EZRA

Today was an important day, as were most for Ezra. Another sleepless night preceded. The world of politics in a society full of educated cannibals, moronic alchemists and holy giants was not one of simplicities. There was no one to share the tolls of his misery as he could never bring himself to burden his loved ones.

Ezra sat in his study, drafting maps for new proposals of expansion. Next to his work was a gift he had gotten for his son, a sealed book of clean pages, complete with an ink jar and a freshly crafted pen. The sound of crackling wood resonated with his constant tinnitus, helping soothe his headaches. He stood from his chair and knelt in front of the flames, watching closely in search of prophecies. After a moment of silence, he acted vindictively. "If you're listening, I want you to know that you're the only monster here," he whispered to the fire spitefully.

A loud snap of the wood crackling sent a flame toward Ezra's face, licking it before shooting an ember on his robe. He flinched and fell backwards onto his bottom, quickly moving to silence the ember before it caught flame. Fear in his eyes preceded chills crawling down his spine. He pulled himself up and quickly made his way to the door without hesitation, the fire forcefully voided from his attention or worries.

The click of Ezra's wooden shoes echoed through the stone walls of his keep. He navigated to the bedroom of one of his citizens of indentured servitude, opened the door, closed and locked it before approaching the sleeping woman. The man watched down over her before he began to undress himself.

He woke her with the soft stroke of his fingers against the skin of her cheek. "Now," he commanded before wrapping a rag around her eyes and tied it tightly. "Please." The woman nodded and without speaking a word proceeded to sleepily undress herself and perform sexual acts with Ezra.

Rituals of this sort became more common for Ezra in recent years as the stress of his extraordinary position consumed him. He never halted to love his late wife that passed during the birth of their seventh child, hence the rag to hide the eyes that the servant failed to share with her.

Upon completion, Ezra vacated the room reclothed and recomposed. Under the influence of newfound serotonin, he called a council meeting of the cult that ruled over their nation. Within the walls of his keep were three members excluding himself; the rest were busy with other matters.

Beneath the emergency storm room was an old dungeon that had been retired with the creation of the new and improved one placed at a different location of their city. Now, the old dungeon served as housing for the occult and political motions.

Discretion was highly advised for anybody wishing to keep their head atop their shoulders. Before long, the hooded four were sat around a circular table engraved with blood that drew a heptagram. In the middle of the table was a skeletal arm, the hand of which was holding a candle that dimly illuminated the room. "What is the meaning of this? Dawn has only broken but a-" an older gentleman's shrew voice was cut off by Ezra. "A prophecy."

"Well?"

"It appears Two is in danger. The scouts informed me that he was seen within the walls by last midnight, but I've not heard anything of him since. I fear we may have been compromised," Ezra spoke. "Damn it! You never should have brought family into this . . He's but a child," a younger woman's voice said. "Ezra has always put his blood first, even if it is tainted," the older man scoffed. "You dare speak my name in here?" Ezra subtly threatened. "Afraid the walls have ears, are we? Your paranoia's got the best of you,"

Feuds between members of high positions weren't uncommon, but it typically ended in disaster. Ezra was feeling generous, and decidedly attempted to revert the topic. "With your blessings, I'd like to send a group of combat-trained acolytes with valuables for exchange in the case that Two has been taken."

"Sending cannon fodder with money to recover your failed mission," the quiet, shorter man hissed with a nasally tone. "Would you invite his captors to our vaults?" the room's energy aimed against Ezra. "Why don't you put those teeth to use and go, yourself?"

Ezra stood tall, staring daggers at the short man attacking him. "What is it you would have me do?" he bluntly inquired. "First, I would have you gut your silver-haired demon of a child on this table. You think any of us get a good night's sleep knowing that thing is under the same roof as us?" the man proposed in response. Ezra stayed quiet, but the brow of his eye showed his true colors in its irritated twitches. The room grew still.

Breaking the silence, the older man went on. "Regardless of his coy approach, he's got a point . . You told all of us that you would deal with it."

"I AM dealing with it," Ezra snapped. "The boy is but ten, he couldn't even understand . ." Ezra pleaded. "Ten years too long, I'm afraid. You know the nature of his affliction, the same as I do. Don't kid yourself," the man began to sympathize. "I know that you feel he's your son, but his only father is one that would see our heads on sticks. He wouldn't stop there, either. Is that the future you seek for our kingdom?"

The young woman rested her hand over Ezra's. "You're endangering everything we've worked towards . . We must put an end to it," she spoke with compassion. Ezra looked into the flames of the candle as they danced, blood in the shadows it cast. "Fine," he muttered. "It will be done once the dark callers are sent for Two."

Defeated, Ezra stood from his seat and began to exit the room. "Dark callers!? Preposterous . ." the older man began to say in shock to his back, but he exited before the conversation could continue. Dark callers were a special mercenary force typically only called upon for emergencies. The shock of the older man was in regards to their price, which he correctly assumed Ezra would be taking from the cult funds.

Sat upon a throne carved into a stone wall, Ezra wandered his thoughts in pursuit of answers. Clicking echoed off the walls, bringing his attention to the doorway through which his second-eldest son, Three, was entering. He was tall and thin, with short dark hair, the sides shaved as part of an aesthetic, and wore a rectangle pair of glasses. "I've sent a messenger for the dark callers," the son spoke.

Nodding in approval, the father beckoned for Three with the slight wave of a hand. He approached Ezra closer, leaning towards him awaiting a verbal response. "Retrieve Seven, if you would."

Three brought his eyes to lock with Ezra's in the nature of hesitation. After several seconds passed, he nodded before retracing his steps out of the decorative room. A tear crawled down Ezra's cheek as he leaned back in the seat. He couldn't help but think of his late wife when he saw Three's eyes, which were a near-perfect match.

Absence to the birth of Three was amongst Ezra's guilts. It happened during a cold war between their nation and a rebellious group that desired their destruction. Ezra was overseeing the construction of the wall that now housed their home and started the development of a prosperous city.

By the time it was complete, a year had passed. Ezra returned home to a baby he did not know, and when he tried the child only cried for his mother. He felt too distant to attempt a connection after such embarrassment, but he still had Two. Two would be his heir when the time came.

Over the years, this theme repeated itself as neglect was provided to Three by everyone but his own mother. Ezra would exclude Three any chance he got, even to the extent of spreading rumors that the child was adopted. He truly wanted nothing to do with the boy.

Everything changed with the death of her. Ezra's wife was everything, that was what he shared with Three. The day they stood over her body was the first time Ezra hugged the child. He seemed to be the last piece of her that was left, and Ezra was going to do everything in his power to redeem himself and lead the child on the right path. From then on, Three was Ezra's right-hand man.

Drifting through memories, Ezra was for what seemed to be hours. With a twist in his neck, he peered to the candle clock by the doorway. It had been hours. What is taking Seven so long . . Has Three forgotten? He stood from his seat, his mind moving away from what had held him there.

Searching through each branch of the hallway that circled their keep, urgency was in the air. Seven's bedroom was empty. Wooden clicks filled his ears, growing louder to match his concern. Ezra's steps came to a halt as he spotted Three laid in his bed. Pushing the door open, he took a deep breath. "Are you daft?" he shakily muttered. "I'm sorry?" Three responded, turning to his side to face towards him. "Where is Seven?"

"I haven't a clue. I told him to go to you this morning, he was in your study."

Ezra marched away without closing the door behind him. If one of the others got to Seven before him, there would be no chance. Trying not to break into a sprint, he power-walked straight to his study. Pushing the door open revealed the book Ezra had gotten as a gift for Seven today to be closed on his desk. The fireplace held but a collection of ashes and a few dying embers.

Sat upon his chair, Ezra held his fingers to his forehead and temple in meditation. Shaking his head, he stood and began investigating the room. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Several ivory strands of hair were spotted in front of the fireplace, but it wasn't uncommon for Seven to nap there.

Continuing the search in the next room over, nothing peaked his interest. He moved on through a handful more before finally something caught his eye. The library's floor was coated in dust next to one of the shelves. Ezra's eyes lit up as he let out a sigh of relief.

Following the sending of a handmaid to clean the dust, Ezra returned to Three's bedroom. "He's been taken," he began. Three sat up straight, wriggling to stretch his back. "Good riddance," he snickered. "You're going to retrieve him," continued Ezra, met with a pause to the stretching. "You're joking."

"This is serious. No one else can know," Ezra confessed. "Do this for me, my son." he extended his hand outwards in proposal. Three exhaled a sigh before standing from his bed. "Where should I start?"