The Tears of Kas̆dael

Jasper came to in a body not his - or, perhaps, more accurately, in a body that had not been his in a very long time. He felt oddly claustrophobic as he raised the stubby little hand in front of him, clenching and unclenching the childlike fingers in wonder. This is more than just a memory.

“What are you doing? Eat your food, stupid.” His reverie was interrupted by his older brother’s chiding. His chubby cheeks gathered in a scowl as he glanced up at his brother, but he winced as an elbow caught him in the side.

“Just ignore him,” a small voice whispered beside him. Jasper could barely believe his ears. Jenny? He felt stupid as soon as he thought it; why wouldn’t she be there? Judging from the small size of his body, he doubted he was more than 5 or 6; it would be another ten years before she died.

At that moment, it was all he could do to restrain himself from throwing his arms around her, but his time in Corsythia had taught him some semblance of restraint. Picking up his spoon, he mechanically lowered it into the bowl in front of him and scooped some food up.

He nearly spat it out as the overly processed taste of lukewarm Spaghetti-O’s filled his mouth. Jasper supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised; his mother had never cooked if she could help it, and when she did - well, the Spaghetti-O’s weren’t so bad in comparison. Then again, I suppose most princesses don’t learn how to cook. He chewed the squishy noodles a few times and reluctantly swallowed, taking a sip of the bright pink Kool-Aid sitting beside his bowl to wash it down.

Plopping the spoon back in his bowl, Jasper toyed with his food, taking surreptitious glances at the table around him. His brother sat on the far side of the table, a large sandwich supplementing his bowl of slop. Jenny, as always, sat beside him. A place was set for his mother, though there was no sign of her, nor was there any place set for his youngest sibling, solidifying the timeline he had guessed at. I’ve got to be 5.

They were sitting in the kitchen of their old apartment. 2728 San Juan Boulevard. The cracked linoleum floor was as ugly as he remembered, a once white and blue tile pattern that age had turned as yellow as an old receipt. The cabinets were old and shoddy; the door at the end sagged half of its hinges, a casualty of his brother’s over-exuberant yanking.

Still, it wasn’t all bad; there were homey touches too. The old Maytag was covered in their artwork, proudly displayed despite the lack of even an average talent, and an upturned flower pot with feathers sticking out of its ass and the printed-out face of a turkey plastered on its front occupied pride of place in the center of the table.

The quiet of the table was disturbed as a sudden knocking echoed through the entry hall. Footsteps thudded down the narrow staircase, and his mother came into view. They may have been poor, but his mother had always been a stunning woman. The long black hair that rippled down her back and the slight tan of her skin gave her a vaguely Mediterranean appearance, though she’d never talked about her past - that, at least, Jasper now understood. He was curious how that conversation would have gone. So, kids, I guess it's time I tell you the truth about me. I am an alien princess from another world. A quick trip to the loony bin would have been all that talk would have gotten her.

His mother paused at the door and carefully peaked through the peephole. Most of her body was obscured in the darkness of the hall, but a shaft of light from the kitchen illuminated the back of her head like a study in a chiaroscuro - and for a brief second, Jasper could almost swear he saw horns peaking above her hair, though when he blinked, they were gone.

The pounding echoed through the hall again, and his mother glanced over her shoulder. “Mike, take Jasper and Jenny upstairs.”

“C’mon,” he grunted, and the chair squeaked against the linoleum as Mike stood up. Jenny popped up quickly, but Jasper tarried, curious to see who was at the door. Could it be my father? That was why he was here, after all, wasn’t it?

“Move it,” Mike’s hand caught him on the back of his head. Jasper’s first impulse was to turn around and slug him, but the feeling of his tiny fists balling up brought him back to his senses. He might be a powerful mage now, but here, Mike was 9 and he was a pudgy 5-year-old. Reluctantly, he followed the others up the stairs as the pounding on the door continued.

Without a second look at them, Mike headed toward his room and slammed the door behind him. Jenny also headed toward their room, but Jasper stayed behind, crouching behind the bannister. The banging finally ceased as his mother opened the door a few inches.

“What do you want?” Her voice was cold.

“You know what I want.” A hand wrapped around the edge of the door and pushed. For a moment, his mother strained to keep the door shut. Surprisingly, she seemed to hold her own, perhaps even gaining an inch back against the unknown man, until he spoke again. “Damn it, Jaz, I have a right to see them. They’re my kids too.”

She froze, and then her shoulders sagged as the fight seemed to go out of her. With a muttered sigh, she swung the door open.

Jasper pressed his face tight against the railings as the man stepped into their little apartment. He had a mop of unruly hair, somewhere between a dishwater blonde and a true brunette. His features were a bit harsh, an aquiline nose with a slight crook and a scar on his left cheek, and Jasper’s face scrunched up in concentration. He seems….familiar? But where I do know him from?

The man cast a critical glance around the shabby hall. “Quite the castle you got here, princess.”

His mother’s face tightened. “It’s not like you pay child support.”

“You’re the one who chose to leave. All you have to do is come back, and you'll have everything you want and more.”

“You know I couldn’t let them be born there,” she responded tersely.

Something like sadness rippled across the man’s features. “Why? Afraid they’ll turn out like me?”

She turned away without answering him and her eyes flickered up the stairs. Jasper tried to pull out of sight, but he wasn’t quick enough. “Jasper!” He darted toward the room as she tromped up the stairs, but she reached him first. Hands wrapped around his waist as she scooped him up. “Now what have we talked about, Jasper? You know you were supposed to go to your room.”

Truthfully, Jasper had no memory of what she was referring to, but he offered a half-hearted ‘sorry.’ Her eyes narrowed. “Are you mocking me, young man?” She asked sternly, though the corners of her lips quirked slightly upward.

He shook his head vigorously. “I was just curious,” he protested.

She let him down on the floor and grabbed hold of his hand. “Jenny, you might as well come out too. I know you’re listening at the door.”

The rusty hinges of the door squealed and his sister stepped out. They followed their mother down the stairs where the man stood waiting.

It was only when Jasper got close that it finally clicked why the man’s features seemed so familiar. He’s the guy in that dream - vision? - I had when the gallû touched me. Either that or his doppelgänger.

His chest was a sea of discordant emotions as he stared up at the man; curiosity, anger at being abandoned, hope for something more - a hope that was swiftly crushed as his father stared down at him for barely a second before shaking his head. “Weak.”

Dismissing him in an instant, the man turned his attention to his sister. This time, his lips didn’t curl up in disgust. Crouching down beside her, the man stretched a cautious hand out to her. “Hi Jenny, do you remember me?”

His sister, who hadn’t been listening at the stairs, could only shake her head, her angelic locks swinging vigorously back and forth.

“I’m your dad. You’ve gotten so big!” He patted the top of her head cautiously, almost like she was a dog.

Jenny shied away from his touch and looked up at him with guarded suspicion. “I don’t have a dad,” she responded.

The man looked stricken as he glanced up at Jaz. “Really? You didn’t even tell her about me?”

“Why should I?” His mother shot back. “You’re not a part of their life and you never will be.”

Anger radiated off his body as he stood to face her. “That’s where you’re wrong. This one,” he said, placing his hand on Jenny’s shoulder, “is talented. My people’s blood runs strong in her.”

“Take your hand off my daughter,” his mother’s voice was as frigid as the darkest day of winter, but the man ignored her.

“She’s my daughter too. And she will come to me, sooner or later. And you know, Jaz, what later means.”

“Get out!” She hissed. When he didn’t move, she shoved him away, pushing him toward the door. “Stay away from her, you hear?”

“It will happen,” the man reiterated. “But I will keep my distance for now - for a price.”

She froze, her eyes brimming with the threat of further violence. “What do you want?”

Jasper wanted to scream as the man put his mouth to her ear, whispering so softly that he couldn’t make it out. Damn it - I want to know!

She pulled away after a moment, her face an inscrutable mask. “I would have to be gone for nearly a year,” she replied. “I can’t be gone that long. Who will look after the kids?”

“I can arrange for that.” She started to object, but he lifted his hand to cut her off. “Someone not tied to my family, okay?”

“And you’ll keep away from her?” She demanded.

The man smiled sadly. “She’s going to come to me, Jaz. But yes, if you do this, I will leave her be until she comes seeking.”

“Then I’ll do it.”

The man walked back to Jenny and knelt beside her again. He cupped both hands above her head, hovering just above her long blonde locks. Jasper could swear he something glinting beneath the man’s fingers, like the light of a thousand little stars, before the man stood up.

“Jasper too,” his mother prodded.

“Why bother?” the man replied with a frown. “None will come for him.”

“Jasper too,” she reiterated.

Grumbling, the man knelt beside him and repeated whatever he had done to his sister. Jasper felt something invade his mind, a surge of energy that probed through his body, searching for something he could not identify. He didn’t know what his father was doing, but he wasn’t just a 5-year-old. Not this time.

His essence stirred within him, deterring the power that searched through him, forcing it away from the small ball of something inside him that it sought. The man’s frown deepened, and for the first time, he truly looked down at Jasper. “Just what are you doing,” he muttered.

Jasper ignored him and focused on continuing to thwart the power. An unspoken battle persisted for a few seconds and then the energy dissipated. “It’s done,” the man said as he stood up, not sparing a second glance at Jasper.

“Good. Then get the hell out of my house,” his mother snapped. The man didn't comply immediately; instead, his gaze lingered on Jenny, a gaze filled with sorrow and longing. It was only when his mother angrily demanded again that he leave, that the man finally turned and walked out the door, but not before speaking to his mother one last time. "One way or another, Jaz, she'll come to me." His mother slammed the deadbolt in place immediately and turned to look at them. “Are you alright, Jenny?” She asked quietly.

His sister nodded her head slowly. “Okay, then why don’t you go up to your room? I’ll be up in a bit to read you a bedtime story, alright?”

Jenny started up the stairs and Jasper turned to follow, but a firm hand gripped his arm. “Not you, Jasper.”

“Am I in trouble?”

She stooped down beside him, and grabbing hold of his chubby cheeks, forced him to look deep into her eyes. “You remember what you just saw, don’t you?”

He shook his head unconvincingly, and a worried smile stole over her face. “Don’t try to lie to me, child. I felt the essence move in you.”

“Essence?” he questioned, playing dumb.

A hush fell between them as she stared into his eyes, with a gaze so intent she seemed determined to read his mind. “I see,” she said simply.

Picking him up again, she started up the stairs. “How about we start with that bedtime story? And we won’t talk about this again. Promise?”