They found them.
In a mold-stained motel on the outskirts of a rotting town, the gardener brothers cowered behind locked doors, breathing shallowly, praying to gods they didn't believe in.
But prayers couldn't stop monsters.
The door shattered inward like paper.
Viel stepped in first, face shadowed under the flickering hallway light. Eryx followed with a blade already in hand — calm, smiling.
The brothers tried to run.
They didn't make it two steps.
⸻
The first was dragged by his hair, screaming. The second was already gagging from the pressure of Viel's boot on his chest. Eryx didn't say a word — just bent down and ran his blade through the man's thigh, slow and deliberate, watching the blood pour like water from a pitcher.
"You took him from us," Viel said, voice eerily gentle. "Did you think we wouldn't come?"
The brother begged, incoherent.
Eryx sliced his cheek open with a hum. "We'll make it quick. For one of you."
The younger one sobbed and promised to talk, swearing he'd tell everything.
But Viel turned to the elder first.
He laughed as he drove the knife into the man's mouth. Screams gurgled. Teeth cracked. It was all wet noise and twitching limbs.
"Stop! Please!" the younger shrieked.
Eryx crouched beside him, tilting his head. "Tell us. And maybe we'll make it merciful."
He did.
He told them everything — how Rowan gave the order, how the tea was laced, how Cael had no idea.
Silence.
Then Viel grinned.
"Oops. We lied."
He drove the blade into the man's chest.
⸻
But death was not the end.
The twins were not merciful executioners.
They were mad gods.
Eryx pressed his boot to the man's face and crushed. Again. Again. Until bone split. Until the skull caved in. Until the floor was slick with brain and blood and something that could no longer be called human.
Viel stood back, blood splattered on his cheeks, watching in silence — eyes glazed, lips parted like he was witnessing art.
Monsters.
Unchained.
Because Cael had been stolen.
And they were going to tear the world apart to get him back.
The town was still dripping red when the knights left.
Even as their horses trampled the blood-soaked earth, even as they carried the dismembered remains of what had once been men — the image wouldn't leave their eyes. The bodies barely resembled humans. One was hung by torn tendons, spine crooked like a broken branch. The other... there was no face left to speak of. Just splattered bone and crushed pulp under the younger twin's heel.
The head knight, Reilan, had always been loyal. He had fought wars, crushed rebellions, and bled for the dukedom. But today, as he stared at the mess the twins left behind — even he trembled.
Not from fear.
From grief.
"This is what Cael was surrounded by?" he thought, eyes low as he helped wrap what remained of a skull in thick cloth. "This is what loved him?"
He dared not speak it aloud, but in his heart, he whispered: Maybe it was a mercy. That he got taken away. Maybe... just maybe, Cael had a chance at peace.
But now that fragile peace was shattered.
Because the twins had found the trail.
And they were coming.
⸻
At the gates of the twin's estate, the message was made clear.
The gardener brothers — or what remained of them — were mounted like trophies. One on each post. Their heads placed high and rotting in the open air, mouths still twisted in agony. Blood dripped into the soil like a silent curse. No words needed to be spoken.
"This," Viel had said, eyes glowing with cruel delight, "is what happens to those who touch what's ours."
*"Especially our Cael," Eryx added with a grin so wide it tore his face into something inhuman.
And with that, they turned to the path ahead.
They were headed to Duke Rowan's estate — a two day ride by map.
But they had done the impossible once already.
And they would do it again.
"We'll be there in one," Viel promised, cracking the reins.
"And this time," Eryx whispered, eyes wild, "we're taking him back."
_________
Cael sat on the edge of the bed, hunched over, his fingers digging into the sheets like they were the only things tethering him to reality.
Cael's voice trembled.
"When... did you find out?"
Rowan didn't blink.
"On Father's deathbed."
His eyes lowered.
"He told me everything... with his last breath."
Cael went quiet.
The room did too.
And in that silence — something settled.
His voice was low. Fragile.
Rowan didn't move. He only stood there, still as stone, listening.
Cael's eyes were distant, locked on the carpet. "It was raining ,the day my mom got murdered. If he hadn't come... I would've died that day."
He swallowed the lump in his throat, trembling.
"Father... he didn't even hesitate. He carried me home in his arms, shakily . And after that, he fed me with his own hands. Tucked me in at night. Told me he will protect me and told me countless apologies cuz he couldn't save mom.He was so much in pain"
Tears slipped down his cheeks as he choked out, "But I'm not his son and he can just throw me away but why didn't he?"
Rowan's jaw clenched.
Cael looked up slowly, pain carved into every line of his face. "Why did he do that? Why... when he knew I wasn't his blood?"
Rowan stepped closer, voice soft — reverent. "Because he loved you."
He knelt beside the bed, looking up at Cael the way a devoted knight would face a dying god.
"And he loved your mother," he continued. "More than life. More than legacy. You were hers. And so, you became his."
Cael's lips trembled. "All because of love?"
"Yes," Rowan whispered.
Did he go this far... just because he loved?
Cael turned to him — and in that instant, their eyes met.
And he knew the answer.
Yes. Yes, someone could love that much. To raise a child not his own. To cover a truth that would shatter everything. To choose suffering in silence rather than let the one he loved feel even an ounce of guilt.
Because the proof was right in front of him.
Like father, like son.
But Rowan... Rowan was worse.
Cael looked away again, his shoulders trembling as the weight of grief and memory buried him.
"I miss him," he whispered. "His voice. His smile. That sad look in his eyes, like he knew something I didn't. He must've known I'd find out one day."
He lay down on his side, pulling the blanket up to his chin like a child. "I just... want to be alone for now. Please."
Rowan stood in silence.
And then, gently, he nodded.
"Take a rest, Cael," he said softly, lingering just a second longer to memorize the curve of Cael's back, the way he curled into himself like a boy lost in dreams.
Then Rowan turned, stepped out of the room, and closed the door behind him — the echo of it sounding like a lullaby for a heart that would never truly sleep again.
Cael felt the kind of grief that hollowed a person out—like discovering your whole life was a beautiful lie wrapped in love too heavy to carry.