Atlas’ POV

*****

"You’re working with her." He spat in the next heartbeat, the tears spilling down his cheeks drying up almost instantly. "After all these years your way of coming back is by betraying your own son. C–Chaining me up like an animal."

The man he knew as his father—Raphael—straightened, head tilting in an assessing way. Instead of the golden eyes he knew him for, his eyes flared with a reddish gold light, like the waning embers of a forest fire.

More proof to Atlas that this wasn’t the same man he had grown up looking up to. Not entirely.

"If I released you now," his father finally began, "would you be so kind as not to attack Amelia—"

"I’ll make sure I paint the very stars with her blood." Atlas snapped before he could stop himself, looking past his father and glaring at Amelia behind him.

The woman watched with an amused smirk, making a teasing clawing gesture. "You’re a feisty one, aren’t ya?"

"I swear I’ll—"

"Exactly why I knew," his father interrupted, "if I was going to see you again it had to be this way. Until you’ve seen what we have prepared for the world, you will not understand."

"You’ve been trying to study the Vein all this while."

Atlas frowned, his lips trembling. "H–How... how do you—"

"I doubt you’ve scratched the surface," Raphael drawled. "Most witches who know about the Vein see it as nothing but chaos. A well of corrupting energy hidden beneath the earth."

"But it’s far more than that. Something which only one witch in history was able to realise and use to its full potential." Raphael paused. "Chaos... is one of the building blocks of creation. There before stars came forth and even far before the gods."

Atlas couldn’t believe what was happening right now. His vision still blurred at the edges, his mind finding it hard to wrap around everything.

His father, the same man who he thought was dead... was back. Had him captured and not only that—he was now giving him a lecture on the Vein?

Too disoriented to lash out, he stayed calm, reserving his energy and focusing instead on trying to connect with his magic again.

"I survived that night only because I did what many other witches before me were too afraid to do," Raphael smirked, black lines cracking out from the corners of his eyes. "I didn’t just fight those Vein beasts. I merged with them—rejected my humanity completely."

Shock spasmed through Atlas. Or at least, something akin to it. No amount of shock could beat seeing your father back from the dead.

"Like..." Atlas managed to speak. "A vampire?"

"Vampires were created by sacrificing their life for the Vein’s rebirth." Raphael snorted a short laugh. "I didn’t have to die. I embraced the chaos and made it mine."

Atlas found his mouth curving with a sarcastic smile. "Right." He laughed humourlessly. "While that’s all... fascinating. I just have one question for you."

Raphael arched his brow slowly. He didn’t say anything but Atlas continued nonetheless.

"Why?" He spluttered. "With all this you’ve said... Why didn’t you return to us? To me?"

For the first time since the dark expanse was lit up, he saw something flicker on his father’s face. Something he almost thought he’d never see.

Guilt.

But it was gone faster than it came. "You should know how tapping into the Vein is outlawed by most of witch kind." He shook his head. "Our own brethren would’ve persecuted me. Our coven." A pause. "Even your mother."

He raised his chin decisively. "Neither you nor the world were ready for my kind of change."

"Would you blame them?" Atlas spat. "You turned yourself into a... a monster. The Vein does more harm than good, Father. It always has."

Raphael would’ve spoken if Atlas didn’t go on, his voice rising with each word:

"... And yet here you are, standing before me, preaching like some crazed fanatic trying to sell a false god." He gnashed his teeth. "You’re not the man I lost that night."

"No," the older man was unfazed. "I’m not. I am better." His head tilted as he drew closer to his son. Enough to speak into his ear. "And you see that young hybrid princess that fate has made your mate?"

Atlas’s eyes darkened without warning. He lunged forward, attempting to bite the man on the face. Raphael didn’t even move, features plain.

Like he was curious to see if he’d go through with it. But Atlas stopped just a few centimetres away from him—his breath shuddering with rage.

"Don’t," he warned, "ever mention her again. I will tear out my arms from these chains and—"

"You will do nothing." Raphael lifted the middle and index fingers of his left hand, pressing them together.

A black strand of energy wrapped around Atlas’ neck, choking out the air in his lungs and making him gasp for basic breath. His pulse pounded in his ears, the world around him pulsing with darkness.

"The High One is almost upon us. And the only key missing... is the child of chaos."

Hearing a reference to Celeste again heated Atlas enough to make him roar on his father’s face, his magic gathering beyond mere sparks in his chest.

But then—Raphael lowered his fingers, spinning away from his son.

"Nyx shall change this world. In chaos and night." He sauntered away, each tap of his cane adding an extra lump in Atlas’ throat. "And you’ll witness it whether you like it or not. Hopefully, by then you decide to be rid of these feeble human emotions and embrace true power."

Atlas’s head bobbed to the side, his throat still raw from what his father just did. Each breath he pulled in felt like swallowing glass, his consciousness fighting to stay stable.

He needed to see the rest of what they planned. Maybe then he could find a way to reach out to Celeste and the others. To warn them.

’Spirits, please.’ he prayed more desperately than he ever had. ’Have mercy. Help me... help me connect...’

He paused when a sharp tug suddenly pulled at the back of his skull. It thrummed through his brain with a familiar warmth, forcing his eyes open again.

This... feeling...

’...C–Celeste?’

Nothing but silence answered his mental voice for what felt like aeons. His fingers dug into his palms, hope slipping away like smoke.

Until—

’Atlas?’ her voice resounded in his head, tight with relief and urgency. He lifted his head again, a smile stretching the corner of his mouth.

’I hear you.’.