“So,” he said quietly.

I sucked in my breath and turned my eyes away from him. Sliding back a foot I twisted, and began to take a few slow paces away, my hand still an upturned fist.

“Charon, I cannot let you just … be around my halls as you are. These are my people I need to protect.”

“Protect them from me?!” I replied, aghast. “Morn, you certainly don't know me if you think I would hurt them.”

He paused. “Well, I was not sure of your personality anymore when I first found you again. You could have been a mass murderer waiting to happen.”

“Oh it's been tempting, believe me. You're a real dickhead.”

“And since then I have been in your company several times when you have your powers and you have never used them on me,” he was watching me carefully.

I frowned at him, and shrugged. “No. Why would I?”

“To be rid of me. To be free once more.”

“Morningstar the whole empathy thing you don't get … I don't destroy just for the sake of it. My whole purpose was to destroy only what needed to be,” I glanced at my hand still before me. “Like Morté. Damn him being here. I could have ended hiim.”

“You would have failed and pulled us into an unstoppable war,” Morningstar growled. Then he gestured at my hand. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

I was silent for a moment before I unfolded my fingers. There lay the globe of power still, small and unmoving, resting into my palm. Frowning a little at it I bent my palm upwards, watching as it stayed, even when the gradient when allow it to roll, were it anything but a ball of energy.

“Charon.”

“Anger. I was angry,” I replied, furrowing my brow as I then willed the ball to rise into the air, and it did. Then it stopped exactly when I said. I removed my hand and it hung there in the air, like a globe of black light. I looked back over to him and saw immense discomfort with his body and his face, so I plucked it from the air.

Turning around to him I folded my arms, the ball still in my clasp. “When your pet Vitus-”

“He's not a pet, and I would ask you not to call him such.”

“When the elf started speaking about taking my power away, reducing me down to nothing, taking away my job, anger built. Everything we had agreed on so far - I was furious. And my anger was directed mainly at what was frustrating me at the time - those lovely little manacles you like to have me in and …” I huffed and unfolded my arms to look at the ball again. “Apparently she has a will of her own when my emotions are high.”

“'She’?” he quoted.

“Well she has a personality now, so,” I stared at her and then looked over at a remaining cup on the great round table. It was metal, seemed to be empty. Twisting my body around to it I paused, before looking at Morningstar. “I'm just aiming for the cup.”

He narrowed his eyes but stepped back. “So your volatile emotions can now affect your power to the point that it can be outwith your control.”

“She's still within my control,” I said, knowing immediately for it to be true. I looked at the cup, and then willed the globe of dark energy to fire from my palm. No sooner had I summoned the thought that it flew out, noiseless and dark, like an arrow from a bow. It collided with the cup and there was a shattering sound as the metal exploded.

I turned back to him as the cup was utterly destroyed, hunks of metal, not burnt or metal, just broken lying on the ground. “I wanted to go home. There was something stopping me. My magic reacted to that, to my desires, because some idiots were saying that they wanted to ruin my life all over again.”

“Ruin your life?” he asked slowly.

“Take away what power I have just gained back. Take away every freedom I've worked for.”

Morningstar folded his arms. “I could still keep you here as a prisoner.”

“But as a slave? Because that's where this is going now, Morn. That is what I will be to you,” I glared at him, pointed at him. “Isn't that one of your 'core laws’. No slavery?”

His lips pursed. “It … is.”

“Yet you want me to still work for you?!” I shook my head, “you're exasperating, and a megalomaniac, only wanting power for yourself.”

“Power in the correct hands, is the term I believe I use …”

“As in, mostly yours.”

“Well someone has to oversee it.” He joked but he was still wary of me, and about what apparently I could now do. Perhaps his manacles had simply not been tough enough - but then after what had happened once in my office when I had easily snapped a chain, I was sure he would have made adjustments. It had been successful thus far.

“I do not trust you,” he said, matter of factly.

“Yet you trust what comes out of my mouth, my research. It's -” I broke off and shook my head, knowing that anything could happen now. He could kill me, still, on the spot, even with my apparent new application to my powers. That way he could see what had gone wrong, take the ability from me, throw me in that cell, cause my entire life I had built to fall apart once again.

I breathed out, looking down with confusion and loss at my hands. I had become a father today, and I had discovered something new in my powers I had never experienced before. Why now? Was it because she and I had been reconnected? Was it a development, a change instigated by Morningstar's strange ways? A mutation perhaps, that had occurred over time, or an adaptation to suit what life I now lived. Being the man who would never bow his head to anyone ever again.

“It seems we need to construct a new deal,” he said quietly.

“Right now, Morningstar,” I looked at him, “I want to go and spend time with my daughter. I've given you all the information I have so far regarding my research - the trips I told you of may bring me more.”

His lips pursed. “When are you going?”

“In two, maybe three weeks,” I shrugged. “Raiaera first. Then I might head north from there, there's a ruin of a temple, possibly connected to Jomil.”

“I might need you,” he said slowly.

“Then come get me politely,” I shrugged, staring at him. “I'll work with you, Morningstar, not for you.” Slightly I smiled, “being your farcical father in law earns me some respect.”

He watched me for a moment, then moved his hand. Out of his pocket he pulled a piece of white quartz, “this will get you home. Not back, however. I'm not giving you the location of this court.”

“Yet,” I replied.

I waited until he held it out, a smile on my lips. My brother looked at me, uncertain, for the first time in his recent existence being encouraged to construct a relationship where he could not be a dictator. One that was mutually beneficial.

When the quartz was close enough to me I reached for it, and smiled briefly to him. “You have your spies anyway around me. That Sandoran Adar for one.”

“Do I have your word you won't go making alliances with others,” he said, holding onto the tail end of the white stone. I tried to pull it from his fingers, but his hold was tight on it. “You won't tell anyone of your research.”

“I will be careful of whom I speak about it with, if that is what you mean,” I replied. “But we are talking of the literal apocalypse here.”

“Yes, and when we have enough information, I will be the one to lead an exodus to safety.”

I shrugged. “Sure. Fine. You can play god, as per the terms of our original agreement.”

“And …”

“And, I won't work with anyone else. Alright?” With that final word he allowed me to wrench the quartz finally from him and I balanced it in my hand, waiting for his final reply.

“Good,” he told me. “If I find out you did …”

“Then I'll spend eternity in your dungeon. I know,” and I curled my fingers around the stone. I poured into it my will, and I was transported away from that place.

I landed in my kitchen, to the scent of sweets and the sound of a boiling kettle. In a small flash of light I appeared, and I heard a small gasp, then saw a figure. She came to about my shoulder, and had silky, long black hair. Pale horns, similar to mine, curled back and slightly upward to the ceiling

“You're back,” she murmured.

Breath rushed out of my lungs. Shaking myself I looked around the kitchen, assessing the stove, the heavy clay sink, and the cupboards. Beyond that was my living room with its many books, the reading chair and where Morningstar had taken me. Where I had begun the short section of this chapter.

“Yes,” I grunted.

“Are you … okay?”

I paused for a moment, and took in a breath. After all she had last seen me being led away in chains.

“I'm fine. I … discovered new things. He took me to his small council, which was different.”

I looked at her, wondering if I should enlighten her about the impending apocalypse. If Morté had known nothing, then it was likely she did also. Naturally, I would protect her come what may, even if that meant never telling her what was going on. In some ways I agreed with my brother's decision to keep the truth of the apocalypse from the masses - what I was discovering, after all, was based on the Calamity, and prophecies that were loosely worded at best. Interpretation of them was a whole art in itself, an one wrong word could mean an entire city destroyed. I had to be certain to avoid mass panic, and keen before I made any rash decisions. Slowly I breathed, and I looked away, my eyes moving to the kettle as I watched it come to the full boil.

“I was wondering while you were … indisposed.”

“Mmm?” I grunted, reaching for mugs.

“Can I …” she smiled slightly. “Can I move in?”