A deep wheeze shook the man’s frame like the gales of a hurricane. His voice trembled as he tried to speak, the volume rising then falling beneath a coughing fit.

“Save your strength, father.” Trevor leaned over the grey-haired man with a cup of water but it was waved away.

“I must speak to you… and your brother.”

Trevor returned the cup to the nightstand then glanced at the door. Conner had gone to “take care of business,” which could be code for just about anything. There was no way to know how long his older sibling would be gone.

“I’ll send for him again,” he said then called out, “John!”

The man stationed outside the bedroom was one of five bodyguards assigned to the leader of the largest religious sect in the city.

“See if you can find my brother,” Trevor told him, “and tell him to hurry.”

John cast a glance at the bed then gave a quick nod and left.

“He’ll be here soon, father.” Trevor’s eyes scanned the frail hands that clutched the bed sheets. “Can I get you anything?”

The older man coughed, his frame shaking beneath its force. Trevor cringed.

The illness had come on without warning. They still didn’t know what it was. At first, it had seemed like a cold. Then flu-like symptoms set in followed by pneumonia and seizures. Blackouts had started the day before, leaving gaps in more than his father’s memory. Whatever this was took all that was healthy and destroyed it. And the whole thing had developed in less than two weeks.

By the time his father had been confined to bed, it was clear that nothing could be done to stop its advance. It would take his life and the empire unless plans were made.

So, Conner had been initiated as the heir to inherit. He had been given the reigns to control not only their father’s holdings, but the power he held over the city’s officials and spiritual standing. Conner had already begun making decisions–one of the first being to track down the source of this illness.

It would not do their father any good–even if a cure was uncovered–but it might spare others. If what their father had contracted was from one of their rivals then there was a good chance it would surface again. Both Conner and Trevor were in agreement–the source had to be found and destroyed. Which was probably where his brother was now.

“Trevor.”

His name sounded weak on his father’s lips and he hated whoever had done this to his spiritual guide and role model. Whoever had caused this would pay. Conner and he would see to it. Despite the fact that retaliation was frowned upon in their sect, the perpetrator would be made to regret.

“Trevor?”

“Yes, father.”

“I must speak with you.”

“I know. We’re trying to find Conner.”

“Alone.”

Trevor glanced across the bed to the doctor and nurse. They watched the man’s vitals on the monitor, taking notes and adjusting the settings. Trevor nodded at the door then turned to the man outside the room.

“Be close in case I call.”

The man nodded then pulled the door shut after the medical personnel left.

Trevor looked back at the bed. “What is it you need to say?” He placed a hand on top of his father’s and gave it a squeeze.

The dark eyes that turned on him were cloudy. Trevor swallowed. He was not a crier–had never been–because their father did not approve of tears. It was a weakness, especially when so many looked to their family for guidance. That was one of the curses to being in such a place of power–image meant so much more than just an outward appearance.

“Trevor.” His father’s eyes moved to the portrait on the far wall. “In the safe is a box. I need you to get it.”

Trevor eyed the portrait of a European street then his father. Both Conner and he had been given the combinations to every safe in the household, but neither had opened any of them. That was a task they had agreed to do together–after their father had passed.

“I should wait for Conner.”

The old man shook his head. “This is something for you. If you choose to share it with your brother, that is your choice.” A rasping cough made him scrunch inward.

Trevor stood and tired to hold his father upright, but the old man waved him away. “The safe,” he said between hacks. “Get the box… from the safe.”

Trevor went to the portrait, sliding his fingers up the side until he could feel the latch release. After pulling the frame open and punching in the combination, the box clicked and the handle turned. Inside were folders, computer drives, and a smaller safe. There was also a wooden box large enough to hold a ring.

“Bring me the box,” his father said from the bed.

Trevor returned to his stool.

“Open it.”

Swallowing whatever uncertainty he felt about doing this without his brother, Trevor popped the lid. Inside was a large gold ring.

“Your birthright.”

Trevor’s eyes narrowed as he glanced at his father over the open box. The man watched him, his eyes drifting between bleariness and complete clarity. Trevor tipped the ring into his hand then rotated it so he could see its engraved face. A gasp left him. His eyes rose in question.

“Yes,” his father said with a nod. “There is much you must know.”

“Father,” Trevor whispered. He fumbled with the ring, almost afraid to hold it.

On its face was the engraving of two fish. Their backs were pressed together as they faced opposite ends. Both had a split caudal fin and each devoured half of the other’s tail. The image was quite different from the one designed for their religious sect that portrayed the head of a lion with a whole bird in its mouth.

“This is…”

“Yes,” his father confirmed, “and by right of birth it’s yours.”

Trevor returned the ring to the box and stared at the old man. The ring and emblem belonged to their rival. They were the ones in direct conflict with their family’s spiritual standing as guides and most likely were behind their father’s condition. “I don’t understand.”

“I have done great wrong,” his father said in a low voice, “but I have always done what I felt was best for my family and those I watched over.” He coughed into his clenched hands as the monitors alarmed.

Behind them the door opened.

“Get… out,” his father said as he continued to gasp.

“But, sir…”

“Out!”

Trevor waved at the monitors then stood. The doctor moved to the machine and pressed a few buttons. The beeping stopped, but as he turned to go his gaze caught Trevor’s. Time was short.

Trevor gave a quick nod, adjusting the pillows behind the old man. As the door closed, his father touched his arm.

“You are my son,” he said in a soft but sure voice. “But you are also the son of our rival.”

Trevor sat back on his stool.

“You had another brother once: Carlton. He was my first born, my heir to be. He was ambitious and full of dreams.” A coughing whistle caused his father to pause. Trevor offered more water without success.

“Carlton wanted to unite our two sects, to find common ground and a reason to stop competing. But the Dividers would not listen. Garrett, their leader, my long-term rival, issued an invitation to discuss matters. But there was nothing he wanted to discuss.” His father’s exhale was heavy. “He sent Carlton’s body back with their emblem burned into his chest.”

Trevor swallowed the lump in his throat. The clash of their sects had always been fierce, their competition for souls great… but this? A sick feeling rose in his stomach as his father continued.

“In those days I was younger, more passionate like your brother, and I too succumbed to the same rage as Garrett.” His gaze cleared as he pushed himself up on an elbow. “I knew it was wrong. It goes against everything we believe, but what Garrett had done…” His gaze fell to the the sheets. “I lead a team into Garrett’s palace on the night of a celebration and killed him at his desk. I stripped him of his signet ring then took what was most precious to him. I took you.”

Trevor felt his mouth dry and his lips part.

“I took you to raise as my own. I had hoped that would bring a stop to the Dividers’ control and influence… and it did for a time… but he had a brother and a wife that picked up where he left off. This,” he gestured at himself, “is their doing.”

With a pinched brow, Trevor watched his father sink into the bed. The older man closed his eyes, his mouth open as he drew in a ragged breath.

“I know I have done wrong. It may be too much at this point. I should’ve told you sooner, but…” He shook his head then wheezed. “I’m sorry, but I’m not the man you thought I was.” He blinked at Trevor. “I am condemned by my own actions but you can be better. You could…”

His eyes rolled beneath his lids as he began to shake.

“Father?” Trevor was on his feet. “Help! Somebody help!”

The door flew open and the two men from outside piled in with the doctor and nurse. They swarmed the bed as Trevor backed away. In his hand was the signet ring. It bore an image he had come to despise–even hate. Such emotions were not sanctioned by their sect and yet his father–the man he had believed was his father–had embraced them. That man had killed and stolen. He had taken a child and never told him where he had come from and whose blood he carried. Conner was not his brother nor the man upon the bed his father. But they were all he had ever known.

Trevor’s back hit the wall. He could barely hear the alarm of the monitor. He had been raised to believe the other sect was wrong in what they did and yet his father–this man–had been no different.

In a daze, he gazed at the ring. It felt too heavy to hold, too full of lies. He was living a lie. Yet never had he suspected that he was not a full-blooded Consumer, born into the ruling class. Never had he dared to think this was not his home.

“Trevor.”

Someone nudged his arm.

“Trevor!”

His fingers closed around the ring as he looked up into Conner’s face.

“Are you okay? What’s happened? Is he?”

“I don’t know.” Trevor’s eyes drifted to the bed. The monitor beeped a steady but weak rhythm, yet the old man’s eyes were closed, his cheeks paler than before.

Conner moved to the bed and touched the limp fingers. “Father?”

No response.

“Will he wake again?” Conner asked the doctor. “Or have I come too late?” 

The doctor gave him grim expression. “There’s no way to know.”

Conner pulled his heavy coat off and handed it to an attendant. He waved for everyone but Trevor to leave then sat on the vacated stool. The golden chain of his new office hung against his chest. “Did he say anything while I was gone?”

Trevor palmed the ring. Did Conner know? Did anyone else know? What did any of this even mean? Was he to be some sort of savior that united the two sects?

A snort shot from Trevor’s nose as a bitter edge turned down his lips. The division between the sects was too deep for something like this to change their relationship. Such knowledge would only make him a pawn to be controlled or gotten rid of. So, why had the old man told him? Why not take the knowledge to his grave?

Shame? Guilt? There were probably other reason that lead to his confession, but could be no miraculous comeback. By his own admission the old man had ignored their beliefs and killed someone. Sure it was in response to the death of his son, but he had committed a forbidden crime. Had he disclosed the information just to clear his conscious or had there been another reason?

“Trevor.”

Conner’s voice cut through the muddled mess as the door to the room closed. They were alone with their father–or who he had thought was his father. His eyes shifted to Conner. His brother was watching him, trying to gauge… something.

“What did he tell you?”

Trevor clenched his fist then crossed to where Conner sat. “What do you know about this?” He dropped the ring into his brother’s hand.

Conner rotated it between his fingers then sighed. “He told you.”

“You knew?” The accusation in his tone was pronounced. Trevor crossed his arms as he stared at the young man poised to take over their–no, his–father’s realm. “How long have you known?”

Conner handed the ring back. “He just told me, not long before I left. I went to… I wanted to see if there was a way to contact the Dividers so we could talk.”

“And?”

“They’re not interested and are expecting retaliation for this.”

“So they admitted to it?”

“No.” Conner looked at the older man. “But they didn’t deny it. We were able to grab one of their operatives on the way out, but I don’t think we’ll get anything useful from him.”

Trevor shook his head. More fighting. There would always be more fighting. “Why did he tell you? I mean, about me.”

Conner did not look up as Trevor wandered to the other side of the bed. “Since I was set to take over, he wanted me to know what issues might arise so I could be prepared.” He glanced up. “He also told me to split the inheritance with you if you choose to remain a part of this family. He wants you to get half of everything.”

“Half… of everything? But I wasn’t…”

“I think,” Conner said as held up a hand, “he wants you to know that you’re still his son and as such deserve an equal share.”

“So it’s a bribe to stay and not switch sides.”

“I don’t think that was his intent.” Conner lowered his hand. “I genuinely think he sees you as his son… just as I see you as my brother.”

Trevor sat on the bed and stared at the unconscious form. Even just looking at the man made the word father come to mind. “Then why tell me? Why not keep it a secret?” He ran his thumb over the ring’s emblem. “The only reason to tell me would be to create doubt.”

“Or to unburden himself. He’s facing the end, Trevor. It’s a regret he’s carried for years. I’m sure there’s apart of him that wants to be forgiven.”

“Well, I don’t think I’m really the one he needs to ask forgiveness from.”

“But you are one of them. Whether or not your life here or there would’ve been better, you weren’t given the choice. I’m sure that’s partly why he told you.”

Trevor shook his head. “I don’t know what to think. I don’t even know how to respond. The person I thought was my father actually killed my father. And then I was raised to believe in a system that contradicts the very one I was born into. How do I approach something like that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well that’s not helpful.” He stared at the pulsing line on the monitor.

“Do you feel that he treated you differently?”

Trevor squeezed the ring then looked at Conner. “No.” He could say that with confidence. “I’ve never thought of you as anything other than my family. And I can’t remember ever feeling out of place. I just don’t know what to make of all his teachings when he did what he did. What would happen if anyone else found out?”

“I don’t know,” Conner said as he tapped the chain he wore. “I don’t think it would take long for things to radically change.” He sighed, clearly trying to shoulder the responsibility that grew with each minute. “I guess I just have to remember that we all make mistakes. We all have regrets. Maybe what makes the difference is how we move forward from such things.” He pressed his lips together.

“Just know,” he said after a pause, “that whatever you choose, I’ll support you. If you want to leave, you’re free to go, no hard feelings. If you feel you need to share what you know… then I won’t stop you. You’ll still be my brother either way.”

Trevor studied him from across the bed, watching as Conner’s eyes moved to the old man. Even if he wanted to make a clean break he would never be able to do so. Just as the old man had been a father to him so Conner had become his brother. That bond of family–the spending of time together and knowing each other so well you could guess what they would say–was so much stronger than whose blood matched whose.

This was what family was, and this was his family. These were his people. Despite the older man’s betrayal and hidden secrets, if he could grant his father the forgiveness that would give him peace then he would do it in a heartbeat. But that was not his battle. His battle would be to not let the past or biological connections make him into something he was not. This old man had been his father, this younger man his brother, and for that he would forever be their family.

First Seen on Reedsy Prompt Contest #278

https://blog.reedsy.com/creative-writing-prompts

“That can’t be.”

Kan stared at the man who had been his… what? Friend? Caretaker? Keeper? Jailer would be a more accurate term today, although none of those terms seemed to really fit the six foot four tower of muscle that stood before him.

O–which what how he was known–stood with his thick arms folded across his chest. His stance was rigid, his gaze piercing in a way that told Kan he was not joking–not that O ever cracked a joke. Kan was not sure the man even knew how to. But that was the thing about the Partwo–human words, traits, and mannerisms didn’t always make sense to them because they just weren’t human.

Although after knowing O for as long as he had, Kan sometimes forgot that. Well, forget was not the right word. Overlooked was probably more accurate.

In fact, as he gazed at him now, it was hard to miss that O was not human. Aside from being a bipedal and having limbs in roughly the same proportion as some very large humans he knew, O did not look like most people.

The most obvious of the differences was that the Partwo had black eyes–not just irises that were black. Their eyeballs were a solid black with a slight shine and no center of the eye could be seen, so it was hard to tell what they were actually looking at. That was what made conversations with them unnerving because you could be off to the side or right in front of one and suddenly have him or her comment about what you were doing or someone else entirely.

But their eyes were not the only thing that set them apart from humans. The also had nails that were more like stubby claws. And unlike most human inhabitants, the Partwo were not fond of summers. They preferred clouds and overcast skies. They liked the dark and the cold–not snow–just the cold. But that was probably due to the fact that their home world was a mountainous rock and they tended to live in large caverns. They didn’t even have a proper sun for their planet.

O also had the typical skin coloration as the rest of his kind–a deep purple-brown that was thick and cracked like the scales of a reptile or mud that was too dry. His hair was black and long, almost stringy in appearance, and it usually hung loose down his back. Today it was pulled into a ponytail with small gold rings on either side. He also wore a pair of golden armbands and bracelets that looked as though they would snap if he flexed his muscles too much.

On any other day, Kan wouldn’t have given the Partwo much thought, but today was his check-in day and for that reason alone he had reported to the research station as instructed. Well, that, and the fact that for the past week he had been having a lot of random pain in his arms and legs. There had also been that stabbing sensation in his chest and the chill that has started two days ago.

Kan knew that it was a result of the medication he was on wearing off, but he had never before had such a reaction. Symptoms of a depletion had always been mild, but this time…

He tired not to think about it, had tired to put any misgivings from his mind. But was hard, especially since there was the ever present nightmare of what it might mean.

A cold sweat broke across his forehead just thinking about it. Try as he might, the journey to the lab and effort to check-in had only given him more time to imagine the worst. So it was with some relief that he had made it to the examination room where O had been waiting with two human doctors and another Partwo.

Normally, Kan would just listen and then nod to whatever the Partwo and human doctors told him, get his injections, and then leave. But today was different. Today he had been shown in, his blood taken and then that was it. Everything had stopped. There was no reading of his pulse, further scans, or oral questionnaire about how he was doing. The normal routine had halted and then O had come in with the dreaded news.

“I am sorry,” O said around his thick tongue, “but you cannot receive any more injections.”

Kan blinked at him as his mind went blank. He had to get those shots. He had to. The regular infusions were the only thing keeping him from… it was the only thing keeping him human.

“There has to be a mistake.” Kan licked his dry lips. “You didn’t do any of the other tests. You have to finish that and recheck your findings. You’ve gotta be wrong about this.”

The human doctor that stepped into the room carried a clipboard and wore thick glasses. He approached the bed where Kan sat, stepping around O’s dominant and immovable form.

“There’s no mistake,” the balding man said. “The toxins in your blood have reach a critical state. We can’t administer another dose of the suppressant without sending your body into shock.” He looked over the rim of his glasses. “It could kill you. Besides, you knew that this was a possibility.”

Kan shook his head still trying to grasp what the man was saying–what they were both saying. If he didn’t receive those injections he was going to lose his humanity. He was going to become…

A sick feeling festered in his gut. “But I thought… I thought there was a chance…”

O shifted his stance though his solemn expression did not change. “There was a chance that the Partwo DNA could be suppressed for a longer period of time, but there was no guarantee. We had hoped it could be sustained until you were much older, but unfortunately it seems like the match of species is not a good one.”

A good one? Kan snorted. The fact that they had even tried the combination after already determining that there was only a small chance it would work seemed ill-advised. The fact that he was the one paying for their choice was just cruel. He hadn’t been the one to decide it was a good idea to cross Partwo DNA with human DNA to see what happened. He wasn’t the one that volunteered for this experiment.

He was just the result, the product of a desperate attempt to revitalize the human race–a dying race–that would soon vanish if a solution to their genetic deterioration could not be found. Partwo DNA was known to be strong and restorative, but it was also aggressive. They had known this, and that it had a tendency to consume other forms of DNA and convert to its own. Still they had attempted to weed out most of those traits. They had created the suppressant to help maintain human characteristics and DNA in the body. For over twenty-seven years he had been able to live a mostly normal life–with the exceptions of his regular check-ins and shots. But now…?

The feeling of floating gripped Kan as he sat on the bed. His fingers curled around the coarse sheets until he could hear the plastic mattress beneath.

He was going to change. They were going to let him change. They would probably monitor his progress, seeing exactly how he changed and how long it took for the Partwo DNA to completely rewrite his system. They would observe the whole process and think nothing about what this was doing to him.

He wanted a life on Earth. He had wanted a family. But all of that had to be put off. Friends and acquaintances had to be monitored and approved. He was not permitted to like or even love anyone else because there was always the chance things could go wrong.

A cold knot built within his gut. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. The nightmare of him transforming into a beast was coming true. Could he feel it even now? Was the sick feeling that made him want to vomit just emotional stress or was it the beginnings of a monstrous transition? He was going to be sick.

“Kan.”

“Don’t,” he bit between clenched teeth. His eyes shot to O’s with sudden hatred. “Don’t tell me there’s nothing more that can be done.”

O’s jaw twitched. “I am sorry.”

“Sorry,” Kan spat. “You’re both so sorry, aren’t you?” He jumped off the bed and immediately two men with tasers stepped into the room and closed the door. “So sorry that it won’t be you that’ll have to turn into a monster. So sorry that you won’t have to go through all the pain and mutilation. You have no right…”

He shoved past the doctor, but O caught by the arm.

Kan swung back with a punch, but it barely fazed the Partwo. He grabbed Kan by the wrist, taking his other and holding him at arm’s length.

Kan screamed and began to kick. “Let me go, you filthy–“

“Kan!”

“Don’t you talk to me,” he snapped at the doctor, “you who get to stay human!”

“We don’t know the extent or how far this will go,” the man said as he adjusted his glasses. “It may not consume you. You still have a good percentage of human DNA. We don’t even know how long it will take before you’ll see any physical changes.” 

But Kan could already feel the ice in his sweat begin to burn. He could see it in O’s eyes as he glared at the Partwo. Their DNA was too strong and it would act at the first opportunity it got. The lack of anything to fight against it would mean he could be converted by evening.

The thought of it made him want to wretch. They made him want to wretch. Playing with someone else’s life–ruining someone else’s future so that they could… what? Maybe they would find a solution to their problem of the human race dying off? Species lived and died. They went extinct. That was how things worked. Maybe humanity wasn’t meant to survive into perpetuity. They’d had a nice run–longer than some creatures that had previously inhabited the planet.

Kan shook within O’s grip. The doctor had left the room. The two guards had moved to the outside of the door and sealed it shut. It was just O and him and a whole flood of white coats and Partwo gazing at them from the observation windows. 

“Kan.”

Kan shook his head as he tried kick, twist, and break O’s hold on him. It made no difference, but he could not just stand there and let it happen. He was human–at least partly. And he wanted to stay human. He wanted to return home and live a life–his life. He wanted to remain on Earth and not be locked away in some lab or banished to another planet.

The muscles in his arms and legs seized. The pain of a cramp started. He pulled against O as he began to tremble. In his gut was a jumbled mess of bile and nausea.

“Please,” he said as sweat beaded on either side of face.

O’s face was impassive, their lack of expression normal, although in this moment it felt cold and dismissive. Kan’s knees give way as his muscles began to spasm. He cried in pain then dropped. O held him up, scooping an arm behind him before carrying his smaller frame to the bed.

“I am sorry, Kan.”

Kan writhed on the bed. It felt like a box of nails had been released into his arms and legs then electrified. It hurt to move. It hurt to breath. The thudding of his heart was so strong he worried it would break through his chest. Then something pinched the back of his neck and a streak of pain ran through his spine, causing him to go rigid.

“This will only change your appearance,” O said in a placid voice. “You will still be you.” He strapped arm and leg restraints around Kan’s shaking limbs.

“No,” Kan said as he tried to roll away. “I’ll never be me again.” Tears leaked from his eyes as the last band was secured about his torso. “I can’t…” His back arched as a groan reverberated through his teeth. The gums in his mouth hurt. The nails on his toes and fingers burned. He had not changed in size or appearance yet, but he could feel it coming. This was only the beginning and once it was done… what would be left of him? Would he even survive the process?

The visions of him as a mindless beast returned to haunt him. Hated and cast out, no longer welcome on Earth, the deranged figure of his dreams pulsed through the fog that was taking over his mind. He would love the dark and run from the sun. His skin would dry and crack, his muscles growing hard and firm. From now on nothing would ever be the same. He–the person he was now and had always been–would be lost… and maybe so the hope of the human race. It was selfish and cruel, but in this moment, he didn’t care

First seen on Reedsy Prompt Contest #279

https://blog.reedsy.com/creative-writing-prompts