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C yprian had been ashamed. And that realization slammed Moargan right in the face. Even after he had claimed the other man, Cyprian still needed confirmation that he was good enough. That Moargan wouldn’t throw him aside just like his family had done.

As they climbed out of the car, he made sure to keep his aeon glued to his waist, an arm firmly slung around those slender shoulders. “You’re no longer a victim of your past,” he murmured. “And you’re no longer alone.”

“Thank you,” Cyprian breathed.

Did he really understand Moargan’s words? He didn’t think so. Not yet. They’d get there, eventually. He smirked when he saw the furious glare Cyprian threw at both guards. Yes, he understood a lot more than Cyprian could imagine.

Inside, the Helion University of the Living was entirely white. White floors, white walls, white beds with white straps around them.

A group of nurses swiftly flocked around the Imperial family, offering them refreshments and guidance as they made their way through the facility.

“How many patients do you have here?” Cyprian asked.

“About one hundred,” replied the doctor, whose name he couldn’t remember. The man, who’d been caught off guard after his father had ordered him to show Cyprian around, gestured toward the next corridor. “If you follow me.”

They barely set foot into the next ward when Cyprian stopped. “What’s that?” He pointed at a large, glass room that displayed a hospital room. Straps for restraints slung on all sides of the empty room and a table on wheels stood close. It consisted of suspicious equipment such as pliers and syringes of different sizes. Several instruments hung against the walls.

The doctor shrugged. “That’s where we perform research.”

“Research?” Cyprian lingered by the window, eyes glued to the window. “What sort of research?”

The doctor cleared his throat. “Well, that depends. It can be mental research within the framework of physiological needs for support, or artificial research if physical adjustments need to be made.”

Morgan frowned. “Physical adjustments?”

“I’m afraid that information is confidential. We are a university after all.” The doctor’s eyes slid to Milanov, who nodded.

“Let’s keep on going,” The Imperial ordered.

“Certainly.” The doctor, visibly relieved, directed the group forward. “She has been having some rough days. If I had known you would come today, I would have decreased her dose. But in her current state, I’m afraid she’ll be sleeping for most of the day.”

“I will go to her now,” Milanov said. “Please bring my son and his Royal Consort to the patient they wish to see. Celia Fandi?”

“Celia Fandi.” The doctor seemed to think. “She—follow me please.”

Cyprian’s heartbeat picked up as the doctor took them deeper inside the facility. When they reached the end of the corridor, the doctor opened the last door.

“Ms Fandi has been with us for a long time. Even longer than your mother, Imperial Moargan.”

“What?” Cyprian stared up at him with wide eyes. “Your mother is here too?”

Moargan waved him off. “Later. First you. This is your moment.” Dismissing the doctor, Moargan grabbed Cyprian’s palm and pressed a kiss on it. “I’m right behind you.”

“Thank you.” His lover hesitated then cleared his throat and straightened his posture. Then he pressed through the door and walked inside.

By the window stood the bed. A small frame shaped the white blankets, and black hair, a sharp contrast to the whiteness around them.

“You have her hair,” Moargan mused.

Cyprian looked up at him, eyeing him with wet, yellow eyes. He looked vulnerable and strong at the same time. Afraid, yet determined. He looked perfect.

He looked…like he was Moargan’s.

“I hope so.”

The woman in the bed seemed to be asleep, but when Moargan peeked over Cyprian’s shoulder, he caught the exact moment her eyes squinted, before they slowly opened and blinked.

Celia Fandi looked at Cyprian, and Moargan held his breath. “Who are you?” She asked. Her voice was a rasp as if it wasn’t used much.

“My name is Cyprian,” he whispered. “I’ve been looking for you.” His voice broke and Moargan felt his lover’s heartbeat accelerate. His hand wanted to reach out and comfort him, but he didn’t. His aeon had traveled the galaxy for this very moment.

“Cyprian,” Celia murmured thoughtfully. “I know you.” Her blue eyes stared into his for a long time. Then she started crying. Long, deep sobs erupted from her chest. She trembled and fell apart, wave after wave of sorrow that burst toward the surface.

“Mama,” Cyprian choked, and he leaned in and put his arms around her. They cried, together, shaking and whispering and letting more emotion leak, until a careful giggle escaped Celia. There was another one, then Cyprian let out a laugh, one of such happiness Moargan wasn’t sure he’d ever heard it before.

It was beautiful.

“I’ll leave you to it,” he whispered, but they didn’t notice, enraptured as they were in each other’s discovery. Outside the room, Moargan caught the doctor who was already waiting for him. “What’s wrong with her?”

“She has suffered severe brain trauma caused by domestic violence. The damage in her frontal lobe has prevented her from mentally aging. Over the years, she has developed behavioral changes that have led to her being a permanent resident here.”

“Behavioural changes?” Moargan peeked through the crack of the door, where Cyprian was still hugging his mother. “What do you mean by that?”

“She behaves like an adolescent,” the doctor explained. “And can’t live independently in our society.”

“Who pays for her treatment? A place like this has its price.” Moargan thought of that piece of trash Ludo Fandi, who was now rotting in a Luminary cell, awaiting to meet his death.

“Your family does.”

“What?”.

“Your mother met Celia Fandi, before she was admitted to the hospital, through a charity program she had set up for abused women on Helion. She was— is —a remarkable woman. Celia confided in her and told her how her husband ruthlessly took her children from her. How she begged him to let her keep them. Her husband was an abusive animal, but since Celia wouldn’t press charges, her situation didn’t change.”

“What made her become a patient here?”

“Her final pregnancy. By then, she already knew your mother, and they’d become friends. There were medical complications during the delivery. The baby was born and sold, while Celia was left empty and broken. It was only later that your mother understood where Celia’s babies had ended up. In the royal laboratories. By then, it was too late. They’d already been sent off-planet. Celia became…troubled. Your mother took it upon herself to take care of her. Ironically, she brought her here years ago. I was there myself when she came through those doors.”

Moargan took a deep breath. He had been six years old when his mother had been admitted here. And while he didn’t remember much of that day, the raw feelings that had blanketed him were still etched in his memory.

A heartache. A loneliness so deep it made his heart rattle and his eyes leak.

Moargan didn’t cry. Hadn’t for a long time. But right now, he felt like crying. Because of Cyprian, with his golden eyes and bashful smile. With his iron determination and need for the truth. Cyprian, his virgin boy whom he had baptized into the world of desire.

Cyprian, who had traveled all the way from Tulniri to find Celia Fandi.

Celia, who had been a friend of Moargan’s mother.

It was a lot.

Leaving the doctor, Moargan lit a red cinder cigarette by the window. He needed some time to process all that information.

Ludo Fandi was going to die. That was the easy part. Convincing his lover to be his father’s executioner was perhaps more of a challenge.

“Tell my Royal Consort that we’ll meet in the canteen. Guide him there if he doesn’t know where it is,” he told a passing nurse.

When Moargan entered the royal suite, he expected his father to be sitting by the bed as usual, holding his mother’s hand. Instead, Milanov was pacing in front of the window, hands in his black pockets.

“What’s wrong?”

His father turned around, crossing his hands behind his back. His restless gaze darted between the bed and Moargan. “I’m not sure.”

“The doctor said she was having a rough week.”

“Look at her eyes.”

Moargan gazed down at his mother. She was asleep, perfectly tucked under the satin sheets, though her breathing was shallow and uneven. “She’s fidgety.”

“See her fluttering eyes? It’s the Dariux. It’s her brain fighting the visions. She hasn’t had those for years.”

Moargan looked up. “Do you mean she’s having visions right now?”

“She could be.” Milanov brushed an impatient hand through his hair. “Her mind wants to. Those stupid drugs—” His father kicked against a low table, and it slammed against the wall. Pills scattered around. “They make her forget.”

“Well, that’s the whole point, isn’t it? That she forgets?” They’d had this conversation countless times, but he couldn’t bear telling his father that. Hope was a danger in itself.

“Maybe it isn’t.” His father groaned, cupping his face and pressing into his cheeks. His violet eyes flared with a pained expression. “Maybe we’re wrong.”

“Father, no.” Moargan rolled a stool by his mother’s bed and sat down. He grabbed her cool hand and looked at her slender fingers, slack in his grip. “How many times did you tell us the same thing when we were kids? Her brain can’t live with her gift, that’s why we had to leave her here. Because she can’t function with the visions she gets.”

Moargan wanted to believe his father, he really did. But disappointment was an all-consuming emotion. One that ravaged anything else in its wake.

“I know. I know.” Milanov sank down in his chair and dropped his head. “She’s fighting, I can feel it. She’s fighting a battle she can’t win. But she’s still trying, my lovely Norma.”

“You know what the doctor just told me?” Moargan traced a fingertip over her smooth skin. “Mama knew Cyprian’s mother. From before. It’s her fund that’s been paying for Celia’s treatment for all these years.”

“You see? There’s no such thing as coincidence. I told you this.”

“Did you know?”

Milanov shook his head, a smile sliding onto his face. “But it doesn’t surprise me. Your mother was full of wonder.”

“Tell me something real?” Moargan asked. He’d heard the stories countless times, and he would never get enough.

His father sat forward and cupped his mother’s free hand in his much larger one. “She and I were so fiercely in love. I was obsessed with her, much like you are with Cyprian. But she wasn’t Dariux. And my parents, who were believers of the elite, would only allow us to get married if Norma would undergo artificial injections. Of course, she said yes. We were young, invincible. I can still see her lying in that hospital bed, smiling up at me. Full of trust. Nothing could go wrong, right? Then we had you.” A nostalgic smile curled Milanov’s lips. “Two years later came Helianth. We were so happy, son, the four of us. So happy. Until it began. Her brain started to blacken out. Soon, it became serious. She started having visions, but unlike you and me, her body was burning with fever whenever she got them. She became ill.” A heavy sigh fell from Milanov’s lips. Grief was struck on his handsome face. “Then one morning, her heart just…we drove her here as soon as we could. And I stayed alone, with you and Helianth. My two hearts. And now…” He got back up and started pacing once again. “The Dariux in her is being tugged at. She’s having visions. And I won’t leave her alone, son, not when she’s like this. Fighting to connect. I can’t.”

What if she wakes up?

“Son…please tell me that Cyprian’s Dariux is developing.”

“Yes.” Moargan hesitated. “But he wanted to keep it between us for now. It feels foreign and is a lot to take in.”

Milanov sighed, looking relieved. “That’s good enough. For now. The awakening of the Dariux is a privileged, intimate happening. Aviel only admitted his abilities a year after he’d first shot fire with his eyes. But I believe it’s time we understand Cyprian’s destiny.”

“His destiny?”

Milanov nodded. “Fate. That’s what this is all about, Moargan, and you know it. He is not just your bonded, or your chosen one. He is your fated mate. We are all part of the Dariux. A unique path has been designed for every one of us. The question is, when will our paths all come together?” He stared out the window. “The last time your mother’s eyes fluttered like they are now is when Aviel returned home.”

“Aviel?” That was a surprise. But then, Moargan had been a pre-teenager when Aviel had entered his life. He and Helianth had been too busy enjoying their enhancements instead of wondering why they were given them in the first place.

“Aviel is powerful, Moargan. Not only can he shoot fire, but he can also feel things. I have always believed he could be one of the centers of the Dariux chain. When I saw Norma’s reactions to him returning to Helion, I hoped that perhaps it could include her too. It never happened.” He walked back to the bed. “Until now, with Cyprian. Now she’s reacting similarly.”

“But Father…” Moargan stared back at his mother. At her fragile beauty and fluttering eyes. There was a frown on her pe rfectly manicured eyebrows that hadn’t been there before. He swallowed. “You truly believe that Mama is trying to connect to us?”

“This is the first time in my reign that so many things are shaking up at the same time. Norma, Helianth, you and Cyprian…” Milanov’s amethyst eyes flared with intensity. “Fate, Moargen. The stars. You are the first Dariux who found his other half. Your soul recognized him. Cyprian was designed for you, Moargan, and you found him. You achieved, my son, what me and your mother weren’t capable of.” He went back to pacing, visibly agitated. “I’ve told Helianth and Kylix to abandon their mission. I need them all safe. Now, tell me, how’s it going in the other room?”

“Good. Celia Fandi recognized Cyprian as her son. They’re reuniting.”

Milanov smiled. “I’m glad to hear that. He will need you now more than ever. Let me walk you out.” He dropped a kiss on his wife’s mouth and whispered to her in Helion. “Wake up soon, my love.”

They left the royal suite and headed back to the canteen, where Cyprian already sat waiting. A new pool of fresh tears pooled in his eyes when Moargan’s father wrapped his arms around him in a hug.

“I’m so happy for you,” Milanov mumbled. He patted Cyprian’s back. “Really happy.”

Cyprian smiled through tears. “Thank you, sir.”

Milanov turned back to Moargan. “Alright, I’m going to leave you here. I’ll stay with Norma. Keep your multi-slate connected, I’ll be in touch.”

“Is he going to stay here tonight?” Cyprian asked when they watched his father leave.

“Yeah.” Moargan couldn't help but be impressed with the level of faith he had. Would it be enough for his mother to finally wake up? Could she wake up after all this time and become a normal functioning person again? Or would she be a slave to the Dariux injections for the rest of her life? “He still loves my mother immensely,” he said instead.

Cyprian’s palm found his and the connection made their insides throb with a brilliant substance that felt both hot and cold at the same time. Their hands squeezed, looking for a silent comfort.

“They knew each other,” Moargan said, and he lifted their hands to press a kiss on Cyprian’s wrist. “Our mothers. They were friends.”

Cyprian’s eyes flared with emotion.

“My mother has been paying for your mother’s treatment.”

“Perhaps it was meant to be,” Cyprian whispered. “For them to be friends, for us to be?—”

“Yes,” Moargan pulled his lover in for a soft kiss that quickly turned into a messy tangle of lips and teeth, moans that spilled into each other’s mouth, devoured, and swallowed in their growing need.

They were designed for each other. Born from hunger, this need to claim had been knitted into something far more delicate. A never-ending desire that floated deeper into their existence in its wake to become insatiable, for as long as they lived.

And at that moment, Moargan knew they both felt it.

The turbulent kiss extinguished into tender brushes of their swollen lips, while their heartbeat united in a drumroll that was fierce and steady. Strong and demanding. Such as their awakening love.

Someone coughed, and the magic was snapped away in the blink of an eye.

“ What ?” Moargan snapped.

It was a nurse. His cheeks were aflame, eyes darting everywhere except for them. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but Celia Fandi is sleeping now.” He gave a tentative smile. “She was peaceful. It was nice…she never gets visitors, so this was nice. We hope to see you again sometime.”

“Oh, I’ll be back,” Cyprian said, making the nurse blush even more.

“I will bring him,” Moargan stated. “My Royal Consort will come with me every week.” He tucked Cyprian closer to his side, bristling when he caught the amused glitter in his lover’s eyes. “Come now, it’s time to go home.”