Wrinkles and patches

Damien is still vexed and overly becoming annoying. He has a frown daubed on his face, and insisted on coming here when he found it difficult to discard the fact that there is someone posing as a dare to his potency, a female for the matter. I cannot help but giggle to myself as he irately tosses pebbles into the Coral Sea while we sit by the shore. Certainly, this is what occurs when one feels beyond defeat.

The three Kip Princes of Coral shore were born and bred only in our land, so we have never sailed across this vast sea to witness the outside world despite our advanced age. The only most powerful person we have witnessed is our Father, the Demon Lord, so it is understandable if it did not occur to Damien that there are a tenfold of others who will easily beat him in a combat.

The dense aura from Damien forces a sigh out of my mouth as I draw my legs to my chest and hug my knees, silently watching the Sea. A bright, sunless sky above, the blue waters in front, a thicket far behind and the wide, sandy space at our sides pave way to the beautiful chorus of birds, and the soft whispers of morning breeze. Yet, things never seem to sit right with me, as I feel unease knotting in my stomach and prickling my skin.

Damien may not have realized this since he is not so clever, but since we were born, we have never seen a stranger in the Shore—not once. Father never accepts guests, and the borders of our lands remain blocked for ages. He even put up enchanted barriers to hamper the sort of things like portals or magical appearances, but here I am pondering on how the witch—or not a witch—managed to slip past it.

“It’s not like it’ll make you smarter, will it?” Damien mutters as he reaches for my ankle faster before I roll my eyes. He has the habit of reading one's thoughts and intruding on their privacy, which often makes me wish that I know of a way to block my mind from his entry. There are already enough reminders that we have met conceit in person after all.

I have no idea of what he is saying so I just stare, but it seems to look funny to him, as he grins to his ears. “You said that I wasn’t clever and I’m just stressing that I do not boast of it like you do.” My ankle once ceased to hurt but when he rubs the area that sprained, I feel it tingle.

“You literally boast about everything. Everyone knows that you don’t bottle up a good fact about yourself,” I respond, which seems to be my greatest mistake because it infuriates Damien more.

His grin disappears at once, replaced by the flame that now gleams in his cold eyes as he puts pressure on my aching ankle. “What do you mean?” I wince and try to pull his hands away, but he has more strength than I have, which is why I now push my ankle forward, rendering it far from his grip.

Things slip back to normal but his dirty look on me does not, yet I am never going to mind him. I just stare with dried eyes at the sea, rolling my foot heel into the sand to relieve the throbbing pain.

“I will inform Father about the incident. Your ‘smart’ mind obviously did not tell you that it’s necessary,” Damien hisses and springs to his feet, trudging over sand to the Copse.

I smile at his words. Honestly, the thought of it had come across my mind, but because Father seems too occupied with the concerns of the Shore, I had felt there was no need to bother him with this also. I only now realize how stupid I was.

Damien leaves me by myself, so I have to make use of the stairs. When I reach my floor, I see Lucerne and Damien standing in front of my door, Damien’s right fingers clinging to the knob as they both seem immersed in their discussion.

I realize that something’s wrong the moment I see Lucerne uncomfortably switching his weight from one leg to the other, his shoulders slouched and deep lines pulling across his forehead. He does not seem composed as he usually did, and it is odd. It sounds like a cliché, but Lucerne’s features are what I refer to as angelic. His moves are often calculated and delicate, while his bright eyes may actually calm turbulence.

He is muttering something indistinct and moving his hands as he speaks while Damien nods constantly, giving his full concentration. Since he faced my direction, Lucerne is the first to see me approaching, and his mouth immediately clamps shut when his eyes flick toward me.

Damien glances back at me before his hand finally leaves my knob. “What is happening; why the small talk?” I rasp as I reach them. While I look between my two brothers for an answer, Damien sighs and leans against the door, his right thumb and index fingers rubbing his front hairline quite brutally.

Lucerne seems to be the bearer of whatever bad news, and from Damien’s expression, I can tell that it unsettles him. He must be thinking about how unfruitful today begins, as he keeps moving from one negative occurrence to another.

My elder brother looks at me with a tender gaze, though the worry in his eyes still does not disappear. He may have noticed something on my face that makes him place his warm palm on my cheek; maybe a lump of flesh under my eyes or a dark circle at the corners of it, whoever knows. I never even get the chance to look at myself in the mirror, so I care less.

“How do you feel?” He fondles my cheek, and I shrug. How do I feel?

“Fine...” It is the only thing I can say to end further enquiries, but maybe Damien never wants me to know about what happened, or he just wants to lengthen my curiosity.

“He had another nightmare, while I saw a female escape through the woods.” He says the last part of his sentence with an obvious disgust in his tone.

I look deep into Lucerne’s eyes—the color of rich, fine wine. They are calm, but I can see an imaginary cloud of emotions swirling in them. He stands a few inches below Damien and me even though he is five years older than I am. Damien is three years younger, yet I stand as the tallest among them. He inherits the same silver hair and does not keep it as long as the rest of us do. What he has is a side-shaved hair with short frizzes falling against his forehead.

He heaves a deep sigh and pats my cheek, retracting his hand. “Last night, I stayed with pater till dawn. He suddenly fell ill after we finished mapping out the Shore’s projects for autumn. It was just a brief headache then, but today it elevated in a strange way. He seems to bottle up something, I don’t know.”

I feel my figure stagger back after Lucien’s words, and Damien is the first to reach for me, though he quickly pushes me when he sees that I am not going to fall. I try to convince myself that what Lucerne said is not true, but as I know him, he would not speak in a calm manner if he joked, especially as his voice carries a hidden restraint that only I can detect. He even ignored the matter of a spy.

“We should see him.” Damien makes to leave, and Lucerne holds him by the arm, but he shuffles the Latter’s hand down and saunters toward the stairway, leaving us behind.

Lucerne nods me a comfort before he follows the Vampire while I remain in my position. The lingering unease in my stomach a moment ago seems to heighten as Goosebumps run along my skin. I suddenly feel nervous and unwilling to see Father, and I cannot help but visualize the scenario of how he looks now. Father is not the sick type, or perhaps he never just shows us that part; he has always been an agile, tall, and muscular-built man with rare good looks that we certainly got from him.

We did not find him in his Chamber but on the terrace. An initial look at him contradicts all that Lucerne said, as he sat beside a table, his hands working gently on the terracotta he sculpts. Yet, when his eyes shoot to our direction, I feel myself jolting back without warning, seeing that his irises look sharp, and the corners of his eyes wrinkled, something that was not there when I last saw him.

He stands from the chair and moves to a bowl on the pavement, then washes his hands in it and meets us. I do not know of my brothers, but I glued my eyes to Father’s, checking if I can notice even a tinge of weakness in those withdrawn orbs even though I see nothing.

He stops in front and smiles, his lips stretching as his eyes narrow. Only then do I notice the magenta patches on his skin.