A God's Reality: Bloodtides Descent

Bloodtide's P.O.V.

He never returned.

He just vanished.

It's been so long that I've misplaced the sound of my own brother's voice. I've been setting things in place here at the castle for my leave. I don't know when or even if I'm going to be back, so I better prepare.

Walking down the bleeding halls of the hellish castle manor, I grab the arm of a servant of our house and pull her close.

"Mr. Bloodtide, how can I—"

"I need you to keep watch over my room and armory. I will be leaving, and I don't know when I'll be returning." I interrupt her.

She nods and hurries away to tell the other servants and maids of our house. I walk to my armory, a door next to my bedroom that opens into a place that I rarely go to.

Pushing into the room, I snap my fingers, and the flickering lights of lanterns illuminate the area. The layers of dust littering over all the objects I used to use so religiously are now abandoned effortlessly. I walk over to my closet and slip into a leather suit of armor, tinged a deep red, with studded pieces of metal designed into the suit.

There are deep cuts where marks of weapons made contact, scars that the leather shows of a history once forgotten. Some are remnants of scorch marks, others gashes that are deep grooves within the leather, and some of the metal is dented and chipped.

I put on a leather belt and fill the small pouches of the belt with knives, a few different potions I've crafted, and a small circular token that I need to exchange to get my old weapon back.

I look down at the small circular piece of metal in my hand and the intricately designed flower etched into it. The brief flashes of war, of brotherhood, and of a place that no longer exists. The distant memory of my katana dripping with a dark red liquid, the glowing blade absorbing the droplets of blood, feeds the faintest echoes of bloodlust I've long since conquered.

"And here I thought my days of war were over." I mutter to myself before rubbing the flowery face of the token and pocketing it in one of the many leather pouches on my belt.

I turn to leave when I step through a portal that displaces me in front of my mother's throne.

I stop for a brief second and meet her gaze before stepping in front of her throne and bowing down on one knee.

"Mother, this is a surprise. What do you need?" My voice is soft, despite the slight drop of sweat dripping from my brow.

She smiles and leans forward, laying her chin against the palm of her hand on the arm of the throne.

"My eldest son, I wanted to ask you a favor. And might I say, Bloodtide, I haven't seen you in that suit in quite some time. Where's your sword?" She asks; her tone might sound jovial, but she knows exactly what I'm doing.

"Mother, you know better than anyone that I have to retrieve it. What's the favor?" I ask.

"Oh my eldest, I need you to go find your brother at any cost. I know I denied you, but I feel as if he's in need of you, so go. Make sure to grow your horns. After all, we both know you're more my child than your father's." She sighs, a grin plastered on her face, and nods, leaning back in her chair.

Slowly I stand on my feet, my hand drifting to the metal ring on the right side of my hip: Reaction. It's where my katana should be. I turn from my mother and head for the door. I pause before getting to it.

"Malcorie, if I do come back with my horns. I'll be fulfilling my promise and taking that throne for myself, Mother." My voice is just barely above a whisper, but it's enough.

She laughs, not out of anger or shock but joy, and then a soft sigh of contempt comes from my mother's lips.

"I wouldn't expect anything less from my favorite, my spitting image. Goodbye, Bloodtide."

I open a portal to the northern mountainous region in Hell. A winter windscape that never stops, in some places a perpetual blizzard. But here near the peak is a small cottage that houses that very thing that I need. My katana and my dear friend Vesper.

The nipping wind is whipping past me when I step up to the doorway of this one-story log structure; before my hand even touches the knob, it opens, and there is a small, grey-eyed succubus staring through me.

"Vesper..."

"You're always late, you know..." She mutters as she steps aside, allowing me into the warm cabin, the fireplace slowly burning away at a few logs. She leads me to the small circular dining table; sitting at it, she joins me and settles her arms on the old wooden surface.

I pull the token out of the leather pouch and gently place it in her hand as she runs her fingers over the flower. A soft sigh escaping her lips.

"I was hoping this was a reminiscent visit, but it seems as if I were incorrect." She tucks her hair behind her ears and scoots closer to the table, laying her hands open for me for her reading of my future paths.

Just as once before, I lay my hands on top of hers as her fingers trail my palms, her eyes glowing that faint purple they do when she reads the strings of others' fates. Her skin is just as soft as it used to be.

"Your strings lie in the lairs of the wolves. You must go to the heavens to find the last signs of freedom in a collapsing system. Help those who want to rebel, and you'll be one step closer." Her voice is soft.

"Thank you." I sigh and withdraw my hands into my lap. "Vesper, I need my katana, please."

She sighs and nods, scooting back from the table and walking over to her bed, bending down and reaching under it before pulling out a scabbard wrapped in cloth; she brings it over to the table and unwraps it.

Underneath is a black sheath with blood-tinged iron wrapping around the sheath in an elegant and quiet design. I pull it close. My hands wrapped around the familiar grip of the blackened and worn leather of the handle.

I go to draw it, but her hand gently stops me, her finger brushing the back of my knuckles.

"You have a choice in what kind of devil you become, Bloodtide." She then steps back and walks to her door, standing next to it.

That sits with me for much longer than I'm willing to admit. I finally break the seal and unsheathe my sword. Reaction. The dark red blade that's made from my own hands, of my own blood, the faint beat of something hungry enters my soul at the sight of the color and the sharpness of the blade. I sheathe it and slip it into the metal ring at the right of my hip.

The weight feels right.

I turn and walk over to Vesper and give her a hug. She doesn't hesitate to hug back.

"If I don't return, just know that...I will choose." I say to myself more than to her.

Her smile doesn't reach me; I step out the door. It closes, and now I have a lead. Time to leave a bloodied trail in Paradise.