AUTHOR’S NOTE: Hello, everyone! This is a collab with my dear friend Anoki for a contest on a yaoi art gallery. Because the story is so HUGE and cannot be posted there, I decided to let all you people on fictionpress read it! Yay:D The only problem is that the page breaks will not correctly place themselves (you know, all those fun little ’s and such) and I keep switching from past and present tense. --;; Forgive me and my amateur ways of writing…Oh! And forgive me if you cannot wholly understand the plot. These are all based off of Anoki’s characters. Aside from a few Demons, Angels, etc. here and there, it’s all copyright to her. :D Love you, ‘Noki! Toodles!

Repsychus

WARNING: Before you continue, be aware that this work of writing involves YAOI (gay men humping), SHOUNEN-AI (men falling in love with men), SHOTA (little boys nearly getting raped – NEARLY!!), MPREG (pregnant men), and a host of other things of that nature. Don’t like this stuff? Good! Then please don’t read this or review it. You can just go on your merry little way and find something better to do, ne? Okay…As for every one else that can handle that stuff (I hope you’re all 18…), enjoy!

CEATA’S STORY

A bleak gray morning was what little Ceata woke to as he stood on tip-toe to look out his window, his soft blue and white comforter sinking down from his weight. The glass that Ceata stared out of was a river with the rain running steadily down it. An idle finger traced the streams like branches of a tree, connecting and breaking away for a mess of watery limbs on the outside of the window. What’s more, there was a delightful sound to this rain. The endless pitter-patter sounded much like the light steps coming down the hallway. It was Ceata’s mother no doubt, causing a bubble of excitement to form in the child’s tummy.

Ceata felt especially proud this day because he had woken himself, washed, and dressed to the best of his ability. True, his hair was still a little soapy and his socks were on his hands, but he rather liked it that way. It was stylish in his little mind and down right cute to his mother who walked through the door. “Mama!” Ceata squealed with joy to see those darling black eyes staring down at him with love. Ceata bounced off the bed where he had been standing and straight onto the floor, clambering with his childlike motor skills to get a hug from his most beloved mother.

Ceata’s mother was a beautiful young Shadowshifter male whose lovely appearance mirrored that of a delicate china doll. Aysel was slim and lithe, shorter than most, yet possessed in him a charming nature so large that it greatly made up for his lack of height. Pretty black eyes were laced by silvery lashes, Aysel’s gaze holding a warmth within it that could make any man’s heart do flip flops. Soft pouting lips made a gentle cooing sound for his tender child and arms opened up to embrace Ceata. Aysel offered his son the most endearing smile along with an adoring kiss against his cheek.

“Look at you! All dressed and ready to go...I'm so proud of you, sweetie,” Aysel said in a comforting tone to the child in his arms. Ceata's smile could not have gotten bigger even if he tried, though he did try hard when he saw one of his fathers walking down the hall and into the nursery. The overcast watery sunlight came through the high windows in the hallway and lit upon Faust's dark hair, giving it an almost silver sheen. His skin was pale like Ceata's, a milky white that could easily be called porcelain. Ceata made a little jerking motion to get back down, wanting to rush over to his father and receive a good-morning hug. However, Aysel held the little boy tightly in his grasp. “No, little one...Daddy has important people to meet. You mustn't muss his robes.”

“It's alright, Aysel. I want to give him a hug before I have to leave.” Faust spoke gently, his voice like the black silk he was wearing. It was smooth and cool – a voice that Ceata was always happy to hear. At Faust's words, Aysel handed over his adorable son to his lover and mate. The boy could not keep from squealing with glee and gave Faust a sloppy kiss on the cheek, rubbing his wet locks against his father's face in sheer delight. “Ah! Look at this...Such a big boy. Did you get washed and dressed all by yourself?”

“Yes, Daddy! I got wash n' dress all by myself!” Ceata proclaimed triumphantly, all the while squirming in Faust's arms to get closer to his father. Ceata, much like Aysel, was an affectionate boy. He had grown up in an environment that most would assume to be the least loving and cruelest place possible for a young child. After all, who would suspect the God of Death to be such a caring individual? However, life in Death's Castle was nothing like the lies that fearful mortals tell. A product of Death's own hand, Ceata and other Shadowshifters who enjoyed the great god's protection wanted for nothing under his roof.

The child slept in a spacious room with high windows filled with beautifully stained glass, each panel depicting a scene in a nursery book story so vividly that they seemed alive. Bright colors, bold prints, and fun designs adorned the walls and created a warm and welcoming atmosphere to help Ceata's imagination blossom. The babe wore the finest clothes – little princely outfits that stretched over his soft alabaster skin. Blues and purples, reds and oranges, and all the colors of the rainbow were sewn into stylish ensembles to give Ceata a kaleidoscope of hues in all cuts and fashions. He ate only the best foods, was offered sweets and savory treats of every kind, but was kept under the supervision of his parents when he seemed overindulgent. Of course, toys were always present for Ceata's constant playtime. Teddy bears, dolls, rocking ponies, and a whole army of uniformed soldiers paraded about his room on a mere whim. Ceata and his family truly had everything they could ever desire – was Death not a generous god as well as a fierce one?

On top of their fortunate surroundings, they did not need to fear for anything. Death's Castle was guarded by Death Angels more than a thousand strong, led by the fearless General Rei, the bloody hand that carried the sword of his master into battle. As though he were not enough, there was also Prince Lazarus, the great god's second-in-command. Despite losing much of his youth and vigor to heartache and sorrow – a state resulting from the loss of one of his lovers in the self-sacrificing battle against a terrible mortal foe -, Lazarus still possessed every ounce of his Shadowshifter abilities. His mate, Exodus, was a legendary fighter of great renown that had made Angels and Devils alike tremble at the very mention of his name. Donovan, Akita of the Plagues, Death Angel Rowan, Prince Rughal, and a host of others, each in their own way a weapon in Death's arsenal, kept Ceata and his family safe from harm. It seemed as though Ceata was in perfect hands, but what would happen if he slipped out of those hands and ventured off on his own? The thought was something Faust, Ceata’s ever-protective parent, did not wish to dwell on.

“I am so proud of you, son. You take care of your mother now while I am away. Be sure to give your Papa a big kiss for me as well,” Faust purred as he nuzzled his son. Ceata giggled happily as Aysel watched on, quirking an elegant pale brow.

“You have not told Doll where you are going?” Aysel asked sweetly as he fixed a strand of silvery long hair behind his ear. His demure dark gaze went to his lover and mate, striking such an act as very odd for the usually open and attentive Faust. Faust was not one to keep secrets.

“He was sleeping so soundly this morning after our enjoyable romp last night. I really didn't want to wake him. However, he knows that I have my duty to fulfill today. I'm certain he'll forgive me for leaving without a proper goodbye...if last night wasn't proper enough,” Faust replied with a familiar glint in his eyes. Aysel blushed lightly, knowing he still had plenty of marks to prove just how “proper” their acts had been.

“I will tell him when he wakes up then...both of us will,” Aysel said with a joyous smile directed towards his beautiful baby boy. Ceata bounced up and down with happiness at the mention of waking his other father up, for it was so fun to jump all over Doll so early in the morning. He usually got showered with kisses as a punishment, if punishment it could be called. “Take care, my love. We will be waiting for you.” With that, Aysel took Ceata from Faust's arms and leaned up to give him a kiss. Faust smiled when he broke away, caressing Aysel's soft cheek.

“I will hurry back all the sooner for it,” he replied as he gave an adoring look towards his mate. Aysel, Faust, and Doll were deeply affectionate lovers – no one would question that. Ceata couldn't help but take note of this as he watched his father walk away, Ceata’s eyes wide and curious. There were so many times that the Shifter child could remember his fathers nuzzling with his mother, their tender words whispered too low for him to hear, the times when they would retreat to their rooms and produce peculiar moaning long into the night. He pondered why his parents did those secret things behind closed doors in the wee hours of morning, making sounds loud enough for him to hear all the way down the hall. Sometimes Ceata would sneak out of his room just to see if his mother was alright, for he heard such cries that he certain were from pain. However, all Ceata ever saw was some naked figures tangled on his fathers' bed, moving and grinding together with wanton desire. Being so young he did not really understand the concept of sex, so Ceata wrote off the naked wrestling as some odd adult pastime that he'd understand in the future. Yet love was a theme even he could comprehend easily.

Ceata loved his mother. Ceata loved his fathers. He loved his grandfather Death, his grandfather Lazarus, and grandmada Exodus. He loved his uncles and his aunts, his various other grandmadas and the mates of his grandparents and parents. These were all the people he cherished without question and could rely on without condition. Though there was something he had a hard time wrapping his head around, and that was the concept that one day he would be given a mate of his own – a mate he would be expected to disappear behind closed doors and start a family with. Death had not decided just yet who it would be, but Ceata had heard his parents discussing the idea with his grandparents.

One day would he be given someone to love? The whole idea seemed preposterous. He certainly couldn’t just fall in love with someone he didn’t know. Of course, he could love his family easily because he was born to them…but to just be given a person and be expected to do all those kissy-kissy-lovey-dovey-goo-goo things with? Not a chance! However, the idea was intensely intriguing to the little mind. He pondered whether or not his lover would be tall or short, strong or weak, fat or skinny. It caused him to dream up the strangest things, letting his mind wander from one type of person to the other, each considerably stranger than the last.

“Mama, when am I gonna get a mate too?” Ceata asked a while later when he and his mother were sitting in the tub together. Aysel had convinced Ceata to get cleaned up and dressed again – the right way, this time – and was now surrounded by a million bubbles, rubber duckies, and a tiled bath paradise with all the gleaming white porcelain possible. Yet the sudden question in the middle of getting a good scrub down surprised Aysel. After all, he was not aware that his young son had such romantic worries. Aysel certainly didn't think about such things when he was Ceata's age.

“Well...one day you will and then you'll be as happy as me and Daddy and Papa,” Aysel replied to the odd question, giving his son a smile as he dabbed some suds on his nose. Ceata giggled and wrinkled his face, swiping it off.

“But WHEN? I want to know when I'm going to get a mate,” Ceata persisted, splashing his hands in the water to make bubbles and water droplets splatter everywhere. Aysel looked fondly upon his child as he picked the boy up a little under the arms and proceeded to wash his squirming body.

“Are you anxious to get a mate, darling? You should not try to get a mate so soon...Even I didn't have one until I was much, much older. You're still a little boy! There's no need to think of these things now.” Aysel's gentle hands were soothing against Ceata's tummy as the wet wash cloth was run over his skin. He wriggled and squealed aloud when Aysel took a moment to tickle him with his fingertips, causing him to collapse into a ball of laughter in his mother's lap. Water splashed and his giggles echoed through the tiled room. Aysel then wrapped his arms around his son, pulling Ceata close for a hug. “Now, how about we get you dried off, wiggle worm?”

Ceata allowed his mother to take him up out of the tub, having been washed to a squeaky-clean sheen, and dry him off with a fluffy white towel. A servant was left to clean the bathroom as Aysel carried his son into the other room, putting him down on the bed. Various frilly frocks were placed out onto the comforter before Aysel picked a little set of blue overalls with a soft cotton shirt embroidered with a blue bird. This Ceata liked especially well, though he sneered at the thought of having to wear shoes with it. “Why must I? I don't wanna! I don't wanna!” Ceata protested when the socks and shoes were produced. They were little dark blue things that looked like Mary Janes, complimented by white socks with similar blue birds on them. Ceata just cringed and ran to the other side of the room. “No!”

“Oh, come now, Ceata...You have to wear shoes if your nanny is going to take you outside today. I have to help your Papa with his...um...aches and pains. He can't get up out of bed otherwise, so will you please be a good boy and sit still?” Aysel pleaded with his stubborn child. Ceata seemed to come around and sat down obediently for his mother, but he pouted the entire time. When the shoes were finally on, he could only glower at them with the utmost hatred.

“They make my feets feel stuffy!” Ceata gave as a lost protest, crossing his arms before his chest. Aysel could only smile fondly at his son and promise he could take them off later. It was off then to the nanny, who was waiting at the end of the hall. She was a portly woman over fifty with a round warm face and big brown eyes. Terra had been in Death's service as a maid, a cook, a servant, and now a nanny. She took care of most of the children in the castle, but it was at Aysel's particular request that she took care of Ceata. After all, she had often taken time out of her busy schedule to care for Aysel when he was a boy. It was in part to her wonderful cookies that Aysel became so sweet.

“Don't worry, dear, I'll take care of the lil' sweetling just as much as the rest of them,” Terra said with a big beaming smile, motioning towards the three little ones she had in tow. The triplets were familiar to Aysel and were among Terra's daily brood while Rughal, Rowan, and Lazarus were busy. After all, the three boys were their children. Rowan had been blessed indeed when he had Varun, Ranmaru, and Eos. Varun, the oldest, was most like his father Lazarus. His dark hair and lovely dark eyes were definitely a sign of the Shadowshifter's seed. Ranmaru was obviously a product of Rughal's efforts, for he had his crimson hair, his gray eyes, and his fiery temper. The last of them was Eos, the most adorable little Death Angel anyone had ever seen. He had big beautiful eyes the color of lilacs and stone, his hair was the color of red-gold and his face as lovely as anything. Skittish and sweet, Eos was the most timid of the three.

These were Ceata's three playmates and they welcomed him with big smiles and giggles. Varun gave him a hug and Ranmaru ruffled his hair. Each was at least a few years older than Ceata, so he was considered the little brother of the group. “Come on, Ceata. I'll hold your hand,” Varun offers as the little boy reaches out for someone to grasp his hand and keep him steady.

“Take care, Ceata. I'll see you at lunch,” Aysel says as he kneels and gives his son a kiss. Ceata waves goodbye to his mother before merrily bouncing off to the kitchens with his friends. The cooks were simply abuzz with activity as they worked at the roaring fires with the meat already roasting for that night’s dinner. The most wonderful smells were wafting from the part of the kitchen reserved for baking, and there were large platters of fresh ingredients already set out for mixing and chopping. The children were nearly salivating at the sight of the large meat pies, spicy oriental dishes, and various other delicacies that they would be partaking in at lunch. Everything was made fresh for them when they finally reaching the table, displayed in the finest china as a feast for the eyes. Terra sat them all to a nice breakfast with fruits, puddings, cereals, sausages, and eggs. Biscuits and muffins were prepared with jams and soft butter, along with pancakes and sweet maple syrup. The cooks had set out only the best for their esteemed guests and watched from the servant's entrance with a smile as the boys devoured it all.

“Eat slowly, my dears. You wouldn't want to get a belly ache, would you?” the nanny scolded lightly as she stopped here to wipe someone's chin, or there to pour someone more milk. The boys ate until they were positively stuffed, Ceata licking his lips of the sticky peach juice with a satisfied grin.

“Where we going today, nanny?” he asked when Terra untucked his bib and set him down on the floor. He seemed to wriggle with anticipation for her answer, wanting to know what exciting place they would be going. After all, he was feeling rather adventurous today. It was not always that he got to go outside, and he wanted to make the torment of wearing shoes worth it.

“We're going to take a walk into the nearby Human town and I'm going to buy you each a little something from the mall.” Terra's words were welcomed with cheers and cries of joy from all four, as there was nothing more exciting than leaving the safety of the Realm of Death for a little while to see the outside. One day, all four of them would be allowed to come and go as they pleased into the mortal realm. However, for now, it was like some sort of exotic candy that they couldn't get enough of. The sights and the smells, the people and the places they lived – these things were all new to the boys. They all started jabbering at once, calling out what they wanted to get and what they wanted to see, but Terra quieted them firmly with a wagging of her finger. “Now, now...you must remember your manners. We are going with some Death Angels for protection. Humans, as you know, would be very happy to snatch up any one of you and sell you into slavery – that is why you must always be on your guard, understand? And stick close to me and our bodyguards at all times. There’s no telling what might happen if you don’t.”

All four gave hesitant nods, though Ceata was a little too distracted to give his sincere oath that he would be good. After all, the gears in his mind had been turning all morning since he asked his mother about a mate. If his mother would not give him what he wanted, why not simply go and find a mate for himself? The thought of it made him smile, for in his innocent little mind this was the perfect solution. He did not consider the consequences or the difficulty of the task. He only wanted to see what it would be like to have a mate. His grandparents and parents made it seem like a dream, so why should he be denied this wonderful occurrence just because of age? It was when he was being helped into his coat by Varun that he brought up the idea to his friends.

“You want a mate? But you're a kid...we're all kids. We don't need mates yet,” Ranmaru said as he worked the buttons on Eos' coat. The little blond stood there, hugging his bunny and giving Ceata a peculiar look for mentioning wanting to find his mate.

“I thought a mate was something you got when you were older...Why are you going to get one now?” Eos asked innocently, confusion written in his violet eyes.

“He's not getting a mate, Eos.” Varun gave him a stern look as he said that, his dark eyes staring into Ceata's blue and gold ones. “You are too young, Ceata. Even we are not allowed mates and we're nine years older than you.”

“Yeah...and we're not going to get mates until we're at least eighteen. That's when you're going to get your mate too, you know, and not a day sooner,” Ranmaru said as he wagged his finger at Ceata. Still, the little boy looked serious about the matter. He had made his mind and the older boys were not going to change it.

“I wanna mate. I'ma gonna get one – you'll see!” Ceata gave as a final protest once Varun had finished buttoning up his coat. The little blue and gold number looked rather cute on him, matching with his shoes and adding to the overall cuteness. At his words, the three older boys exchanged a glance and then laughed.

“Alright, Ceata. I'm sure you'll find a mate in town. Just remember to stay close to us and don't get yourself into trouble. The last thing we need is something like that. Dad would go ballistic,” Ranmaru says with a sigh, speaking of Prince Rughal, their father. Rughallian, son of a powerful Fire Demonness and Lucifer himself, was none too happy as of late. Since marrying the Death Angel Rowan to avoid being eaten alive by his mother, the woman had not left Rughal in peace. Among her recent demands was that one of Rughal’s three sons should go to Japan to be personally tutored under her “loving care”, but the very idea was akin to throwing one of Rughal's sons to the wolves – or, in this case, the she-wolf. Not only would Hitomi attempt to brainwash the unfortunate boy chosen, but she would likely beat him senseless in the process.

“Dad is only stressed right now, Ranmaru. Same with Father. He's been having nightmares again.” Varun's voice was calm and soothing as he spoke of his troubled father, Lazarus. It was well known throughout the castle that Lazarus had lost a lover in the past, and, though the young man was set to be reborn now at any time, he would still go into fits of sorrow. At times like that he seemed inconsolable, leaving his family and mates to helplessly watch him in his despair, but that is the nature of Shadowshifter love. It is a love so deep and so fervent that it can kill them when they lose their mate. It was no wonder that the triplets' parents urged them to wait before they thought of such a commitment.

“Is Papa going to be okay?” Eos asked with worry as he listened to his brothers' conversation. He stood there with his stuffed bunny in his arms, cuddling the fluffy thing against his soft cheek. Ranmaru stopped in working his coat a moment to reach out and pat his brother's head.

“It's alright. Papa is going to be just fine. Now why don't you go take Ceata out to Terra while Varun and I get finished fixing our coats?” Ranmaru offers to his brother. Eos takes Ceata's hand and leads him out into the parlor where Terra is waiting impatiently with two Death Angels. Both of them have taken time out of their busy work sending souls to Paradise and Torment to babysit. They were young and fairly inexperienced, but they, like all Death Angels, were exceptionally skilled in battle. General Rei would never let any of them go slacking off, so long as he was in charge.

“Hurry along, everyone. We don't want to get there just as all the shops are closing!” Terra warns as she fixes Eos' collar. Ceata tugs at his coat uncomfortably and glares down at his shoes, still fuming about the whole mating thing. It would seem that Varun and Ranmaru think he can't find himself a mate or that he's too young for love. Perhaps if the child realized what it all entailed, he would not be so eager to go searching. “Are we all ready to go?” the nanny asked when all the boys had joined her in the parlor. Counting each of them and looking over their clothing, she made an approving nod and then turned to walk out the door. “Come, come. Away we go!”

The four boys followed her out and through the hall, down the stairs, through a corridor or two, and then into the main hall. When the doors were slowly opened, creaking hinges straining against the movement, the boys saw a car waiting for them on the other side with their own personal driver. Terra scuttled them into the black stretch limo and made sure each of them had fastened their seat belts. Once all were settled, the driver took his cue from Terra and began to drive away from the castle along the road. All around them was barren landscape and Ceata watched the jagged rocks whiz pass them through the tinted windows. At the end of the stretch of road, they met a blinding light that seemed to surround them as the limo sped through it. When the light subsided in the blinking of an eye, they were cruising down a simple paved road towards a city in the distance.

(scene change)

The gleaming halls of the shopping mall always made Ceata wonder about heaven. Pale tiles beneath his feet had the look of clouds to him, as did the gleaming silver of the escalators and the prettily polished glass windows. All the things that were displayed behind them pleased him as well, making Ceata think that, in Heaven, you must be able to get whatever you want. Ceata could only wonder why there were no Angels here, for he had never seen any real Angels save his Grandmada's lover, Locke. His mother had told him that most Angels were not as kind as the beautiful Locke with his lovely singing voice, and that Ceata should be worried if he started seeing Angels popping up in the mortal world. Still, Ceata could not keep from peering up at any passersby, watching their faces and wondering if they were truly angelic. Some of the mall-goers were rather surprised by the strange dual-colored gaze that met theirs, some of them were openly intrigued, and yet others looked on Aysel with a mix of disgust and anger.

These people were quickly deterred by a glare from one of the Death Angels, both of them dressed in black with a stature at least a head taller than most people. Those that sneered at the boys – at least the smart ones – would usually turn away and continue with their errands. After all, it was not so strange in that day and age to see a Demon or any other immortal being wandering the mortal world. Persons who possessed incredible beauty or simply seemed odd were suspecting of having such ancestry, and sometimes such individuals were run out of towns in the less tolerant areas of the world. This town had at least embraced its immortal patrons for the time being, making the glares and scowls of townsfolk less frequent. Even so, no mortal was happy to see any of the immortal kind in their midst. However, there were a few eyes among the crowd that seemed to fall particularly upon the unusual band.

Ceata did not realize it, but he was being stalked.

“Ooh! Look at this. Pretty neat, huh?” Ranmaru said of a new video game system sitting in a store window, its box all nice and shiny and begging to be touched. Varun looked over at the contraption and snubbed his nose at it, his dark eyes glancing over towards the book shop across the way. He could see a set of Shakespeare's great tragedies on display and found himself pondering the item intensely. Eos just happily let his eyes wander in every direction, he and Ceata both drooling for the toy shop.

“We can only go to one place at a time, children. It's important not to break from the group,” Terra reminded firmly as she grasped Eos and Ceata's shoulders. The two looked as if they would jump out of their skins as they gazed wantonly at the brightly colored goodies displayed in the window. “We'll stop here first to look at these electronics and then we'll go to the bookshop and then to the toy shop.” Her words were met with groans.

“Why can we simply not split up for the sake of saving time? I'm certain there are many other places that we could see, but with such a large group traveling only from shop to shop we are unable to touch upon all our interests,” Varun suggested in a rather mature tone, though the slickness of his voice was obviously meant for persuasion. The other three seemed to catch onto the idea and pleaded in turn to be allowed the chance to go off on their own. Even the guards seemed to be a bit tired of standing around together. One of them eyed the bookshop with Varun and the other appeared interested in the glowing screens of the video game and electronics store. With so many people against her, Terra finally gave in with a sigh.

“Very well! You, go with Master Varun. And you, go with Master Ranmaru. I will take little Ceata and Eos to the toy store as they desire. But, once you have picked out what you want, you are to pay quickly and meet me at the toy store – is that clear?” Her words left no question as Ranmaru darted into the electronics store with his guard, Varun heading happily towards the sanctuary of the book store. The remaining two jumped for joy and rushed over to the toy store with Terra in tow.

Upon getting into the toy emporium, Eos headed directly towards the plushies and Ceata was not far from him. Ceata could not believe his eyes. They had gotten a lot more toys since last time, having all sorts of soft and cuddly things for Ceata to hug and pet. Dogs, bunnies, monkeys, and even an armadillo! All these were laid out before Ceata in big bins and he couldn't help but dive into them to find the weirdest or cutest creature possible. Eos seemed to be having the same amount of fun, conversing with his stuffed bunny on which new friend they should collect. A moving toy train display soon distracted the boys and they were off once more. Terra had to try very hard with her portly frame to keep up with the rambunctious bundles of excitement.

“Terra! Terra! Should I get the floppy-eared doggy or the bashful mousey?” Eos asked with a furrowed brow, obviously thinking very hard about his toy selection. The adorable blue hound dog sat in Eos' arms, begging for a home with his dewdrop black eyes. However, the bashful mouse with rosy cheeks and big round ears also seemed in need of a good friend and even came in a teapot for tea parties.

“Well, both of them are very nice, dear. Who do you think Bunny would like to come home with him?” Terra asked Eos with a sweet smile, leaning down to look at his prospective new toys. Eos seemed to squirm at the question and made a sound that suggested his indecision. Ceata knew this would take a while. That is why he turned from Terra to go off and see some board games that sat in the corner. He didn't know if he liked Candy Land or Chutes and Ladders better, but he knew that his Daddy might want to play a new board game when he got back from his business trip. Yet, just as Ceata was about to step over and pick up a Monopoly game, he caught sight of a shiny candy wrapper out of the corner of his eye.

The purple and pink wrapper said “grape” on it with big white letters, and Ceata knew that grape was his favorite flavor. How could he pass up such a chance? The candy didn't seem like it belonged to anyone and it hadn't fallen from any sort of vendor's cart. Glancing around quickly to make sure no one was watching, Ceata walked over to the candy and leaned over to pick it up. Suddenly the brightly wrapped candy jumped away from his grasp, heading out the door. How amazing! A jumping candy! Ceata didn't see the danger and simply went after the scampering sweet yet again. The grape candy jumped away once more and began a cat and mouse game with the little boy. The candy led Ceata all the way out of the store with Ceata chasing it as fast as his little legs could go. When the candy finally stopped its romp and submitted to Ceata's grasping fingers, Ceata was completely out of the toy shop and standing in the entryway to the bathrooms. What's more, he was standing in the long shadow of a much larger person.

“Hello, there, little boy...you lost? Here, let me take you to a nice place where you can stay,” the older gentleman said with an odd gleam in his eyes. It was then, before Ceata could even scream, that the man hoisted him up and put some moist cloth over his mouth. He struggled mostly out of surprise as he was dragged into the bathroom before anyone could look. No one saw them. No one heard them. And suddenly Ceata was sitting on the dirty counter in a mall men's bathroom, dizzy and somehow unable to stay awake. He could smell the stale scent of overly floral soap, the mildew from the tiles, and the almost acidic scent of urine. All this and the cold tile beneath him made him whimper, along with the pounding headache that was assaulting his poor brain.

Where was he? What was he doing there? Ceata couldn't think with all the buzzing going on in his head. He distinctly remembered the cloth going over his mouth and the strange scent that filled his nostrils. This was not the safety of Terra's company or the warmth of his bedroom. It was scary. However, he couldn't call out for his mother, his father, or anyone to help him. Ceata's mouth could not form words and his lips were dry. His mind was blurring in and out as darkness came over his vision. Over the strange thumping in his head which sounded much like his heartbeat, he could hear three voices talking.

“Well, how much did you put on that damn handkerchief? He's still slightly awake!” the first said angrily. Ceata recognized him as the man that spoke to him first and dragged him into the bathroom. His voice was followed by another man's voice, this one sounding nasally and a bit timid.

“I don't know the proper dose for Shadowshifters! Maybe if we wait a little bit, he'll start to fall asleep,” that second voice suggested. The first one growled and was about to say something when a third jumped in. This one was dark and smooth, sound like a snake slithering through oil. Ceata unconsciously whimpered, for he did not like the sound.

“Silence, both of you! It doesn't matter if he sleeps or not...He's still unable to move. Now you be careful when you put him in that bag, Baldwin. Put the air mask and pump in there first...we cant' have him being damaged in transport. The breeding facility will pay nothing if we give them a dead Shadowshifter,” the man said. Suddenly Ceata felt himself being lifted and placed into something small and cramped. Something plastic was strapped to his mouth and he could feel air moving in through it. “Yes, that's good...Now we only need to carry him out of here.”

“Do you think it will work, boss?”

“Of course it will...that stupid nanny doesn't even know he's gone. No one is going to find him.”

Then all went black and silent.

(scene change)

Ceata woke to the feeling of being cramped and then suddenly released from that tightness by rough hands. His lashes fluttered against his cheeks and he made a sound between a whimper and a moan. The murmuring of voices could be heard, but Ceata couldn't tell what they were saying. All he knew is that he was settled in the back of a dank-smelling car. He could tell it was a car because there was a seatbelt buckle digging into his back and he couldn't help but thrash uncomfortably. Ceata also felt very cold, his naked skin prickling at the feeling of the air around him. Hands pressed against his skin, a wet tongue against his neck, and he felt the urge to wriggle away and cry.

“Stop that! Who gave you permission to touch the merchandise in that way?” the nasally voice sniped with anger. There was the sound of a hand hitting a large object and a bit of a huff. He felt the rough hands leave him and the tongue stop with its licking.

“I can't help it...It's been a long time since I've seen a nice piece of flesh and I'm hungry. Didn't you say we could eat some of the mortals, boss? Well, there ain't no mortals! Oh...what I wouldn't give for a plump tasty boy right now,” that older gentleman said with longing.

“Well, you're not about to have this one,” the snake growled from far off. Ceata was suddenly aware of the sharp smell of woodsmoke and the fact that, when his eyes opened a little, it was dark. “We'll get you some other little boy to fuck and eat. Just put him in the other clothes and leave him be...I swear, I can't trust you to do anything!”

“Aww, boss...don't be like that. Here, I'm putting the kid's clothes back on, see?” Ceata could feel some rough cotton pants being placed on his legs and a simple cotton shirt shoved down onto his body. It was all very uncomfortable and he missed the softer fabric of his old clothes.

“What're we supposed to do with these clothes?” the nasally one asked from a little further off. The snake one chuckled.

“Burn them, of course...we don't want any evidence.”

“Awww, but this is such a nice outfit. I'm sure we could get a little something for it. Why don't we sell it in the morning and we'll buy ourselves a breakfast? I know there's a pawn shop around here,” the older man suggested instead. Ceata whimpered at the thought of losing his softer clothes, starling the older man that was leaning over him. Opening his eyes, Ceata could see the man's face and his dark red eyes. Why didn't he see it before? This person is obviouslly not a Human. “Hey, he's waking up! ...Hello there, little fella.”

Ceata tried to scream, but nothing came out. His vision was still blurry and made his head ache as he tried to sit up and scramble away. The older gentleman grasped his leg to keep him from going anywhere, causing Ceata to make a garbled cry of fear. His captor only chuckled, reaching out suddenly with both hands and pulling Ceata up and into his arms. The poor child struggled weakly, but the drugs still had quite an effect on his body. Through the blur of his eyes, he could see that he was in a beat-up blue sedan in the middle of some barren wasteland. There was a dark mist hanging down over a campfire, around which the two other men were huddled. Ceata immediately picked out the nasally one, for he was small and timid just as his voice suggested. He sat there picking his nose nervously with large black eyes, his toad-like face and long rubbery limbs giving him the characteristics of a frog.

But beside the frog-man sat the one that Ceata truly feared. He was not handsome in the least, but rather matched his voice and personality with a slick appearance. His hair was greased black and pulled tight against his face, so as to make his forehead look larger and pronounce the shape of his nose. His body was lean and yet fit, suggesting that he was a good fighter and a fast runner. He wore a black dusty suit with some military boots – both seemed old and worn from many years of wear and tear. Yet those eyes, those piercing blue eyes, were what frightened Ceata the most. They looked upon him as if he were an object, as if he wasn't human. Most of all, they were filled with a greed that seemed to surpass anything. This man was like a starving beast, all thin and wirey, and Ceata was his next meal.

“Sit the boy down. We'll feed him some of the mixed beans,” the frog-man suggested as he picked up a dented tin coffee cup and sipped at the contents – a soupy mixture of beans and rice. Ceata was mortified. How could anyone expect him to eat such questionable slop that looked like it came out of the business end of a cow? Ceata struggled and squirmed, his limbs responding sluggishly to his panicked state.

“Oh, hush now...It tastes good enough.” The older man licked his lips, staring down at Ceata with hunger. “However, I bet you taste much better, you juicy little thing. You're lucky. If you weren't our ticket to a new and better life here in the Sombs, I'd make you my new 'playmate.'” Ceata made a sound like a choking bird and felt the tears edging his wide terrified eyes. The older man just laughed, his belly jiggling with him. His laughter stopped, however, when he was reprimanded harshly by his superior. The snake man glared at him and gave a low hiss, his blue eyes with their slit pupils turning icy and angry.

“Don't scare the boy! And sit him down here next to me...We'll have no more of that talk with him. Obviously we cannot trust you to keep from salivating all over the poor little wretch.” Though Ceata was glad to soon be out of the older man's arms, he couldn't help but feel all the more frightened sitting next to the snake-man. Those eyes looked to him with such hollow greed, such avarice that would have any man cowering from the sight. Ceata wanted to demand what was going to happen to him, but his throat felt so dry that it hurt to even make sounds. When he was handed the rank-smelling bowl of beans and rice, Ceata found himself biting back his disgust to lubricate his throat a little. “There, now eat up. And if you make a sound, we'll have to gag you...there's no telling what kind of creatures lurk here in the Sombs. We can't have you endangering us, boy.”

With those words, Ceata lifted his head lightly and peered out through the misty darkness. He could see nothing but jagged rocks leading out into the vast unknown. So this was the Sombs? Ceata had heard of the barren wasteland from his mother who told him stories about his adventures when he was little. Aysel had described the Sombs to be a very cold and dark place. He had only been there for a while, mostly in the captivity of an evil man named Liam, but he remembers staring out the window of a Flying Fortress and looking down upon nothing but cold hard earth. The fog lightly masked this earth, but only served to add to the foreboding nature of the place. When Ceata looked back at the beat-up old sedan that he had been in minutes before, he realized that there was a road nearby them. It was not a very well paved road and seemed to be in poor condition to begin with. Still, that must have been the way they had gotten here...but...just how far away from home was he? Ceata did not know where the Sombs were in relation to Death's Castle. He was completely disoriented and lost. What's more, he was being held captive. Things looked bleak for Ceata.

So he sat there and stared out into the dark, the gloom surrounding him with every moment that he remained in the control of the three men. For some reason, he didn't feel as though crying would help him. Several times he felt the urge to sob for his mother, to call for his father and his family, but somehow he realize what little good it would do him. They were far away from him now and probably couldn't see him. Still, Ceata had never been in a situation like this before. He was terrified of being away, wondering how Terra and the others had taken it. Did they look for him? Were they looking for him still? He felt the urge to jump up and scream for them to come get him, that he was there beside a road in some evil place with evil men, but the glare of the snake-man scared him into silence. It was hours later when the other two had fallen asleep that the snake-man turned to look at Ceata, his cruel eyes an icy blue.

“I bet you're wondering why we're doing this...Why we would prey on innocent little kids like you,” he started off saying. Ceata nodded lightly, still too afraid to say anything with those eyes were upon him. “Well, the fact is that there isn't much decent work out here in the Sombs for Demons. The Angels have completely taken over, and the Humans throw us out of the mortal world and persecute us with every chance they get. You'd know about this if you weren't some spoiled rich Lord's kid...You'd see us starving, you'd know what it felt like to be helpless...but you're just a privileged little git, aren't you? I bet you've never done a bit of work in your entire life.” Ceata heard these words and felt a little angry by them, but knew not how to defend himself in this case. He sat and he glowered for a minute at the ground, letting the man's words sink in. Something puzzled Ceata about what the snake-man said and he raised his head to ask a question.

“...I didn't see no Angels. Where they go?” Ceata asked with childlike curiosity, looking up at his captor with a steady gaze. Ceata was a brave boy. He had the blood of Exodus, Lazarus, and Lord Death running in his veins. All of them were exceptional men that would not turn away from their fears. By facing this person that scared him so, Ceata felt a little less frightened. He could look into those eyes and into that face and see a simple man if he squinted hard enough. Ceata could see only a group of beggars and common thieves around him, understood the fact that he was lost and had no where to go, but there would be a way out of this. The boy was very mature for his age, as most Shadowshifters are. His mind worked with the precision of a calculating hunter, causing him to realize that, though he could do little now, his time for escape would come.

“The Angels are everywhere, boy!” the snake-man answered with inflamed passion. “There ain't one place safe from them...Since CRISIS moved out as the leading organization in the Sombs, the Angels moved in and pushed all the Demons out. We live in the outskirts, surviving off what we can steal...the Holy Towns have been erected again and -...”

“What're Holy Towns?” Ceata asked, trying to keep the man talking. In the mean time, he let his eyes wander around his person. There had to be a weapon or a map or something that could be useful to him. He would have to find a sharpened stick or stone, some sort of piece of paper as well. With those he could conceal a weapon and then write something down on the map and leave it there for someone to find...if only he could sneak passed the snake-man and into the discarded satchel laying by one of the men. If there was something useful in there...something that could help him escape...

“You don't know what Holy Towns are? Feh! Some rich kid...Holy Towns are these big fortresses that exist here and there in the Sombs. They're beautiful white things that keep all us riffraff out. Inside they have everything you could imagine. Apartments, sanitation, running water, shopping malls, banks, and places for all the big-wig Angels to live in between their summer homes in the Mortal Realm...They aren't touched by the taint of this place – the taint produced from a hundred million souls dying in the Great War between Heaven and Hell.” The man growled, gripping his fists around his beat-up coffee tin. “I swear...we Demons should have won! I lost my father to that damn war...My family living in destitution...my mother made to be a whore!! And it's all those damn Angels! Every last one of them an arrogant son-of-a-bitch that doesn't care whether they're stepping on Humans or Demons! I tell you, they're the ones that deserve the torments of Hell...THEM! Not us!”

Ceata was thankful for the man's passionate speech, for it allowed him time to sift through the dirt behind him with his hands and grasp upon a long sharp rock. He cradled this behind him with both palms and then slipped it into the side of his pants, underneath his shirt and against his skin. The elastic band of the coarse cotton pants helped to keep it in place, and the bagginess of his shirt hid the shape of the primitive blade. This he would use later...How, he was not sure, but he felt safer with it against his hip. “B-but...A-aren't Angels supposed t'be good?”

The snake-man laughed at Ceata's innocent question, sipping at his coffee as he stared into the fire with anger in his blue eyes. Obviously this man had lived a hard life. Even so, Ceata felt it was unfair that this Demon had to sacrifice Ceata to gain a better life. “It was an Angel that came down from Heaven after rebelling against God to become the Lucifer... What do you think, boy? They're evil. All of them are evil. You can never trust an Angel – EVER.”

Ceata nodded to those words, feigning interest to keep the man occupied for the moment. However, he could care less what the man's opinions were of Angels. The boy was already plotting his escape, and it was in the morning hours, when the mist thickened and the cold night air gave way to a damper climate, that he put the plan to use. The sky above was a pale gray like the whitest corpse, hanging heavy above them with fog and the promise of rain. The earth beneath Ceata's bare feet was wet and cold, and a part of him wished that he would have shoes. It would be painful to run in this harsh terrain without the proper attire, but he had to try. His mind was fixated on it, every little childlike notion coming together like a weaving tapestry.

The plan was simple and hardly seemed realistic, but what else would you expect from the mind of a child? It was the best that Ceata could do considering he was a young sheltered boy scared out of his wits. In the company of the first two idiots, the older gentleman and the frog-man, the plan seemed like it would work. The hard part would be getting passed the snake-man. He was not so stupid.

“Alright, get the kid into the car. We have to leave,” the snake-man said in his hissing tone as he finished kicking dirt over the fire. They had packed up camp slowly at first light, the two bumbling idiots doing most of the work as their “boss” sat guard over him. Ceata knew that it was now or never and he stood up and began to make urgent movements with his legs. He grasped at his crotch, whimpering.

“I gotta goo pee!” Ceata whined, wriggling. The snake-man turned to him with a heavy glower.

“You already went this morning...What are you, a sprinkler? Get in the damn car.” His order was curt and sounding as though he was losing his patience. Still, Ceata persisted by jumping from one leg to the other, making all the more distressed sounds.

“Gotta gooo peee!” he simpered again, attempting the most pitiful look that he possibly could. The snake-man sighed and stood, looking back at the two men that stared at Ceata as he danced strangely.

“You two finish up here and then wait...we shouldn't be long,” he told his subordinates with a grumble. The two of them exchanged a glance and then shrugged their shoulders. As Ceata and the snake-man walked off, they turned back to packing and thought nothing of it. The disgruntled Demon did not seem all too happy about having to take Ceata out behind a bunch of rocks. However, when he found a place not too far from the camp, Ceata made another desperate sound. “What is it NOW?” the snake-man snarled with his blue eyes aflame.

“I dun't want you tah watch me...I gotta go poopy too!” Ceata complained as he did his little dance again. The snake-man looked suspicious and then growled. He looked around towards a pile of rocks that waited not too far from them. Pointing to them, he ordered in a rough voice for Ceata to go behind those rocks and do his business quickly. It was his second big mistake, for the Demon's first was undoubtedly capturing Ceata to begin with.

Ceata did not hesitate in scrambling over towards the rocks and hiding behind them. He stood there for a minute and looked down and behind them, happy to see that there was indeed a way to escape without getting injured. Climbing over the rocks and yet remaining low enough for the snake-man not to see, Ceata slipped down into a little mini cavern and then began to work his way down the hill. How glad he was for the mist that hid his form from the snake-man at first, for he would not have been able to sneak across the open area without its cloaking blur to hide him. The worst part was traversing the sharp terrain that poked at his bare feet and even cut them at times. Still, he had to scramble to make some distance between him and his captors. It's all he could think of, his little mind pushing out anything else save escape.

With each step, it brought him further away from danger and hopefully closer to home. He could already feel his mother's arms wrapping protectively around him, the sensation of his father's wet kisses against his cheek, his grandfather's warming smile. It had only been fifteen minutes since he scrambled over the large rocks and headed out into the vast unfamiliar Sombs, but it already felt like freedom to him. Each step became lighter and he found himself wandering in and between rocks. Still, he kept a sharp ear out for anyone following after him. Ceata could feel glimmers of hope rising in his stomach when twenty-five minutes went by and there was no sign of them. It felt as if he had been walking for an eternity, his head already full of thoughts of home.

The cold air lashed at his face as the wind swept by him, carrying the fog here and there at the mercy of its ever-changing mind. Rain seemed to start falling then in little spitting drops that left frigid kisses on Ceata's skin. He felt chilled on the outside by the elements, but the flush of victory seemed to warm him as he continued on his way. It was Ceata's turn for mistakes, as he did not watch behind him as he walked up the crest of a hill. Three figures were following behind him, their forms unable to be seen clearly from the mists. It was too late when Ceata was spotted for him to duck and hide behind some rocks.

“There's the little bastard! Get him!” the snake-man snarled aloud as he directed the men up the hill. Ceata swiveled and stared with wide eyes. Wait...didn't he get rid of them? Apparently, the snake-man had gone back to get the other two and now they were rushing up the hill with rope and gag in hand. Ceata panicked and went running down the slope as fast as the terrain would allow him. He winced with every step on the cold hard ground, every inch of him in pain. Still, the adrenaline kept pumping even to the very end when he felt a hand grasp him against the shoulder. Suddenly he was being jerked back and away from his freedom, away from those delusions of safety and back into the arms of cruelty. A sharp slap to the cheek had him falling to the ground, tears edging his eyes. He looked up through his bleary eyes at the enraged visage of the snake-man, a cold hard fear gripping him that made his limbs stiffen and his mind numb. “You have a lot of nerve, you little fucker...Thought you could run away from me, did you? Well, now let's see how you liked being fucked with...Baldwin!”

The older gentleman appeared out of the mists with the rope in his hands. He looked about ready to lean down and tie Ceata up, but the snake-man stopped him. “What is it, boss?” he asked with confusion, having thought that they would just stick to the plan and tie the kid up, put him in the back of the car, and just drive fast to the meeting place. They were already behind schedule because of Ceata's running off, but it looked as though the older gentleman's boss wanted him to punish the boy. After all, he had that cruel look in his sharp blue eyes.

“Fuck the little wretch and show him what happens when he disobeys.” The order set in as a shock to the other two men, staring at their leader who was glaring so harshly down upon Ceata. The little boy looked terrified, his face transforming into a visage of utter terror. A cold and cruel smile slipped over the snake-man's face as he repeated those words. “Let's break the little virgin in...”

“B-but...boss, that would ruin his value! The man wouldn't take him for a good price if he's damaged goods...C-can't you think of something else?” the frog-man asked in the nasally voice. He looked very nervous about the whole situation as he fiddled with the gag in his hands. His wide eyes darted from his boss and then to the boy, obviously not wanting to see such a violent thing enacted on a child. At least he had some semblance of a conscience left.

“He's right, yah know, boss...If I fuck him now, he's going to end up being less money.” The older gentleman spoke in a soft tone at first, but then his eyes fell to Ceata and the young Shadowshifter could see the desire there. It was the kind of hollow desire that one sees glazing over the eyes of heartless men – men that are only interested in the carnal pleasures of the moment. “How abouts I just put it in his mouth? No harm done then...and it'll keep him a lot more quiet, I'm sure.” Ceata felt a scream choke in his throat.

“Very well...fuck the little whore's mouth. I don't care. Just do it quick so we can teach him a lesson. We have a deadline to meet,” the snake-man said in a dismissive manner as he went over to the rocks, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. Apparently he wanted to sit and smoke as he watched Ceata get tortured. However, this time Ceata wasn't just going to sit still and let these men hurt him. He had been unable to fight back when he was captured, but he would certainly fight back now.

“Damn it, hold the little brat still, Henry! And open his mouth.” The frog-man tried to carry out the orders of the older gentleman, but he was unable to keep Ceata from fighting. He bit and clawed, wriggling his legs and refusing to be forced to hold still. The poor frog-man was made to hang on for the ride, yelping from several sharp bites from the boy as Ceata dug his little teeth into the frog-man's arm. “What the hell, Henry? Can't you do nothing right when it comes to kids?” the older gentleman finally growled out, grabbing Ceata by the neck and shaking him harshly. “Now, you listen to me, boy! You aren't going to bite no more or fight no more...got it? Otherwise, I'm going to beat you so hard that even your parents won't be able to recognize you. Now sit still...you'll be doin' this sort of thing anyway in the whore house that you're going to, so you might as well get used to it.”

“NOOO! MAMA! MAMA!!” Ceata screamed with all his might as the older gentleman undid his belt, revealing himself to the terrified youth. Tears were edging Ceata's eyes and slipping down his cheeks to land in the cold unfeeling earth. He did not want this. He did not want this!! His mind was swirling dizzily as he stared at that large and hairy thing – that most cruel and unclean thing that made him want to gag. He could smell the damp stench of it from where he was made to stand, held in a position with his head thrown back to receive that wretched thing in his mouth. For a moment, he truly believed he would die from this, that the entire world had forsaken him, that his parents would never find him, and that hope in all things was entirely lost.

It was then that Ceata heard something like the whoosh of a large thick stick through the air. It stopped with a horrifying SHLUCK into something soft and meaty. Ceata could not see at first, for he had squinted his eyes shut to hide from the terrible sight before him. Yet, upon opening them, he found himself staring at something equally terrible, but strangely relieving. A thick steel-and-leather hilted Rondel dagger was sticking out of the older gentleman's head like some sort of party trick. However, this was no trick. There was no wire headband that hid the true nature of the joke. Blood, like hot wet streams of red ribbon, came spurting out of the man's head, and his mouth made a choked gurgling sound until blood came trickling out from underneath his tongue and up from his throat. He slumped backward and then slowly toppled to the ground, laying in a pool of his own life's juices, his hand still holding that disgusting thing as his pants hung down around his ankles. Ceata couldn't help but think he looked so incredibly pathetic that way, but forced down the urge to smile at the fact his assailant was dead.

However, the source of that dagger was still unknown. Thus, Ceata swiveled his head in the direction that he believed the dagger had come from. In his mind he expected to see his beloved Father standing there with all his family behind him. Perhaps Exodus had thrown the fated blade himself? Or Lazarus? Or perhaps even his own mother? However, there was no one to be seen in the swirling mists. The snake-man and the frog-man had both stood in alarm to the sudden attack, one of them pulling out a gun and the other a large knife. “D-di-did you s-see where it came from, b-boss?” the frog-man stammered. He was scared beyond all reason, looking everywhere with his wide eyes almost edged in tears. Ceata could see easily that he was a coward, kicking him in the shin and trying to run away. “Ah! You little -!”

“Mama! Mama!!” Ceata cried, running towards the mists where he assumed his family was. He didn't care if the men shot him in the back or threw a dagger at him – he wasn't even thinking about the danger. All Ceata wanted was to see his family appearing out of the foggy gloom before him to envelope him in their loving embraces, kisses, and kind words. He wanted to hear his Grandfather tell him that everything was alright, to know he would be safe at home in his room with his friends again. Surely, they would appear to scoop him up at any moment now!

That despicable snake-man prevented this by rushing forward and grabbing Ceata up in his trembling grasp, the cold steel of the gun pressed against the boy's neck in a threatening manner. “Don't you even think about it, boy!! I'll shoot your head off if you take even one more step!” the man hissed into Ceata's ear. The young Shadowshifter ceased his struggles, but would not be silenced.

“Mama! Mama, Papa! Come get me! I'm here!” he whined, but the man clamped a hand tightly against his waist to cut off his air, ordering him sharply to be silent or he would never live to see his parents. With Ceata's final whimpers disappearing into silence, the two men looked around still through the gray thick cloak of fog with such intensity. Nothing...not a stirring of the air met their eyes. Yet Shadowshifters were gifted with eyesight far beyond that of common Demons. Despite the harsh grip upon him and the gun against his neck, Ceata could squint his eyes and see something out there...something moving. It was like a black shadow that appeared now and then, vanishing behind the Grayness and reappearing just a bit closer. Ceata knew such moments. It was stalking them.

“L-let's go back to the car, boss...we...we have to get out of here...it's one of them things! Them things that they say live in the Sombs...m-monsters. It's some sorta monster here, boss...I...I dun't wanna die like Baldwin! I don't!” the frog-man began to whimper, tears edging his eyes. His skin had broken out into a cold clammy sweat as he held the blade in his hand. He was shivering all over and seemed to look about wildly, his eyes chasing shadows in the mist. The snake-man growled at such a skittish outburst from his partner, giving him a meaningful glare.

“Fine!” he barked at last, lifting Ceata up with the gun still pressed against the boy's body. It seemed that he wasn't willing to die alone. Such a coward was the snake-man that he meant to take the little boy with him to the afterlife. It seemed rather foolish when Ceata thought about it, as it would be his Grandpapa, Lord Death, who would contend with them all in the end. No matter what, his captor would not escape the wrath of his family. “Get to the car...and stay close. We don't know when this thing is going to strike again.”

The frog-man didn't need to be told twice as they skirted their way along the rocks and then quickly down the hill. Ceata didn't know what to do. He wondered why his family was taking such a round-about way of rescuing him. To create the most terror, perhaps? Or maybe they were worried about the gun that was pressed against his neck. Surely, Akita could just afflict the man with some paralyzing illness so that Exodus could knock the gun away. But what if Akita was not with them? Perhaps that was why Ceata's family didn't choose to strike. Either way, the black thing was following them as they ran across the barren plain dotted here and there with jutting rocks and sickly withered trees. Yet it was just about when they were to reach the next hill, the hill over which the car was waiting for them, that the thing struck again.

“What the -?!” the snake-man hissed as his legs were cut out from under him. He swiveled suddenly and found a hard punch to the face connecting with his jaw. Ceata did not see who cast such a hard blow, for he fell forward against the dirt with the gun skidding a few feet in front of him. When he got over the jolt of the sudden fall, Ceata swiveled his head to find a figure in black clothing standing over the toppled snake-man.

Ceata had never seen a man like this before. He was dressed in unfamiliar clothes the color of the darkest midnight. A cloak like a long trailing shadow was ruffled by the wind, causing the mist to swirl about him like the smoke from a smoldering fire. Wool and steel, dark boiled leather and silver buckles, polished pale metals and a hard stark appearance created this man as if he were a statue carved from onyx and coal. Ceata's eyes traveled the line of his body up from his finely made boots, his black riding leathers, his padded gambeson-style doublet, shined silver clasp at his cloak, to a face that was as seemingly stern and battle-hardened as the rest of him. Gray eyes hinted with lilac glared down upon his opponent with an expression marked with seriousness, preciseness, and anger. In this stranger's hand was a most unique and antiquated weapon. A late 14th century long sword gleamed even in the dim cloud-filtered light – a great hand-and-half with steel guard and pommel, as well as a grip made of wood and blackened leather. It was a well loved weapon, for the leather grip was worn to the shape of the man's hands.

“...Y-you...you're a...an...Angel!!” the snake-man gasped with a mix of terror and rage when he noted the unique style of this man's garments. His blue eyes flamed with such emotions as the Demon attempted to scramble to his feet. The tip of a long and angry blade rested at his throat and stopped him from movement. This Angel looked on without pity in his eyes as his gaze turned from the defenseless Demon to his quivering friend. The frog-man held out his tiny blade in front of him as if it would somehow keep him from harm. He made an undecipherable squeak when the Angel's eyes passed over to him, finding him too insignificant a sight to ponder over. The stranger's eyes stopped, however, upon the beautiful little boy that sat on the ground in dirty old clothes, afraid and yet so curious of the happenings around him. Like a gracious and kind wind, a bout of calm swept over Ceata when the stranger looked at him. Those gray eyes softened just slightly and were returned with a dual-colored confusion. This man certainly wasn't Ceata's family come to the rescue!

However, it was that look that offered the vicious snake a chance to show his fangs. While the Angel was distracted, the man had grabbed a rock and now took a flying leap at Ceata's would-be savior. Screaming something in unintelligible rage, the Demon leaped forward with the sharp rock in his hands with every intention of bashing the stranger's head in. So quick was the movement that even the Angel was caught off guard, having to step out of the way to avoid being hit directly. The rock glanced off his temple, leaving a small gash there just above his eyebrow. He winced and spun out of the way of another attack, landing back against a rock and almost losing his footing. Once more, the snake saw his opportunity and took it. Rushing over towards Ceata, his eyes focused on the gun laying unused and seemingly forgotten in the dirt, he ran to scoop up his weapon.

Ceata reacted quickly. As the snake-man darted up the hill towards him, screaming and snarling like a beast on a rampage, Ceata turned and crawled to the gun. Its cold metal was unfamiliar to his soft hands and the gun itself was very heavy, but Ceata hoisted it up with both hands. He didn't have time, the movements were so quick! Before he knew it, he was turning around and there was the man looming over him. The boy panicked, his finger squeezed hard against the frigid metal, and suddenly the thing came to life. Aim was of no consequence, for the close proximity between him and his captor was such that he could not miss if he tried. The sound was awesome and terrifying, like a great clap of thunder that rolled through the small valley they were in. It echoed for what seemed a lifetime.

“You...l-little...” the snake-man whispered in a rasping voice – his last words. Ceata watched as the light disappeared from his pale blue eyes and his body slowly sank to the ground. The snake-man was dead. He had made his last and most fatal mistake. His body barely even begun to cool before his co-kidnapper dropped his dagger and ran over the hill screaming like a girl. His hysterics faded into the mists and were replaced with the soft sound of crying. Ceata had begun to sob, dropping the gun on the ground and crawling away from it in terror. He had killed someone! He had KILLED a man! It was one matter to see a revolting monster like the older gentleman, who had been bent on raping him with his sickening, wrinkled, smelly thing, but then it was entirely another to be pulling that trigger himself. He could barely breathe, shaking and staring at the dead body before him as blood pooled beneath it.

A warm cloak suddenly draped down upon him and Ceata jumped. In his maddened sobbing, he had not seen the Angel walk over and unclasp his cloak. It now settled on his slender shoulders with heavy woolen warmth, offering the terrified child some much-needed comfort. Silently the Angel walked over to the top of the hill, seeming unconcerned that he had left Ceata to his own devices – obviously trusting that the boy would not run off, for he had no where to go. Minutes passed before he came back, sheathing his sword and seeming satisfied that there were no other kidnappers around. Ceata had not moved from his spot, crying softly into the black woolen cape for fear. Would this Angel hurt him now that they were alone? “Don't trust an Angel,” rang the words in Ceata's mind. They were spoken by the corpse now cooling in the early morning mistiness.

“Are you alright?”

Ceata's head lifted at the sudden sound of the stranger's voice. It was not gruff as he had suspected it to be. Rather, it was a handsome masculine voice that reminded Ceata of his Grandfather, Lazarus. The stranger stared at Ceata, seeming to await an answer from his trembling little mouth. Ceata did not know if he could speak, for he opened his mouth and felt the words unwilling to come. Eventually, after many moments of sitting there and trembling, he spoke.

“I-I want my mommy...” he whimpered, so sweet-sounding his voice that it seemed to make the air warmer about him. It almost seemed as if sunshine would peek through the gray cloak of cloud cover just to see what darling creature uttered those words. Ceata's voice seemed to have a similar effect on this stranger, for his eyes completely softened. The lovely little Shadowshifter still couldn't manage to trust the rogue Angel and cowered when he came near.

“My name is Urius. I will take you to your mommy...but you must trust me.”

The stranger offered his gloved hand to the shivering child, so cold and alone. It hovered there before Ceata, a kind offering when he needed it most. Even so, the boy was hesitant to take it. The promise of seeing his mother again certainly was tempting, but what if this man was lying to him? The thought of being deceived a second time only worsened Ceata's suspicions, and he turned away from the hand at first. Yet looking at the man and his rich attire, it was entirely unlike that this strange Angel would ever need to sell him to a breeding facility to get money. Really, what choice did Ceata have? He placed his small pale hand in the middle of that worn leather glove, feeling the larger hand curl around it gently as it offered with its warmth a sense of security.

“...My name is Ceata.”

(scene change)

Aysel was beside himself with worry, sitting in the parlor and pressed against Doll's chest as he sobbed. Lazarus was stalking the room like some sort of caged beast, his hair a mess and his eyes wild in anger. The news that their dear Ceata had been stolen from right under Terra's nose settled badly with everyone. There were already Death Angels out searching every corner of that town. A few promising leads had been offered, but there had been no luck thus far. What's more, they had reason to believe that the boy was being sold to a breeding facility for Shadowshifters, in which he would be made to birth hundreds of children for the pleasure of mortals. It really was more than Lazarus could bear.

“We have to find him...We have to! I will not see my grandson given into mortal hands!” he snarled with rage as he turned on his heel and strode to the other side of the room, growing more agitated with each passing moment. Exodus looked the same, though his rage was more of the silent and deadly sort. He sat beside Doll and Aysel, staring off into the wall and likely plotting the most painful sort of punishments for whomever had stolen his lovely grandchild. Rughal stood there as well with his hands clasped behind his back. His smoky gray eyes swirled with a pale worry as he watched Lazarus stalk the ground and wear holes in the fine oriental rug.

“I do not think it was the work of CRISIS...Liam may have gotten away from us, but we saw to it that the organization was completely trampled. There's no way even some of their small-time lackeys could have organized this... Such a kidnapping is purely for profit. Even Tech thinks that they couldn't have had much in the way of equipment...they must be small-time crooks,” the Fire Demon Prince surmised as he watched his sometimes-lover popping his jaw and snarling like a mother bear protecting cubs. Rughal could not help but feel the utmost pity for Lazarus, as the man had lost so much. Ceata was almost like a final blow to his sanity, turning him from the calm individual that Rughal was so used to into a howling monster that sought only revenge. The fact that Liam was still had large drove him mad, but the addition of Ceata's kidnapping pushed him over the edge.

Exodus broke into the conversation to keep Lazarus from exploding on Rughal, for he looked just about ready to growl at anyone that even looked at him in the wrong way. “Either way, we have Rowan and the others out looking for him. Death says he will spare no expense in finding Ceata...Even if I have to go out myself and search, we WILL find him. Damian has been kind enough to go out and pose as a wealthy prospective owner to some of the breeding facilities. He has given out a description similar to Ceata's and offered to pay an obscene amount of money for a Shadowshifter of that description...If Ceata shows up at any of the breeding facilities, Damian will inform us.” His words gave Lazarus little comfort and the dark Prince went back to his pacing.

As the somber mood continued within the small parlor where Aysel at the others were, three young boys stood outside the door and watched with worry in their eyes. Varun peered from behind Ranmaru, for he had to see over his brother's head to get a clear view. His dark eyes were filled with worry and regret, as all three of the triplets felt somehow responsible for Ceata's disappearance. Terra felt the most to blame, but Varun and Ranmaru couldn't help but find themselves somehow guilty for suggesting that they split up as they did. Eos had been crying all night about how he should have been watching out for Ceata like a good friend, but his crying had quelled since then with the persuasion of his two older brothers.

“Do you suppose that Ceata will show up in one of those facilities?” Ranmaru whispered as he glanced at his older brother, Varun. Varun looked through the door, watching Lazarus' agitation carefully.

“I do not think it impossible...Still, there's no telling what they might do to Ceata. Even though he's young, there are some men who are interested in young boys. I can only hope that Mother gets to Ceata before anyone else,” Varun says of his mother, Rowan. The powerful Death Angel and brother to General Rei has been known for his accomplishments in battle. Varun has every confidence that his mother will catch up with those fiends and get Ceata back. Even so, Ranmaru isn't wholly convinced.

“I don't know if they'll find him in time...I mean, there are so many realms to search in.” Ranmaru looks down and then thinks for a moment. He's a rather smart young man, having gotten his quick wit from his Mada and his desire for action from his Dad. It's not long before he gets an idea with a smile edging his handsome mouth. “Hey, I know...we can get Grieves to help us! Surely, he'll take us around the various realms...we could even get some Shadows to help us – you know, join in the search and all that.”

Varun looked at his younger brother as if he was insane, his gaze narrowing into dark slits of uncertainty and annoyance. “You must be mad...Father would be angry with us for leaving. He would not allow us to go out while there's danger lurking everywhere. I wouldn't be surprised if he would simply cancel us going to school this fall because of it.” Ranmaru shrugged and then looked back towards the crack in the door, the light making a sharp cut into the darkness of the hallway.

“I don't care...All I know is that I can't keep sitting here and feeling guilty. I want to do something and I'll do it even without your help, Varun.” A smirk danced over Ranmaru's face as he looked over at his overly skeptical brother. “However, if you aren't there to supervise me, there's not TELLING how much trouble I'll end up getting into.” Varun knew that those words were completely true, as Ranmaru was the worst troublemaker of them all. If there was some sort of prank going on in the castle, it was more than likely that Ranmaru was the source. “Come on, what do you say?”

“Very well...if only to keep you from killing yourself,” Varun replied with a chuckle. He knew that even if they couldn't find Ceata, it would be a more useful way to waste time rather than sitting in their rooms and worrying. Even Varun felt a little drawn to the idea of adventure, and he certainly didn't want to see Ranmaru get into any serious trouble. It was always best if Varun was there to watch his back.

“Wait! Wait! I wanna come tooo!” Eos gave as a little whining whimper. He stood behind them, clutching to his little stuffed bunny and staring at his older brothers with wide eyes. Ranmaru sighed upon hearing Eos' complaints, but the littlest triplet would not have any word against it – in fact, he threatened to warn their father of what the two were doing. Thus, Ranmaru resigned to the fact that Eos was coming and headed down the hall with Varun and Eos both.

“Alright, then...We're off to save Ceata!”

“You are so incredibly cliché…”

“Shut up, Varun, and don’t ruin my mood!”

(scene change)

“I don't know what to do, Prince Rowan...” Urius started as he sat in his master's study. Around him was the sound of shuffling papers on many mahogany desks, each coming from one clerk or another that ran this way and that with bills, letters, and documents of the utmost importance. The darkened wood of Rowan's desk was covered with neat stacks of parchment, ink wells, a small alabaster vase of quills with various sizes, and his hot wax and personal seal set that was already being warmed for use. Rowan-Adonis Valen was an enchanting individual who had exquisite taste. His personal office and study was well designed to fit his needs with rich tones of brown, gold, russet, and black accenting the lighter colors of yellow, orange, and, on occasion, a deep crimson. Wood of the darkest burnt umber lined a black marble fireplace, dark floors with mosaic-like patterns in various different shades of stone, and book shelves built into the walls housed thousands of well-red tomes in artful carved wood cubbies. Urius sat across from Rowan in a cushioned French-style chair done in burgundy and gold. As he sat and waited for Rowan's answer, he came to realize just how uncomfortable his seat was.

“What is there to do, Lord Urius? He is a little boy. Surely, you can think of some way to get him to name his family members,” Rowan replied in a voice like the finest of wines. It left a particular buzzing in the brain and was known to be quite intoxicating if listened to for long intervals. Of course, the sight of Rowan himself was also just as breathtaking. He was the quintessential Angelic Prince from one of the oldest and most powerful Houses in all of Heaven. His hair was the color of white gold and cut short like Urius' with a neatness that bordered on perfection. Rowan's skin was pale, but one could see, if they looked hard enough, the light freckles that adorned his cheeks and body. He had a face as alarmingly beautiful as his voice and a mind as sharp and deadly as a rapier in the hands of a true master. Yet it was his eyes that gave him the name “Lord of the Lion,” for they were as piercing as any sword, as any dagger! Their depths of green could consume with a single searing look, his glares could make the room tremble, and a proper glance could make hearts melt in his wake. He was a splendid creature by any measure.

“Sire, that is just the problem. He can give me no names...He says he lives in a castle with many people. Sometimes he'll tell me of them vaguely, but he cannot tell me the names of his parents or where he lives. It has already been two weeks since I found him...I fear his family may be in quite a bit of distress without him,” Urius replied to Rowan's dismissive words. Rowan scoffed as he put his signature down upon the letter he had been writing and then folded it. He took the hot wax offered by a servant and poured a little crimson dab upon the seal of the letter, waiting a bit before placing his personal seal down upon it with a heavy sound.

“How odd...Parents that let their child wander around without any sort of information to tell someone in case he's lost? Truly, this boy must have been very sheltered. Perhaps you may look to the rich families in the area that own a Shadowshifter slave. With any luck, he's the product of a slave and their master, so his name should be in the registry along with his mother. He did mention that he had two fathers, did he not?”

“Yes, Sire. From what I can understand, these two must be brothers. They live in the same house and look relatively the same. However, I am not aware of any two such individuals of a wealthy background living in the area that I found him. I believe that he may not actually be from the Sombs. In fact, I believe he may belong to some sort of Demonic Lord, what with the way that he talks of Death and Demons.” Rowan quirked a brow at Urius' words as he looked up from the letter. Taking off the heavy metal seal, he handed the paper to one of his messengers. The young boy hurried off with the document clutched in his hands, it bearing the Valen Star Burst of Triumph upon it.

“Death…Now there is an interesting subject. I did not realize a child so young might be acquainted with such an individual, but I suppose being kidnapped and having a gun drawn to your head would bring you rather close to him. It’s entirely possible, what with the Shadowshifter race originating from such roots, that Death could have a hand in this boy’s life…However, it is safer to start small. I would not like to jump to conclusions.” There was sense in Rowan’s words, for the situation as it stood between Death and the Angels was not at all kind. There had been some animosity of the past, especially with the Great War, and it was well known among the Angelic kind that Death favored the Demons over his “pompous neighbors.” Rowan was a man striving to rectify that sort of thing, but he practiced caution with all of his endeavors. There were things in his life that he had no intent of revealing, and an investigation by the Angelic Bureau of Justice for being one of “Death’s little spies” would certainly put a damper on his social life. “It is best to be discrete in all mentioning of the boy. Do not make the search look too obvious…the last thing I want is someone tipping off the government. It will turn into an all-out bull shit rally which we shall never recover from.”

“Yes, Sire, I understand…but what am I to do with the boy in the meantime? He is getting rather impatient about seeing his family. I must go home to him each day and receive this look that is a cross between suspicion and sorrow. It’s beginning to give me nightmares,” Urius sighed with worry as he watched Rowan begin at another letter. His superior frowned when he heard the deep concern in Urius’ voice, for it was not like his subordinate to be so bothered by the feelings of others.

“Now I see why you decided never to have children…aside from the fact that no woman would sleep with you even if you paid,” Rowan added with a chuckle. Urius allowed his perfect mask of servitude to slip for a moment with a pang of guilt, but Urius found himself letting the comment slip off his back in silence. No use fretting about what was likely true. “That aside, why don’t you try getting to know the boy a little better? I'm certain that, by spending time with him, you may be able to glean more about his family. I leave everything in your capable hands, Urius.” Rowan looked up from his work with slightly softened eyes, their verdant pools offering a glimmer of assurance as well as something akin to sorry – Rowan’s eyes always looked sad for some reason. Urius could only sigh as he took up his coat under his arm and left the sanctuary of Rowan's study.

Stepping into the hallway, his boots clacked against the rose marble floors that shined like polished quartz at the neck of some fancy dame. He looked a bit odd walking down these brightly adorned corridors, what with their warm summery walls and French-style décor, in a formal tunic done in black and pale shades of violet-gray that made Urius' pale skin look almost white. The handsome Angelic Lord looked as if he were going to a funeral rather than visiting a friend, but such clothing was distinctive of the Starc family line. Urius Starc was of House Starc, a clan of people too stern and too strict to wear anything other than shades of black. They were the civil servants of the Tenshihana government, working as police officers, judges, lawyers, political and personal servants for those of the upper class. Urius was a dog of the state, unable to so much as wag his tail without his master's permission. And, despite his beautiful voice, perfect manners, and seemingly kind disposition, Rowan was one of the cruelest of them all.

However, in the government, it wasn't all that bad to be a personal dog for a Prince. The Tenshihana government was headed by the High Prince Seraphim and Lord of House Tenshihana, Israyafel. Beneath him were his two children, Prince Seraphim Feyorn and Princess Seraphim Isadora, and further beneath them were the four House Lords, the Parliament, and the five Princes. Rowan was one of those five Princes, ruling over the Arch Angels of House Valen with his father, a despicable and murdering rapist, watching his every move. Now, one must understand that in Tenshihana culture, the leader or head of a clan or House has free reign to do what he wishes with his family. The lord of House Valen, Robert Valen, did so without any shred of mercy.

Robert Valen was a monster. Not only had he been known for going through wives as quickly as they came, but it was also whispered – and true – that his children were often subjected to terrible things under his command. In his lifetime, Robert Valen had managed to sire more than forty legitimate children from his seven marriages, making him a widower seven times over. These children were raised without love, taught that only success brought happiness, and were made into the most arrogant and vicious Angelic Lords alive. The first sons of each marriage were groomed to perfection, given money and rank depending on how “loyal” they were to their father, or else they found scorn and pain at the end of more than one fist until they were deemed “loyal” enough. For the younger sons, a much more horrifying fate awaited them. Not only would they be used for political alliances, marriages, and offerings to the church, but in their early years they ran the gauntlet of powerful dignitaries, Lords, and nobility that had a taste for young Angelic flesh. Robert's bastard children faired no better and often disappeared behind the closed doors of some high-ranking Angel's bed chambers forever.

Robert Valen kept the family women subordinate to their husbands, covered up any domestic abuse with harsh action, and generally made his entire family fear him beyond all other things. Those sons, grandsons, and great grandsons that he favored were allowed to beat and persecute the rest of the family as they pleased. With the House Valen's vast amounts of money, they often were allowed to bully the rest of the Houses or else buy off whomever they wished. Bribery, slavery, debauchery, torture, fear, oppression, and helplessness were not just words to Rowan Valen as he grew up. On the surface, he was flawless and kind and allowed his father to believe that he was fully beneath Robert's spell. However, Rowan and Urius knew better than that.

At every turn, Rowan was watching his father's goings-on. He was documenting meticulously with the help of spies, informants, and a host of other loyal operatives the vicious acts of Robert Valen. In turn, Rowan was offering shelter to anyone who might one day testify to Robert Valen's evils, protecting the various victims of all sorts of abuse, and finding vengeance for those who could not fight for themselves. Urius was his right-hand man. The Starc Lord had seen more evils in his time with Rowan than anyone could hope to see in three or four lifetimes. The underground was their specialty, often leading Urius into the most dangerous of situations. He had taken down breeding facilities, slave rings, illegal weapons, drugs, and any other sort of corrupt scheme that could be slowly dismantled without Robert realizing who was doing it. It was Urius' job not to get caught, not to draw attention, and yet to be as effective as possible for Rowan's secret organization to continue working. Urius had done many good things in the hope of bettering the government, but he had also done terrible things to see to it that the hope did not die.

Murdering the enemies of his Lord was the lesser of Urius' problems at the moment, for he was still wondering how he was going to handle the very special guest he had been keeping in his home. Walking down the streets of the Manor district, Urius watched the wealthy and the well-to-do pass him by. Carriages leafed with gold and silver trotted passed with four or even six white horses attached, women in fine embroidered robes and with garlands of jewels glanced at him as he walked by, and Lords of every level and caliber sauntered by with an air of complete arrogance. Urius did not care for any of them and let his steady strides carry him towards the looming Starc Manor in the heart of the Manor district. It stood like a cold iron thing that glared down from its high hill, promising such uncompromising justice that it was almost suffocating. Beside the gray towers with their immaculately cut stone was the intimidating Manor compound that ran for an expanse great enough to encompass four Manors, housing the families, the guards, and the servants that belonged to House Starc. Urius' own apartments were held within the vast maze of buildings and walls, and within those apartments was Ceata.

“Oh, Master Urius, it's good to see you home,” one of Urius' maids said with a smile upon her face as he walked through the door. His apartments were sparsely furnished and yet had a surprisingly comfortable atmosphere. Everything served a practical purpose and there was very little decoration to be seen. It was Urius' style to make sure that everything had its place, that order was maintained, and that each item in his home was made useful. That is why it was so strange that in a room on the upper floor all had been prepared with even the tiniest detail for their young guest. Taking off his black cloak, Urius handed it to his maid and looked around. The parlor remained in its place, the drapes and the windows all the same, and everything seeming completely normal. Yet there was something out of place.

“Where is the boy?” Urius asked, looking over towards the high-backed couch that sat in the parlor, its ashen gray cover shifting faintly near the corner of the couch. Urius could see the cloth slowly swaying after being brushed by small pale hands, noting the way the fabric bunched from being clung, and knew very well there was a darling young boy crouched there. His lips curled into the faintest of smiles as he strode over and settled on the couch, placing his hand against the back of it and leaning forward to peer over at the silvery head of his most unique guest. “Ceata...Why are you hiding behind the couch?”

The boy jumped up, having suddenly been found, and nearly vaulted over the back of the couch and into Urius' arms. “Urius!!” he cried with much joy, his little hands clinging and his bright smile like a ray of sunshine in an otherwise dreary world. Ceata stood on the cushions of the couch – something that Urius would never usually stand for, were it any other guest – in a set of soft black and violet robes done in the Tenshihana style. The high collar was accented by white lace at Ceata's throat, his body covered in velvety fabrics that made him look like a little Princeling. Urius could not help but be impressed, seeing the maids standing by the door and giggling. Obviously, they were the ones that helped Ceata accomplish such a thing and seemed very proud of their work. “See? Now I look like you today,” Ceata said with a triumphant smile. Urius let his usually stern face slip in favor of something softer when he gazed down at the boy.

“You look very handsome...but what is the occasion?” Urius questioned before setting the boy down. He admired the sweet creature's image for a while longer, stopping upon the soft cloth boots on his feet. He looked up at the maids, astonishment on his face. “And how did you manage to get him into shoes? I understood that he hated them.”

“They're made of a breathable leather, Master Urius. He seems to enjoy them very much,” one of the elder maids, Mary, said with a kindly smile. Her blue eyes looked over towards the boy that so happily clung to her Master, his eyes like two pools of warmth that turned the coldness of the Starc Manor into something bearable. The Starc House was comprised of only the serious and the emotionally barren, each of them like a soldier perfectly crafted to follow orders. There was no play in the Starc House, no enjoyment, no entertainment, and certainly no kindness. Ceata's golden smile seemed to overwhelm such a wasteland with its penetrating loveliness. Each of the maids was in love with him and, slowly, Urius' icy heart that had been conditioned over years of exactness under Rowan's uncompromising rule was beginning to melt. Under that smile, all things without love seemed to fade and that brightness within even the most confined hearts blossomed into something beautiful. Ceata was in every way Aysel's child.

“They don't make my feet stuffy!” Ceata giggled as he wriggled his toes for emphasis. Urius gently patted his hair, running his larger hand through the white curls with a gaze that glistened with faint adoration. It was obvious to see that Urius had a liking for the child, making it so hard to tell him each day that Urius had not yet found his parents. For two weeks the Starc Lord had shared his home with this unique Shadowshifter boy, learning his quirks and being charmed by his cuteness. Still, though Urius had found through careful observation Ceata's favorite foods, activities, and, oddly enough, sleeping habits, Urius had yet to glean any useful information from the boy. It was not that Ceata was dim witted or possessed a short attention span, for he simply had never called his mother by any other name than “Mama.” It was the same with his father, his grandfathers and grandmadas. After all, none of Death's Castle ever thought that the boy would be off on his own at any time soon.

“Dinner is ready, M'Lord,” a young butler called out from the kitchen, peeking his head in to see what the women were giggling about. It broke Urius from his thoughts and he nodded, turning with Ceata in his arms towards the kitchen with steady confident strides.

“Let us have something to eat, Ceata. Perhaps tonight we will go out and enjoy the Market district and all its entertainments. After all, your efforts with your clothing should not go to waste,” Urius said softly to the boy, carrying him into the fine dining room with the long black table. Its gleaming surface was covered with porcelain plates and simple water glasses shined to a sparkle. Two vases of pristine white lilies sat as the centerpiece of the table, and two place settings – side by side – were arranged at one end. Ceata was set into his chair by Urius before the Angel sat down to his own meal. The room around them was rather large with high arched ceilings and tall glass windows, all of them frosted over to provide privacy. In the dining room, the walls were the color of stone and concrete, kept bare with only sconces to hold flickering candles. With the kitchen connected directly to this room, one could easily smell the delicious scents of foods wafting from the master cook's roasting spits. They were served simple soup dishes, salads, then a spiced chicken with rice and greens. With some coercion, Ceata ate his buttered carrots and peas without too much protest. Urius watched over him with keen gray eyes the shade of darkened steel, giving a gentle word of encouragement now and then until all the chicken, rice, and greens were gone.

“Very well done, Ceata,” Urius said at length, leaning forward to wipe the remaining bits of food from the boy's face. Ceata made a little grumble, but allowed Urius to care for him as his mother used to. Oh, how Ceata missed his mother. Though the days in Urius' home were always fun and interesting, having people always doting on him, things to keep him entertained, new and exciting things to learn, there were always the nights when Ceata missed his mother the most. It had been in the second week of coming to stay with his newfound Angelic friend that Ceata began to have nightmares. He woke in a cold sweat and tears, running down the hallway of the apartment and into the four-posted futon-style bed with Urius. So often had Ceata's nightly visits occurred that the boy had simply skipped the nightmares completely and crawled right into Urius' arms.

The Angel found no offense in it and welcomed the child with soothing words. His voice was deeper than Aysel's by quite a bit, sometimes gruff, but never mean. It would coax the child into a sleep until the morning light dawned upon the high glass panes of Urius' chambers. Day returning, Ceata could face yet another day in the various comforts that Urius provided him, but the inevitable twilight would return and steal away from Ceata that momentary happiness. When the night wrapped around Ceata with its cold dark hands back home, Ceata could always count on his mother's slender chest and frame. Now he was counting on something completely different – a hard yet smooth body rippling with muscles that was the color of warm vanilla. Night falling again after dinner, Ceata found himself following beside Urius in the midst of a world so alien to him.

In the Market district the lights glowed like a thousand tiny stars captured from the heavens, running along the streets in strings like Japanese paper lanterns. Some lights from within taverns and shops seemed to swirl as they were broken by the shadows of various people, making a flickering puppet show of sorts that could be passed by on the streets. Urius always made sure to hold Ceata's hand as they walked, but here no one would dare try to capture the boy from such a foreboding person. After all, Urius carried with him his sword strapped at his side and wore the traditional clothing of the Starc House, painting him as a possible authority to be reckoned with. Still, there were the stares that followed them as they walked. Several people simply stopped in their tracks, amazed to see something like a Shadowshifter existing in this part of heaven. The Tenshihana Citadel was not often opened to foreigners unless they were here on business, so those that watched them could only assume that the boy was some important dignitary's son, perhaps Urius' own child with a slave, or – worst of all – the slave himself.

Yet their stares didn't seem to bother Ceata at all. He was too entranced by the magic of the night, the feeling that it was somehow special to be beside Urius. Two weeks could go far in getting to know someone. As this night marked the beginning of the third week of Ceata's stay, the little boy could only ponder why it was he felt so comfortable here. This was the place called heaven that he pondered about and it was FAR different from a shopping mall. For some reason, this place called heaven felt more like home than anything. A part of Ceata didn't want to go back. And yet the nagging longing for his parents reminded the young Shifter that he could not stay forever here in the glittering city, in Urius' home, or settled in the man's arms. Ceata found it peculiar that he could want to stay with this person, though. Perhaps Urius held some special signifigance in his life – hence the feeling of being completely at ease with him.

“Would you like to get some dessert here?” Urius asked the boy to break him from his thoughts. The Angelic Lord was motioning towards a stand that sold all sorts of sweets. A group of children and their mothers were gathered around to buy the wares, eliciting squeals of delight from those who were fortunate enough to be honored with such delicacies. Sweet fruity candies, harsh licorice, spicy cinnamon and nutmeg, crisp and juicy candied apples, creamy caramels, and mouth-melting chocolate were all available for Ceata's taste buds. His eyes fell over each and every one like two sparkling jewels of gold-green and blue.

“I can have what I want?” Ceata asked with a big beaming smile. Urius' encouraging nod made the boy feel giddy with the promise of candy. Still, he would have to choose wisely. As his eyes filtered over the various stringed sweets, delectable gumdrops, and beautiful display of fine chocolates, Ceata suddenly took notice to a candy that he had never seen before. It sat out in a little tray with its many doubles, gleaming lightly with a golden sugar coating. “Wha's that?”

“That? That's a sweet bun...it's full of brown sugar and apples. Would you like one?” Urius asked as he pulled out his coin purse. Walking up to the vendor with Ceata, he handed the necessary coin to the vendor and in return received a large sugary sweet bun for Ceata. “Here you are. Enjoy it.” Ceata took the bun gladly and bit into its pillowy crust, enjoying the taste of warm brown sugar and apples as it dripped into his mouth and tingled with flavor. It wasn't too buttery, not too immensely sweet, but just enough that it made Ceata purr with happiness.

“It's really really good!” he cried happily, taking another big bite as the baked green apple juice dripped down his chin. Urius gave a little smile as he knelt down and carefully wiped Ceata's chin. He looked into those big eyes, their glittering touching his heart somehow in a way he couldn't explain. It felt lovely to have someone to care for so much. True, this person was a child who did not understand such feelings, but it hardly mattered. Urius found himself wanting to protect the boy's smile more and more. If only he had known who was watching them. It wasn't a bunch of kidnappers at this time, but an old friend of Lazarus and Death.

David was older now. He had been Dovinitas Valen's apprentice several years ago and had now grown up to be a rather handsome young man. He recently began working in the Department of Justice as a clerk for one of the judges, and soon he would be finishing his final term in school to become a lawyer. Still, he had not been neglecting his friendships with Rowan, Exodus, Grieves, and especially Akita. Having spent time with them at Death’s Castle whenever he got a chance, it would only stand to reason that he had seen Ceata before. That is why he nearly had to do a double take when down the street walked one of the most skilled Starc Lords in all of Tenshihana holding the hand of the exotic Shadowshifter child. His green eyes widened, hardly able to believe what he was seeing as Urius and Ceata walked towards him. The little boy was so intent on his sweet bun that he didn't even noticed as they brushed right passed, Urius giving a single glance to the astonished-looking David before walking on without a care.

“Dear God...I have to tell Lazarus!” David whispered as he turned from his path heading into the Market and stepped brisquely back towards his home. There was no telling why this Angel had possession of Ceata, the little boy that Lazarus and the others had been looking for furiously now for at least two weeks. Aysel was growing more and more distressed and even Death found a rage stirring inside him. Who would think that such a prominent Starc Lord would have stolen the child away? Even so, Ceata looked happy. His smile as he walked down the street away from David showed that clearly. So why? These questions whirled in David's mind as he quickly made his way back towards his home. It would be long until Rowan and the rest of them knew just where Ceata had gone.

(scene change)

“He’s with the Angels?!” Ranmaru gasped, surprise lighting his light gray eyes. He sat on a wire-frame chair in the dim room lit only by computer screens. The wires ran like a thousand snakes on the ground, connecting to the many towers, the computers, the technological marvels that lined the walls and crowded almost all the space available. Tech sat in a chair similar to Ranmaru’s as his fingers hovered overtop a keyboard, making the clicking sound with his fingers as he played on the keys.

“According to this information, anyway. There have been some sightings of a young albino Shadowshifter within Tenshihana. According to one of Rughal’s informants, a servant in the Commons, he’s seen this boy come twice to the Market with a man in dark robes – a Starc most likely,” Tech replied to the astonished young man and his two brothers. Grieves also stood there, looking a bit unwilling to be there. After all, he was going against Master Lazarus’ orders by not watching over the boys and keeping them out of trouble. In fact, he was helping them get in trouble.

“Why do you say a Starc?” Varun asked as he looked at the screen, the coded message upon it in a set of letters and numbers. These flew over the screen and through some miraculous knowledge Tech could read it. Varun had been attempting to do the same for the passed few minutes, but soon gave up and decided to include himself in the conversation.

“Well, firstly, the Starc are the only ones that leave the Holy Towns in the Sombs, since they are considering the Angelic police force. That puts him in the right place for grabbing Ceata. Secondly, only Starcs wear the traditional black and purple robes…Dreary people, they are, dear. Still, they’re expert swordsmen. I would be worried about trying to get Ceata back,” Tech responded with a shaking of his head. He closed the message and opened up another file, going about his work. “I suggest you get your parents to help you. Otherwise, you could end up dead.”

“That’s foolish! We could take down an Angel…I mean, we’re Shadowshifters. How hard can it honestly be?” Ranmaru laughed as he sat there with his youthful beliefs of being indestructible. Varun was at least a little more mature than that and understood that even Immortals could die if the wound was severe enough.

“I will talk with Rei. Perhaps, in hearing this, he will be willing to lend us a few soldiers,” Varun suggested, looking to his younger brother.

“Rei would never let us fight. He’d simply get our fathers involved and then we would be ordered to stay at home. After all, if anything were to go wrong, it would be Rei who found the blame. I don't think he'd ever put his neck on the line for us,” Ranmaru sighed and all three brothers knew it was true. Rei was not the irresponsible kind of person to just let three young boys go into a potentially dangerous situation.

“Then what're we gonna do?” Eos asked as he sat there and pet the ear of his stuffed bunny. He had been sitting there quietly, saying nothing for the longest of time. Only now did he look up at his two brothers, Tech, and Grieves with an questioning gaze. Ranmaru sighed when those violet eyes touched him and he scratched the back of his neck.

“That's a good question...I mean, I want to go and get this guy for taking Ceata, but I'm not sure if we're capable without someone's help. Who might be willing to help us without telling our parents?” Varun narrowed his eyes slightly for those words, setting down the book he had brought with him and looking to his younger brother.

“Why are you so set on not getting our parents involved anyway? If this man is truly the one to have kidnapped Ceata, he should be dealt with by Exodus and the others. He deserves to die,” Varun replied to the question with a cold voice. It was obvious that he was a protective older brother and Ceata was important to him. If Varun was more skilled, he would have gone out himself to kill this Angel Lord without hesitation. After all, Varun was his Lazarus’ son.

“Perhaps I’ll just get you boys some more information and you can decide then, alright? For now, you better leave me to my work. Rughal will get pissed if I don’t do my job for him before playing with cute little boys,” Tech broke in with a dismissive gesture towards the door. “Go on, you three! And take captain grumpy pants with you…I’ve never seen Grieves frown so much in my life.” Grieves gave even more of a frown for that, but remained silent. He followed the three boys out of the dark room with all its blinking lights, buttons, and screens. Once out in the hallway, the discussion continued about what to do with Ceata’s kidnapper. Ranmaru insisted that this be dealt with by them alone, seeing as it was their fault that Ceata was gone in the first place. The wiser Varun said otherwise, wanting professionals to do the job. Eos just pouted and tugged on the ear of his stuffed rabbit, feeling left out.

“I got it…why don’t we just have Grieves use his Shadows to catch this guy while we get back Ceata, bring them both back here, and have him face our fathers’ justice?” Ranmaru finally says with a big grin. “I mean, really, it’s fool proof! That way, our dads won’t get mad at us for doing something dangerous by ourselves, and yet we’ll be the ones to bring this guy in….All we have to do is make sure that Tech doesn’t tell our dads where Ceata is.” Varun quirked a brow as they turned down one hallway and into the next, passing by some of Lazarus’ open gardens.

“You really are hell bent on this, aren’t you?” Varun stated more than asked when they walked out into the sunshine with the plan to cut across the gardens to get to their rooms. The day was surprisingly sunny for the Realm of Death, the plants flourishing with such a lush shade of green, and the sound of birds echoing against the stone garden walls. Eos happily skipped behind his two brothers, stopping now and then to pick a flower and gather it close to his chest. Even Grieves stopped now and then to take in the delightful bouquet of scents all around him. Varun and Ranmaru were too engrossed in their current topic of conversation to notice. “However, you do realize that it’s going to be very hard to sneak into Heaven, what with the way we look and our auras. They don’t just let anyone in there, you know.”

“Don’t worry…we’ll get everything in time. It’s just a matter of who you ask, you know?”

(scene change)

The night was ripe with excitement as Ceata bounced up and down at Urius’ side, his eyes wide at the festival before him. It was common to find these little shows in the Market district, often thrown by local tavern holders who would place tumblers, mummers, magicians, and even fire eaters before their establishments to gain customers. Already there was a group of young children hovering around the puppet master who made little wooden marionettes dance without strings. Ceata was a good boy and did not venture from Urius’ side, but rather dragged him to each attraction with a gaping awe that transformed his whole face. Urius was quite certain that the boy had been sheltered all his life, for he was in awe of even the dancing dogs with their puffy collars and awkward moves. Ceata clapped and clapped as they hopped up on their hind legs to the tune of an accordion.

“Again! Again!” the little one cried when he saw a magician make smoke flicker and turn into all sorts of fantastical shapes. Everywhere was the smell of sweet meats, buttery bread pastes, fried dough, and spices that stung the nostrils. Vendors called out their wares with eager voices, attempting to attract the most customers. Cut purses worked the crowds and thieves were lurking in such a highly populated area, but none would dare come near a Starc Lord. Perhaps a foolish one might try to scout out Urius for a potential steal, but the sight of his heavy hand-and-half at his belt quickly discouraged anything. Thus, Ceata and Urius were allowed to roam freely and enjoy themselves in the summery night.

When they finally took a rest to watch a group of tumblers do wonderful twisting acrobatic tricks before a throng of amazed spectators, Ceata gently reached out and placed his hand upon Urius’. The boy had been holding that hand all night and now stopped from staring at the peculiar twists and turns of the acrobats’ bodies to look at the well-worn palm of Urius and compare it to his own. Noting the tugging at his hand, Urius looked down and watched the child trace the lines along his hand, playing his fingers over all the creases with awe. Ceata then held out his own hand, placing them side-by-side and comparing with the curious wonder of a child.

“I still have a long way to go…” Ceata said with a little sigh. Urius wrapped his fingers around that tiny hand, a smile teasing his lips.

“A long way to go for what?” the Starc Lord inquired gently as he felt that smaller hand squeeze his. Ceata looked up and into Urius’ eyes, a forlorn expressiveness in the child’s eyes. It caught Urius off guard, for he had never seen such a longing in anyone’s eyes. It is often true that children possess the purest of all wishes, but there was something innately mature about the way Ceata stared at him. Perhaps the boy was not even aware of how he looked, yet Urius felt the lump in his throat to prove his awareness of those eyes.

“I’m so little…There’s nothing you can do when you’re little, you know. My friends say I can’t get a mate, because I’m so little. I couldn’t protect myself, because I’m so little…Urius, what can you do when you’re little? I can’t even give you something for being so nice to me,” Ceata sighed. Urius had to look away from those eyes to keep his heart from beating too quickly in his chest. What was wrong with him? He couldn’t believe that such feeling surged forth with the idea of Ceata wishing to thank him, with the idea that Ceata wanted to grow up, with the idea that Ceata would be a grown man one day….A beautiful man. A man that would capture the hearts of so many! That image blossomed in Urius’ mind and he could almost taste those petal soft lips as he envisioned the strong pale frame of a man akin to his ideal lover. Would that be Ceata one day?

Urius broke from his imaginings when he realized that Ceata was staring up at him intently, waiting for some sort of answer. Those dual-colored eyes flickered with curiosity, for there was a strange emotion gleaming in Urius’ gaze. How thankful the Starc Angel was that Ceata had not yet learned what desire looked like. “Um…well, you really needn’t rush things in life, Ceata. If you do not have a period of happiness to look back upon when you are older – one free of adult constraints and responsibilities -, you may never really appreciate your childhood.” Urius reached out and ruffled the boy’s short curling silver locks, earning a sweet smile. “Do not press yourself…All things will come in time.”

“Yes, but WHEN? How long am I to wait until I can do the things you do?” Ceata persisted impatiently. Urius could only smile at the boy’s willingness to grow up. How could he know how painful it was to leave the ignorance of childhood? Then again, people often make the worst mistakes as they are growing up…Urius would know. His mistakes cost him more than he would like to admit.

“You must wait as long as is needed, Ceata. Believe me; one day you will thank the Gods for choosing to make us this way…There is something just as pleasurable about striving to reach your goals as actually reaching them. Without the suffering before hand, how do you know you’ve reached them at all?” His words still didn’t seem to soothe Ceata and the little boy struggled to get up to his full height on the bench. Standing there so that he was face-to-face with Urius, he pouted with the fullness of his small mouth.

“But I only have one goal…and that is to be loved as my mother and fathers love. I want to have someone just for me – never to share him, always to be mine!” Ceata declared with such determination that Urius could not help but chuckle. He reached out and drew the boy into his lap, letting him sit there comfortably with his little legs swinging. Urius held him tenderly, much as a father would a son…However, Ceata did not think of Urius as a father.

“You cannot cage people thusly, Ceata. Love is something that cannot be claimed, just as a person cannot be claimed…This