-Cyprio-
Pain raged in each one of my pieces, but most in my own chest. I looked in the mirror at myself, my real self. I was young, yet old past any mortal standard. My skin was smooth like granite, but my eyes held the answers to any question. Knowledge and wisdom from years of failures is what gave me my aged appearance. It was nothing physical like wrinkles or a cane. It was the look that my golden eyes held.
I felt anger rise in my chest. Despite all this wisdom I believed I had, I still make the same mistake. I fell for a woman. She wasn't my first, Avila. But she was the first I had children with. My three sons who had no idea I existed. They could never know. I refuse to make that mistake. Even though I made it with my grandson.
He may die now, just like my youngest son. Tears filled my eyes. He was gone, and I never got to tell him my name. I forced away the crying from my parts. My emotions couldn't interfere with them right now. They were at work, cleaning up my son for a funeral, trying to find Avila to tell her. I doubted she would want to see me, but I had to let her know what had happened because of him.
Jerimoth. That sick, twisted demon. I'm not even sure he was a demon. He had formed into something much more sinister with all the artifacts he had been in contact with or had used. I wish I could do something about him, but there would be no more mistakes. I couldn't let emotions into this. I had to let events carry themselves out.
I looked at my reflection in the mirror again. This time instead of seeing my years, I saw nothing but a helpless man. I could do nothing to protect the people I have grown to love. Passion and caring were my downfall, just like in any other situation I have come in the middle of. I slammed my fist into the glass, cutting my fingers.
This part, the real me, was as fragile as any normal human. Which is why my kind hides it so securely, so desperately. Jerimoth had found that out, but that was one mistake I didn't make. Avila never found me.
Blood gushed from my hand and glass clinked to the floor. My body shook. I held all the powers of this world, yet I could do nothing for Avila, nothing for Julie, nothing for Vincent. Nothing for my dead son.
I could still see my reflection in the glass that was as shattered as I felt.
