SerapheX

All characters of SerapheX [a novel of the Macabre Prince] are (c) to Kyokukou/MacabrePrince 2005-2006. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or used fictionously. Any resemblance of characters, businesses, establishments, events, or locales in either actuality or by a work of another author is purely coincidental.

-------------------------------- + --------------------------------

"Do you understand the circumstances of staying here at Palazzo del Ceres?" asked the man behind the desk, commanding brown eyes bore into the young man's ice-blue eyes, whom actually looked very bored as of the moment, having to listen to rules and regulations of his soon-to-be-school. It would have been true, hadn't it been to for his wandering mind that was reliving moments of both pain and love of the past couple of years.

Locks of white hair tipped with ice blue fell into the young man's right eye as he nodded somewhat. "Sure, old man, whatever you say. It's not like I'll be trying to make," he scoffed, "friends anyways."

"You won't, but they will."

The white hair youth glared at the headmaster of the school. "I'll make sure they won't. Nothing good ever comes knowing me."

A grin tugged at the headmaster's face, as he shook his head, brown hair glittering a little into gold as the sun began to slowly rise into the window. "We'll see."

"If it hadn't been for my guardians interferring, I would never have gone to any school. I'd find a place where I could roam free without rules, without me having to worry about how people would look at me." Rising from the chair, he picked up the black bag, starting to head out the door.

"Before you go, Zexyphrus—"

"It's Zexy."

"Zexy," the headmaster reprimanded, getting up to reveal more to the black-black suit. "I should warn you about your roomates."

Zexy stopped, looking back to glare icily at the Headmaster, Euri. "Roomates? I don't do roomates."

"No one said you did," Euri grinned.

Zexy knew how to read between the lines, and didn't like the headmaster very much at the moment. The headmaster waited for Zexy to sit back down before continuing.

"They are some-what roomates. I think you remember how to get the tower room? Well, the room below that that leads to the tower room is where the two young men are staying. They are like you, as in, they are not human. Galidor is the younger-looking one. Don't let the looks and his personality trick you because he's alot older that most of the lykes. He prefers to be called Michael. Although no one understands why he hates his birth name, no one asks about it to the hawkling.

"Asaence is a different matter. He's a tiger, but don't expect to get sympathy from him. He has problems of his own, and is the opposite of Galidor in much of everything. Do not, I repeat, do NOT ask about his sister or mention her if you hear the rumor. If he tells you, and Dio help us if he does tell you for surely hell would freeze over, then have a care."

"You make it sound as if I'm some chatterbox. I'll be totally cool with everyone if they leave me and my business alone. I don't need people looking into things when they have no right, and I won't get into theirs. Simple as that."

"You delude yourself, Zexy. Humans by nature are more intrusive than lycanthropes themselves. You know they will not leave matters of the heart alone simply because you want it locked away. A prince for that matter, does not have the word 'privacy' in his dictionary. You know that."

Zexy, agitated by truth, got up from his chair to walk back and forth in front of the headmaster's desk. "What you say is true, but I never wanted to be more than I am." He stopped and raised his arms before him, to look down at the palms of his hands. "What these hands have done." He looked away from the hands as if he saw something of disgust on them, and mayhap he did.

"You cannot blame yourself, princeling, anymore than you can blame your guardians for naming you a prince of your yet-to-exist kind."

The white haired being snorted as he turned to meet the eyes of the brown-eyed headmaster. "Fate. Destiny. I don't put much credit in their hands."

"Ah, but you put credit in what the Higher Power may will."

To deny that would be a lie, and Zexy didn't even try. Christian humans called the Higher Being God. He, of course, was known by other names, known by many personifications, but the essence of there being a higher power was always there in most every religions of the world. Lycanthrope's religion was no more different than the human's. In fact, it was closer to Christianity than anything else. Instead of angels that had one form, human-looking, they had three: human, animal, and in-between. Lycanthropes only had two. Of course, the angels in most religions weren't head of a certain kind of species as well.

"I'm not stupid. It does not matter that there are those who believe in no higher being, the fact is that there is a higher power. How could we all come to exist otherwise? We couldn't have just been made just because of the Big-Bang theory. No, something had to push the universe to do what it did, so that it would eventually the life of earth." Ice-blue eyes looked around the room. "There is something that breathes around one, that watches one, that guides one on this very universe, this world." Zexy shook his head as if shaking his thoughts as well.

Euri was looked at Zexy with his head cocked to one side of his shoulder, studying him, trying to understand the depth of Zexy's heart and soul. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you are deeply religious."

Zexy's lips tilted up a little. "Everyone believes in something. Even if they think that there is no Higher Being, that is still a belief. What is belief but another term for religion?"

The headmaster nodded not arguing with that logic before he threw a pair of keys towards Zexy's way. He caught them, grinned, and headed out in search of his new room.

——————————————[ † ]——————————————

“So, you’re the Macabre Prince.” Streaks of black ran down the hair of the young man with strawberry-blonde hair, a combination of red and blonde, so it gave the illusion of flaming hair the way it was spiked up some-what. “I heard you were joining the crowd again.”

Zexy frowned at the one that could only be Asaence. Did everyone know what happened to him? Did they know about his insanity, his seclusion from everyone after . . . after . . . “What are you talking about? I’m not here to join any crowd or make friends. I’m here because the guardians told me to be here. End of story.” He walked past the figure leaning on one post of the bed on the right side of the room, which apparently was his side of the room since the left side was totally different, browns and golds mixing into eachother. Asaence’s side was fully of whites and oranges like vanilla-orange ice cream, only with black-black stripes everywhere.

The stairs were only as far up as to give Asaence enough head room so that he wasn’t hunched over to go around. There were no inner walls, only a rail that warned people. The bed was right over where Asaence’s bed was so it gave the illusion of a bunk bed. The walls were blank around the windows, and the ceilling curved up with window panes, a slight tint to it, so that Zexy was allowed to look at the night sky, or in this case, the day sky, whenever he wanted.

A pressure in Zexy’s chest eased away as he looked up at the sky above him. Peace. It was peace that settled in him. He was slightly claustrophobic, as most lykes were, but the truth behind his phobia went much deeper, to a past that he’d much rather not think about.

“I didn’t think even the guardians could help a lost cause.”

Asaence’s voice was distant to Zexy’s ears. He barely heard him, barely felt anything outside of what he was feeling at the moment. Then he thought of something. If the tower room roof was glass, then why didn’t it look that way when one looked at the palace from the outside? He climbed onto the bed, stood up on his tippy toes to touch the edge of the roof-window. It was glass, but there was something on the glass itself. A tint? Why was there a tint to it? Well, if he could look out, then nobody could look in, right? That was weird, but cool. Privacy and freedom and peace. All in one. Zexy silently thanked the higher power for the gift.

Zexy was turning around to face Asaence and say something, probably something that was a reflection within himself, but he felt another pair of eyes watching him. Red eyes. He turned to the other side of the room, and there, behind the bed curtain was the eldest member of the room.

To say he was a child was a lie because the knowledge, the look in his eyes gave way to reveal the experience of many, many years. Not all of them good. It was like he was cursed to stay in the body of a child barely passed the mark of puberty. The front of his hair, his bangs, was dark at the top, but lightened to blonde as it reached the tips to where it fell down to the sides of his eyes. The back was short, a deep brown, almost black, that spiked up every which way. The lower part of his body was under a sheet of light brown, a thin sheet, while his arms, chest, and face revealed pale skin, unflawed, unmarred, as far as Zexy could tell.

Galidor, no, Michael was grinning at Zexy, but they weren’t reaching his red eyes. “What, no hello? C’mon, Zexyphrus, you are a prince, and princes have better manners than that.”

The care-free feelings in Zexy were washed away by wariness and caution. Michael was not one to be underestimated. “The name is Zexy. True, I am a prince, but I’m not like the others.” He glared. “It’s not like I have a pack of my own to rule over, anyways. I’m one of a kind, so why should I be like them when I have no people anyways?”

The laughing nerved Zexy, mocking laughter, but what at? “Ah, checkmate. You got me there, but it won’t matter if you have people or no. The students here at Palazzo del Ceres know who you are, and the teachers will expect you to act the prince you are. If not . . . well, let’s just say we won’t see you in the evening at all much.”

“But no one will resort to bowing before him either. They would think it were to be his honor to be at Ceres, not the other way around. Isn’t he in a bit of a jam?” Asaence said, adding in his own two cents.

“That does seem to be a problem. People expect him to live up to his name, but they will not be the ones to give up the equality they have here, to be reminded of how low they are in the heirarchy.” Michael shook his head, and started to rise.

“I don’t give a damn. I don’t want to play royal, and I don’t care what they think of me. I don’t need their approval to do what I will do, and I don’t need anyone’s help. I was fine on my own without them.” He turned away from Michael, who had been indeed naked as he got up to dress in the simple school uniform: black pants, black shoes, and black coat over a white t-shirt.

With a smirk, Asaence replied, “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”

Zexy’s lips twitched a little. It did sound like that to his ears, and he would be more an ass if he tried to deny it. “Hamlet by Shakespeare. A quote by Queen Gertrude during ‘The Mouse Trap’ play, which had been Hamlet’s idea to capture the concience of the King.”

Michael turned around quickly, laughing. “You know Shakepeare, do you?”

The happiness vanished in Zexy’s face. Pain was evident in his eyes, and he turned away from the other two. “Not I, no.” He took out the faded picture in his pocket to look at the girl who was in his arms, laughing as she had her head tipped up to give Zexy a kiss. “But she did.”

——————————————[ † ]——————————————

"Non capisco. Who can tell me what that means in Italian? Zexyphrus."

It had been like this for a little over an hour. Zexy was called to translate almost everything, as if being a prince made him so super smart that he knew a lot of different languages. He did know what the teacher asked, but that was not the point. The point was the people of the school were expecting so much of him, making him a part of the school, and Zexy was hating it. He already had a headache the size of an orange, and it was not getting any better. Another minute of this, and he was ready to kill someone.

Michael was laughing quietly to himself on the row to the right of Zexy. He seemed to think it was funny, but Zexy thought he won't be laughing when he gets a sock in the face. Asaence, on the other hand, was giving him amused and challenging looks. Zexy was about ready give him a shiner as well. "I don't understand."

The class was giving him smug looks. Man, they sure as hell didn't know Italian for shit.

"Correct. Good job, Prince Zexyphrus."

That was the last straw. He snapped. "Just Zexy. That's it. Zexy. Can't you get that through your head? I've been telling you I just want to be called Zexy. Not Prince Zexyphrus, not Prince, not Zexyphrus, just Zexy." He'd had enough. He was sure his eyes were cold, but the headache was not letting up. No way in hell he was taking anymore of this shit. It was just one class, the first class, but damned if they didn't let up on him. Zexy picked up his bag and walked out of the classroom, leaving the teacher and half the class with their mouths open. Yeah, fuck you.

He was sitting on the wall next to the door, when Asaence and Michael joined him: Michael for laughing too much, and Asaence had excused himself from the class. Michael tried to calm himself down, but everytime he looked at Zexy's face, he burst into laughter again. Zexy ignored him and Asaence, willing the headache to fade. Asaence was simple shaking his head at both of them.

Asaence was studying Zexy, when he said, "You and he are an embarassment."

With as much sarcasm as he could muster, Zexy replied, "Well, sorry." He moaned when the echoes in the hall did not make the headache any better. "I can't take it anymore."

"Y-y-you'll have t-t-t-to take i-it," laughed Michael out. He took a few deep breaths, but that didn't stop the tickling in his stomach.

His head was ready to explode, but instead Zexy hissed at Michael one word. "Galidor."

Michael's laughter ceased. A coldness entered him as he stared at Zexy. Asaence was holding his breath, not willing to move. Zexy had his hand over his forehead, his eyes closed. If he noticed how enraged Michael was, he either ignored it or was ignorant of it.

"What did you say?" Cold anger was stirring in waves from around Michael's childish form, a fury so cold it was almost like dry-ice, cold enough to burn.

Zexy glared at Michael between fingers over his face. "What, you deaf or something?" Zexy put heat when he said the one word that Michael hated the most more than anything: "Galidor."

The elder lycanthrope of the three was upon the white prince faster than a human blink of an eye. Michael was in front of Zexy, and then he was on top of him, attacking him, scratching at his face. You didn't know how it happened until it happened.

"Mother fucking son of a bitch," said Asaence open-mouthed before prying the furious Michael off the Macabre Prince. It was a lot harder than it looked because Michael looked no where near as strong as the struggle he was giving Asaence to continue attacking the Prince.

Micheal wouldn't stop trying to cause pain to Zexy as deep as the pain of having to be reminded of that name. He was furious beyond his sensibilities because of that name, the very name that—

Zexy was chuckling softly below his breath. That made the other two freeze into place exactly as they were at the moment. The hairs on the back of their neck stood at attention. It wasn't that Zexy found something of the fight between them funny. It was because the chuckling sounded somewhat hysterical. It made them flinch when the chuckling turned into laughter that was bordering on both sorrow and insanity. Asaence and Michael both realized at the same time that Zexy had wanted to start a fight.

Asaence didn't struggle to let Michael go as the spiky-haired youth walked up to the hysterical prince to touch him on the shoulder lightly.

"You are afraid. You are in pain." Not questions, more like truths that were spoken from the hawk lyke's lips.

"I can't stand it. I can't. I'm not so strong as they think. I'm not so proud of who I am anymore. Living for her is all I have because that's what she would've wanted of me." Taking his hands from his face, Zexy looked at the two, his face so pain-filled that they had to turn away otherwise they would succumb to the dark abyss in the prince's eyes. "I told her I would protect her. I promised her, and when she needed me, I was not there because I was powerless against them. I'm no prince. I'm nothing." Michael and Asaence turned around because there was a wave of heat running along their skin from Zexy's aura like fire passing through the hallway.

"So you have lost your sense of self," Asaence said as he made his body still, his face blank, and eyes cold in order to think and ignore the fire Zexy, who didn't realize was he was doing, was emmitting.

The prince didn't reply for a while because he was trying to calm himself down, breathing deep and then letting that go. It was not because he knew that his anger-mixed-pain was streaming heat, but because he was tired. Letting that anger lessened the tight bands that the headache had around his head.

The bell rung, and people glanced nervously at the three who remained as there were like nothing else mattered to them except what was going on between them. Although, that was humans. The lykes, for that matter, went up to speak a few words to Asaence and Michael, ignoring the fallen Zexy, who's hair hid his sorrowful face. Only one dared to intrude upon the prince's "personal" space.

Blakect, also known as Blake, had long pearlescent hair, a very light brown that shimmered white as if frost had covered his natural hair color. It fell down straight to his thighs like a white waterfall, then like a white snake when he sat next to Zexy and began rubbing his face on the right side of the prince's face, a purring coming deep within his body that echoed in Zexy's. Blake's face was deep in contentment and calm, an exotic face when his skin was dark compared to Zexy's more paler flesh like peaches and cream. "Welcome to the Palace, little kitty-cat," purred Blake, satisfaction in his tone.

"If only we could attach the snow leopard to the prince for a few weeks," sighed Asaence. "I fear the prince's inferno may spark and spread other flames, and it has only been a few hours of his arrival onto the grounds." His face fell back into his icy stare when another of the lycanthrope cats entered into the group.

This cat was more practical, more ruthless, and more calculating than Asaence. Everyone knew there was a tension between Asaence of the tigers and Sceadiel of the panthers, but none could decipher what caused the tension or what it may have been on. Some speculated it was a power play of who was more better at strategy and planning than the other because they were both closely similar in personality. Others speculated that it was desire. Sceadiel never made it a secret that he was bisexual, but Asaence was proud, enough to the point where people feared what he would do to one who was stupid enough to ask if the tiger was interested in males as well. No one was quite sure how to walk the thin line of that tension, and no one asked about it either.

Sceadiel had put his arm around the hawk's child-like shoulders, kissing his cheek, but his golden eyes looked across to Asaence's face, who's arrogance fell over his face like a cloak and looked away from the panther. "Mmm, birdies always taste good to cats." He licked a wet line from Michael's chin to his cheek, still looking at Asaence through the locks of his black hair as if to challenge the tiger across from him.

The smaller boy didn't mind in the least. Even if most of the lykes he befriended were cats, a hawk was still a bird of prey. Maybe the reason the cats were always around him was because they could knew somehow that he was weak in the heart, from fear of his long ago past that was still a raw wound he licked over and over again. If that were so, Michael should've really been afraid of them, but he wasn't. Someone was protecting him, whether it was another cat or someone higher, otherwise, Michael would've been dead by now. The question was, who was protecting Michael, and if they were, why were they doing it?

Somehow, through the drowning despair, Zexy was able to lift his head enough to growl at Sceadiel and his very public display of intimacy. He didn't know why he did it, but he did understand that it was nothing personal against Sceadiel, other than he was very intimately close to Michael. Why he was angry about that, he didn't know. Of course, he was in denial, because he knew exactly the reason why he felt Sceadiel was a sort of threat to Michael, and that was because he already considered Michael a friend. Damn the soft heart of his.

The black panther, on the other hand, grinned down at the prince, holding up his hands as if to say, see I'm harmless as a kitten. Right. "Oh grandma, what sharp teeth you have."

"The better to bite you with, my dear," Zexy replied, grinning back.

"Oh, I wish you did use those teeth on me." There was heat in Sceadiel's eyes that was not from anger, but something else. It made Zexy shudder from disgust from his head down to his toes.

The person beside the Zexy stood up like liquid grace to stand next to Sceadiel. "Well, shall we go? Its brunch before our next class. What do you have, Zexy."

"Arithmetics. As if I need to know the rules of certain equations to rule a kingdom I would never have." The white haired boy couldn't help the bitterness and scorn that fell from his lips. It wasn't his fault, he knew that. He was never supposed to be born. A mistake. Just thinking of that was bringing his memories back of a time when Zexy was less the person he was now, more naïve, and more innocent. No, Zexy never knew innocence. The poison it had been, eating his soul away little by little, until . . . until . . .

Pain made Zexy hunch over on the floor. It started in the back of his head, running down his spine, and to every part of his being. He gasped when it disappeared, and looked up, startled as Michael touched him. Concern was there, but all Zexy could say was, "I can't remember."

Can’t remember what? Michael asked silently with his eyes as he moved back to let Zexy have room to get up.

Zexy was about to use the wall to stand, but hands were there, reaching out to help him. One belonged to Sceadiel, the other to Blake. He looked up at them and saw light and darkness, yin and yang, the contradictions of eachother. He put one hand in each, and let them help him up. "I can't remember the past. Mine. My place of birth, my childhood. I told her all about it. She was the only one that knew, but now, I cannot recall it, only what I felt." Placing his hand over his eyes, Zexy tried to think, to remember, but it was blank. He told . . . he told . . .

Who had Zexy told? Who was the girl? He couldn't remember. Only that she was special to him, that he had loved her, but why? What was her name? "I can't remember her either." Feeling for something in his uniform, he found it inside his jacket, the lining cut so perfect, no one would know it was a secret pocket. He was looking down at the girl in the picture who was about to kiss him. She was small and delicate with black hair that shimmered red as if she had washed her hair in blood. Her eyes were closed, but Zexy knew that were amber, liquid gold. Her dark skin tasted and smelled like autumn, the air on the edge of winter, the leaves starting to decay, soil being enriched in spice, and the animals getting ready for the winter to come. He loved her scent, loved everything about her, so why couldn't he remember her name? His heart broke at the thought.

Blood. Blood was on the air. It should've disgusted him, but the blood was wrapping around Zexy, intoxicating his very being. He consumed to the beast dwelling inside him, waiting and wanting for that blood, the smell of flesh not far behind. The little boy within the white haired being's body, watched what it saw, felt the pupils slit into a straight line and the hairs down his body stand on end, but he was too numb to feel the excitement and lust the beast felt.

The beast ran down the school, everything a blur as it ran towards the smell. He heard distant calling, something like "What are you doing, Zexy?" or "Zexy, where are you going?" or "Zexy, stop!" The little boy knew they had gone down the second floor hall to the first, running to the edge of the park, and to the school weapons building, where the wafting odor was just begging to be let out.

Faster, faster. He was so slow. It was calling him. All that wonderful copper-tasting fluid that runs through the veins of the living. Hurry, hurry. The threat of others running towards him, to the smell, made the beast fustrated. It did not want to share. All that blood needed to coat every inch of the prince's body, needed to be lapped up before the carion came.

The door was locked. No problem. The beast punched his hand next to the doorknob, grabbed the knob from the other side, pulled, and threw it back across the grass. He slammed the side of his body into the door, and it gave way, slamming into the wall.

The scene that welcomed him made the beast recede from the deep fear rooted in his heart to leave Zexy in the wash of fragments of a memory he couldn’t piece together completely. His eyes opened wide in horror and despair. He was attracted to blood, but the display left for him on the wall froze his veins. We know, was written on the wall in both blood and intestines that were had been held in place by crude nails. It felt like he’s seen something like this before, but Zexy couldn’t remember the whole thing.

Pieces of flesh no bigger than a baby’s fist lay on the floor, on the window sill where it had run down from the glass window, and the wooden counters that weapons rested on after being heated to be shaped. Zexy felt like he had eaten something similar to the pieces of flesh as big as the one’s in front of him. Something was coming up from his stomach to his throat, and it was not a good feeling.

There was a box in the middle of the room. A little box of pure white, untouched by the gore in the room surrounding it. Innocent, it said to Zexy’s mind. Fear spiked through him. His breaths came in short gasps. Slowly, ever so slowly, the prince approached the box, afraid of what he’d find. No, that wasn’t true. Deeply inside him, he knew he was excited at what he’d find. What the white-haired boy was afraid of was what he’d do with what they left him.

The silver bow glinted from the little light the blood-washed window had left him. Shakily, he pulled the end of the bow, and reached to remove the lid. His heart was pounding in his ears, leaving him deaf of any other sounds around him. Zexy lifted the lid.

Meat. It all smelled like so much meat. The bloodlust was coming up, fighting the boy for his body, wanting to grab whatever lay in the shadow of the box. Zexy wouldn’t have it. He couldn’t bring himself to just let the beast go, not when it was deja vu to him, not when he knew he couldn’t run away from this. The prince’s hand reached into the shadows and grabbed the item.

And hadn’t he told himself before that if he’d seen it once, he’d survive again? Hadn’t he promised himself that if he saw it again, he’d freeze his heart so he wouldn’t feel the deep ghostly thrusting of a sword plunged into his heart again? He wouldn’t break. A prince’s mind does not break. An animal does not break with so much blood. He couldn’t, wouldn’t break.

But Zexy did break. His mind. His heart. His soul.

Before his eyes, the flesh and blood was gathering together. Movement above him, made his eyes flash up to see black hair rinsed in blood and still rooted to the layer of skin on the head swinging furiously, raining blood over him. The head was what was holding the hair up on the beam, eyes bursted by the nails, tongue hanging out, and no flesh over the face whatsoever.

The flesh moved all around him, rolling and moving to leave trails of blood. They were covering Zexy from the toes up, and he was sinking into the ground, unable to move, held in place by fear and guilt. Breathing was difficult. His chest felt like it was being crushed. No air. He couldn’t get any air because there was none. He was blacking out. Reaching out for something, anything, Zexy lifted up his arms, but that had been a mistake.

The light showed blood running down his arm from the split heart in his hand. He’d held someone’s else’d heart like this. A painful flashback erupted from the back of his head. They had cut her chest open while she had been alive, blood and flesh flying everywhere, even his face, but he couldn’t pull his eyes away. They had ripped her heart from her body, placing it in his hands. He’d felt the heart beat in his hands, a second beat to the one pounding in his ears. Then it had stopped altogether. She’d died. Zexy had felt her die, right in his hands. The flashback ended, but it only was a means of letting the scream in the back of his throat loose. It was of one name and one name only.

Blayre.

-------------------------------- + --------------------------------

End Chapter. Next Chapter: Pyre Ashes