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“Uncle Reuban?” he whispered, voice thin and shaking.

“What is it, little one?”

Whatever his question was, weighed very heavily on his being and took him many seconds to voice it. “Do I...haveto be a monster?”

Reuban’s heart splintered with his fear. “Little one, do you trust me?”

“Yes,” he said after a moment.

“Then come to me. It’s important that I touch you.”

“Why?” he asked, curious.

“Because I have gifts in my hands that will make you brave. And to answer your question, no. You indeed do not have to be a monster.”

By now, Reuban made out his shape and appearance. Alabaster skin like Kaos, clumpy appearing black hair and big dark eyes that shimmered with his emotions, moving between multiple shades of red and green. Reuban realized then... like his father Kaos, he too was the first of his kind.

****

The moment they returned to the hut, Krave realized he and Kildare couldn’t move.

Reuban. He’d placed some kind of power-net all around them and one wrong move meant… something Krave couldn’t even identify or care to when every part of his being was in a perpetual state of shattering.

“Donotmove,” Reuban called out, the words tight. “I found the child. I have him and he’s afraid of both of you, so do not move until I say.”

Kildare’s fire wings wrapped Krave in a prison when his winds kicked up again, ready to obliterate on reflex. “What is going on, Kollaborator?” Kildare called out, his flames chaotic and unstable.

“He grows quickly like Kaos,” he announced. “Only physically. He says both of you are his fathers. And Kaos. And he would like me to tell you that he wants you to help him… to learn how not to be a monster. I told him both of you would love nothing more than to teach him that.”

The power in Reuban’s words was law, not suggestion, and both of them felt it in the divine bond between them. On top of that, his tone acted like a dial, turning both their powers down to a level Krave had never recalled feeling. The abnormalgentleness clung to his mind like a sticky skin, making him want to fling it off.

The only reason they’d returned was because Kildare reminded him that they were part of something larger than death, and their faith was a blade they could not permit to be dulled under any circumstances.

“We’re here to assist,” Kildare answered while muttering in annoyance, “What is this sticky darkness?”

“It’s a blindfold over your perception,” Reuban half warned like he could make it permanent if he wanted to. “Are you ready to meet the Little King?”

Little King? Five minutes ago, he wasn’t ready to do anything but kill. But if this Little King was part of The Hand, then he was ready to play him however he was supposed to be.

“Krave?” Reuban called with a testing tone.

“You have my word I… will not be angry.”

The black goo in their minds slowly cleared to Reuban standing a few feet before them, holding anactualchild on his hip that was larger and more human looking than he’d imagined. He wore only a piece of sheet over his midsection and his head lay on Reuban’s shoulder, thin arms and legs clinging, wary, galactical colored eyes contrasting sharply against his Kaos-white skin.

“He’s grown at least four inches since I found him,” Reuban said quietly as the boy continued to stare intently at Krave.

“Why is he only staring at me?”

Kildare’s fire gave him a mocking ass-pat. “He clearly likes you more.”

“Can he talk?” Krave asked, realizing his nose reminded him of Josie’s. “With words?”

“He can,” Reuban said.

Krave’s tongue tied up with a list of questions and how to ask them without pissing off his protector.

“Do you know how old you are?” Kildare went first.