Issue # 55- A Shattered Clasp

A Shattered Clasp

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“Father,” the Guardian murmurs. His Glock now resting on his muscled thigh, eyes of shining gunmetal locked with similar ones.

Morthas Rayvenwing stands not ten yards from his only child, arms folded tightly across his chest. Hair once neatly groomed lank and shaggy. Face covered in an ill-kept beard of silver and onyx; clothes of the peerage grime covered.

“How fares the whelp that brought such dishonor upon our name,” Morthas inquires. “I see you still have a taste for whores.”

Mikel takes the verbal slice in silence, a mere flattening of his lips the only sign of the anger his sire`s barb had caused. His travelling companions were held soundly in dark magic. Muscles seized like granite they could only watch with sand-filled eyes wide. He must tread lightly, for their sakes.

“A thousand pardons,” Mikel snaps gruffly, fingers gripping the handgun tightly.” Trust me when I say you were indeed the last person I thought to encounter in this realm.”

“Spare me your apologies! I have heard enough of them that now they are merely like the winds that beleaguer my new home,” the high sorcerer barks splaying his arms out widely.” What do you think of this manse I now reside in Mikel? Do you find it similar to Valravn Manor?”

“Why are you in this forbidden realm father?” Mikel asks, darting a quick glance to his right. Ephra blinks, tears dampening her long lashes. He comes back to his sire slowly.”The Echelon has forbidden any who-“

“Do not THINK to preach moral dictates to me you contemptible blight on my lineage! It should be apparent why I now call this pit of hell home! YOU are why I am here son,” Morthas snarls lowering his arms to his sides, fingers tightly balled at the ends of yellowed lacy cuffs.

“I did not tell you to exile yourself father! That decision was yours and yours alone. One made because you lacked the stones to stand up to those bastards who call the shadow realm home. I will NOT allow your weakness to be laid upon my back.”

“You never did deserve to have my name,” Morthas hisses, face drawn into an expression of contempt.

“Nor did I wish to have it but have it I do,” Mikel replies flatly, the untruth of his words bitter on his tongue.” Was it you then that opened the gate?”

Morthas allows a slim smile to tug at his face.

“Why,” Mikel queries, ignoring his hair as it dashes in front of his nose.”To do so is certain death.”

“I died when you stood before the Echelon. You took all that I had accomplished over the centuries and spat on it! And over what Mikel?! Some Elvin slut who wanted nothing more than a way out of the fey realm? You and you alone dishonored our name,” Morthas grinds out.

“Why did you open the damn gate!?”

“To ensure your failure.”