Darknight POV

More memories...

[Darknight POV detected]

I stare blankly at the computer screen. What Kyndra typed makes sense, but… I don’t want to think that one of my children was partially responsible for the death of the other. Kyndra sitting next to me, must’ve realized that I want to be alone right now. She gets up and leaves. Darkness flickers at the edges of my vision, memories threatening to take over. I’ve had this problem for as long as I can remember, it has something to do with my umbrakinesis, I think, but I’m not sure. My musings are shattered as I’m dragged into a torrent of memories.

“Dove, be careful. This isn’t a game.

“I know, I’ll be fine, dad. I’m not a little kid.”

“I know, I know, but still… Incitatus and her officials aren’t going to hold back. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Alright. I’ll be careful.”

I remember that conversation. That was before the battle, the battle when Dove met his death. I should’ve kept a better eye on him…

“Come on, I want to show you something!” My younger brother tugs on my hand, dragging me around the side of our parents’ house. He can’t be more than ten. What memory is this? “Hurry UP, Zavier!”

“Alright, alright, I’m coming,” I say, slightly annoyed. I let him pull me into the backyard, then drag my feet, playfully trying to waste time.

“Za-vi-er,” he protests, tugging my sleeve. “This isn’t funny, I want to show you something!” There are tears in his eyes. I still can’t place the memory. Then he pulls me in front of a sturdy square stone with words painstakingly carved into it, probably carved by his photokinesis. Then I remember. A week after his best friend, Alexi, died. A week after I killed her. I’m staring at her grave.

“I just finished this morning,” he states solemnly. I bend down to read the words on the gravestone.

I remember what it said. ‘Alexi Summers. Angeli Cum Volare Usque In Sempiternum.’

“What does it mean?” I ask, for his benefit, I know Latin enough to read it myself.

“Forever fly with the angels,” he says, voice hollow. “She always loved the angels, you remember. She’d draw them constantly.” He pauses. “I buried her sketchbook, since her parents took her body to the graveyard.” I shudder at the hollow, monotonic voice he uses.

Darkling’s pain hurt me more than mine, in those days after Alexi’s death. I’ve never told him, but Dove- Alex- was named after Darkling’s childhood friend. And now I’ve killed them both. I hate it, but who else can I blame? I don’t want to blame Peri. Or anyone else.

I can only blame myself.

[POV end]

Author's Note

Poor Darknight...