The silvery light of the disco ball danced on the floor of the club to the tune of the music of the era. It had only been two decades since the fifties when he had first emerged and had stopped being an ordinaire for good. War was behind them and a new age had begun.

  He hadn't seen his home country in over twenty years and some part of him missed it. What he didn't miss about his home was all the wars and the fascism, but such fruitless ambitions were the curse of the short lived human and not the mage.

  All the young faces in the club were a new generation, and while he looked to be one of them he was anything but. His body hadn't changed since the fifties when his aging had come to a stop. They would grow old and gray while he would stay the same as the centuries passed him by. That was the nature of the mage and it was what made them so different from the ordinaire.

  "Getting contemplative now are you, Pietro?" Bill chuckled as he threw back another glass of some colorless spirit.

  Pietro leaned back in the booth as he raised his own glass to his lips and took a sip. He missed his grandfather's vineyard and the sweet dessert wine they kept in the cellar underneath the villa. The liquors of the isles were not to his taste and yet he would still imbibe it by the flask to raise his spirit.

  "I miss the wines of the old country, and my mother's home cooking of course," he muttered as he filled his glass with yet another round of swill.

  "If there's something I don't miss, then it's England," Bill said as he reached for his lighter and lit another cigarette.

  Bill was ten years his senior, but as mages they might as well have been the same age. Decades mattered little when you could live for centuries without changing. While Bill glorified the power and superiority of the mage life, Pietro now found himself envying the simple life of the ordinaire.

  Pietro looked down and sighed heavily, "This isn't working for me, Valerie."

  "We could always try something different you know?" she said as her head popped up from underneath the table.

  "No, I'm just done," he muttered as he got up and left.

  Outside the air was cold and the night darker than black paint on a white canvas. Even the blinding neon lights weren't enough to dispel the gloom bearing down on him, but within that abyss stood a figure wreathed in warm light that kept the darkness at bay.

  She wore a wide brimmed black hat, a long silken black dress, and pointy black shoes. Her long brown hair reached all the way below her waist and her warm hazel eyes seemed to pierce his very soul. No matter how dark her clothes were or menacing her tone she still lit up the night with her inner radiance.

  "Has it been twenty years already, Pietro?" Morgan said as she gave him a kind and gentle smile.

  "It may have only been two decades, but to me it felt like an eternity."

  "Are you finally ready to give me answer?" she purred.

  "You could have come to me ten years earlier and my choice would have been the same..."

  "And?"

  "All I want is you," he declared weakly.

  The streets around them began spinning until they suddenly disappeared altogether. He found himself standing before a large bed in a dark room. Slowly he moved closer to her naked form splayed out on the bed and fell into her embrace.

  "I'm all yours," she whispered in his ear as their flesh became one.

  He could feel her nails digging into his back as he pushed her lips against hers. His hand closed around her throat as he separated himself from the kiss and peered into her glowing eyes.

  "Harder!" she cried as he increased his pace and tightened his grip on her throat.

  When it was over he collapsed atop her sweaty form while panting heavily. Was that what love was? Burning desire and inescapable obsession? He had been obsessed since the first time their eyes met and yet he had retreated. The idea of love had scared him back then, but now he found himself only wanting more.

  "You always make love like death is watching you," she giggled as she moved her hand through his hair.

  He leaned his head against her bare chest and stared at the wall while she slowly stroked his hair. If he had known that this would be his future when he had been offered the choice, then he would have never postponed it. Had he finally found what Valerie couldn't give him? That one thing he truly desired.

  Had it only been a decade? The seventies felt like they had come and gone in the blink of an eye. He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling as the doors swung upon at the far end of the room.

  "Autumn consort, we must speak," they said as they approached him.

  "You should be well aware of the fact that I answer only to the matriarch," he stated matter of factly.

  He raised his hand and the shadows answered his command. The witch before him was torn asunder by the darkness as countless shadows descended upon them. Who it had been he would never know, but he really couldn't care any less.

  "You were dead the moment you entered my domain, but really you should have known I despise politicking."

  Carefully he stepped over the pile of writhing flesh on the ground before him as he got up and left the room. If his beloved was with him he could tolerate the minor irritation that was clan politics, but without her by his side he couldn't stand it for even a moment.

  "Good morning, father."

  He turned his head only to be met by his daughter's cold gaze. While she looked quite similar to her mother in most ways, she had gotten his raven black hair and dark eyes like two lumps of charcoal.

  "Ebony..."

  She had been conceived only a year after he had first met Morgan back in the fifties. Even though he had only come into her life ten years ago she still always referred to him as father and never by his name or title. It bothered him how alike they were in their darkness. She had inherited none of Morgan's warmth and was just as heartless as himself.

  "My daughter would like to see her grandfather," she said in her usual monotone.

  "Very well, then I shall endeavor to visit her at once."

  After only a few minutes of walking through the winding corridors of the mansion he reached his granddaughter's room. Her toys were moving of their own volition under the control of the countless spirits dwelling within the mansion only for them to fall limp the moment he stepped through the door.

  "Gramps!" she squealed as she threw herself into his waiting arms.

  "What have you been up to, little one?" he asked her as he peered over her shoulder at the countless journals strewn about on the floor.

  "Cherry is a tree and no one in our family has ever been named Cherry so if I have a daughter one day I'm going to name her that!"

  "It's a beautiful name," he said as he hoisted her up on his shoulders.

  "Are we going to the harbor today, gramps?"

  "Well I did say I would take you there at some point and it might as well be today," he chuckled as he walked out of the mansion with his granddaughter on his shoulders.

  The entire flower shop had been drowned in a stench that reminded him of death and decay. He could see the new florist huddled up in the corner of the shop with tears in her eyes. For whatever reason she gave off a palpable darkness despite her otherwise lively and fair appearance.

  "Are you alright?" he asked her as he took a seat next to her.

  She threw her arms around him and pressed her head against his chest. Tears soaked through his shirt and sent chills through his spine. There was something off about the young florist, but there was nothing on the outside that could explain the sensation.

  "They all keep dying when I touch them!" she cried out as she tightened her arms around him.

  Whatever was wrong with her wasn't visible on the outside, but it quickly became clear she wasn't ordinary. He could feel her touch draining his power albeit only a fraction of a drop at a time. For some reason she was devouring the life of everything around her.

  Could it be she was emerged? It was clear she was giving off some kind of magic, yet she appeared to have no control over it. In fact he didn't sense anything that would indicate that she was casting unconsciously or not. Was her lot in life to spread death whether she wanted to or not?

  "It's really not your fault," he stammered as he put a hand on her back.

  She made him feel weak, but it wasn't because of her touch slowly devouring his life seeing as his magic could replenish it faster than she could steal it. He felt genuinely sorry for her and her situation. Life would never grow in her presence and that would mean the end of even the most optimistic of florists.

  "I just wanted to make beautiful flowers bloom and it's impossible!"

  "There's beauty in plenty of things you know, have you ever considered art school?"

  "What?" she asked him as she looked up at him with bloodshot eyes.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  "Even if you can't make them grow you can still draw them on a canvas, and painted flowers never wilt."

  Something inside of him wanted her to be happy no matter what and it made his chest hurt if he tried to ignore that feeling building inside of him. It was different from the all consuming obession that Morgan instilled in him. This was something warm and supportive that urged him to make this young woman's life better no matter what price he would have to pay to do so.

  "I know it's expensive and all, but money won't be an issue," he said as a genuine smiled creeped onto his otherwise cold face.

  The last two years of his life had been amazing, but everything good eventually came to an end. She wanted kids, but her body would kill any life before it could ever form inside her. The depression had made her apathetic to everything as of late, but there was still a way even if it meant misleading her.

  He had approached the Autumn household in the dead of night at a time he knew the matriarch would be present within her room. Even if he had cut ties with them she still owed him for all the things he had done for her.

  Emerging from the shadows in the corner of the room he stepped towards her. His heart no longer skipped a beat in her presence. Where there had once been warmth there were now only countless regrets to be found.

  "Two children, Morgan, that is what you'll give me in exchange for what you made me do."

  "Very well, but they will be two years apart," she stated with a big smirk on her face.

  "And you will not recognize them as your own when they are born," he hissed as he removed his tie.

  "We will see about that, but you can raise them yourself with that defective human of yours for all I care," she laughed as her dress fell from her body and landed on the floor.

  It didn't matter if his wife ever forgave him for this. He would give her two children that she would believe were her own, and if she ended up hating him for his affair then that would be his cross to bear. She would get the family she had always wanted even if he would never be a part of it. He would pray that she would forgive him even if he was undeserving of any forgiveness in this life.

  Forgiveness was something he had never deserved, and yet she forgave him for his transgressions. She had been deeply hurt by his actions, but she didn't hate him because of them. How a person could be as forgiving as her he would never understand, but now she had the family she had always wanted.

  She had a beautiful son and daughter she would always believe were her own and she loved them with all her heart. Perhaps one day the magic would fall apart and she would realize she had not given birth to them, but he knew she would still love them all the same.

  "Oh no," he whispered to himself as his blood froze the moment he stepped into the backyard.

  The corner of the yard had been painted red and his son's little shirt was stained in crimson. There was a placid smile on Al's little face and his dark eyes lit up with excitement as Pietro moved closer. The child's hands were covered in the blood of some small animal.

  Children were cruel, but the death of an innocent animal would bring any normal child to tears. Yet all he saw in his son's dark eyes were joy. Al carried his darkness and would never have a normal life unless he could force him to change somehow.

  He picked up his son and sat him down on the patio before he went to grab the garden hose. How would he even change a child like that? The kid was humming with unconscious power and any mind altering magic he directed at him would be reduced to nothing in no time.

  "Al," he said coldly.

  His son froze up the moment he called out to him. If he could find a way to direct his impulses there was maybe some way he could stop him from turning into a monster like himself.

  "The only things you may harm are things that would hurt those you love."

  "It just a squiwwel it don't mattew," Al said with his unforgettable lisp.

  "You will never harm anything that hasn't done those you love any harm, or else," he hissed as he stared daggers at his son.

  There would be untold messes that he would have to clean up in the future, but hopefully he could ensure that Al only victimized people that might hurt his sister or mother. If he could make Al dedicate himself to protecting them there was a good chance he would eventually find a way to curb his tendencies for good one day. All Pietro had to do now was make sure his son never emerged, because if he did there would be no way to truly control him.

  Jennifer had attached herself to a few of the kids in her class. They had formed a tight knit little group, but it was clear she only hung around them because of her obsession with some blonde kid named Lee. Unlike Al who was a danger to anyone that bothered him or those he cared about, she was only danger to those that might take the object of her affections away from her.

  She had already scared away every girl that had taken even a passing interest in the kid, but in time she would most likely move beyond simple intimidation to keep them away. If she ever realized what Al was capable of there was a good chance she would start directing him towards her rivals, which would make it almost impossible to stop the two of them without some drastic measures.

  Thankfully she was still young and there was a chance she would grow out of this obsessiveness of hers, but she was Morgan's daughter and that meant envy was her middle name. At least the woman she called mother had found a way to make her a caring young girl despite her obsessiveness and nowadays she was constantly doting on her friends. Someone else would have no way of dealing with her constant shopping and rampant gift giving, but with their finances it would never be an issue for as long as she lived.

  "Hi dad!" she called out as she stepped into the car.

  Her hair was getting long and he would take her to the barber as always to make sure she didn't start looking to much like Morgan. Whenever her hair grew out she would start looking almost like a carbon copy of Ebony. Something that made his skin crawl just thinking about it.

  The two thousand and three youth championship had ended in tragedy. Al had finally snapped and ended up brutalizing his opponent. It was a point score tournament so the kid would end up banned for life, but the real issue as far as Pietro was concerned was that Al had harmed someone that had done him no wrong.

  He stared at Al as the kid leaned back in his seat. There was no concern in his eyes and that bothered Pietro. All he could see in his son was ever growing boredom. The kid pushed himself to excel at everything he did, yet he never seemed to be satisfied with any of his accomplishments no matter how great.

  "I know you remember what I said to you back then," he hissed as he tightened his grip on Al's wrist.

  "It doesn't fucking matter, it makes no difference if the fucker ever walks again or not!"

  He could sense the unconscious magic within Al lashing out at the world around him. To prevent him from emerging once more would require taking drastic measures, but he couldn't let his son turn into a monster like himself no matter what. This time he would stop him once and for all if he was lucky.

  His heart ached as he grabbed the lit cigarette and pressed it against Al's skin. Life as a traumatized ordinaire was better than him turning into a warlock like himself. Every second of it made him want to die, but he pushed through and continued until it was done.

  The scars on his mind just like the burns on his arm would most likely never heal. Al's screams would never leave his mind no matter how much time passed, but that was acceptable to him. He could never let himself forget the many sins he had committed.

  It was better if Al hated him. That meant he would be the only one to suffer Al's wrath in the future. He loved his son, but he had far too much of Morgan and himself inside of him. That vile darkness beneath the surface made them far too similar. Al would no doubt take his revenge in the future, but dying by his own son's hand would only be fair after the pain he had put him through.

  Now Al would know who his true enemy was every time he looked down at his arm, and that was enough for Pietro.

  It had Al written all over it. The living room looked like a mad painter had sprayed every red pigment they could find over the walls. This meant that the magic he had sensed a few nights before had been Al's doing. All the traces of magic at the scene felt just like what he had sensed back then.

  "What are we looking at here, Pietro?" Lola asked him quietly.

  "Don't know so come back to me if a pattern emerges," he muttered as he walked back towards his car.

  Al had emerged and someone was using him most likely. This victim had probably been chosen to feed Al's urges while fostering compliance. First they gave their future weapon victims they already wanted to hurt and then they would direct them towards those they actually wanted dead.

  Someone was using Al to create a weapon, but for what reason he could only guess at. Most likely his son had fallen into the hands of one of the many players already taking part in the game, but there was always a chance he represented a new piece on the board.

  The magic around his son had always had a remarkable quality, but it never stood out. Just like his own it was primarily represented by absence rather than the presence of something. His son was a warlock and it was only matter of time until overseer got in his way, so he would have to find a way to make sure overseer couldn't touch Al.

  A modified familiar bond. The supposed girlfriend was the matriarch of clan Winters and had somehow managed to put his son under a familiar bond. She also knew he was an overseer, but she didn't seem to think much about it.

  He couldn't let the Autumn clan get a hold of his son no matter what. Morgan would turn him into a weapon far worse than the serpent shade. If he could somehow end the war and put clan Winters under overseer protection then it would give him a way to make sure Al would never fall into Morgan's hands.

  While his wife was picking up Annie's prescriptions he slipped away and made his way to a payphone. Al just had to survive and it would all turn out well in the end. He just had to believe in his son.

  "Mahogany, I know where the warlock and the Winters witch are located, but as you are there is no way for you to beat them," he said to her as the call connected.

  If he could just push her a bit she would do something drastic for the glory of being the one that finally exterminated clan Winters, but she was far too impulsive to actually succeed. Whatever attempt she made would more than likely end up involving overseer in the conflict, and would herald the imminent doom of the autumn clan.

  While overseer negotiated with them he could slaughter their members and then challenge Morgan herself. He would most likely fail, but it would weaken them for the foreseeable future and give Al a chance to become powerful enough to end her once and for all.

  That would mean the end of Morgan Autumn.

  The soul before him had stopped flickering and finally began fading away. All that remained in front of Alder was the Autumn matriarch and the corpse of his grandfather. It saddened him that his grandfather had not been powerful enough to finally end the reign of the current matriarch, but he had also been the first to land a hit on her in centuries.

  "God fucking damnit!" she howled as tears streamed down her face.

  Rarely did she get so emotional. This was the second time in his life that he had ever seen an outburst like that from her. In some sick twisted way she had actually cared for Pietro, but he knew better than to think she had ever actually loved him.

  "Of all people it just had to be my very own son that's been killing us!" she screamed.

  This was news to Alder. While he knew Morgan had conceived his own mother with Pietro, he had no idea that there had been more children. Every sign pointed to the warlock working with the Winters witch being younger than himself, which had to mean that they had been born in the last two decades.

  The matriarch had been absent between nineteen eighty nine and nineteen ninety three so it had to have been during that time that she bore them. Pietro had already left the clan at that point so there was still something about it that didn't quite add up.

  He moved towards his parked car over by the garage and drove past the ruined gate the moment the engine roared to life. Once he had made enough distance from the household he grabbed his phone and opened up his saved contacts.

  "Mother," he said as the call connected.

  "What is it, Alder?"

  "Grandfather is dead. He killed most of the main household except for those who happened to be behind a ward at the time."

  "He did what?!"

  "Well he failed to kill the matriarch, but we both know that's not really any consolation."

  "Did you discover anything else?" she asked him.

  "The warlock working with the Winters matriarch is your brother. It appears Pietro and Morgan had more children at some point after he had already left the clan."

  "Which means the warlock who killed my sisters and spared my niece was actually my uncle," he muttered.

  While the loss of his sisters was regrettable, it also meant that the recently mindwiped Cherry could be raised somewhere far away from the main household once she woke up. They had been too caught up in the politics anyways and losing them bothered him little. Now Cherry could finally have a chance at living a life without the shadow of clan politics hanging over her head.

  "Alder, we will leave him alone for now, but remember to keep tabs on him so we can contact him in the future should we need his assistance when we take Morgan down."

  "Yes, mother," he said as he ended the call.

  His uncle was out there somewhere in Arthur's rest or the surrounding areas, and all he had to do was find him so he could keep tabs on him. They would most likely bear striking resemblance to Ebony so they were quite likely to stand out, but it could still take him days to find them with had information he currently possessed.

  "This is just getting better and better," he muttered as he pulled over to the side of the road.

  Overseer had blocked off the area and there was no way in hell he would get past them with all the recent troubles. One of the overseers began approaching him and waved over to him.

  "Sorry! We're currently under containment protocol and can't let anyone pass," they said as they approached the car.

  "Fuck..."