Salvation of the Scum Fifth Prince

Nobody dared to speak to them.

The thinking and lost footsteps that echoed down the lonely hallways made of gold and luxury were far too loud, and their emotions far too present. Although the servants of the castle were weary to begin with, they silently parted to create a past for the group to walk through.

Yet when Soren stepped into his room after yawning tiredly and feeling his eyes droop, turning on his heel to leave the others, a particular person waited. 

Standing politely on the side with an exhausted, gentle smile that was tinged with faint wariness.

In the low dim of night, his expression seemed a little melancholic.

"Little brother, welcome back."

Soren faltered and nodded. "Thank you."

Deimos smiled as Soren draped himself over his bedsheets — cleaned and readied, despite his sudden arrival. He closed his eyes, feeling the cool of new sheets pressed against his cheek before reluctantly rolling over. 

Slowly, he said, "You knew my mother."

Deimos let go of a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Yes, yes I did."

"She was a beautiful woman, with a soul so wonderful that there wasn't a person who could possibly dislike her." continued Deimos with a dragging breath, as if lost in the blur of old memories.

"...you'll tell me everything?"

The second prince smiled. "Everything I tell you is something you deserve to know. It was my fault, all these years, leaving you alone. It's one of my deepest regrets, and for that, Soren, I deeply apologize."

"To me, Anima... she was an enigma. She was so beautifully fascinating, yet her origins were unknown. She... she was similar to a mother for me, who never understood parently love."

"All I knew was that she would one day disappear."

Deimos paused, mint eyes wavering as they flickered to Soren cautiously. "At times, she reminds me of you, little brother. Or should I say, you remind me of her."

Soren licked his lips, lowering his eyes as he continued to listen to the soft words. The other was already no longer simply telling a story, he was expressing his own swirls of emotions that penetrated the depths of memory.

"For years since she left, I've been searching for information I didn't even know what to look for. All I knew was that there was a secret behind this world that she wished for me to find."

"I believe it was for your sake that she wanted me to know the truth."

Love.

Anima loved all the princes, but she hadn't been around long enough for them to learn what it truly was. 

Had she not died, would things have been different?

But the dead would remain dead, and regrets that came later were meaningless.

"There are things you can learn, far from the secrets that can be found on the surface from that young butler of yours. I travelled for a long time, and perhaps, she set me on that journey for my sake as well."

Delicate lashes fluttered, and he moved a seat to pull it closer to the bed. "May I?"

Soren nodded and Deimos relaxed his posture on the chair, fully embracing the flowing thoughts that trickled into his mind. 

"If I were to remain a sheltered prince, there is a shade of the world that I couldn't see."

A light laugh escaped his lips, and the darkness seemed to make his joy only brighter. "The first time I travelled, I got lost. There was a sweet innkeeper that saw me wandering in the rain... it was quite the disaster. I still visit her when I pass by the area."

"Another time, I rescued a young boy lost in the forest — he wanted to find fresh flowers for his ill mother, eventually getting lost." 

"I met a knight who wanted to become a florist, a noble who wanted to open a bar."

He stopped and shook his head lightly to himself. "It seems I am getting off topic."

"Continue."

Deimos jerked his chin up, meeting those chilling blue eyes he'd overlooked for so many years. Soren stared back calmly, from the peeks of soft blanket that wrapped around him. 

"Continue," repeated the indifferent fifth prince, with a new curiosity in his eyes.

The second prince smiled again. In a place he didn't exist, with people he didn't know, this little brother of his had already changed. 

Perhaps it was a little tragic that he wasn't able to witness the growth, but it was also impossibly fortunate that such change could happen when Soren only knew dislike for so many years.

The man lowered his hands, the soft smile still on his lips as he obliged.

From stories of betrayal that faded into dramatic romance, to heart-felt tales of tragedies that left with life lessons, Deimos told them all in a steady, soft voice that seemed to carry the breeze in his words.

And  Soren listened.

Finally, a yawn escaped Soren's lip again as he blearily continued to quietly lie down, and Deimos laughed lightly.

"Are you tired? I heard you've been sleeping more recently whenever you had the chance."

"Mm."

"Then I'll talk to you about my travels another day, if you still wish to listen. Let's move on." said Deimos as he fidgeted with his hands in his laps, back into the trance of thoughts that came when he thought about Soren's mother. 

"During the time I spent away, I ended up encountering a group of devotees around a year or two ago. They worshiped something called a 'soul tree', an existence that represented the life of every person."

Seeing the calm look on Soren's face, Deimos nodded to himself. "You know about it already."

"I do." said Soren.

"I'll spare you the details, then. I learned that there exists a world where all the trees are gathered, a place humans don't dare go. They described it as some holy land, however, they were devotees with an intense passion — they praised the place to no end."

"I was digging into the details for another year, there was simply something that seemed to attract me." explained the prince. "That was when I learned that in the world, there existed a person called a soul saint."

"Do you know the colour of soul trees, little brother?"

Soren already knew where the conversation was going. "Blue and white."

"Yes, blue and white. And it so happened that the strange combination of colours was the rare hair and eye colour combination of a woman I couldn't forget. Your mother. And you."

Deimos stopped, contemplating before continuing. "There were many rumours that I discovered as I integrated myself into the community."

"Supposedly, it was said that the saint had disappeared for many years. Some said she escaped for love, others said she escaped from the burden of being trapped in that world."

For the sake of fulfilling his promise, Deimos had spent more than a decade travelling and scoping the continent. Therefore, when he found glimpses of the answers he was seeking, he abandoned all other thought and dived into it.

Even if hope was slim, he chose to believe.

"When you grasp hold of a string, you often find that it's connected to many others in an entanglement you couldn't have predicted. I found an old magician in seclusion that had spoken to her many years ago. She had asked him two questions — if, hypothetically, a soul tree's roots were dyed black, could it be saved?"

"A black soul tree." repeated Deimos. "It is rare and unlikely, because that would mean no matter what universe that soul existed, it was destined to perish. Yet, she discovered a method. To change the fate of the world, add an element that cannot be bound by fate."

"That element was you."

"And I have reasons to believe that the owner of the rotting soul tree is Raphael Han."

There was a gimmer of surprise in the sleepy eyes, and Soren lifted his face from the bed, staring ahead. 

"Anima took pity on people, empathetic to a fault. She couldn't leave a person with such a horrific fate alone, and so, you were born. In order to save him when he next entered the world."

"But I believe there was an accident."

"The second question your mother asked that magician was, if a soul seed was split into two, what would happen?"

Deimos breathed steadily, straightening his back. "The answer, two different existances would be formed, both lacking something that the other had. Perhaps  one may lack emotion while the other would be filled to the brim with it, or one may be skilled in something the other is hopeless in."

In fact, the second prince had a suspicion a long time ago. The moment he saw such a striking change in his youngest brother.

"You're not the half that I knew, right, little brother?"

Soren didn't hesitate and said, "Yeah. The one that you knew is dead."

Deimos trembled, curling his fist tightly as he lowered his eyes. "I predicted it, but it is different to hear confirmation. You and he are two halves of a whole, but separated, you are both individuals. No matter what apologies I give, he can never hear them again."

Slow, gentle tears glittered in the moonlight as he smiled. 

"For that, I can never forgive myself."

"I will aid you in any way that I can, Soren, even if it kills me. It will never be enough to make it up to my little brother, but perhaps vengeance to us isn't what he seeks."

"It isn't." said Soren suddenly, making Deimos snap his head up to look at the other. "Soren... never hated you."

Deimos' face broke out into a wide smile of relief. "Is that so?"

Despite his joy, there were still traces of sadness in his expression. But it wasn't the time to mourn or think back — that was something he'd do alone, when all that existed were his thoughts.

He cleared his throat, carefully wiped away the rims of his eyes before he said, "The magician explained a lot to me. They told me that one day, the owner of the soul seed may wake up and be a completely different person. The two halves call each other, and if in one side, one half dies, then the other half will replace it."

Then, Deimos stood up abruptly and moved the sheets over Soren. "I think that's enough for one night. I'll answer any more questions tomorrow."

Soren didn't protest, a weight having already made his eyes heavy and hard to keep open as he comfortably sank further in the sheets.

"Oh, and there is another person you can ask. I've only met them once, but they knew more than anybody else."

Soren frowned. "...who?"

"The God of Death."

The sleepy prince immediately fell silent and Deimos carefully opened the door. "Goodnight, little brother."

The door closed as Soren continued to frown.

He'd been avoiding the Death God, and the Death God, seemingly aware, hadn't showed up in a while either. What that God knew were likely the exact answers Soren wanted. 

Back then, he'd been conflicted on whether he truly wanted to know or not. 

But right now, he felt exhaustion lap over him in a wave and he quickly fell asleep, into the endless world of dreams. 

The night was quiet, except for muffled murmurs and a pair of scrunched eyebrows on a sleeping person.

A nightmare.

But of what, who knew? Most likely, he wouldn't remember when he woke up. 

They tossed and turned, the rustling filling the air before suddenly, they sprung up, propping their hand behind them to keep them steady. Soren huffed heavily, eyes wide in the dark.

There was something staring at him. 

Just as Soren had thought a long while ago, that his exhaustion had overcome him and made him see strange things. But right now, he didn't feel tired in the slightest.

He stared back.

Raphael stood there, silent in the shadows that twisted around his vague figure, swallowing his legs as it whispered against his arms. But it wasn't Raphael, not the same one he knew.

Eyes silent and quite with vivid tension, staring at him with that judging raven colour.

When Soren blinked, a blooming red seemed to run down the man's being, dripping onto the floor and staining the carpet in its stench. His eyes were pools of nothingness, lost the original brightness of brilliance.

He smiled lazily, as he always did. But it was mocking and dry, fake and scornful.

'You did this to me, Ren.'

The voice echoed all around, drumming against Soren's ears. It was all that he could hear.

'And you chose to forget it.'

It was painful. The slicing words that slid along his arms, thundering against his ribs as he stared, unblinking. As if he knew the shadow wouldn't go away.

As if he didn't want it to.

'You're a murderer, you foolish reaper. I tried to save you, and died trying. It was your fault.'

Words that Raphael wouldn't dare say.

Yet this illusion, this mirage which painted its cruel words against his heart, did.

And sitting in the void of his room, Soren couldn't help but wonder. If this was the truth he wanted to deny. Raphael's true feelings. The ones they'd both forgotten. If the present didn't exist, then what would?

A dull throb pulsed in his palms. He'd been clenching them, unknowingly, and the wet smear of liquid that trickled from his digging nails felt strange.

But he didn't notice it. Not the pain, nor the discomfort.

The mirage whispered in his ears loudly. It seemed to drown out all other sounds, leaving Soren inexplicably numb.

'Monster.'

He'd always known.

'Murderer.'

Always, always, in his simmering indifference. He'd been well aware of what he was. He was...

'Misfortune.'

...something that shouldn't exist.

Soren's breath caught in his throat, holding back empty words and possibly pleas. He traced his throat in a daze. So easy to kill. If only he'd die.

It was almost amusing.

He'd thought these memories, long lost, were sweet and coated in syrupy honey. He drowned in them, longingly.

And yet bitterness awaited.

A foul pull scrapped his lungs, and suddenly he was coughing violently, retching on the bed. Hands flew to his lips, clumsy and confused.

Oh how the memories hurt.

Red trickled from his lips, splattered into a mix that already splayed across his hands. Disgusting, it was, thought Soren belatedly as he slowly blinked.

He should've known recently. But he hadn't, he hadn't even considered it and now the fault laid on him. Now the hallucinations would come, and the real truth; the cruel truth would come.

"Death God, I need to talk to you."

It was time to bear witness to this tragedy.

[...yes, Ren Suzuki.]

Of Raphael and him.