Blood and Bonds

The sea churned beneath a sky bruised with storm clouds, the boat rocking like a leaf caught in a tempest's grip. Mitrabhanu lay bound by magic, blood-soaked ropes biting into his burned skin, his face a ruin of cuts and defiance. Yet a smirk lingered, unyielding, as if death itself couldn't steal his pride. Alone in a field of fate, he faced his captors—his stepbrother and the siren woman—knowing his bloodline's end loomed, just as Swarnpura's flames had devoured hope.

"You think someone's coming for you?" his stepbrother sneered, perched high on the ship's mast, sea spray glinting in his hair. "A poet, a mortal, my brother? Pathetic."

Mitrabhanu's laugh rasped, raw and jagged. "Filthy half-breed. Humans wouldn't understand—your kind's done when I'm gone."

The stepbrother's eyes flashed, fangs glinting as his ears twitched, pointed and wrinkled. "When Yamin's line ends, the world finds peace. You're nothing but a stain."

A woman emerged from the shadows, her golden hair coiling like living vines, reaching toward Mitrabhanu with a hunger of its own. She was no stranger—he'd sensed her wrongness back in Suhashini's tavern, her siren allure masking a predator's heart. She'd deceived him once, her song luring him to ruin, and now she reveled in his pain, her clan's pride in her unmatched.

"You meddled in my life," she said, voice soft yet venomous, nails digging into his chin until blood welled. "I was content among humans—happy. You shouldn't have crossed me."

"Filthy creature," Mitrabhanu spat, blood flecking the deck, his disgust a blade sharper than her claws.

She smiled, unperturbed, releasing him. "Filthy enough?"

His stepbrother leaped down, landing with unnatural grace, his grin predatory. "Let me play, sister. He's my brother too—fair game."

She held him back, her grip iron. "My prey," she hissed. "Don't touch."

"He's killed our kind," the stepbrother growled, rage boiling. "I'll end him for it."

Mitrabhanu's smirk didn't waver. "Go on, boy. Pay me back. Brotherly gratitude."

The siren bent close, her hair brushing his scars— blood-spray. "Look at him," she said, nodding to the stepbrother. "Isn't he Yamin's true heir? Your father's blood, same as yours. Who's filthy—a child, or you, slaughtering for revenge?"

"Half-breeds don't inherit thrones," Mitrabhanu rasped, spitting blood to punctuate his scorn. "My brother was half-breed—never killed our father for a crown. Killers like you get what's coming. You give, you get."

Her fury flared, but she didn't strike. Raised by a human who'd bandaged her wounds without question, she was more daughter to him than to her siren clan. That man, and her lover—lost to revolt, like Alokika's friend—had taught her humanity, a tether she clung to. "You give, you get," she echoed, voice cold. "Your clan craves your death for the throne, but I'd end all royals. Your kind value power over lives."

She turned away, her heart pressing down words she couldn't voice. Losing her father, her lover, had broken her, yet she held fast to the humanity they'd gifted her, even as she faced a man who ruled land, not people.

The stepbrother perched on a crate, mocking. "Say something, poet." His bravado masked a boy's fear—fatherless, motherless, shadowed by a brother who guarded, not loved. Mitrabhanu saw himself in him, a reflection of his own youth, trailing Alokika, duty over heart. The boy toyed with fire, thrusting his hand into a lantern's flame, pulling it back unscathed, as if flames were water.

Mitrabhanu held his gaze, unflinching. "What am I looking at, boy? Want my eyes gouged for seeing you?"

The stepbrother froze, then snarled, "Keep them down, mortal filth."

Mitrabhanu didn't react, but recognition stirred. They shared blood, a bond neither wanted. If he escaped—and some instinct swore he would—could he kill this boy? The thought weakened him, a ghost of his father's mistake: sparing a niece who'd later claim his throne. Weeds must be cleared, he thought, echoing doubts. Fulfill your destiny. Die with glory.

The boy met his eyes, amusement masking rage. Stories of Mitrabhanu's cruelty fueled his vengeance—a tyrant's son, doomed to die. Yet part of him yearned to ask about their father, a man he knew only through tales. No mercy, he vowed, silencing the urge.

The sky darkened, clouds roiling as the ocean swelled, rocking the boat like a toy. Rain lashed down, stinging Mitrabhanu's wounds, his torn clothes flapping wildly—bloodstained from battles rebellion, now clinging to his skin. The stepbrother laughed, wild with the storm's chaos. "Hear that, humans can't stand storms?" he shouted, grinning at the sky. "Don't kill him, tempest—he's ours!"

The siren reappeared, her gaze lingering on Mitrabhanu's battered form. "You never said you married," she murmured. "I thought…"

"I love her," he said, voice steady despite pain. "Can't marry her."

"Mortals wed for power," she scoffed. "A ladder to status."

"Not all," he countered, a wry edge to his words. "Some lack lovers to marry—like you. If you weren't siren, I'd have saved yours. There's always a way."

Her eyes narrowed, torn between disbelief and a desperate wish to trust. Her hand, scarred from a human's blade—his kind—reminded her why she couldn't. "Worry about your wife," she said, voice low. "The one carrying your child."

Mitrabhanu's breath caught. They knew—Alokika, pregnant, now a target. A father dies for his child, he thought, recalling his own father's sacrifice on a stormy night like this, shielding him. He'd die too, but not before ending them.

"When I kill your clan," he said, blood sputtering with his laugh, "I'll spare you—not for you, but your lover. He fought for this land, like me. A comrade."

She smiled, unyielding. "Spare me, and you'll regret it. A woman can end a bloodline—ask your father."

"You're no siren," Mitrabhanu said, eyes fierce. "More human than you'll admit."

"And you're barely human," she shot back.

"One promise," he said, voice fading as pain pulled him under. "I'll honor him, not you—the land we both served."

As he slipped into darkness, the storm raged, a mirror to the fire of Swarnpura, where Alokika's promises burned. Mitrabhanu's fight wasn't for thrones, but for her, for the child, for a land he'd die to save.