Guardians of the Dark

Samael relaxed his arm, and Kasen let go of him. They stood like this for a while, face to face, each one sizing the other up, breathing the other in. Fourteen years had passed since they last saw each other, touched each other. Fourteen years since they last spoke. And while Samael didn’t really recall his time with Kasen, he couldn’t help but feel at home. He probably would’ve hugged him if he didn’t slink around the hospital bed.

“Why are you here?” Kasen barked at him.

Samael placed the cup on the bedside cabinet. “Hello to you too, brother. I have to say, you look good.”

“Don’t change the subject.” Kasen’s eyes darted to the knife in Samael’s belt. “Are you here to finish the job?”

Samael’s heart spasmed, drawn back to reality by Kasen’s words. Back to the hospital room, to the bed of the man who once abandoned him in the Dark, and whom he vowed to kill – whom he was ordered to kill. He studied the General. For someone who was just stabbed in the heart a couple days ago, he looked good.

“Samael, I’m talking to you!” Kasen shouted for his attention.

“Don’t get in the middle of this.” Samael rounded the bed, step by step, until he collided with a trembling Kasen.

“I already am,” he hissed.

“Kasen,” said Samael, almost in a whisper, “this has nothing to do with you. I’ve got nothing against you.” His mouth parched, so he cleared his throat. His face was inches from Kasen’s ear, his chin tilted down so he looked upon the top of his head. Kasen never really did meet his height, ever since they were toddlers.

“You don’t have anything against me? Boy, what a relief to hear that …” Then, something changed about Kasen’s voice, about his tone and pitch and volume. Softly, he added, “It ought to make killing you so much easier.” He at once spun around, lashing his belt at Samael, who leapt back just quick enough.

“Kasen! What are you doing?”

“Do you remember that recruit you killed?” Kasen’s forehead rippled with creases, and his brows lowered over his eyes. “The one you stabbed in the chest with that staff of yours? The one you watched as he bled to death?”

Samael gulped.

“His name was Clay, and he was my best friend.”

“W – What?” Samael stammered back. He tried to say something, anything, but couldn’t manage so much as an apology. He remembered him, that recruit. He could still see his face, his eyes, and hear his final words …

“You murdered my best friend in cold blood! And – And I bet you didn’t even feel guilty about it, did you?”

“Kasen,” Samael tried to reason with him, extending his hands. He retreated with every step Kasen took toward him, still with the darkest, most horrifying look on his face. The Kasen he had in mind differed greatly from the one before him. The boy from his memories was gone. Lost. “Think about this. I don’t want to fight you.”

“Really? Well, too bad … because I do!” Kasen launched himself at Samael. He whipped his belt lengthwise through the air, which Samael caught in one hand. Slap. The bottom of his palm seared from the impact, but he managed to yank it out of Kasen’s grip, swivel him around, and press him up against the wall.

“That man called me a monster! He left me in the Dark with not so much as a weapon to defend myself with!” He pressed his elbow to Kasen’s throat, but didn’t gag him. “He left me to die, and I hate him for it …”

Samael briefly lost control. He drowned in a whirl of memories and the sound of a child crying, calling, running after a figure in the distance. Kasen used this moment to overpower him. He pushed him up against the wall and dragged him sideways, tossing all the portraits – landscapes of the desert from before the Dark – off their hooks.

They shattered, one by one.

“Do you know what kept me sane all these years?” asked Samael, just before he kneed Kasen in the stomach and tackled him to the ground. He pinned his hands on either side of him. “It’s you! You kept me sane!”

Kasen writhed.

“You and I … we’re brothers.”

“I thought so too for most of my life.” Kasen relaxed under him. His forehead smoothed, and the corners of his mouth curved down. “I defended your name for years. I repeatedly told people my brother is not a monster.”

Samael felt a grin surfacing.

“But they were all right.” A pause. “You really are Samael of the Dark.” Kasen all of a sudden reached down, unhooked Samael’s knife from his belt, and slashed at his chest. Samael jumped up, narrowly avoiding a stab to the heart, but the blade lacerated his skin, leaving a thin scratch from his torso to his cheek.

Samael no longer had a choice. His brother really did want to kill him, and he wasn’t prepared to die just yet.

Kasen jumped up, making another jab at Samael.

“I’m sorry,” Samael apologised mid-dodge, then grabbed Kasen’s wrist. He tightened his grip and pushed him down to the ground, slowly, and with a little too much ease. He met Kasen’s eyes the entire time, his heart bleeding at the amount of resolve his brother possesed to stab him, and to break free from his grip.

“I hate you ! L – Let go of me!”

But Samael didn’t. He did exactly what he was trained to do in such a moment: use his opponent’s own weapon against him. He didn’t want to do it – he didn’t even know if he could – but if he didn’t, Kasen certainly would. He could see it in the way his eyes blazed, and in how he put all of his strength into attacking him.

Samael twisted the knife so it rested in the nook of Kasen’s neck. He held it there, his hand trembling, shaking, quivering.

“So? Are you going to kill me?” asked Kasen, barely audible. It was less of a question and more of an accusation.

Samael opened his mouth to say yes, but nothing came out. He looked at the blade, pressed against his brother’s flesh, and at his hand, clutching Kasen’s, which clutched the knife. His eyes swerved to Kasen’s face, to his eyes. They were so blue and clear, and looked exactly as they did fourteen years ago. They were the eyes he’d recalled so many times before, and that curved around the edges when Kasen smiled – when he imagined him smiling, imagined him confessing how he missed him, and telling him to carry on.

Samael’s vision fogged, but he didn’t look away. He had to find it: A trace of Light left in Kasen’s eyes.

Alas, there was none.

His tears thickened, blinding him. He blinked and a heavy, swollen drop slid down his cheek, right onto Kasen’s face.

Samael removed the knife from his throat and got off him. He properly cried now, but without any sound.

“I knew you were too weak to do it,” said a voice from the door.

Samael spun, still crouched.

Theon leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed and his head shaking from side to side. He chuckled to himself, straightened, and stepped inside the room. He had a knife in either hand, both of which were lit.

“Too weak to do what?” asked Samael, getting up.

“Everything you were created for.” Theon twirled the knives in his hands. “You’re so weak, I almost pity you.”

“What did you just say?”

“Oh, don’t get up on your high horse, Sammy boy! You couldn’t take me even if you tried. Which you already have. Twice.” Theon laughed to himself again. “I told him it wouldn’t work, be he never believed me.”

Samael set his jaw. “What are you talking about, Theon? You’re not making any sense.”

“Emperor Sumuri, of course. He had a plan, you know. He always does, that man.” Theon peered beyond Samael at Kasen, who scrambled back on all fours. “Ah, so you must be the runt who took a lash at me in the lobby?”

“What plan, Theon?” insisted Samael, louder now.

Theon rolled his eyes, visibly annoyed. He sighed but said, “You, Samael! You’re the plan!” A pause, likely for effect. “You think you survived as a baby because you’re special? No. Emperor Sumuri murdered your parents. He had my father take you out to the Collection Point, and make sure the ol’ General here found you.”

“You’re lying,” hissed Samael.

“I wish I was.” Theon’s smile didn’t fade. “The Emperor knew you’d rebel, and he knew they’d kick you out.”

“Impossible! They could’ve killed me if they wanted to …”

Theon shrugged. “Either way, he had nothing to lose if they did. But he was right, and they did kick you out.” He walked up to Samael. “He thought he’d created a killer out of you. He thought your feelings of rejection would drive you mad with vengeance, but he was wrong. You’re nothing but a cry-baby, Sammy boy.”

“Lies!” Samael stabbed at Theon, but he blocked the blow with both his knives. They rang off each other, sparking with electricity. His blades ignited Samael’s, nearly numbing his arms from the sudden burst of power.

They rotated in once place, each of them devising a plan to overpower the other.

Theon had a look of thirst on his face, as if he’d wanted to take him on for a long time. “I’m telling the truth,” he insisted.

Samael broke their circle of rotation by jumping back. He wiped across his face to ensure he had no tears in his eyes when he won, when he killed Theon. He wouldn’t want the beast to think he was crying over him.

“Come on, Sammy boy,” taunted Theon.

Samael didn’t wait for him to ask a second time. He ran without thinking and hacked without looking. He wielded his knife, jabbing from above with everything he had. Theon blocked again, only this time, the force of the impact proved too big, and Samael was sent flying back through the air, the knife hurling at the wall.

Theon, with his size as an advantage, managed to stay in place. He roared in delight, sliced at the air a couple of times, then put away his knives. He walked over to Samael, who lay by the foot of the bed on his tailbone, heaving, holding the back of his head. He waited for Theon to ram a foot into his stomach, but he didn’t.

“I think you should stay here,” he said, pitifully. “Perhaps you’ll grow the balls to finish your mission, but if you don’t, that’s between you and the Emperor. Let him see for himself what a wimp he’d created.”

“Wh – Where are you going?” asked Samael.

Theon stopped in the doorway, but didn’t turn his head. Samael heard the smirk across his face as he said, “I’m taking things into my own hands. It seems my shared second-in-command couldn’t handle the job of a Raider.”

And with that, he strutted off.