This place was always silent. Only their kind, too wise or too stupid for their own good, wandered the city streets. Asphalt, concrete and steel—dreams of skeletons long gone, of a species whose time had passed. They had come here before, albeit it briefly. They had run from this place, seeing it for what it was. No one here was that lucky, drawn back like moths to a flame. Gabriel had left twice; once by his own choice. It was the first of these incidents that kept him awake at night, shook him from a hellish sleep and the demons that lived there. Each time, he lost a little more of himself. Each time, it was his fault.

But this dream had been different. Baneesh had again been torn to shreds, screaming. As the man who had done it, with his crooked teeth and mad, unseeing eyes, turned to Gabriel, another figure had struck out. It was his father as he remembered him, a young man as vicious as his mother. Ahren slit the brutes throat and ripped his jaw from his skull. He did so much more then that, and Gabriel could do nothing to look away. Finally, his father, covered in blood, looked up to him. He grinned like a maniac, threw the jawbone at Gabriel’s feet, and spread his arms like Christ. Sins of the father, he laughed, leaning his head back and bursting into flame.

Ahren was here. The nightmares served as haunting premonitions and warnings, and he listened to them. Gabriel walked through the city, knowing without knowing that his father was nearby.

Again he had come back to the church, and again he stared at a piece of history. It had meant so much so long ago, and but now it meant nothing. Existentialism had gifted him with a horrid, beautiful reasoning. Meaning-making was his prerogative. His meaning was carried on his body, in his mind, in his soul. Moonlight set his graveyard tan aglow, a halo of light in the street. He didn’t know how long he had been standing here. His feet had long sense lost the means to feel.

It was noise that finally dragged him from a debate on the nothingness of being. Footsteps, approaching from down the road. Fire-red eyes turned, shaded by a mass of dreadlocks that still smelled like smoke and the sea. The stranger was broad-shouldered, with several scars and odd markings. But it was the eyes that Ahren recognized, eyes he identified as Kaena. Further identification came with the scent, naming the hybrid as Gabriel. He looked nothing like himself.

“When did she leave?” His voice rose on the wind, baritone, as it had been since he began loosing himself. Ahren didn’t have to guess. He knew, as he always did, as was his way.

The man standing before him did not resemble his father. What he saw was a vagabond with matted hair, the no-color brown of dust on his coat, scarred and wild. All he recognized were the eyes. They had changed slightly, though. Older, lacking the madness his father once carried; but he saw that secondary darkness and it concerned him. Stopping dead in his tracks, the young man remained silent as Ahren managed to pinpoint the change with four simple words.

“A while ago,” he said quietly, not sure how to react. “Why do you care?” You’ve never cared about her, or any of us.

Gabriel was his eldest son, but he was not the first who had learned to hate him. Anya had been first, blazing a path and leaving a trail in the wake of tears. Secretly, he wished she had never been born. He wished none of them had been born. Turning away from the boy, Ahren dropped his hand to the bag on his hip and drew a cigarette. Striking a match, he lit up and breathed deep. It was the only comfort he found in these times. “I did love her,” he said, as if this meant something.

“Only until you were offered power,” Gabriel snapped, feeling a dull hum rise in his chest. He hated his parents, and he had reason to. They had abandoned him without a thought, even though a day or two of searching might have found him. Instead, he was raised by a woman cut down in her prime. Everything ended up dying, it seemed. Everyone left.

Ahren shot a dirty look at his son. “We were done long before that happened,” he said, exhaling into the cold. “She and I both knew that. Our children were the only thing we had left.”

“You don’t care about us,” Gabriel said, voice dropping to a vicious growl. “You don’t care about any of your children.”

A shift occurred on Ahren’s face, but it had occurred and gone so suddenly Gabriel wasn’t sure if it had even been there. The older man took another drag on the cigarette and turned back to his son. “You sound like your mother.”

Gabriel’s lips pulled back and this time, a growl did escape him. Clearly, this was what his father was aiming to do. Watch him, study him, and see him for what he was. “I’m not like either of you,” he hissed, eyes pallid in the half-light. A thin smile crossed Ahren’s face, and he shook his head lightly. “Now you sound like me. Gabriel, you can’t escape it. We become our parents, in some way.” Letting out a snort of laughter, he sighed and leaned his head back. “If it means anything, I’m sorry.”

Agitated, running on fumes, Gabriel let out an exasperated huff and put his hands to his face. They dropped shortly after this, and he regarded his father with dull contempt. “Give me a cigarette.” The distance closed between them and the object was passed and lit. For a long time after, the two remained silent. It was Gabriel who spoke next. “I don’t forgive you.”

“You probably never will,” Ahren said, smiling still. “I still hate my father…and my mother, come to think of it.” He shrugged, shifting his weight on the pavement. “She and I used to live in this church,” he offered, looking back up to the monolith. Puzzled, Gabriel furrowed his brows and a chunk of his hair fell into his face. “I didn’t know that.”

“Oh yeah. She used to lead a cult and preach about the end of the world.”
“What happened to her?”

Ahren brought his hand to the side of his head and pantomimed a gun. Unsure of what that meant, Gabriel stared at him. “My father kidnapped me, and killed her not long after.” Another startled look crossed Gabriel’s face, which was now less violent and more child-like with wonder. Recognizing the look, the elder of the two had to turn away. “Good luck with everything. It probably doesn’t mean much, but if you need me, I’m around.”

And with that, Ahren began to walk down the street, leaving his son outside of the church. Gabriel remained there only until Ahren was gone from sight. Then, he turned and began to head back to the coast, head spinning.