A Starless Existence {boyxboy}

Chapter 18

"No one is killing you, Saige, this whole situation is my fault and I will take the blame for it. No doubt the dukes have sensed my mistake already and are sending someone to collect me," as if on some cue, two men in black suits appeared by the doorway to the Saige's room. Their gaze moved together, drifting from Saige's terrified expression to Ambrose's rage then finally landing on Kyree.

"Kyree Landon, you are requested before the council," one of them spoke, their black eyes set on Kyree in an intent yet emotionless stare.

"No, no, Kyree, you're not going. My father can make an exception," Ambrose stood his ground, tightening his grip around Kyree. Of course, that had no effect when Kyree simply appeared between the men, accepting his fate. He flashed what he thought was some sort of reassuring smile at Ambrose but barely felt his lips move so knew it was minimalist. Before the three disappeared, Kyree managed to ask Ambrose one final request.

"Take care of my daughter."

Kyree brushed his fingertips down the suit that had been laid out for him, no longer caring for the soft silky fabric as he once would have done. It was completely black, blacker than the night sky that illuminated the cell he was staying in. In the moonlight, Kyree could see a very faint silver inlay to the fabric, one that glimmered and glistened as he clothed himself.

The tie that had been paired with the suit was a stark white, contrasting so deeply with the darkness of the shirt and blazer that it almost seemed to glow. Kyree attempted a smile as he stared at his slightly less dishevelled reflection in the grimy mirror provided for him.

His eyes had lost that soft sparkle, the hazel iris' dull and lifeless. Deep purple bags sat under his eyes, standing out against his pale skin. He looked pasty, and he hated that. The worst part, he could feel his strength receding. His body felt a thousand times heavier every time he woke in that Goddamn place, he was weakening.

His appearance reminded him of some ridiculous human book, about a man making a monster. Frankenstein, they called the lunatic, Victor Frankenstein and his undead beast. As Frankenstein had once been, Kyree also felt he had become emaciated with confinement. Except, the monster he had created, the dead that he had brought back, was Kyree's beautiful daughter, and he could never regret the decision he had made. Even if it had unwittingly been his last.

The two men who had brought Kyree to that place appeared in the open doorway, obviously sensing Kyree was ready. They marched him down a long corridor, toward an ominously large dark oak door. In the seconds they waited as the door was heaved open, Kyree got the opportunity to appreciate the beauty of the oak carvings. He was about to die, appreciation of carpentry was all he had left.

The next room was much lighter, torches bolted to the wall providing most of said illumination. Lucifer did have a flair for the medieval era. There was no furnishing in the room, only the throne sat prominently in the middle. Kyree took a deep breath as he walked freely into the room, the two men following from behind rather than guiding him.

Lucifer was perched on the throne, looking regal as always, with two men either side of him. Yet all the power in the underworld and he still had such a grim expression. Lucifer had grown to care for Kyree, he was his son's lover. Acting out a punishment from the council upon that particular demon, one who had done nothing wrong other than turned a girl he believed he was helping, was a surprisingly difficult thing for Lucifer to comprehend.

As Kyree knelt in the middle of the room, his hands flat on his thighs in a sign of submission to his king. He allowed his gaze to drift. The room had not been silent, rather Kyree had just opted to drown out the sounds of crying with anything he could. The crackling of the fire on those torches, the sound of his footsteps, anything. Anything to prevent him from listening to his own mother's ragged sobs.

His mother was cradled in the arms of Kyree's father, who looked slightly more reserved yet still grief-stricken. A part of Kyree found that somewhat amusing, they were already grieving even though he was still alive. How odd. Idella was on the other side of Yennifer, his eyes bloodshot and puffy from previous tears despite none being shed in the presence of others.

A spike of pain jolted through Kyree as his wearied gaze landed on Ambrose and Saige, as though someone had pressed a white-hot poker over his heart, causing all of his suffering to resurface. It had been a month since he had seen either of them, a month since he had been put in that Goddamn cell to await his execution.

Both had been prohibited from visiting Kyree, although he was not entirely sure why. He didn't think he had any tears left in him, but felt the familiar sting of just one more as Ambrose tugged Saige into a hug, kissing the top of her lilac hair. Kyree knew Saige had begun to cry too, but Ambrose also knew she wouldn't want Kyree to see her like that, so encouraged her to sob into his chest instead.

Ambrose's eyes had too lost the light in them, almost entirely grey as he held his gaze with Kyree's. In fact, Ambrose had the same pale skin and dark bags under his eyes too. Kyree found it a little odd, yet allowed the thought to slip right out of his head. He had more important things to focus on.

"Kyree Landon," Lucifer began, bringing Kyree back to the here and now, drawing all attention to him, "you stand accused of violating our oldest and most sacred law, turning a child," Lucifer paused, whether it was to gather himself or for some sickening effect, Kyree didn't care. He had accepted his fate, had made peace within himself. He may not get to live out the life he wanted with Ambrose, but he had given him a child, the one thing Kyree did not expect to provide for a single lover. And with that, Kyree could pass in tranquillity, finally able to see Alexander once again.

"You have been found guilty of this charge, Kyree Landon, of which the only repercussion fitting is death," one of the men from before stood behind Kyree, swirling shadows around his hand. The shadows were hell's version of the lethal injection. Quick and painless. They even cleaned up after themselves, devouring any mess they made during the killing.

"Do you have any final words, Kyree Landon?" Kyree lifted his head, glancing over his shoulder to Ambrose. His lover was crying, silent, but still crying, tears streaking down his cheeks.

"Ambrose?" Kyree uttered his lover's name for the penultimate time, allowing his mouth to curve up ever so slightly as the memories of their time together flickered across his mind. Their first night together, when their lives seemed so much more normal yet so much more boring. Their time on earth, with Endwin in the park, their little moment of domestic humanity up there in the simplicity of it all. Just every moment in one another's presence, mere intense, unimaginable bliss.

"Ambrose Ross, I love you too," time seemed to stand still as Kyree watched Ambrose register the words that he had spoken. Ambrose's lips parted, his eyes growing more watery as the two men stared at each other, longing to embrace one last time.

Abruptly, the moment between them was shot down as a pain so unbearable, so overwhelming, pulsed through Kyree's head that it forced some sort of strangled groan from his lips. Covering his eyes, plunging himself into darkness in an attempt to relieve some pain, Kyree cradled his head, a long drawn out howl of suffering slipping from his lips. He had never felt such agony.

It was like a burning throb behind his eyes, each wave making Kyree feel as though his skull was being splintered open. He wanted to pass out, his mind screaming for his body to slip into some unconscious state, unable to stand the sensation.

Then, as quickly as it had started, the ache faded.

Kyree removed his hands from his face, his eyelids flickering open. Gasps erupted through the room as everyone stared at Kyree, all but Lucifer. Kyree followed Lucifer's gaze, his eyes landing on Ambrose crouched on the floor holding his head with Saige next to him, looking particularly worried.

"Kyree, your eyes..." Ambrose whispered as the two made eye contact, both simultaneously taken aback. Kyree did not know what had happened to his own eyes, but he assumed it was the same as Ambrose's. His lover no longer had two grey-blue eyes. He had one.

One grey-blue iris and one hazel.