[Citanul]

"...I know father has limits... That means... I should too. We are but his blood." Iahmes was still unsure, of even how this came to be.... But he would figure it out. And until then, make sure that this never went out of control. Not again, not on innocent people.

Nodding slightly he let his brother help him up, wiping his hands onto his pants to keep the ash from sticking to his fingers. It wasn't as... Unpleasant, as he thought it would be. The thoughts were - but everything in his body told him this was fine. The release of energy hadn't felt terrible; while he was doing it he had been... Happy? Was that it? No, not the same emotion. But similar.

"Nas?" Iah's eyes went wide as he clutched his brother's shoulders suddenly. "What's wrong?" He wouldn't do this, not in this mood... Not playing as if he was harming himself. The low chuckle caught his attention and immediately he wheeled to face whoever it was, eyes focused on whatever he could see. "Leave my brother alone!"

[Ander]

Nas saw as Iahmes did: whatever was happening to him was not - or could not - alter his insides nor his wits. Though his voice emerged a strangled gurgle, hands still clutching his own throat, he tried to warn his brother about the dark cloud that swept through the grey, particles of ash that clung to its form the only thing that made it as visible as it was. Upon Iah's shout, the shape halted, realizing that it was found out. With a flurry of ash, the illusion hiding the boys' intruder was dispelled.

Castigal (Human-Shape)

It looked at first like a man. A very large man whose teeth were pointed as a Lucain's, with pupil-less eyes that blazed a bright, electric blue. The suit he wore, a very formal navy three-piece, was meticulously put together. His feet were bare, and the skin that covered them little more than smoke, with the remains of what appeared to be ashes swirling through his toes. What strands of his hair hung loose fell in front of his eyes, jet-black with long streaks of that same crackling blue twined in its braid. In fact, the air around him seemed to shimmer with that color, motes of it dancing around his eyes and fingertips in a way that the brothers would likely find strangely familiar.

Nasimine gasped as he appeared, but less from surprise and more because the odd spell over him had been broken. The vampire's eyes narrowed, gleaming with sparks of red, raging at the interloper who dared to enchant him. Him! The son of Caine, the power behind the throne! Indignant, Nas had time for one sudden, wordless screech of fury before he launched himself at the larger man, claws and teeth outstretched for his throat, Teigra-like in his ferocity.

The black-haired man smirked. He did not move, just watched the wrathful teenager approach - and then lifted one hand, and caught Nas' entire torso in his massive claw. Only now, holding the struggling boy, did the man's smile fade. "You insult me, insignificant one." A flick of the wrist found Nas flung back to Iah's side, howling in surprise as his face connected audibly, and painfully, with the ground. "Stay down, should you have any dignity in you. I have other matters to attend to."

He seemed to pay Nas no more attention. Nonetheless, In the wake of the flying boy, he came closer. Those same huge claws opened wide as the man looked past the once-favored son, eyes meeting the paler brother of the two. The one who had called him here: that was who he had come to see. "In fact, we have other matters to attend to; ones not meant for foolish eyes. Come, Iahmes. Come, my son!"

[Citanul]

Iahmes' only worry was for his brother right now. He touched his throat before turning to watch the figure materialize from the ashes. Invisibility. It always unsettled him, as did his sister's shadow materialization. Too many unknowns, far too much room for error with dealing with them.

"Brother no!" Iah gasped at Nas as he charged though he was unable to catch him. Gaze turned from cautious curiosity to a narrowed glare as he moved and knelt next to his brother, keeping him down as he knew the healing would work. He needed to wait for a moment - this man in front of them was powerful, his tactics unknown.

A slow snarl came across his lips, fangs easily shown. Not an odd gesture, though usually reserved for a jest, and never serious as now. "I am no son of yours, stranger. What business do you have, hurting my brother?"

[Ander]

The oncoming man paused. The welcoming embrace he had offered receded somewhat; though the burning gleam of his eyes offered no emotions, his manner suggested confusion. "You wield the might of destruction, little one. For this, of course you are my son." One hand lifted, flicked casually at the air - but it cast nothing. This time he only gestured to the world around them, as if to indicate that he and the boy he addressed were hardly of it. "Your...brother," he said the word as if it was distasteful, "came at me. Recklessly, at that. I did nothing but defend my person."

More blue swirled faintly around the man's form.  "Why would you care for such a hotheaded creature? He is far below your station. Do you understand that, valiant son?" He was close enough now to look down on the brothers, scrutinizing their curious behavior.

Nasimine howled once more when Iahmes touched him, sore despite the heightened healing that was already knitting unsettled bones back where they belonged. "Iiiiurrrrgh..." Trying to speak gained him nothing but a pained groan, and a spew of crimson vomit over the ground: his chin bent inward, the cheeks oddly lumped, the jawbone likely broken. Nas propped himself up on knees and elbows beneath his brother's hand, coughing painfully. There was nothing he could do but wait for his strength of his blood to put his body back together - and he hated every inch of that wait.

[Citanul]

Iahmes didn't truly understand. He just held Nas carefully, stroking the back of his brother's head with gentle hands. It was like they were young again - close and comforting to one another. Family after all, was a strong bond to all of them. He watched this newcomer approach, grip on his twin tightening slightly.

"I am a Son of Caine and Lysandroth. Demon and Vampire blood run through my veins - any power I wish could be mine, stranger. Destruction is in my blood, I need not have gotten it from you." A small pause, as his brother groaned. He softly laid a hand on his cheek as his face stitched itself back together, trying to give him some comfort. It would heal quickly, but it would still hurt.

"Family is never below me." His teeth grit lightly at his next words - he wanted to growl, but did his best to keep civil. "I love my brothers and sisters. No matter my power or theirs."

[Ander]

The look of confusion persisted for scant moments more, claws flexing in their still-wide stance. At least, until partway through Iahmes' speech. Until 'Lysandroth'. At her name the man smiled brilliantly. Almost too much so, to an eye used to catching grins touched with malice.

Then the man was laughing, and reaching under his braid to rub the back of a collared neck with one hand. The other perched over his knee as he crouched, bringing himself to eye-level with the boy he considered his precious, confused little herald. Blue glittered over him as he moved, coalescing into a soft, tenuous aura whose motes stirred the ash. "Lysaaaaandroth," he drawled. The smile on his face grew as he did so, once more becoming that entirely-too-friendly sort of grin - and from his lips came the same low chuckle the boys had heard before. "Now it all begins to make sense. Now I recall.

"Believe me, boy: I am the source from whence your power comes. You would not have it if not for me." Was there something bitter in his tone? Whatever it might have been, was gone when he went on. "And we both know that to be true. Any power you want...a hearty bluff, but a bluff nonetheless. It is a set of strange gifts that afflicts your siblings, is it not? All specific, and all unusual - and some not at all."

Here he leaned close, still wearing that malicious smile. "Such is the way when one's powers come not from the blood of a demon, but a god."

It did hurt, and Nas panted at the sensations in his chest, his back, and especially his face. He had broken many bones in his life, and healed just as many with ease. Some of them had hurt, but none so badly as this jaw. As soon as Iahmes' hand touched his skin, the broken vampire nuzzled into it. He could feel the pressure pushing the broken plates under his tongue around in ways that felt awful - but his heart felt better for the contact, and that was what really mattered.

[Citanul]

The smile and the chuckle seemed all too odd for Iahmes. His watery blues watched the new man, hands still upon his brother right now. Nas needed him - broken bones took a few minutes to heal, and quite a bit of pain. He couldn't imagine the intensity of pain in which Nas felt right now, nuzzling into his hands. He rarely showed such gentle affection.

Why this man was bitter he wasn't so sure. How could his powers have come from someone who wasn't his kin? His father's family were long gone and dead, and mother had never spoken of any family. She had to have some to be sure, but these powers could have come from anywhere. Lasombra's powers were completely different, never seen in any of Caine's lineage before.

"Not all of my siblings are from my mother anyway." Iahmes pointed out, but light brows furrowed slightly as this man knelt and locked gazes with him. "...She has no reason to lie. My mother is a demon. Nothing more than that."

[Ander]

The man's leer gentled. "There is so much that you do not know about Lysandroth. So much that I can teach you...!" The same great claw that had hurled his brother to the ground reached for Iahmes. The fingers, bluntly curved scythes long as dagger-blades, twitched a bit in eagerness. At least, they did until they were stopped cold by a tendril of red light. A gleaming chain wrapped around those black points, and flared as it held them well at bay.

Anandiel and Lysandroth
(Human-Shapes both)

The maker of that lone tendril was surrounded by many others: coils of red light that wormed their way out from her skin, writhed through a cloud of white hair. The hem of the simple white gown she'd been called out in hovered above the ground, suspended by sheer power and sheltering the bare feet beneath. A mouth usually patient and coy bore a snarl equal to her mate's, fury in every grated word. And the slender woman's piercing blue eyes and hands were awash with florid rays of an aura more out of control than it had ever been before. As well it should be: Lysandroth was furious."You will not touch my son. You will teach him nothing. You will crawl back to wherever you have hid, and you will never again disturb my family!"

His free hand flexing, the man tried in vain to loose the crimson chains around the one that the Daemoness held captive. Though he winced slightly at the grip of her power around his hand, it did not stop the mocking chuckle he gave her demands. His electric aura buzzed dimly against the flaming bonds. "Nice to see you too, Creator."

"Silence!"

The man by her side, a slimmer creature with blazing serpentine eyes and deep indigo hair, smiled wryly. He had to admit that there was a certain humor to the situation at hand. "Found them," he commented dryly, hands clasped behind his back. "I told you that I would."

Lysandroth was loathe to take her attention away from the larger man in the black suit. "Thank you, Anandiel. We will speak later. Be on your way."

Those serpent's eyes nodded, looking away from Lysa only long enough to wink at the boys. Then the man - in a clap of Paragonic wings that sprang from his back in an instant - shot straight into the air, lost against the night sky.

Lysa, quite literally red with fury, didn't spare him a passing glance. Eyes that pulsed with light turned to regard her sons; the incensed woman's face, for only a moment, went motherly and soft with concern. "What has happened to Nasimine? Iahmes, are you alright?"

[Citanul]

"Whatever I don't know about my mother is her business, not mine." Iahmes nearly shuddered at the connotations - he felt his father was the only one that really needed to know her like that.

Even though his mate held the great claws back Caine felt the need to pull his boys back from where they were, picking them up into his arms. He gingerly touched Nas' face. "My poor boys, what did he do to you?" The words were soft but anyone who heard would know the malice behind them. The easiest way to get on Caine's bad side was certainly to hurt his family - especially his favorite sons.

"....Bye Anandiel..." Iahmes murmured quietly before he watched his mother with the stranger claiming to be his father - unconsciously glad for Caine's arms around him. His father, while insane and unstable, always meant protection. "I'm okay mom. And the man hit Nas when he ran at him. I'm okay mom... Is... Are you?"

[Kallile]

Spardia (human form)

The Slums weren’t all that unusual for Spardia to visit. After all, it was where her more favored siblings happened to frequent for secretive meetings and the like…plus it was a rather nice change of pace to be somewhere that was generally of uncaring nature. Murders happened, kidnappings too, people starved…and no one batted an eye. So when a young lady waltzed in with a small posse of canine companions she earned hardly a glance.

And that was good considering her newest endeavors. After a brief meeting with the Blood Bard known as Kanozan with her story of family betrayal and her own agony, she had been introduced to his lady friend. Or, as it more properly stood, his Goddess friend. Ryzar, the Goddess of Mutilation and Torture, had laughed as she bestowed upon Spardia the book of Blood Tomes. The very book that had begun the blood mage movement in medieval time; now in the paws of a jaded, slighted heart. Spardia had read it greedily as if every word filled her hungry soul. Henceforth she had made many trips to the Slums in search of those foolish enough to be allured by money…that they would never receive.

The innocent but greedy souls had given their finest gift to the young and lovely lady—their blood. And oh the things she had been able to learn with it—the skills she was so near mastering it made her very core ache for just one more body in her shallow grave and one more soul on her conscious. The more blood she bent and transformed to her will the madder she had become—even now her ice blue eyes had but pin-pricks for pupils as the adrenaline of the hunt filled her mind.

There was something besides a willing body that caught her attention however; the sight of a building now far off simply melting from the skyline. The young creature angled her head curiously at it, short cropped silver and grey hair dipping lower with the action. She changed course towards the silently fallen building, waving her three otherwise silent companions away. There were only a few here who might be capable of such things…and she would meet them at long last alone.

When she happened upon the scene it was almost a beautiful sight—only those red tendrils held the wrong captive in their grasp and the wrong vampire lay broken on the ground. The younger men, from the looks of them seated right next to her father, were his sons as well. Brothers, half or otherwise, that she had never met. How predictable—the old man was doing well to spread his filth throughout the lands.

She desperately wanted to speak, to call out to them full of prideful challenge and dare them to deny how mighty she was becoming—how far she had brought herself alone after all these years. But it seemed so ill in timing, at such a pivotal moment where everything might break apart by even a whisper from the unexpected.  So instead she stood there; red cloak looking sleek as if it were made from congealed blood, slender black boots upon her feet and an equally black gown underneath the cloak. She crossed her bare arms as she surveyed the scene of her parents being so beside themselves with worry and rage… and do you know what?

For the first time in years, Spardia cracked a genuine smile. Oh, how she wished to make them howl with her new abilities, her self-made redemption.

(1/26)

[Ander]

The mother in Lysa had to smile. Just a light one, scarcely edging her lips: Iahmes was being so brave. And Nasimine, her silly boy - jumping at anything that moved, no matter the size. Was he protecting his brother, or just reacting to the threat? Looking at them now - Nas only just recovering from the pain of his healing factor - the Daemon couldn't be sure. On some maternal level, that pleased her to no end. "Everything will be all right, my moonlit son. I am- Ah. I will be fine."

Yet Lysandroth, the gleaming white-and-crimson force of nature that faced off the mysterious man with a Lucain's teeth and claws, was not smiling. She was still snarling, her hackles still raised. And she still had marvelous reason to. The woman lifted her hand, pointing alabaster fingers at the man who threatened her sons; the chains of light around his hand tightened. Those huge fingers, claws as black as pitch, twisted in her hold as the hand trying to free them clenched in pain. A flick of Lysa's finger, and another gleaming construct clinked into place around his other claw - they drew tight together. She motioned again, and multiple strands of the aura radiating from her body bound the blue-haired stranger up tight, doubling him over from neck to toe.

Her wrist moved, and the red shackles constricting the powerful body pulled sharply downward. From the safety of his father's arms, the still-sore Nas let out a bark of laughter as his mother smacked the larger man's face harshly into the ground. Let him see how it felt!

"You should have stayed away, Castigal. You should have left well enough alone - don't you think so?" Muffled howls of rage streamed from the spot where his face was planted firmly in ash. "Why did you have to come - to bring this to me? You should have stayed home!" The very word seemed to bring all of Lysa's anger back to the surface; the chained man's face lifted, snarled and obscure obscenities streaming from his lips before the Daemon slammed him into the ground again.

Blue light crackled briefly around Lysa's chains, only to be drowned out by the stronger woman's power. But it was enough - enough for Castigal to turn his face, well-kept hair dotted with grey, and grin at the raging woman. "But Lysandroth, my lovely - my darling, O Creator - you are here." The grin peaked into that too-wide leer. "I am home!" He even managed to laugh as his chains were tightened yet again, his jailor screeching indignant, ancient curses.

Nasimine was rather...stunned. He had no great love for Mommy, but he'd never seen her like this: power at it's finest, that smooth white skin rubbed raw. This was kind of awesome, actually...the low croon of appreciation in this throat, normally reserved for Las, spoke volumes to that. But awesome didn't change the fact that this was Nas - and while mad, he was no fool. "Not all right," the boy grunted, speech slurred from the recent broken jaw. The shirtless youth squirmed in his father's grasp.  "He told us she was a god. God! Not a demon at all. Is that true?" Piercing eyes glared into Caine's. Nasimine wanted an answer.

[Citanul]

While he should have been relieved at his mother's calm demeanor towards him, Iahmes was far from it. He had never seen her l9iike this, so full of this unbridled rage. He'd been threatened before, their father had many enemies as he did friends, but... What made this different? Was his mother truly a Goddess?

Shifting the squirming Nas in his arms, Caine gently set Iahmes down to focus his attention on his hurt son, carefully helping his jaw set back into place. What was going on before him was a wonderful thing - letting his mate show off her prowess had always been something he enjoyed. It was dampened slightly however, by Nas' question. It took him a few moments to gather an answer.

"My son, your mother has always told me she is a Demon. Maybe one worshipped as a Goddess where she came from, that I cannot be sure of. However, I know that she has never lied to us. She loves us." His dark blues looked into his son's near-identical gaze. Never, had he lied to his children.

[Kallile]

Spardia could stand it no longer, her blood howled for this moment, this chance to show her own creators just what power they had missed out on when they had cast her away to go find herself. Oh, and how she had. How she had come to grips with and embraced her rage with them; how she had built herself a personal empire on that singular burning desire. And the growing power she had amassed through magic—magic she could wield, magic she could control, magic she could kill with.

Stepping from the shadows, a sleek and deadly figure with equal features of both Caine and Lysa showing on her pale face that could not cease her smiling seemed to glide towards the tattered family. ”Oh how long I have waited for this moment...but I do believe the wrong one is chained. Mother.” The word came out as a rough hiss, the younger woman seeming to sneer gleefully at the powerful demoness. But she continued walking towards the fallen twin and her father, eyes passing over the bloody vomit for a moment before frowning.

”Such a pitiful waste, child.” She crooned as she outstretched her hand to the congealing mess on the ashen floor. The blood still moist underneath leaked upwards into the air towards her outstretched fingertips, and once there it created an orb of sorts which she juggled playfully over her fingers. ”Pitiful indeed if you also believe families are not comprised of lies. Lies build families, lies are the ties that bind us all together. Isn’t that right, Father? You once claimed to love me and yet you sent me from my home at Mother’s wishes. And now look—your spawn are younger and more plentiful every time I set foot into this crumbling city. You do not love, old man, you only lust. And I lacked all things you lust for….then.”

She stopped juggling the orb, and instead let it come to rest in her palm. The orb quivered as a scared Chihuahua pup might in the face of a Rottweiler; and then it began to reshape itself into a blade of sorts. With a flick of her fingers Spardia sent it flying towards Caine but should the elder vampire allow it close enough he would find it stopped just short of his throat. He would also find it was effectively sharp, should he touch it. ”But, that was a long time ago. You can forget the daughter you might have known back then. Allow me to reintroduce myself….family”

This time she looked to Lysa and lifted her other hand. The demoness might not be human but everything bled;  she might begin to feel her veins shrinking and the blood slowly pooling towards her head to cause her great grief with the pressure it would slowly accumulate there should Spardia continue.

”I am Spardia…and you should have watched me much more closely…”

[Ander]

The aura that cast a hazy pall over Castigal's bound body shivered and twitched, animated evidence of its wielder's frustration. She did not know the extent of what had happened here, not yet - but she recognized the breed of ash that drifted around them all and feared the worst. The fault for all of this lie with him. Everything that had happened here began with him, with his destruction...why couldn't he have stayed away? Why couldn't he have come earlier, before she had a family to protect from his chaos? The woman opened her mouth, all too ready to tell him all this and more.

Castigal, suit rumpled by his chains, red magic contrasting sharply with his own weakened blue glow, narrowed his eyes. A frown pulled at the edge of his lips, one trickling blue-black ichor: busted against the ash-covered ground. What could she possibly have to say now?

Whatever exchange might have taken place was cut off by a voice that caught the Creator off-guard. Completely so, in fact. She stopped hovering, shimmering aura flickering from red to a dusty pink as it mimed its owner's confusion for all to see. Spardia - how could Lysandroth not know who she was! - had already scooped a smattering of blood from the ground before the white-haired woman recovered enough to push the color back into her magic. Her fingers moved, twisting and manipulating Nas' lifeblood in ways that gave Lysa a pit in the bottom of her heart. The way she spoke, and this new magick - so cold, so full of hate! Who was this girl, and what had become of her secondborn?

The woman let out a cry, dropping Castigal's bonds. Her hands and the red tendrils attached to them flew up in the other direction, reaching with all of her power for the dagger that her daughter had thrown. Patricide! What's more, patricide that might succeed. Spardia's continued assault pulled a groan from Lysa's lips, her desperate attempt to save her mate fizzling in mid-air. The hand the alleged demon lifted to her forehead felt heavy. The very power in her veins was slowing, constricted in its flow. And her head...

"Spardia..." Shock, awe, and raw grief made the mother's voice weak. Gone was the snarl of fury, and Castigal was forgotten. "Spardia, my starling... What have you done?" Pale cheeks were beginning to flush, but it was paltry compared to the emotions weighing heavy in Lysandroth's head. This was not what she'd wanted for her little girl. Not this bitter creature, stomping out what had once been so beautifully normal.

Assured that his jaw was well and set, Nasimine struggled out of his father's grasp. A few quick gnashes of anger tested his fangs. "I'm not a child!" This was spat at Spardia, hotly followed by a glare - too hot-headed, in fact, to notice the knife. A claw pointed pitilessly at the struggling Lysa. "And she's right, isn't she? Mother lied!" He'd never expected anything better from the woman that stole his Dad away. Furious eyes lit on Castigal - that was the answer, wasn't it? Somewhere in all the nonsense spouted tonight, he would know what Lysandroth really was!

[Citanul]

When his daughter entered his view Caine was immediately intrigued. He had missed her, his first... He had never wanted to let her out of his protective sight, but Lysa had insisted she needed to find her own way, her own powers in this world. He seemed quite confused, although quite delighted by the appearance. "Spardia, my little love. Of course I love you, I didn't send you away, I let you go... And see what you have found? The only thing I lust for is seeing my children succeed. And see?! You've done just that!"

The look on Iahmes' face was entirely unreadable. He was so confused. If she was a Goddess... Then this... This destruction... This was all her fault! For a moment the rage bubbled in his stomach, that steely-gray aura flickering as his fists bunched and his gaze went to his mother. "You should have told us!" Of course he wasn't clipping his jaws at anyone, not the physical rage his brother sent, but the tone of his voice said it all. "Don't you see what I did?! All because YOU lied!"

Now Caine wasn't sure what to do with his boys. He let them both go, but put a hand on Nas' shoulders. "Son, now is not the time for that. Mother wouldn't lie to us, not on purpose. Iahmes, calm yourself." He had paid no mind to the daggers, instead moving to Lysa and softly touching her temple, hands cool against her overheated skin.