Volume I: Forged

Chapter 21: Wild-Born

"Dadza?"

Phil turned slightly to face his son, still walking down the road. Dream looked antsy, but was following after his father like a child that had nothing but confidence in a parent.

"Do I have to do this?" he asked, shifting in place. He looked uncomfortable in his fancy clothes, white mask fixed firmly over his face, blond hair styled to curl around the ceramic. The forest green cloak draped to the ground, shrouding the boy in a 'dark' and 'broody' air—quite the opposite to the anxious mood he was giving off.

He had nothing on Techno, who stood almost half a foot on his brother and father, blood red cloak and white trim making him stand out in the dim light.

"You're gonna be fine," Wilbur said, wings carefully folded and hidden under a luxurious yellow cloak. His dark hair was combed over in the latest style, and he looked quite dashing in his fitted suit.

Phil gave him an encouraging smile. "Just pretend to be snobbish."

"Take a page out of George's book," Wilbur said, grinning. "That's what I do."

Techno snorted and fixed the golden circlet on his forehead, his blood-red cape draping to the floor. "How'd you know about this thing?"

Phil sighed. He had explained this three times before, but apparently nobody listened.

"I have connections with other avians in the country," Phil said, nodding politely to a passing group. "Don't ask—" he gave a pointed glare to Dream. "One of my oldest friends contacted me about something they're selling at an extremely elite auction. Something I'd find interesting."

"That doesn't sound ominous at all," Wilbur snarked, flashing his perfect smile at a pretty redhead.

"Can't just not risk it," Phil said, sighing. "If the 'something' is what my contact says it is—" He sighed and his sons saw his wings try to ruffle under the fine black cloak. "We're simply going to an auction," he shook his head and cleared his throat. "A fancy auction, to be sure, but an auction nonetheless."

"Doesn't explain why we're here," Dream pointed out, though he knew exactly why, down to the last detail, why he had his two brothers had been dragged along.

"I'm not about to walk into a den of traffickers, thieves, and murderers by myself," Phil said, humoring him. "You're more than capable enough to defend yourselves and each other."

"Mumza's letting you do this?" Techno asked, playing along. He had actually asked to go along on this mission, refusing to be left behind after he overheard his father going over the details with his mother.

Phil gave him a knowing look. "I wouldn't let you be here if I didn't think it wasn't safe, or you couldn't keep each other safe."

The boys exchanged looks, but nodded and fell into silence.

The mansion came into view minutes later.

It was dark, lit up by candles and lamps, but Phil and his sons could see the extensive property spreading for literal miles. Acres of fine lawns lined with precisely-trimmed bushes held in massive flower gardens, all perfectly lit with small oil lamps to give off an ominous yet elegant air.

Not to mention the house.

Massive glass windows, polished sandstone, paved driveways, marble fountains—it all screamed wealth and luxury and a life well-spoiled.

Shame it was a life built off the backs of others.

"Let's get this over with," Dream sighed, adjusting his mask and checking the straps on his concealed weapons.