The dining room was, for ?lack of a better term, hauntingly gothic.

  It was a grand simulation chamber, recreating a dark hall built inside an ancient dark-tile castle, surrounded by rising towers and coiling fog. Lining the walls inside were portraits of Calamity Entities similar to Bayren, and the occasional amber-eyed woman. Fine tapestries with symbols of the House Emperar dangled down from the projected ceiling where all fifteen Calamity Lords posed around a crucible with the word KHAUM inscribed at its core.

  And though the room was dark, there were massive windows that decorated the dining hall. Beyond a winding dark castle was lit by beautiful clear nebulas and distant galaxies, spread wide across the projection like a cosmic tapestry. Their alien glow reflecting off the rolling fog that consumed the lower levels of the castle in a blanket of eerie beauty that made Rusk truly feel like they’d truly left Himadri.

  The long dining table was decorated with ornate but sinister carvings that were barely visible under a dark cloth. A matching set of gothic silverware was set beneath a cloth napkin that was ornately folded into a vision of Bayren. Rusk focused on Bayren’s set in particular. His plate was noticeably large along with the silverware that was almost comically larger.

  Dark chairs lined both sides of the table, all positioned toward the massive, evil-looking throne at its head—a towering seat of authority designed with zero ambiguity about who it belonged to.

  Rusk stood there awkwardly, unsure where to sit, and to his dismay, Mera and Lamia were standing right beside him, waiting for him to choose a spot.

  Okay. No matter where I sit, I’m screwed. If I sit closer to Bayren, I’ll probably be too nervous to eat at all. Though that doesn’t really matter, because no matter what I pick, one of the two will complain. Unless…

  Rusk turned to the two. “Could you two play a game or something to decide where you sit? I don’t want you two to fight or anything.”

  Lamia smirked. “Don’t worry we’re not that immature, you know we’re actually turning 9 next month.”

  Kids are kids are kids. Like nine is old at all. Rusk pushed the thought aside. “Well, as long as you don’t fight or anything.”

  The doors behind them suddenly split open, startling Rusk. He turned, panicking—and his eyes widened as he saw the person joining them.

  Entering the simulation chamber was an incredibly beautiful woman seated on a hovering wheelchair decorated with pastel colored pillows, her gaze angled toward the side, lost somewhere in a bygone memory. She looked so much like her daughters that Rusk thought he was seeing a vision of Mera in the future.

  He glanced down at the shy little Mera, her little hands pressed tightly against her mask, then back at the woman. She looked like a carbon copy of Mera—milk-pink eyes and all. Though Lamia’s features were undeniably hers as well.

  Bayren walked past the trio, his massive form looming past Rusk as he carefully pushed the wheelchair.

  “This is their mother Galene… she’s not exactly with us.” Bayren said, his coarse voice marred with a confounding sorrow. He walked past him, guiding the wheelchair to a spot near the front. Bayren flicked his finger as a calamity construct dragged the chair away, allowing Galene’s wheelchair to take the place.

  Rusk looked at her with curiosity. Is she ill? When she mentioned being upset they were left alone, was it because she would do nothing if the girls hurt themselves?

  Bayren sat at the head of the table. “Please, sit next to me, Ranger Rusk.”

  Well that solves my sitting dilemma. Guess I’m eating next to Lord Bayren… “Y-yes!”

  Trailing behind him, Mera and Lamia began to play Mind, Body, and Soul—a simple game that was essentially rock-paper-scissors. Mind over Body, Body over Soul, and Soul over Mind.

  Rusk watched in silence. I guess that’s how they’re picking a spot.

  They played 3 rounds until Lamia suddenly bounced up and down in victory.

  “Game is game, sis,” she said smugly as Mera walked over to their mother’s side in defeat.

  Lamia, meanwhile, ran straight toward Rusk. “We get to sit together!” she declared.

  Game is game… Rusk smiled at their little game as he gently pulled the chair back for Lamia, then slipped around the table to do the same for Mera. He helped Mera onto her chair and pushed her in. Lamia, watching nearby, waited expectantly for Rusk to do the same for her.

  Bayren observed quietly. “Do they have you do this sort of thing while on duty?”

  Rusk offered him a half-smile. “Well, I was raised to be a gentleman by my uncle, so… you know. By habit one day I helped Mera take her seat, and Lamia also wanted to be treated like a lady, so… I guess I do end up doing this kind of stuff a lot? It’s never anything too complicated, just little pleasantries.”

  Rusk wandered back to his seat, taking a shaky breath as he lowered himself beside the massive Bayren.

  “Ranger Rusk, tell me about your life,” Bayren said, clasping his claws together. “What kind of life have you led?”

  Rusk shuddered slightly. I thought he did a personal background check on me before hiring me? Maybe he wants to hear my version?

  “Well… it’s not particularly exciting, so…” He let out an awkward laugh.

  “Please tell us!” Lamia asked, leaning in.

  Mera nodded quietly from the other side of the table.

  Rusk turned to Bayren. “It’s a little dark at the start… Are you sure?”

  Bayren smirked. “Do you really think they can’t take it?”

  Rusk blinked at that before letting out a nervous breath. “I guess they’re tougher than most kids.”

  He straightened slightly. The twins leaned in.

  Then he began:

  Rusk took a deeper breath. “Okay… Well, I was born in the lower Planura on a boring ENN.KORR world called Enkel-3. It was a simple, aimless place where people had little purpose in life. The population was low, and almost all the ENN.KORR tech was concentrated in the Servinae ran capital, so living out in the countryside were kind of forgotten.” He looked at the distant sky, reminiscing. “I was the eldest son of four, and the only one of my siblings who really got to spend time with our father.”

  His smile softened as the bright smile of his father crossed his mind. “My father was… he was quite the character—he was a child at heart. Or at least that’s what my mother would say. I always thought he was like a breeze in a cave… He lacked the ability or the knowledge to venture far, and even though he seemed like the type of guy who’d run off on an adventure among the stars, he never actually strayed far from his family.”

  Rusk’s gaze drifted downward. “But his whimsy would be the end of him. Somehow, somewhere, he was branded with an Abyssal Stigma. We never found out how it happened… and with no cure, one day he simply hugged us goodbye and gave my mother a note and with that simple farewell and teary-eyed smile he disappeared into the forest.” He breathed quietly. “But… even though he left us like that, I don’t remember being sad or anything. He told us he was going on an adventure worth a lifetime—and I mean—how could I be sad when he left us with such a bright smile on his face.” He looked down at his hands, reminiscing with a melancholic smile.

  “I see… An Abyssal Stigma… I wish I could’ve witnessed him.” Bayren said as a mechanoid set a glass of fizzy liquid before him. “Say, are you good with children because of your younger siblings?”

  Rusk nodded nervously. “I guess? I never really thought I was good with them. The kids back home were pretty rowdy and rarely listened to me… Though there were hardly any chances for them to do mischief since our lives weren't particularly exciting. Since we weren’t Servinae, all we did was play in the fields; catching small animals, swimming, and reading anything we could get our hands on.”

  Bayren took a sip. “Hmm, It wasn’t on your record, so I’ve been wondering what made you decide to pursue the path of a Ranger?”

  Rusk felt a flush of embarrassment creep in as he traced a finger along the rim of the water glass set before him. “It wasn’t anything heroic—I just wanted to see the world my father talked about so much. It was a simple, selfish wish. So when I became old enough, I joined the academy at 14 and graduated at 16. I was pretty average overall, and following in the family tradition… I also didn’t have any unique Kyyr ability. Just a knack for manipulating liquids.”

  He gave a self-conscious laugh. “For the past few years I’ve just been hopping from ice planet to ice planet doing search and rescue, with the occasional conflict with locals or wildlife. My career as a ranger wasn’t exciting until I was transferred here.”

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  Rusk looked up at Bayren, offering the best smile he could muster in the face of Calamity. “That Carboxarax attack would’ve been my last if it weren’t for your Lordship. So… thank you very much for the opportunity to continue living—so I can keep seeing new places and meeting new people.” He turned to Mera and Lamia. “Though I feel like I’m gonna be with you guys for a while.”

  “You’d be correct,” Bayren said calmly. “Sitting to dine with me, in essence, has made you family.”

  Rusk almost choked on his water. “Wh-wh-wha?”

  Lamia’s eyes brightened. “He is?!”

  Across the table, Mera—who had been quietly wiping tears from her face after Rusk’s story—suddenly perked up as well.

  “Indeed,” Bayren continued. “Dining together is sacred to Calamity Entities. When we reveal ourselves at our most primal, we bear the shame of our once monstrous voracity.”

  A group of waiter mechanoid served a rather fancy noodle soup—thin, hand-pulled strands curled neatly beneath slices of tender meat and bright green spices that rested gently atop an amber broth. The surface shimmered with a delicate layer of oil, carrying a warm, savory aroma that made Rusk’s stomach flutter. Tiny flecks of red pepper and crystallized salt glimmered across the surface in a salivating display.

  Rusk marveled at the food’s quality… right up until Bayren’s bowl stole his attention. It was almost comical in its massiveness. It honestly looked more like a steaming cauldron than a serving dish—large enough that if Bayren tipped it just a little, Rusk could see himself taking a scalding bath in it. He subtly leaned to the side, trying to peek around Bayren’s colossal soup-bowl to see if Lady Galene had one too, but instead he noticed she wasn’t eating at all. She was quietly hooked up to an IV, her expression still distant.

  Mera and Lamia, on the other hand, had smaller portions. Mera’s dish in particular had everything neatly diced into tiny little cubes so she could drink it through a fat straw provided by a mechanoid.

  Bayren reached for his own utensils—an equally massive spoon (or rather, a ladle) and a pair of long, pronged forks built to match his size.

  “It’s a dish loved by one of my kin.” Bayren’s voice growled from somewhere behind the enormous bowl.

  Lamia smiled wide. “Thanks for the food!” she chirped before diving in.

  Rusk, though more curious by how Bayren would eat, found himself absorbed in the dish as he slurped a perfectly textured noodle down his throat.

  Woah… it’s delicious!

  For a few delicious minutes, all conversation shifted to the mastery of the dish, with Lamia animatedly explaining the intricate details of its conception. Rusk listened in surprise as he gradually realized just how much Lamia adored not only food, but the art of cooking. Apparently, since she was very young, Veladonna had been teaching her the fine art of gastronomic alchemy.

  And before he realized it, the fragrant dish before him was gone.

  “That was incredibly delicious, your Lordship,” Rusk said, his expression softening into something almost drowsy with contentment. “Thank you for allowing me to join you—I didn’t know food could bring such delight.”

  Bayren’s visage cracked faintly as he tilted back his bowl and drank the last of the broth in one controlled swallow. “I hope you have room for dessert.”

  “There’s more?!” Rusk asked in excitement. Before realizing how stupidly happy he sounded in the face of his boss and Calamity Lord. He screamed internally.

  Bayren didn’t seem to care as he used his calamity constructs to clear the table, handing the bowls to a mechanoid that was on standby.

  With the bowls gone, Rusk suddenly found himself face-to-face with Lady Galene who—

  Is she looking at me? Or am I being delusional? I swear by Enlil’s light that she’s looking this way. But why me? Can she even talk? “Umm, excuse me, your Lordship?”

  “What is it, Rusk?” Bayren asked, checking the status of the desserts on his crystalcomm.

  “I’m unsure if it’s appropriate of me to ask, but why is Lady Galene unresponsive?” he asked while gesturing as politely as he could over at her.

  Bayren turned—only to find Galene staring directly at Rusk. “It was an inevitable topic…” he whispered, before his visage cracked in surprise. “She’s moved?!”

  Lamia and Mera immediately turned toward their mother, who had unmistakably shifted position and was staring straight at Rusk.

  Rusk looked around. She doesn’t normally do that? But why now? And why is she staring at me?

  Bayren turned slowly toward him. “Ranger Rusk, do you remember what Mera’s Kyyr ability is?”

  Rusk nodded. “Yeah?”

  Bayren sighed. “Well, we theorize Galene’s is similar, she sees the world in a way we don’t really understand…”

  “Huh? Excuse me Lord Bayren, but—how do you not know what your wife's Kyyr ability is?”

  Bayren’s shattered gaze widened as he parted his jaws. “Ah.” he clamped his jaws shut and rose from his seat, his Kyyr unfurling as black tendrils encased them in darkness.

  DID I SAY SOMETHING WRONG? IS HE GONNA KILL ME? IN FRONT OF THE TWINS?

  “Wait Lord Bayren! If you’re gonna kill me please do it where the girls won’t see!” he pleaded.

  Fwoosh.

  A fire blossomed from Bayren’s claw, lighting the inside of the construct he’d created around them. “What?” Bayren asked, confused. “I’m not gonna kill you.”

  “Oh. Then what’s with the darkness?”

  Lamia popped out from the darkness. “It’s daddy’s secret box! He tells interesting stuff in here.”

  “Ohhh… of course a secret box…?” Rusk looked into the jaws of scarily close Bayren. “So what’s the secret?” he asked, leaning back.

  Bayren sighed. “I was planning on sharing this after the meal, but I’ve always struggled with timing…”

  That’s kind of ironic. Rusk thought to himself.

  Bayren continued. “Listen—Galene isn’t my wife.” Bayren said blankly.

  “Oh.” Rusk stared at him, genuinely bewildered.

  “Nor is she my concubine, or someone I’ve slept with.” Bayren’s voice lowered, his expression hollowing with old memory. “I fell in love a long time ago. And that one time was enough for me.” There was a faint, bitter curve to his jaw as he scoffed at himself. “I know how ridiculous that must sound coming from a Calamity Entity—especially when creatures like Alvlad exist, staining our legacy in blood and sex. But I’m not like them. I’m simply a man who happens to be a Calamity Entity.”

  Rusk looked toward Mera and Lamia, who were quietly watching their father. “What about them?” he asked.

  “Bayren is our dad,” Lamia said, smiling as if the truth were obvious. “Even if it’s not by blood. I mean, I never really thought we were related, because, you know—” she pointed at Bayren’s snout, “I don’t have teeth like him.”

  Of all the differences… Why focus on the teeth? He pushed the thought aside. “So then… who’s their father?”

  Bayren shrugged. “We never found out. His genetics were unstable from the get go… alien, it seems that whoever their father is must’ve been the spawn of one of the other Symbols.”

  “Right…” Rusk murmured. Then the realization struck him. “Wait—then how were they born?”

  “Regression… and an insane amount of time and resources. Even if they don’t share a drop of my blood, they certainly have my sweat,” Bayren said, his visage cracking into a faint, tired smile.

  “So… how did you meet Lady Galene?” Rusk asked.

  “Fate. Chance? Or perhaps luck.” Bayren’s voice settled into something distant. “She was cast away in the Curved Sea. We fished her out on our way here, actually. At the time, I saved her out of boredom. But… after these two were born…” His gaze drifted to Mera and Lamia. “I—I just fell in love with their curious eyes. Their little hands.”

  He paused, the silence weighed down by millenia of regret. “I was never around to raise my children before,” he admitted quietly. “It was a rough era. But even so… I never made the attempt to be a father. It took years to rekindle anything with them. Some hate me to this day.” Bayren turned his shattered gaze toward Rusk. “In a way, we’re alike, Ranger Rusk. We both simply pursued our selfish desires… and somewhere along the path, we ended up helping people we never expected to.”

  Rusk gave a quiet laugh. “I never thought a Calamity Lord would relate to little old me.”

  “Indeed…” Bayren’s tone shifted—heavy, darkened by memory. “Rusk, as I was saying earlier… Galene had Regression used on her extensively. Too extensively. She even died a few times.”

  Rusk’s breath caught, the cold grip of death ever present in his body, the shredding sensation of flesh and bone causing him to tense up as Bayren continued.

  “What I did to her was wrong,” he said plainly. “But I don’t regret it. Without her suffering, I would not have my daughters.” His voice wavered—just barely. “Unfortunately… Galene grew to despise them.”

  Lamia leaned in from behind holding onto Rusk while Mera quietly gripped her mask.

  “So in a desperate, shameful attempt, I tried to Regress something forbidden—her soul.” Bayren’s eyeless visage cracked into a mournful look for a moment, jaw tightening as he kept talking.

  “Whatever I caused changed her forever. Her eyes dulled. Her already closed-off nature collapsed inward into silence. She became… unresponsive.” He lifted his gaze toward the woman across the table—her distant stare still fixed on Rusk, vacant yet intent. “Those eyes of hers… they were once a deep crimson-pink like Lamia’s.”

  A faint crack rippled through his visage.

  “But her Kyyr went through some strange, irreversible change. And the only clue we have about her condition is Mera—whose ability appears to be similar in nature.”

  Rusk stared into Galene’s eyes—strawberry-milk pink, distant, and aching with a sorrow he did not understand. He felt his chest tighten. “Is there any way to help her?”

  Bayren leaned back in his throne, the light catching on the fractured lines of his visage.

  “We were hoping she’d react to something… to anything… to anyone.” His gaze shifted to Rusk. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t shocked by this sudden change. And I mean no offense to your essence, but… why you?”

  Rusk didn’t even disagree.He looked back into Galene’s vacant eyes. What do you see? he wondered.

  Bayren continued quietly. “I had already planned to allow you to accompany the twins on their visits with their mother. But this development has… cemented your role.” His tone deepened. “As of today, you are not only their personal guard, but a part of our family. So do not be afraid…” His visage cracked. Slowly, methodically, scales loosened and flaked away. His horns drew inward. His snout receded. Darkness curled around him as his body reshaped itself—as a human figure manifested in the darkness.

  Rusk looked on in surprise as a handsome young man with eerily glowing amber-gold eyes extended out hand from the darkness. “My name is Bayren Duur, a second generation human and a founding member of the House 15.” He smiled wide. “Let’s get along.”