The Fall of Forever {A MyStreet FF}

{11} The End of All Things

By the time he was ten, Derek Lycan had watched both of his parents be slaughtered. He and his brother were the only to survive, saved by a family friend.

By the time he was twelve, Derek had promised himself he would be the father his own father could never be.

In his thirties, he could do little but stand by and watch his friends' prayers pleading for their son be ignored.

So, it made little sense to Derek why he was standing on the Ro'Meave porch waiting for their door to be answered. He knew he should've been at home, spending time with his own children. With his own son.

But his intuition was going off. It wasn't unusual for Garte to not answer to Derek's phone calls or texts. His brain would cause him to forget, or the world would be suffocating to him. The Ultima knew this, but he was not going to let the thought that there was more crush him any longer.

Zianna pulled the door opened and greeted Derek with a confused, yet welcoming smile. He glanced down and saw little Zane, with the same black hair his mother had. The boy was holding tightly onto his mother's leg.

"Hi, Derek. Come on inside," Zianna asked, placing a hand on Zane's head and stepping aside.

"Is Garte around?" Derek inquired.

"Yeah, he's upstairs working. Can I get you anything?" Zianna hoisted Zane up and held him on her hip.

Before Derek could deny any sort of help, for he thought he was supposed to be the one helping her, the sound of the ringing phone struck their ears. Quickly excusing herself, Zianna rushed to the phone with Zane in her grip.

Derek pushed a shallow breath out of his lungs and looked around for a moment. It wasn't like the house was unfamiliar to him; sometimes he knew the Ro'Meave home better than his own. His eyes processed all of their family photos hanging up on their walls. Once he realized that there would never be any future photos of Garroth, it was all he could think about.

Shaking his head as though it would actually make the thought go away, Derek's mind was interrupted by the sound of quick footsteps. He felt a sharp tug on his right sleeve. Looking down to see what could possibly be begging for his attention, he saw Vylad's auburn hair and green eyes.

"Hi, De-rek!" Vylad exclaimed, placing all of his effort into speaking clearly.

"Hey, Buddy," Derek laughed.

He knelt down and took Vylad into his arms. Derek noted how small the toddler was compared to Aaron. He felt himself almost missing when his children were that little and begging for attention.

"What's new, Pea? Got any new colors you learned about?" Derek asked.

"Daddy sick," Vylad stated as he examined the collar of Derek's shirt.

"He's sick? What do you mean, Pea?" Derek spoke softly in order to get the best answer he could out of the toddler.

"GarGar sick," Vylad responded.

Derek furrowed his eyebrows and adjusted Vylad so that he held him higher. He pressed his lips in a line and thought very carefully about his next words, and how to place them in such a way that a child who had just grown out of infancy could understand.

"That's right, Buddy," Derek said, hardly surprised that Vylad figured the facts out. "Garroth isn't feeling good, is he? Is it okay if I go check on both of them?"

Vylad nodded intently. He was now looking at the pictures on the wall with the occasional glance at Derek. His already intelligent mind was already putting together the pieces of the seemingly complicated puzzle.