Paths of Prophecy

Chapter 2 - Broken ties

Trigger Warning: This chapter contains scenes of domestic violence and intense family conflict. Reader discretion is advised.

Chapter 2 - Broken ties

Izaya's heart pounded in his chest as he watched Oliver's fragile body miraculously evade the charging horse. The sheer shock of the accident paralyzed him for a fleeting moment, but anger swiftly coursed through his veins, igniting a furious inferno within him.

"Father! You monster! How could you?" Izaya's voice trembled as he unleashed his pent-up fury.

With rage, he pushed their drunken, menacing parent, a burning determination to avenge his brother driving him forward. The scene attracted a growing crowd of onlookers, their murmurs and gasps filling the air. But Izaya payed no mind to the gathering throng; his sole focus was on getting Oliver to safety.

He rushed to his fallen brother's side, helping him up with trembling hands. His brother was pale from haid to toe, and his lips kept quivering. He took his hand and Oliver seemed to regain light in his eyes, his expression changing from concern to relief .

Together they fled the growing spectacle, the echo of their father's furious shouts and the distant clamor of the gathering crowd fading behind them. They ran and ran until the village's familiar houses came into view, their refuge from the horrors of the city.

Izaya's heart ached with the weight of his brother's accident as they returned home. Their mother, a picture of surprise and concern, greeted them, her eyes wide with anticipation. Izaya recounted the horrors they had just witnessed in the city, and their mother looked at her sons with an apologitic gaze, her heart sank as she listened to their harrowing tale.

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she kept apologizing, not only for what they had been through, but also for fear of the meaning behind Oliver's relieved face that didn't waver as Izaya recounted their ordeal.

"I'm so sorry, my darlings," she whispered, her voice quivering with a mix of fear and sorrow, as she enveloped them in a warm, trembling embrace.

But their moment of fragile comfort was shattered when their father staggered into the house, his volatile rage unrelenting.

As he turned his fury towards them, Izaya and Oliver bore the brunt of their father's wrath, their bodies absorbing the physical blows while their spirits were crushed beneath the weight of his verbal tirades. He was so furious of what happened in the city that he egan questioning that they were even his children as they couldn't even do what he asked.

Their mother launched herself at him telling them to hide, bearing no heed to her own body, Izaya's heart twisted with a paralyzing mixture of horror and helplessness.

Oliver, however, was different. His anger, still simmering from the recent events, refused to be extinguished. In a moment of raw, impulsive fury, he snatched a broken glass bottle from the floor and thrust it into their father's back. Their father's agonized hunch and retaliatory kick sent Oliver harshly backwards and his back colided against the wall, but the burning wrath in his eyes remained undiminished.

His hands found Oliver's throat, mercilessly squeezing the life out of him. Izaya, shaken from his initial shock, grasped another discarded bottle and brought it crashing down onto their father's head. With a thunderous thud, their father's grip faltered, and he crumpled to the floor, unmoving.