♱ Chapter • 146 ♱

♱ •⋅ 1750 B.C. ⋅• ♱ •⋅ Calisto ⋅• ♱

I could not sleep.

My eyes weighed and weighed, but I could not sleep - because there, in my arms -, there was a fragile being who did not seem able to open his eyes again.

Whenever everything was cloudy and sleep pulled me down, I saw myself awakening in fright and looking at him.

Checking.

Checking to see if he was still alive, if he was still breathing.

It was every day, every second - more complicated to watch, to watch.

"You should rest," Azrael told me one night, his eyes sharply in pain as he stared at the child, my child.

"How?" I heard myself ask, Loren’s sleeping face was so pale I had to put my fingers close to her nostrils to make sure he was still alive.

"Samael is good" he said hoping to console me, but it didn’t work.

How would it work?

"Then why haven’t we heard from you?" I practically growled, my hands closed in fists, tears burning in my eyes "I sent letters and more letters... I... I did everything I could... I DEMANDED answers and yet..."

It was no use.

There was no point.

It was as if Samael had forgotten me, forgot our deal.

"It’s Samael" Abbadon muttered from the corner, his eyes low "know how... it works."

I bit my mouth hard.

"Who the fuck cares about that?" Rosnei "let it be Samael, Michael, Raphael, Gabriel... let it be the archangel, fallen or any old heavenly." MY SON’S LIFE IS AT STAKE.

"And he does not care" Abbadon answered me with a certain harshness "remember, Samael does not care and his impertinence will not change that."

Azrael was silent, his eyes fixed on Loren as he seemed to think.

"He cares" spoke with a calm that made me look up.

Samael?

Did Samael care about that?

It sounded ridiculous and maybe it was because... IT WAS RIDICULOUS.

"What is it?"

"Samael" Azriel said again "Samael cares about Loren."

"No" Abbadon took his front and felt the small body in my arms cough. Her breathing was so hard, so weak, that I know little body collapsed in my arms.

I was so desperate.

My hands trembled like never before. As they never trembled on the battlefield.

What would I do?

Am?

What if he died?

What if I lost him?

My breath was panting, my eyes were burning, my body seemed to float and Azrael’s voice called me from far, far, far away -, but a part of me did not really want to hear what he was saying.

I didn’t want to hear it.

I couldn’t hear it.

Not if what those words symbolized was the death of my light. My light and star, the only thing left.

"CALISTO!"

I shuddered, cold fingers touched my face.

"LOREN IS FINE! IS ALIVE!"

It was like having a cold water bath thrown at me, as if they had pulled me back to the surface.

"Is he? ls he?"

"Yes, you idiot!" the fallen cursed me, his arms shaking me.

Loren’s little body was lying next to me, her breath low - even more existing.

He was still alive.

He was alive.

It was there.

I sighed in relief.

Loren was fine, he was alive.

"Calisto" Azrael called me "stand next to him, but calm down... everything will be fine."

I wanted to believe those words, I wanted to believe the one I called a friend, but a part of me refused to accept as reality. He refused because day after day - I only saw the sharp worsening of my son.

• ♱ •

Another day, another night and another day.

Nothing and nothing else.

Loren would wake up and then fall asleep again like in a fairy tale.

He smiled faintly and then groaned in pain. He breathed normally for seconds and then seemed about to weaken, his blood circulation weakened.

There were tubes in his arms, there were bags of blood, magic, circles, runes, crystals.

Was there everything I could give him, everything I could do at that time and again? It wasn’t enough.

Nothing was ever enough.

I was never enough.

"Calisto."

I wanted him to breathe again.

"Your Majesty."

I wanted Loren to smile at me again.

"My king, do you hear me?"

I wanted Quinn to be there - as in the dreams where he visited me, where he smiled at Loren, where he caressed his face as he told him to keep fighting, where they made pinkie promises.

"Calisto, a potion has arrived!" That voice finally caught up with me and my eyes rose too fast, so fast that I couldn’t tell who was speaking.

Was that Azrael?

Abbadon?

Anneliese?

Who gave a shit?

There was a potion, there was a potion for Loren!

My hands were trembling and sharply pale. Had they always been so thin? The question came to mind as I opened that cork, as I poured that liquid through my child’s dry lips.

"Loren" I called him, the pale fingers that did not look like mine caressed the nanimorto face "dear... is dad, wake up..."

My eyes blurred, it was so hard to see if he was okay, if he was breathing now, if... if there was something different.

"Sir..." the voice I thought was from Abbadon called me, it was so serene and at the same time worried "the young master should get better after resting."

"It’s a Samael potion" another voice said "will work."

What if it didn’t work? That doubt made my body shudder, made an overwhelming cold invade my spine and freeze my bones.

What if?

What if Loren didn’t wake up?

What if I never saw you again? Never saw your smile again?

What if... it was me who died in Quinn’s place?

"The eyes!"

I blinked.

"His eyes have opened!"

I faced the face that now had two shiny balls staring at me.

"Son..." my voice sounded hoarse, almost guttural as I scratched my throat painfully "you... woke up..."

"Young master!"

A strange glow sparkled through my child’s bicolor eyes.

One part of me wanted to wish it was a sign of improvement and the other, feared what had been done to make the state of Loren improve so quickly.

That was the first time I questioned myself.

How far would I go to keep my son with me? How far were you willing to condemn him?

It was painful not to know the answer.

"I’m... a horrible father" I heard myself say as I caressed his face "I’m a horrible father, but... I’m happy. I’m happy..."

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