I look forward to having those questions addressed! This story is at the climax and I'm like "noooo! I need to read more! What happens next!" Darn those cliffhanger endings.
I honestly thought I wouldn't be able to grab time for this. So many things coming and popping up. And, you say cliffhangers, but I'd call them enthusiastic interruptions. I know, it doesn't make sense. Hoho.
Get ready for information overload.
Oh, I thought the world of you.
I thought nothing could go wrong,
But I was wrong. I was wrong.
If you, if you could get by, trying not to lie,
Things wouldn't be so confused and I wouldn't feel so used,
But you always really knew, I just wanna be with youLingerWrapped around your finger like The Cranberries
Azrael cupped the cold wind to his face, hoping that the chill will cleanse away the tension and the anxiety. Because whatever he was feeling, although he can't name or place it, he felt "Chagrined," he huffed and rubbed his hands together, after having shuffled through the word he learned from his fine friend in college, "What was his name?" He kept thinking as he walked, past the singing shore and dancing sand. It was odd that he didn't remember this old friend's name, a college friend in his new memory. He walked, still bothered by his failure to remember his supposed best friend, the one with corn hair, somewhere between the shade of bleached blonde and another blonde he can't name- It was no secret that the great Doctor Azrael Hawke was no fan of fashion and its antics. A name came to him, "Tony." But his best friend Tony, the one who fell into some unnamed rank during Azrael's Great Depression, had no idea where he was now, or that he was still alive, eccentric Azrael, always with his funny ideas and rabid displays of awkwardness. "That's right, Tony, my old man!" He delighted in this false, but what appealed to him as true, memory.
He was distracted by the crunch of the autumn leaves that lay scattered over the misty grass of the morning. His shoes were getting wet, but he didn't mind. He liked taking walks when he can. The sound was a delicious crisp, the wind a pleasant chill.
Azrael looked at the delicate flake of snow that fell to his hand, "Winter's coming." But in all his years in Sunlit Tides, there had been no winter, "Well, except maybe that one odd day. Last time." And last time, Garrett came to see him- tried to meet him. Winter seemed a natural thing to him, he remembered building snowmen, creative, artsy, mundane and random inspirations for the snowman army he built with his best friend. The one who kept him busy when things started to get suspicious. "Suspicious?" He didn't know where these sentiments were coming from. All his life, as he remembers it now, he lived a boring, if not entirely dull childhood. "Ah," he walked, smiling to himself, as he resumed his stroll- one that he was advised not to take.
"You're not supposed to go out alone, or go out at all!" He remembers one of the old ladies from the grocery tell him. "Why not, Mrs Grantham?" "Why not? It's simple, honey! You can get into accidents! You don't want your pretty wife crying over what remains of you after a tragedy!" "Well, it's not nice of you to say that, Annie," said the grocer. "Well, darlin' if you ask me, I'm darn right. I'm going to consider my opinion, if I were you, sweet roll." The old lay pinched Azrael's cheek and left in a trot. "Take my word for it!" The old lady added before she finally disappeared through the door.
"Well," Azrael dug his hands deep in his jacket's pockets. "I
am getting married. I should probably get going." But Azrael walked a distance he doesn't remember taking. He hadn't thought of bringing his van because he wanted to stroll. And everything looked unfamiliar. He rubbed his eyes, hoping that by some stroke of luck or magic, he would recognize this place. "I hadn't walked that long, or far. What the-" He didn't have the chance to finish complaining, because someone had bumped into him, making him lost his balance and fall. "Sir, I'm sorry. Are you alright?" The man asked, holding out his hand to help Azrael up. "No, no. It's alright. I'm alright," Azrael slowly got up, looking at the grass, slowly fading and turning gray.
Then white- a familiar white. Tiles. "Oh, no." "Doc, are you alright?" The man asked again and he looked at him. "You!" Azrael blurted out. "Is something wrong, Doc?" The man asked again. "Ah? What?" Azrael looked at the man, then at his own hands and his feet. He looked at what he can muster seeing. He was in his hospital garb. He was at the hospital. "Ah, how long have I been here?" "Since the start of your shift? I bumped into you. Are you alright?" "Yes, I'm. I'm fine, Doctor, ah-" Azrael looked at the man's name plate, "Easter." "A? I call you "Doc" and you start calling me Doc, too? I was just trying it out. You've always called me Easter. Just Easter is fine, you know." Azrael looked at the man, confused. "I'm not sure I understand? This is the first time I've seen you?" "No jokes, man. I've had a long day." The corn-haired man patted his shoulder lightly and said, "Well, I gotta run. I've got a patient waiting for me. After that, I'm out." "Tony?" "Ah, no. Your wedding jitters are disturbing. It's not normal. Go see Aveline, why don't you? She can help you. I mean come on. You're family and all. All you have to do is walk straight and turn left. Well, not that you already know." Azrael doesn't know. He has no idea of what this man who calls himself Easter was talking about. And Aveline?
Who the heck is Aveline? And as if Easter heard what he was thinking, the man said, "She's your sister. Man, are you disturbed."
Azrael gathered himself and walked to the direction Easter pointed. "It's not like I'm planning to meet this Aveline." He walked and walked in what seemed an endless corridor. "I'm dreaming," he said, but he kept walking. And for the second time he crossed paths with the man who calls himself Easter. "Doc, ah-" But the man only passed by him, as if he didn't hear, nor see Azrael. "Hey!" Nothing. Azrael turned to see the him, but he disappeared. "I'm really dreaming." He decided to look for this Aveline, opening every door he passed, only to see empty rooms- whitewashed, concealing every crack and gap in its wall, "Whitewashed." There were nothing inside the rooms. On it went, and Azrael started to panic. He wanted to wake from his dream, he wished it were. But he couldn't. He was trapped. There was no way out of this, except maybe finding this Aveline.
So, Azrael walked. Slowly, this time. Cautious of every step he took. But however hard he tried, he couldn't find her. There were no stairs, no elevators. "No left turns," he uttered. It was an endless maze of a straight corridor and empty doors. "Maybe, maybe I should explore those rooms." Because he didn't. He opens each door, finds them empty, and closes them. Now he's confused by all the doors he's closed and opened but can't distinguish. "So..." He sat on the floor, with his back against the wall. "This is worse than sleep paralysis," he tried to humor himself. "So, Doc, what will you do now?" He pulled his legs close to him, bent, and rested his chin on his knees. He closed his eyes. And he can't remember how long he's kept them so.
Tip.
Tap.
Tip.
Azrael dozed off, and was awakened by the light click and pat of shoes against the floor. He slowly opened his eyes and looked to the right. Nobody. He looked to the left. There was nobody. The corridor lights started to dim. "This is just a dream. A puzzle. I'm stressed. Yes, it's just stress," he consoled himself. He's never had dreams for a long time, only memories. He put his hands on his face and felt the oil and grease. He felt the sweat on his face, and he was disgusted.
"Love?" He heard a woman's voice. She was talking to him. He doesn't know why or how he thought so, but he knew. He knew that it was him she was calling.
"Aveline?" He said as he looked up, at the woman who stood beside him. But the woman didn't hear. Instead, she said, "Honey, why are you sitting there? Poor baby. Come here, stand up and let's go to my office." He stood up but it wasn't his hand the woman was holding. She was holding a little boy's hand.
"Nana. Where have you been? I looked all over for you!"
To his surprise, the boy looked down at him, Azrael felt a chill that was unlike earlier.
"I'm sorry, dear. Didn't I tell you to wait for me in my office? I promised you I'll be with you when you get your immunity shot taken." "But you were taking so long! So I walked around a bit. And then I met this man, he had yellow hair that looked like corn. Or wheat. He was interesting. He's funny, I think. I like him." "Do you know this nice man's name?" "Ah, no. But he was wearing a gown, like you. Maybe he's a doctor here." "We'll see. Did you thank him?" "Yes, I thanked him! You taught me to say thank you, so I did!" "But I also taught you not to talk to strangers, didn't I?" "Yes. I'm sorry." "It's alright, dear. You're safe so that's enough. But promise me you won't wander around again." "Okay, Nan. I promise! I love you! I'm sorry!" The woman giggled. "Forgiven. Now, let's get you that shot." "But I already had it! "Oh, did you? Let me see-"
Azrael followed the two, as they turned left and reached a room at the far end. "They can't see me?" But he was as material as everything in this place. A man even bumped into him earlier, before he found himself getting up the hospital floor. "They really can't see me." He came in normally, opening the door, and found himself a seat on the couch. And then he stared at the boy's face, who started singing, "Every story has a beginning, a middle, and end... I'm stuck on chapter one." "Come on now, that story can wait." "Come on, Nan. I can't wait." "But this is no place to be story-telling, darling." "But you promised that you'll finish the story!" "Another time, dear. Another time." "Pssh. Not fair, Nan." "Don't 'pssh" me, Azrael. No matter how sweet you are when you do it." "But, Naaaan!" "Come, now. I still have things to finish. My shift will be over in a while." "Not fair," then he started singing again.
Azrael knew this kid. It was him. But the woman? "Nana?" Straight ahead, then turn left. "Go see Aveline, why don't you?" Azrael sat there for a while, staring at the younger him and the woman whom he thinks is the person the the corn-haired man calls Aveline, and his younger self calls Nana. He sat there staring, and trying to remember this scene. He tried remembering other days in the hospital- a different hospital. But he can't remember anything.
"Hello, Mister." The younger him sat next to him. "Are you lost?" He asked. "Ah, no. Hello, kiddo. What's your name?" He asked the boy, just to make sure if he heard her right, and that he was indeed seeing his younger self. "Azrael Hawke. But Nana told me not to talk to strangers. But you're wearing a gown, too. And you look decent, so I'll talk to you." Azrael wanted to laugh, this kid, his younger self had nerve, and a bit of an adult's arrogance, or it could be just his innocence. "You're not going to ask for my name?" "Ah, it's your prerogative, mister. I told you mine, so now it's up to you if you trust me enough to tell me yours." Where was this boy's sweetness to his 'Nana' gone to? He was an entirely different person to the present Azrael. "Well, I'm-" "Would you like me to tell you a story, Mister? Well, unless you have something to do. I understand if you left now." "Ahh-" Azrael figured it out. This boy was on defense. He wanted to shoo away a man who was invading his territory. The boy sees him as a potential threat. "You can call me A, kiddo." "That's funny, Nana calls me that, too." "Well, I guess we have a lot in common!" "Now that you say that, you look a lot like me. I'm better-looking, though." "Of course, you are!" A thought came to Azrael,
Am I always this conceited?"Your vanity is not something that most people can identify readily."
"Did you say something?" "No? I didn't say anything." Said the younger Azrael, who was now shuffling something from the counter. "Mister A, your nameplate." "What about it?" "Your nameplate says 'Hawke,' we have the same last name. I thought I was the only Hawke in Paradiso." Azrael's brows tied to a knot. "Paradiso?" "Yes, Isla Paradiso! Do you know other places called Paradiso, Mister?" "No."
In fact, this is the first time I heard about this place. "I think Nana's pretty." "Who's Nana?" "Her." He pointed to the lady. "Why do you call her Nana?" "Because I can't call her Aveline? I'm not being rude, I'm sorry if I sound like that." "It's alright, kiddo. Is she your mother, or something?" "Well, if she were, I'd call her mum, but she's like a mum, too. She's really nice." "You must adore her." "That's no secret. She's the best girl in the world!" "Not Palmira?" Azrael carelessly commented. "Well, Palmira comes second. Oh, wait. Why- How do you know her?" "I can read minds." "Really? I can, too. Well. That's what I think."
I was kidding. But was the younger him joking? He wouldn't know. And this was a dream.
Never trust a dream. "How old are you, again?" "Eleven. Twelve. I don't know."
Really? 
"Hmm. that's odd. But what was this story you mentioned earlier?" "Ah, just a bed time story. I was two when I first heard about it." "Two? And you understood it?" "Yes. What do you remember from when you were two years old?" Unbelievable.
This boy is an adult in a kid's body. Is this me? Is this really me? "I don't think I'm as smart as you, when I were younger." "That's fine. Would you still want to hear about the story? Don't you need to go see sick people?" "No, I'm on break, so I don't know why I'm even here." "Well, just keep your hands off my Nana." "Okay. Rest assured. Speaking of, where is she?" "Left. I don't know. I think she left."
Without us noticing? And she acted like she didn't see me. "Dreams are complex, Mister. I have them a lot. But I don't know what they mean. And I always dream about people I think I know. And people I know, that I don't know."
Why are you saying this? Azrael thought to himself.
"My dreams, they tell me things. Things that happened in the past, even before I was born. Things that I've already forgotten. My dreams are beautiful. Nana told me my dreams are beautiful." "You talk to her about your dreams?" "Sometimes. But she doesn't know everything. And, most of my dreams don't mean anything to me. And dreams, well. I can't really trust them, you know? But Nana trusts my dreams." "Maybe she just likes how your dreams are so different?" "How do you know that, Mister?" "I just think. I sort of know it." "Well, I like listening to her stories about dragons. And wizards and witches. They were fun to listen to. But I think they're real. I just hadn't told Nan what I think about them." "Can you really read minds?" "I can. You don't believe me?" "Well, can you tell me what I'm thinking of now?" "You want to go home." "It's that obvious?" "No, I didn't even need to read your mind. Your thoughts were just lying out in the open." It was a familiar line. "You know, I think I remember that." "Which, Mister?" "Thoughts just lying out in the open." "You're very careless, Mister."
So are you. You're me, kid. "How come your Nana doesn't see me?" "Oh, I think she saw you. She just didn't want to talk to you." "Why not? You said she's nice." "She's nice, but not that nice. Or, if you want to feel better, then, she didn't see you." "Oh, right. That's possible. But we're in a dream, aren't we?" "Dream? This isn't just a dream, Mister." Azrael flinched, and said, "You know me, don't you?"
The younger Azrael grabbed a book from the shelf. "This was supposed to be just a dream, you know, your usual dreams.
My usual dreams- about the past lives of the Hawkes. But then, you look like you need more than the usual dose. You've become resistant to them, Doc. And I think you know what I mean." "Are you sure you're just eleven or twelve, or somewhere in that bracket?" "I'm not normal. You're not normal. Here." The boy placed the book in front of Azrael, "Open it. Open it, anytime. But not now."
Azrael looked at the book. The cover was different, apparently. But the book gave him a feeling of familiarity. He knows he's seen this book at least once. Maybe he'd forgotten about it but he knows that this wasn't the first time.
"Why not?" He asked, and continued, "And how do I get back to this place?" "Oh, you will get back to this place, Mister. You will. I know it." "What's the book about?" "Well, first things first. Nana. She. She's your sister."
My sister? "She's my sister, too. She's a Hawke. But all her adulthood she lived as Enzalde Wintergreen, because she's running away. And she's protecting you- us." "From whom?" "The Order. Our family's spent years running away from these people." "Then why didn't she change your-ah, my- name?" "Because she underestimated them." "Blunt," Azrael uttered. Yet he still didn't believe him.
Never trust dreams. "Palmira's nice. She's really sweet, too," the younger Azrael said as he looked at him. "You, I- I grew up with Palmira?" "You don't know? Yeah, you don't know. Yes." "But, I remember-" Azrael didn't finish, he let his younger self fill in the blanks. "You remember wrong. Everything you remember is a lie. Your family, the tragedy- well, ours is a different tragedy; your meeting with Palmira. Even your birthday is a lie."
Here I am listening to a kid telling me that my life is a lie. How tasteful. "How about we do a pop quiz, Doc? About you." "Shouldn't you be playing with kids your age?" "My friends are adults, except Tony. And Palmira. But you're all adults now. Haha. This is a dream, remember. Well, it's not just some dream. And that book-" the younger him paused to look at the book, "That isn't just some book."
"Ahh," Azrael scratched the back of his head, and later messed his hair in frustration.
How long till I break free from this dream? "Basics come first. Name?" "Name?" "Your name. I should know how much you don't know about yourself." "Shouldn't you already know?" "This is a protocol Nan came up with, why and why I wouldn't know, but let me tell you a secret. I've always slept here, in you. Should the need arise, I'm here to talk sense into you. I clean up, so I need to identify the errors first."
Azrael was confused. This kid- his younger self- was talking big. Worse, he was telling him what to do and what not to.
Don't trust dreams. You said it yourself, he looked at his younger self.
"Then why did Easter point me to Aveline?" "I like playing my games, Mister. I just wanted to play. It was fun while it lasted." "I didn't know I was cruel at such a young age. And who is Easter anyway?" "You were secretly cruel. You were so kind, so nice. So... understanding. Me, I'm you. The adult Azrael, trapped in a child's body. But it's all in your mind. And Easter is an old friend. Nan doesn't trust him, and she was right not to. But I really liked him. Well, you really liked him." "You're confusing me." "So, what's your name?"
So, we're really doing this? "Azrael Hawke." "Middle name?" "Is that even needed?" "I asked, so I think it is." "You're unreasonable." "Thanks, self." "So, if I grew up without the things that happened happening, leading to the me now, I'd be like you? Bitter and cynical?" "You'd be a gentleman. An honest gentleman. Like your grandfather. Well, what's your middle name?" "Aiyoo! Witcher." "Oh!" The younger Azrael's eyes brightened, "I'm surprised. She let you keep your name. She's like Nan, then. Underestimated them." "Are you talking about Palmira?" "Yes. I adore her, you love her. Nan did good. Planting me in you." "But you're me?" "Yes, how many times do we have to go over this?" "This is sick." "Twisted. I know. Doesn't that make it all the more fun?" "I don't know. I don't like where this is going." "You don't have to like it. You only need to know." "What? That Palmira
kept my name as it is? This is all abstract to me, and probably will be until you actually start getting serious about
telling me things." Azrael felt his patience leaving him. He was uncomfortable and irritated, trapped in some dream that refuses to end.
"I told you didn't I? This isn't just some dream, Azrael Witcher Hawke. I'm you and you're me. Now, if you refuse to accept that, fine by me. Fine with me. I'm just doing my job, the way Nan wants me to." His younger self had command in his voice. Azrael felt his seriousness. "Okay. Okay. Now what?" He looked helplessly at this boy that looked back at him. "Now you listen. First let me tell you, that I have my limitations. Nan planted me in you, along with memories and theories, as well as the Hawke family's history. Every bit of everything." "Sounds like a convenient hard disk. Do you come with picture projection, too?" It was rhetorical, and the younger Azrael ignored his irresponsible comment, "I know you're tired and you want to get out of this dream. But give me time. There are at least some things that you need to know before I let you off, before I let you go back to your fantastical world of make-believe." The boy started to pace around the room, "As I was saying, I have all these information, but there's a limit." "What would that be?" "The memories stop at your- erm, our- passage to adolescence." "So, you looking like that isn't just some- uh, forget it. Do continue."
"First, Palmira. How are things with her?" "I'm marrying her." "Oh, I approve. Well, that's from my love-struck point of view." "You said your memories stopped at my passage to adolescence, so why do you know that it was Palmira who kept my name?" "Nan. She knows things. And I know what she knows, but the how's and why's. I don't know everything. I just know that somehow, somewhere and sometime in Palmira's childhood, Nan was able to make things happen." "Are you saying she's involved in this memory hoax?" "No. I think, it's Palmira's own desire to protect you. But she could have done better and changed both your names. Maybe, she was actually hoping to be found? By whom, I don't know. But I'm sure it's not The Order." "What is this order that you keep saying?" "Mayfair." "What?" "They're- wait. Before anything, I know that you're a man of science now. And that you probably won't believe these things, especially with you thinking how dreams shouldn't be trusted. And whether or not you believe me, just listen. Listen first. Maybe ask afterwards, but don't rebuff them as lies or figurative. None of what I'll be saying is figurative, unless I say otherwise." "I like your humor, kid." "As I was saying, this order is, well, they call themselves The Mayfair Witches." "A cult?" "Occult, but not necessarily a cult. They pride themselves as pursuers of rare, even forgotten, lore and related shenanigans." "You said witches. You mean they're all women?" "Yes, and no. Yes, that those who hold position, ranks, and have voice in the order are women." "And the men?" "Servants. Hirelings. They do all the dirty work while the women sit around ordering them." "You sound bitter." "I am bitter. I didn't know then, that Matteo and Theo were both from the order." "Wait, who are they?" "Matteo. Remember his name. Matteo Torres is Nan's steward and husband. Well, he's supposed to be the Witchers' steward but he fell in love and the rest is history." "And you're saying that Aveline- Nan, you're saying that she's my sister." "Yeah." "I find this hard to comprehend. It's all so-" "Unbelievable? I know. Watcher knows how much I hated that guy. I thought he was hurting Nan, you know, emotionally. The concept of violence never really came up to me, but it's not like there was. I really just thought that he was playing with Nan's feelings. Now, now that I carry all of her memories and yours, I can't help but feel guilty. I should have tried to ask properly. But Nan was almost never around during those times."
There was a pang of remorse in both Azraels' hearts. The younger Azrael sat on Aveline's chair and gestured for Azrael to sit on the patient's chair. Azrael was amused- remorseful, but amused.
"As for Theo, did Palmira never say anything?" "Her father's name is Teodor. I know that much. I also know that she isn't fond of him. But he's passed recently. And she never called him Theo, but the only Theo I can think of is a man named Teodor. Can't be Matteo, can it?" "Nan called him Matty. Funny, really." "Right. So, is he?." "Theo is Teodor Medina. Palmira's father, and the order's personal guinea pig. He did the researches, sure, and that made him the guinea pig. The order did make sure to fund his researches though, and hush people who need to be hushed if anything, say, uneventful happened." "What kind of researches?" "Experiments. Enhancing." "Technology?" "Genetic engineering. And no, it has nothing to do with corn and wheat or rice." "Then?" "Sim experiments." "That's- What kind of experiments, exactly?" "I'll leave your imagination to it. Just know that it isn't anything related to what most doctors pursue, all the "for better health campaigns." Azrael was aghast. "He does, well, did it like all you people do- animal testing. Even plant testing. Until all of it looked promising enough to advance to the next stage." "The people he used?" "Ah, he had his own." "What?" "Drones, I don't know. That's what Nana called them. I mean, that's the information Nan put in me. Wait, there's another name. Fiends- beings not entirely man, dolls, robots, everything and anything. They gave him fiends." "This is all hard to stomach." "But it doesn't end there." "Is it important that I know?" "Yes. He did his experiments on them, too." "Them- you mean to himself and Palmira?" "Yeah." "You seem enthusiastic about this." "Hell, yeah! You're finally realizing things!" "But this is nothing to celebrate about." "You'd rather not know?"
Yeah, I'd rather not know.
Azrael didn't know what to say. Until finally, he asked, "How does Aveline, well, Nan, know all of this?" "Theo confided in her. But she also thinks that he didn't tell her everything. He told her enough to protect her, but not everything. He was careful not to talk to Nan so much, because it would attract the order's attention. Eventually, they caught up and found out." "What does Palmira know?" "She knows nothing. Except maybe that you're like an artifact." "So Theo?" "Theo died misunderstood by her only daughter." "She should know." "Maybe. Maybe not. Didn't you say you're getting married?" "Yes." "Nan and Matteo got married in a secret place. It was the only safe place in Paradiso. Mum lent a had." "You mean our mother?" "Yeah." "I grew up in Paradiso?" "Yeah. Before that you were in Bridgeport." "The infamous city?" "Spot on." "How am I an artifact?" Azrael hadn't hoped for an answer." "You're the heir. You alone inherited both the Hawke and the Mayfair blood." "But you said the Mayfairs are hounding us? Is it because of my blood?" "Yes. Because you are a true Mayfair." "You mean to say that, the order? Do explain. I'm not sure I get this."
"The order is old. Really old. Dating to generations before great-grandfather. But then again, great-grandfather lived centuries long. I said before that the order prided itself as pursuers of rare knowledge. And your mother- our mother- is the only true Mayfair, until you." "Was her name Helen?" "Hysteria. Your father, Abaddon." "Palmira named our boy Abaddon." "It means destruction. I'm surprised she's still alive." "Hey, that's cruel." "No, honestly. She gave birth to a male Hawke. Witches die. So many witches died before great-grandmother Esther." Azrael was puzzled. Everything was making less sense. "The order named itself after Hysteria Witcher- the fabled Mayfair Witch. She never had a name, she was a myth and a legend to everyone but the few who truly sought her. But still, she eluded them. And the order, The Mayfair Witches worshiped her, naming their organization after her- after a name that simnanity decided for her. But really. Hysteria Witcher was nameless until she was swooned over by great-grandfather." "But you said great-grandmother's name is Esther, and that I'm the only true Mayfair next to Hysteria Witcher." "Things happened. A lot of things happened. I'm pretty sure you'll remember the story from one of Nan's. You'll remember."
There was a story about the great Hawke losing his mind, that eventually cost him his sight. But it was in Azrael's locked chest, somewhere.
"Why not just tell me?" "In your current state, telling you more things would only seem senseless. What's important is you know these people. Matteo Torres, still alive, I think. And because my memories are limited, I can't tell you where he is now. Teodor Medina, as you say, is dead. He applied his experiments on himself and Palmira. Never forget that." "You're making me doubt Palmira's identity." "No. I'm not asking you to, nor do I wish you to. You love her, you have a baby. That's the important thing." "We have twins. Anathema." "By Watchers! Twins! Oh, no." "What?" "I can't believe this. Remember when I said I had theories in me, too?" "Yeah, why?" "I- it's hard to say. And it's too early for that to happen." "For what to happen?" "No. You don't need any more to confuse you. So I'm going to tell you about the people you should know, let me continue. Please." Azrael was reluctant, but he knew he didn't have a choice in the matter. "Okay. Go on." "Great-grandfather. Zarall. He was the great Hawke wizard. Witches and spellcasters in general adored him, admired him. But he was a lone wolf. He preferred his solitude to company until he met Hysteria. And then lost her, and then met great-grandmother Esther." "There are still so many things that I need to know, and so many more things that I don't believe. That I'm occult? I'm the most normal that I ever know!" "Well, if that's the case, Palmira did a great job." "Erasing my memories?" "Protecting you."
The two breathed, tried to grasp things that weren't really there.
I'm not supposed to trust dreams. But all of these things and all of these names. They didn't make sense, but he was sure he believed them. He bit his lower lip hard enough for it to bleed.
This is just a dream. But he felt the sting in his mouth.
"There are more, aren't there? Grandmother, grandfather. Father. Mother. And my siblings, if I had any more other than Aveline. You're right. My life is a lie." "But not the love, I suppose. Cheesy, but as true as heck." "Watch your mouth, kiddo." "Heh. Yeah." "So, the others?" "Grandmother Shannan. She loved grandfather Raziel. A lot, but she hated your father. Well, not really. She hated herself. Hysteria-
mum- helped her. They both knew that granny was being used by the order to get into the bloodline, like great-grandmother did. Then, they really hadn't cared that much about the Mayfair Witch. They were too bent on seizing the great Hawke's power for themselves. Greedy women. They were possessed by demons that lusted for power, turning them into demons themselves. That's figurative, by the way." "Hah, I appreciate the little joke. But I don't think I can laugh at stuff like these." "You know these things from your dreams, Azrael Hawke. You have these memories in you, waiting to break free." "And then our parents." "Yeah, Abaddon and Hysteria. Mum sought dad, to protect Hawkes from falling prey to the order." "But hadn't they already tapped into the bloodline?" "Tapped, yes. But they haven't figured out how to extract the power from a Hawke without killing him unnecessarily, because they prided in their "elegant" approach to matters such as these, too." "And the Hawkes, are all males?" "Yes. The witch dies with the birth of the next Hawke. That's what was supposed to happen to great-grandmother. But great-grandfather died instead." "How?" "They found a way. Know that among witches, warlocks, wizards, only a Hawke feeds on life force. That's why he continues to grow more powerful, and great-grandfather was the most powerful, enough to catch the order's attention. And there is no prior "why" to this matter. I don't know why a Hawke feeds on life force. Nan doesn't know. But great-grandmother and the order found out. It was all great-grandmother's scheme really. The order just jumped into the limelight and took all the credit." "So, how?" "Simple really. Marriage."
Mundane. Ceremonies can range from simple and discreet to grand. But marriage?
Marriage to seal the fate of women in this sense? "That's a little overrated." "Marriage is a contract." "I'm aware." "Then there are vows." "Yes, surely." "Well, in nature's own course and definition of things, to be exact, Fate- as in the entity, the one who governs, marriage is a contract. And getting married to a Hawke meant submitting to the terms of the contract." "That explains why Palmira is still alive." "Yeah, because other than her not being a witch, I don't know, man. All the more reason that she shouldn't be alive after that birth." "She knew. That's why she kept refusing my proposal despite the years we've been together." "Do you feel betrayed?" "Yes. But I wouldn't know what to do if I lost her, either." "That also means that Abaddon is feeding on your life force." "What?" "Why are you surprised? Why do you think I said great-grandfather died, instead?" "But my boy is normal." "Normal, really? You wouldn't know that." "My first boy is also normal, but he died in his sleep."
The younger Azrael was dumbfounded.
There were no theories nor memories, nor knowledge regarding this matter. A Hawke male dead, a Hawke male powerless." "Listen, let's both figure this out. First. The Hawke power is inherited." "Yes, I remember." "That this power grows as the generation proceeds." "As you've said." "And that the power is passed onto the next Hawke." "I understand." "So, now. Also know that there are skips to this." "Skips?" Great-grandfather died, passing the power to the next Hawke, grandfather Raziel. But grandfather didn't die. Granny did, that means the power stayed in him-" "Which means that father had nothing." "He had nothing. Grandfather died after you were born. Fate couldn't afford to go through the lengthy process of passing through every generation-" "Since I'm already there." "But know, that you were a Mayfair before you became a Hawke." "Simply because father had no drop of power in him?" "All Hawkes have power. But only one in every generation inherits the raw and true meaning of being a Hawke." "And what's that?" "Being a keeper of dragons."
Dragons. Azrael remembers a story about dragons.
"What do you mean by, "I'm a Mayfair before I became a Hawke?'" "After grandfather's death, your Mayfair blood was infused with Hawke blood, I don't mean literal blood. Spirit, energy, ki. I don't know. Whatever people call them. You're both a Hawke and a Mayfair. That makes you a prized hunt for the order." "I don't like that you're making it sound like I'm being hunted." "Oh, but you are. I know this is brash but I should tell you about your brothers." "So, it's not just Aveline, after all. And I didn't have a twin sister, either. Heh." "Garrett and Carver. You were triplets. Garrett being the eldest, and Carver the youngest." "That makes me the problem-child, doesn't it?" "In a different sense, it does." They both laughed weakly. "All the male Hawkes but you survived the fire." "So, it wasn't a car accident. And I suppose the fire wasn't an accident, either?" "It was an accident. But them coming for your family wasn't. Things just got out of hand, and a fire broke out, burning the house down, making the adolescent Nan run for our lives, and leaving mum to stall for them. She survived, of course. And then Nan spent her years wandering town after town to adulthood, and then she met Theo. So on, and so on. We moved to Paradiso, and the hunt started again." "This is all so hard to put together." "Oh, but in time you will." "Palmira's going to die, isn't she?" "Inevitable. Effective immediately, if I must say. Because she's been stalling, you can think of it as a sudden impact. Time takes its toll." "I'll lose Palmira on the day of our wedding?" "It depends on how much time she cheated." "But I'll lose her. And that's the point."
"What about Anathema and Abaddon?" "We'll figure things out. Sorry for ruining your awaited wedding. It'll be hard marrying her knowing what will happen." "She looks at Anathema strangely sometimes. Like there's fear. For her, of her. I don't know." "You've family to support you. They're around. Somewhere." "Thanks, kiddo. None of the things you told me makes me happy. But I'm glad." "And by the way, thanks, I like my humor, too. But Garrett's is better, even as a toddler." "Don't tell me you're not the only image corrector, personality adjuster, or blast from my past? Whatever you deem convenient and appropriate." "Whoever comes around, will come around."
"And I have magic?" "Tch, you just realized?" the younger Azrael snorted, "You've gone a long way, and it's the wrong way."
The two Azrael's were exhausted. "Here, do you remember Thujane?" "Oh, a little bear witch. Thujane. Have you picked a gender?" "It didn't matter then. It shouldn't matter now." The younger Azrael set down Thujane in the middle of the couch and grabbed himself a book. Azrael couldn't help but let the feelings linger. And in that short moment, sleep preyed him in his dream.
And with new feelings bound to linger, he slipped away slowly to continue his morning stroll. He wants to forget everything he learned when he wakes up.
