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Today, we stayed at the house and tried to merge our older selves with the newer counterparts.

Véa—Laila.

Damn it, I was going to have to get used to that.

Laila and I spent the whole day with the kids. We played with them in the yard, and then we made lunch and dinner as a family, and we helped Micah with his homework. He was learning about the difference between matter and energy in his science class, and he asked me a thousand questions about how they correlated to people with abilities like us.

“We’re matter, but we’re energy too, aren’t we, Dad?” he’d asked. “Because of our souls?”

I’d said I wasn’t a scientist, but yes, I believed so.

He’d smiled at that and said, “I thought so. That’s how we can feel each other even when we aren’t in the same room.”

I wasn’t sure why that fascinated him so much, but I loved seeing him happy.

Once all the daily tasks were done, we watched a movie on the couch, all the kids bundled up around us. With Laila in my arms, I found myself staring at her scars.

I’d gotten so used to them over the years, I forgot they were there most of the time. Now I couldn’t take my eyes off them.

Almost seven years ago in this life, Lux had kidnapped her. She was tortured for almost three months until she escaped. While in captivity, she gave birth to Micah, and they held him for the following three years. Chris—formally Medica—had been kidnapped and held captive by the same people for ten years.

In this life, I’d believed that Lux did that because he was cruel. Because he had an ages old vendetta against the two of us. I thought he hated her because she chose me over him.

Now I knew that wasn’t the case.

Now, when I stared at those scars, I realized the vendetta hadn’t been against my wife.

It was against me.

The prison she was held in was made of steel.

The one I’d held Lux’s sons in was made of Elvan ore.

Lux’s minions cut Laila’s skin open and shoved pieces of hematite and morion inside to dull some of her abilities.

I’d cut my nephew’s flesh open and shoved hunks of Elvan ore into their flesh to dull some of their abilities.

The prison that held Laila, Chris, and Micah was warded with dozens of spells to keep everyone inside, and to make it all but impossible to get in or out.

The prison I held Lux’s sons in was warded with thousands of spells to keep everyone inside, and to make it all but impossible to get in or out.

He recreated the torture chamber I designed and used it on my wife and son.

I should have considered how Lux would react before I let Rafael put me out of my misery. He may’ve wanted his boys out of power, but the things I put them through…

I hated that I understood.

Thinking of him as the villain was easy. Blaming Lux for everything, making it out as though he was a ruthless, brutal son of a bitch made life simpler.

But life was never simple.

It was my fault.

My wife and child were covered in scars because of what I did.

It was never about Laila. He loved her. He wasn’t cruel to her for the hell of it. He was cruel to her to hurt me. Likely so I would feel as shitty as I did when I looked at those scars.

If that was his goal, he accomplished it. Every time I looked at those scars, it was like a blade had been thrust through my chest.