*COMPLETED*
#34 in MURDER-MYSTERY
After a middle aged businessman was found brutally murdered in a high-end restaurant Olivia Summers, a forensic expert working for NYPD, suspects the owner of the restaurant himself. But when the said suspect is a d...
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Keres was alone in his bedroom, bidding time till his eyes droop with exhaustion.
In his hands he held a tome he have had since the peak of Greek culture; back when he was revered and feared, or at least when his death-fates were. Not many Greek literatures spoke of him and he liked it that way. Thànatos had always been the face of death and Keres was always an element of surprise to whoever deserved to be graced by his presence.
He had always enjoyed the sick pleasure of watching his prey's faces contort in fear as he reverted back to his true form, Mors humming readily in his grasp to brutally chop away the last of their humanity off of their flesh. Of course, he was everything but the peaceful God of Death Thànatos whom they were expecting.
He rarely visited any good soul who underwent a terrible death, unless they were a good addition to his death-fates. He preferred the vile and the horrible; the ones who had such disregard for other lives that it would fill him with morbid satisfaction as he watched them writhe in unimaginable pain. That was the main reason why he was one of the most obscure Primordial of the already obscure Dark Clan.
And just like him, his family liked the mystery for that made them more dangerous.
As they say, knowledge is a malignant power.
Scrolls and ancient, weighty tomes were littered in front of him along with a neat Malt Scotch he periodically sipped on.
"The blood of two rivals from chaos."
He knew that the "chaos" was not to be taken literally. It was a euphemism hinting to his grandfather, Khaos. He had figured out the moment Olivia relayed the message that it spoke about the two rivals Khaos birthed; the Dark Clan and Gaia's Clan. But what implied of the "blood" of their rivalry is what stumped him.
Was it a war?
Not likely, as most of the power plays that ever happened between the two clans were words and other diplomatic moves. The Dark Clan was above the petty fights that Gaia's Clan seemed to be fond of; they were comfortable where they were. In fact, the plan had been to be the omnipresent and mystifying family that none had any clear cut ideas about or dared to mess with.
When Gaia's Clan chose a tug of war with the throne for their power; the Dark Clan chose fear. Fear was indiscriminate, thus the most powerful.
Keres lifted the scrolls labeled under the history of Khaos and gently fingered the fragile papyrus.
That was when he heard it.
From behind his door came the gentle lull of a beating heart. Keres looked up from the ancient words in surprise at the lub-dub that filled his senses, overpowering his mind. He could feel the siren's call of her soul from the passageway beyond his closed doors and he could feel his own being call for her.
