moments with tightened fists for her footsteps to move further down the hall. Only when he heard her turn the corner towards the study did he dare to open the door and follow her.
Nobody threatened Octavia.
Not even her hag of a mother.
The bedroom was empty when he left. He hoped that one day she would be warm beneath those covers again. Sure, she was an adult, but her twenty years felt miniscule in comparison to his forty. He wanted her safe. Just like any good parent would.
She had been the first thing in decades to give him purpose. A royal family should have been able to give her everything she wanted. They had all of the money in the world.
At first, he had considered her coldness to be teenage apathy. The door to her room would slam shut, but open later. There came a day where it didn't open again. A time when they made dinner for two instead of three. Stolas couldn't recall exactly when.
It wasn't teenage angst. Stolas had tried to justify her apathy for years. Somehow, someway, he had to blame something other than himself.
He had to face the music. Her misery came from a crumbling family, with most of the blame resting on Stolas's shoulders, his own hands having cracked the glass protecting their portraits.
Stolas almost wished he had run away with her. It was a fruitless dream; she never would have let him go with her. She hadn't only run away from stella. Octavia's words towards him had gone in one ear, down his throat, and strangled him, her cold gaze almost resembling her mother's.
He stood at the end of the hallway. A few servants passed him by. They kept their eyes fixated on the ground.
A few more steps forward allowed him to hear what was being said. It took a moment for his ears to adjust, having to drown out the sounds of servants hastily picking up their kitchen. He pressed himself up against a white sculpture near the dinner table. Pale white light spilled from the crack beneath the door to the study.
"...I don't know why he won't accept our help," Anthron said, "All I want is for her to be safe."
He had to give Anthorn some credit. He was a fantastic liar. If Stolas hadn't been familiar with royal customs, he would have fallen for it.
"Valentino is a very high-profile overlord," Tralix said, "If he makes a case, everybody in Hell is going to be looking for her. But, that also means there will be people after her head. We can't forget that."
"We have to spread the word," Stella ordered, "It's a week until the damn wedding! Couldn't that brat have chosen any other time to run away?!"
"That's a bit harsh, don't you think?" Anthron said.
"Listen, you're the one that wanted a bride. Don't complain."
A phone rang from inside the room.
"Yes?" Anthron said, "Dad?"
Following that was a tense silence, only occasionally broken up by a "Yeah" or "Uh-huh."
"That's fine," Anthron said as he ended the call.
"What did he say?" Stella asked.
"He's mobilizing his forces. He says that they're a bit tied up because of a riot downtown, but that he has more than enough to find her."
"What about Vox? Can't he spread the word, too?"
"Do you really want all of Hell to know that a princess and bride-to-be is missing? A beautiful woman like her would be at the top of every overlord's hitlist! Pentagram City is in rough shape as it is."
"Well, I don't live there, so why would I care?"
"Your daughter is going to be living there with me soon. With all due respect, it wouldn't hurt you to keep up with current events. She'd better stay away from that city if she's alone right now. It's bad."
Stolas's stomach ached as he continued to eavesdrop.
"Look," Anthron said after a brief silence, "I'm going to go to Pentagram City tomorrow and meet with my father to help with the search. I think you should come with me. Stolas too. You're her family."
"Stolas will no longer be involved with the proceedings."
"May I ask why?"
"You can, but you're not getting an answer."
"Fair enough. You do know that he'll be the one walking her down the aisle, right?"
"He can do that. Nothing else."
"If you wish…"
Footsteps crept towards the kitchen hallway. Stolas pulled away and retreated out the front door just as Anthron appeared around the corner. One of Stolas's butlers opened the door for him.
The air had cooled overnight. Morning dew ran down the leaves of ash-coated trees. Long ago, the sun had disappeared, consumed by the sulfur clouds that shot lightning from their bases in the distance. Vultures fled and feasted on the corpse of an animal in their yard.
A raindrop landed on his shoulder. A few seconds later, his phone buzzed.
Stolas considered ignoring it. Chances were it was a hitman, a scam artist, or perhaps his father scolding him for losing Octavia.
He checked on on a whim, jaw falling open once he read the contact name.
Blitzo.
Stolas had missed a call from him. Without hesitation, he gripped the phone like a lifeline and called back.
One ring. Two rings. Three rings.
"Hello?" a voice responded.
Stolas breathed a sigh of relief. After such a long time without contact, it felt as if Stolas had stumbled into heaven for a few moments. If only Blitzo could have seen the smile on his face.
"Blitzy!" Stolas exclaimed, "I-"
"Stolas, shut up," Blitzo responded flatly, "I'm going to help you. But that's it. Got it?"
As if a weight had been tied to his chest, Stolas felt himself falling forward.
"What?" Stolas asked.
"Don't do that thing where you get all clingy. I'm assuming your wife doesn't know that I'm helping you?"
"No, she doesn't."
"Good. I'll sneak through the upstairs window tonight. Nothing physical, no condoms, nothing. I know how you feel about poor imp fuckers like me."
Blitzo hung up the phone and ended their call.
And somehow, things were worse.
Stolas placed a hand over his heavy heart and took one last look at the yard. The wind was picking up. There was a storm closeby.
Two people in his life, gone.
Dejectedly, he placed his phone in his pocket, burying his sorrows in a bed of velvet. A raindrop landed on his head.
The sky had deceived him with a bright sun, only for the clouds to take their place after he stepped outside. He could feel the air cooling down as the sun was buried beneath the layers of suffocating ash and sulfur. His starfire was miles away and his sunshine all but extinguished.
The outside was no longer safe.
Stolas took one final look at their yard before turning around and stumbling back into his prison.