Ch.54: The Shattering Edge
The void screamed. Sparks churned like a storm without sky, every fragment of the Reed mansion stripped away until only warped echoes remained—shattered bookshelves, a broken hearth, windows opening to nothing. The three titans loomed, impossibly vast, their voices no longer words but thunder. For so long, Zeke had endured their onslaught in silence, each accusation tearing deeper. Shame. Longing. Abandonment.
Now silence pressed between them. Not peace, but anticipation. They were waiting. Waiting for him.
Zeke's lattice quivered. If he stayed silent, they would keep carving him apart until he scattered. If they were fragments of himself, then he had to answer. He had to fight.
He straightened—or tried to. His form flickered, wings and horns sprouting then collapsing, crystalline limbs breaking and reforming before dissolving into slime. Still, his voice cut through the storm.
"To you first," he rasped, staring at the Neo-Nephilim. "If you are what I was meant to be, then why is your throne empty? Why do I see no Castiel, no Aunt Kat, no Uncle Alexi, no Grandpa, no Zein and Zia? Dominion without kin is hollow. Power without them is nothing."
The Neo-Nephilim's wings snapped wide, sparks cascading like firestorms. His eyes blazed fury. "Blasphemy! You dare question me? You were born to rule. They are footnotes, shadows clinging to your brilliance. You are sovereign alone. The world kneels, and that is enough!"
Zeke's voice hardened, even as his form shook. "Then why does your hall feel so cold? Why does it feel like a tomb dressed as a throne room?"
For an instant the golden banners flickered, the kneeling legions wavering like shadows on smoke. The Primogenitor snarled louder, trying to drown the doubt. "Empty because none are worthy to stand beside you! They would have been ashes in your shadow, frail and mortal. Better absence than weakness. Better silence than chains!"
Zeke's chest twisted, every word he forced out scraping his lattice raw. His filaments tore at the edges, fraying like rope against fire, but he pushed through. "Better chains of love than the silence of a tyrant."
The Neo-Nephilim reeled, wings convulsing, sparks shattering off them like glass. The throne hall behind him cracked down its pillars, fault lines racing like lightning.
Zeke turned next to the Drakyn. His scaled features gleamed, eyes slitted gold, expression smug with cruel confidence.
"And you," Zeke said, voice trembling but steadying with each word. "You promise family. You promise belonging. But tell me this—if I wear your form, if I walk into this world as a Half-Blood Drakyn, will they truly see me? Or will they only see the mask? What happens when it cracks, when they learn the truth? When Aunt Kat and Uncle Alexi realize their son is only slime in borrowed skin? When Castiel sees his twin as fraud?"
The words cost him more than the others. Filaments shuddered inside his core, snapping under strain. The ache of naming them, of using their love as blade, cut deeper than any attack. He nearly faltered, but forced himself on.
For the first time, the Drakyn faltered. His sneer twitched. Sparks hissed along his scaled arms. "Better a mask they can love than a monster they will despise."
Zeke pressed, voice raw. "Then it isn't belonging. It's a lie. A cage gilded with hope. A prison that looks like home."
The hearth behind the Drakyn warped, flames sputtering. Castiel's smile twisted, Aunt Kat's warmth blurred, Uncle Alexi's strong hand fractured like glass. Zein and Zia's laughter warped into static, cutting through Zeke like knives. The backlash ripped his essence ragged, but he held.
The Drakyn roared back, trying to smother the cracks. "What is a prison if it brings peace? What is a mask if it lets them smile? Better to be loved for a lie than despised for the truth!"
Zeke trembled, but answered. His voice bled pain. "No. If I must stand before them, I will stand as I am. Not as a lie. Not as your mask."
The hearth collapsed inward, scattering sparks like embers in a storm. The Drakyn's form warped, scales cracking across his chest.
Finally, Zeke turned to the Sovereign Slime. Its crystalline body rippled, faces forming and shattering across its surface. Its distorted laughter dripped through the void.
"And you." His words cut sharper than before. "You say you were there when no one else was. You say I already chose you when I chose survival. Maybe that's true. But survival isn't living. Surviving alone isn't enough. Aunt Kat and Uncle Alexi were real. Castiel is real. My family existed. They still might. You can't replace them."
The Slime's body convulsed, shards cracking outward. Its laughter twisted to rage. "They abandoned you. They were not there when you starved. I was. They did not bleed with you in the ash. I did. You owe me."
Zeke's voice cut like a blade, but the effort ripped at his essence like jagged glass. "I owe you nothing. Because you are me. And I am more than starvation. I am more than hunger. You are the proof that I endured, not the reason."
The void shook. The Slime screeched, crystalline limbs lashing outward. "Lies! Without me, you would be dust! Without me, you would be nothing!"
Zeke shouted back, voice breaking with strain, every word tearing at him even as it held him upright. "Without me, you would not exist at all!"
The void howled. All three titans recoiled, voices colliding into chaos. Neo-Nephilim shrieked dominion, Drakyn spat belonging, Slime roared survival. The storm tore itself apart as their certainty cracked.
Zeke staggered, but he did not fall. His lattice still screamed, filaments fraying at the edges, but for the first time he felt something other than being torn. He felt resistance. His own.
The Neo-Nephilim lunged, wings blotting the void. "Without me, you are shame incarnate!"The Drakyn countered, fire in his eyes. "Without me, you will never see them again!"The Slime surged, crystalline limbs thrashing. "Without me, you are nothing!"
Zeke's form flickered again—wings, horns, scales, crystal, slime—but his voice steadied, cutting through their roars.
"I am all of you," he said. "And I am more."
The void screamed louder, collapsing into chaos. Sparks flooded like rivers of fire, swallowing throne hall, hearth, and ashlands alike. The Reed mansion flickered back for a heartbeat, shattered and warped, then disintegrated. Only storm remained.
Zeke clutched himself, essence unraveling, but his words carved anchors in the tempest. "You will answer me. If you are me—then you will answer."
The three titans froze, their voices colliding to silence. Their gazes bore into him, fury and expectation in equal measure.
The storm held its breath.
And Zeke, trembling and torn, prepared to fight them not as supplicant, but as sovereign.