DEMIS (A Clash With Lightning)

38

They walked into the castle and were immediately in awe. It was intricately decorated inside—dark and gothic, but also beautiful in a vampire sort of way. Red curtains covered the large windows. There were lamps lighting the way down the hallway. It was dimly lit, but still bright enough to see where they were going. The walls were painted black, and a long, matching crimson rug lay on the ground.

"It's kind of scary in here," Keith pointed out. "I'm not a fan of the interior."

"Hush." Ban held his finger to his lips. "Do you want Alexander to know where we are?"

Keith opened his mouth to argue but closed it, deciding against it. For once, Ban had a point. It would work better for them if they could catch Alexander off guard. Of course, Alexander was expecting them to come, but he didn't have to know that they were already in the castle, about to confront him.

They made their way down the hallway. Paintings of random people they didn't recognize lined the walls as they walked by. Some held weapons, some sat at tables, and others stood bare with a simple background. One thing they all had in common was their sad frowns. Everyone in the pictures seemed unhappy. There must have been some poetic meaning to it, but Keith wasn't sure what.

There was a door at the end of the hallway, and above it was a large painting of what looked to be a Korean woman holding a small child. He had dark hair and eyes with pale skin. They both smiled at one another cheerfully, as if something funny had been said before the moment was captured.

Keith looked at the painting and then at Ban... and then back at the painting. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully before nudging Ban's shoulder. Ban turned to him, annoyed.

"What do you want?" he whispered.

That attitude almost made Keith want to tell him to forget it. Almost.

"Is that you?" He pointed at the painting.

Ban looked up, and his mouth fell agape. It was a painting of him and his mother. When was this painting done? He couldn't have been older than four when it was made. His mother looked so happy. She was the kindest woman and an extraordinary mother. He hadn't seen her smile like that in a long time. He actually couldn't recall the last time she had genuinely smiled. It made him feel slightly depressed. He missed her, and she deserved to be happy more than anyone.

"And my mother," he spoke softly as he stared at the frame.

Rose put her hand on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. She and the others could see the inner turmoil on his face.

"Why does he have this?" Ban didn't understand. "Why keep a memory of the family he abandoned?"

"I don't know." Rose hugged his back. "Maybe you'll get the chance to ask him."

"I'm not sure I want to." He didn't take his eyes off the painting but held Rose's hand as she embraced him.

He was scared of the answer. He didn't want his father to disappoint him again. He didn't want to allow himself to believe that his absent dad cared about him. It would only lead to hurt down the road. Part of him was also afraid that it was true—that he had hated his father his entire life for leaving, and the truth was that he truly didn't have a choice. It was what his mother had always told him.

"Your father wants to be with us more than anything," she would say. "But he has no choice. He can't be here."

Ban had always considered it his mother's love blinding her to the truth—the truth that Hades was a selfish bastard. He didn't care about her and abandoned her after impregnating her with his child. Ban never had the heart to tell her what he thought. He didn't want to hurt her, but he also knew she would just deny the truth. He couldn't change her mind if he wanted to.