Everyone talks about the white light. I'm not sure if that's what they hope they see, or its just become a common thing to say because people open their mouths about their near death experiences and its all they seem to remember. I know I sure as hell didn't see one.

No, I opened my eyes to darkness and shadows, to the feeling that the place I was in, was worse than any Hell I'd ever been warned about. Ever get a foreboding feeling so strong, that it can't be real? That the terror you feel, the urgency and anxiety rearing up within you was just a nightmare? That you wish, that whatever had brought you to that moment, you'd never experienced?

I'd thought I'd known fear until I opened my eyes to the Plains.

The Plains.

Its what those of us stuck here call it. Or what they called it. I haven't been here long enough to really be a citizen. All I know, is you keep moving, and you trust no one. That foreboding feeling, it never goes away. There are things here that prey on us. They hunt us, for what I don't know, I've never seen one. But you can feel them around you, hunting. You know when one of them is near, because you remember your moment of death, that fear, all over again. At least that's what I was told.

She said this place was a second chance, but I don't know what fucked up deity would come up with this place as a shot at redemption. And personally, there are some people here that look like they should've earned a one way ticket upstairs. Most of those guys though, they aren't around anymore. They were taken by the shadows or killed by others that lose their damn minds. The Plains eat at you, the constant fear and worry, it stresses the soul and the pressure breaks the spirits of the kinder few. Personally, I think they were just too weak for this place. I'm not saying I'll survive in the end, but I never pretened I was anything but a monster with blood on her hands.

This place is only for the strong. The ones that feel they have business to attend or something left undone. I'm no ghost haunting some shitty house or tormenting someone that inherited my belonings; I didn't have anything worth owning. I was a killer, born and bred. I was a terror, and I knew there was a seat at Satan's table, waiting for me. (imagine my confusion at realizing this wasn't Hell.

The Plains are where you end up when when Heaven and Hell don't want you. Its where you go when you aren't whole; best guess I have to that, is that reincarnation is partially correct. This place is a punishment and a reward; damnation and redemption. Its for those who have been wronged and done wrong. For those killed too soon in unforgiving ways, and those that brutalized them. Its the final teacher, the last chance for you to change your monstrous ways. Because lets face it, when you're brutally tortured and murdered, you're gonna enter the afterlife with a bit of rage and resentment.

So heed my advice, or don't, (I really don't give a damn), but if you find yourself in the Plains, fucking run. Run in whatever direction you feel is the most accurate. Run before the shadows realize you're here, find your salvation and do everything you can to protect them, because they're your way out.

When his counterpart invited him to go hunting for the new Angel of Death, Wolf had been expecting someone dark and brooding. Another version of Azrael, tall, dark and brooding (and a stick shoved so far up his ass, you wondered how it wasn't coming through his skull). Upon hearing it was a woman, Wolf expected the worst; a female version of Azrael (complete with two sticks) or, just as bad, an angel that considered herself the 'real' Morticia Adams. Of the two, the first was the worst, as having two copies of Azrael wandering around was bound to implode the universe, and the second, well, Wolf knew he'd kill her just to see if another one would pop up with a new face.

So when he and his counterpart located the Angel of Death in a park, Wolf was surprised to see that she was nothing like Azrael. Azrael was known for his cold demeanor, ancient blue-gray eyes, and eternal frown. (The stick up his ass was a given based on frozen frown.) Wolf had met THE Angel of Death in battle once or twice, and had decided that he wanted nothing to do with Azrael. The knowledge that Azrael knew him on a level no one else, not even his King did, shook Wolf to the core. Everyone knew Azrael was the keeper of The Book; he witnessed every birth, wrote every name and transcribed their story, and then erased it when they died. It was that secret knowledge that stirred a powerful fear in Wolf, and it was well known that Wolf wasn't afraid of anything-except Azrael.

The Angel of Death he met in the park was beautiful, as he knew she would be, all angels were, but he hadn't expected the attraction he felt to her. Wolf worked with the living personification of Lust, and he was unaffected by her, but this angel, called to him like a drug. It was unnerving, because he knew two other women that shared her face, one, his counterpart's twin sister, and the other, his leader; and like Lust, he found neither of them attractive.

Her slender eyes were silver, and in them burned an innocent wonder but a fierceness he hadn't expected. He noted with a quiet growl of approval, that he towered over her by at least a foot, and she looked soft but she wasn't weak. He saw it in the way she looked down (how she pulled that off, he'd never know) at him, but she hadn't meant it insultingly; she had a regality to her poise he found interesting. Angels usually carried themselves arrogantly, but she didn't. Her eyes had been the first part of her he noticed, and when the wind picked up he noticed her hair; it was white. Pure and clean like the first snows of winter in his homeland. When she spoke to his counterpart, her voice wrapped around him, gentle and welcoming. Her silver eyes fell on him and she studied him with wonder and curiosity. Finally, she nodded to him in greeting:

"Wolf." Her voice was light, and but there was a smoky undertone to it.

He offered her a smirk, "Angel."

The smile she gave him was the most beautiful one he'd ever seen. It reached her shining silver eyes and she was a beacon of light and warmth. If he couldn't sense her connection to Heaven, he would think she was Lust, tempting him to her side with her unique features and the purity that radiated off of her in soothing waves. In that moment, a single, selfish thought, so old that he'd nearly forgotten it was possible for him to think it: Mine.

I don't understand why Mama left me. Sometimes it makes me want to scream. Other times I just cry.

Papa says that Mama loves me, that when I'm older I'll understand. I don't understand that. Tristan's Mama loves him and she's with him every day. His Mama looks at me with sad eyes sometimes. I don't like it. It makes me angry and sick, like she knows a secret that I don't. Papa says Shayla just has one of those faces, because he doesn't like looking at her either. He always says it in front of her (probably because he wants to start a fight), but Tristan says that it doesn't bother his Mama. Papa doesn't know that I see it, but when he looks at Shayla, his eyes look sad, but he feels angry. I don't understand how he can be both.

Auntie explained death to me, and I thought that made sense. That's why Mama couldn't visit me. That's why I couldn't see her. I asked Papa why he didn't tell me that Mama had died. He looked confused and then angry, and asked me who told me that Mama was dead. He doesn't like when Auntie tells me things because he says that 'she doesn't understand shit.' And she's a bitch. (I'm not supposed to say those words. Papa says that Mama will know that he curses in front of me.) Papa said that my Mama isn't dead. I got angry. Papa let me scream. He sat on the floor and pulled me into his lap and he rocked me while I cried. I fell asleep and dreamed. I dreamed of a soft voice, warm and soothing, that told me I was loved. I felt a gentle touch, so gentle that I almost missed it, and it made me cry. I didn't want to lose the feeling.

I woke up, and Papa was watching over me. He talked to me about what happened and he told me that he was sorry he couldn't take my hurt away, or explain things. He told me again that everything would make sense when I was older. I was tired of hearing that, and tired of waiting.

I was going to find Mama.

It started when I realized I was having trouble writing a character. I'd created her but I didn't know her, probably because she was dead. Her legacy lived on in her family, but I couldn't wrap my mind around her. I started asking the other characters because I thought they could explain her to me. They all said the same things: she was strong, she was beautiful, and she was loved. They were all suffering from hero worship and weren't helpful at all. I found myself wishing that I could meet her because then I could ask her anything and I'd write her better. I was beginning to think that I'd have to cut her out and modify the entire story; especially her son's life. Just as I was coming to terms with that, she showed up. She was just as they said, strong and beautiful. She held me in her amber gaze, and I felt small (and stupid, they'd left that part out), but her smile was friendly as she said, "Ask me anything."

I stared dumbly, I hadn't expected her. Finally, I blurted out, "What's your name?" I knew the name I had given her, I just hoped that I hadn't been wrong.

"Rena. Pronounced Rey-na. In Spanish it means queen." She answered as she looked down her nose at me, but she didn't sound rude or judgemental.

"Why do they call you the Dragon?" I asked.

"It was the soul given to me. I understand that it was also my ferocity to defend my family. Apparently dragons are very possessive and protective of what belongs to them." Her smile transformed into a smirk and I was floored. I'd seen that same smirk on Zane's face; he'd inherited it from her.

"What's your greatest treasure?"

"My son of course." Her eyes sparkled playfully, "I suppose my sister is up there as well."

I didn't know she liked to joke about her twin. I quickly wrote it down as I asked my next question: "What kind of leader is your brother-in-law?"

She quirked a brow, "I wouldn't know. Zirus only became leader after my death."

I stared at her in shock, "What? I thought he-"

"Why would a dragon take orders from a wolf?" She questioned, and again, I felt stupid. Since I'd created Rena, she'd been dead before the story started. I'd never considered that she had been anything more.

"So, what have you been to your family besides a leader? What words define you?"

"Mother, sister, and warrior. Once I was dead, I became a memory and a paragon; a shadow." She said the last part wistfully and a brief look of sadness seemed to cross her face.

"Do you have any regrets?"

Her sharp amber eyes held my gaze and I was reminded that I was small compared to her, and something wild started at me for a second before she answered, "No, because every decision I made was decided in order to protect the people I love most."

"Like your son."

"And others." She added nonchalantly.

"Can you tell me about Zane's father?" I wanted to know about their relationship. I knew who he was, but I couldn't remember how I'd made that decision. I hoped that she would enlighten me.

"What do you want to know?"

"Anything. Everything. Was loving him easy?"

The smile she gave me was brilliant, and her eyes softened. I could tell that just mentioning him made her happy. "Yes. Natural even. He was a dear friend."

"Did you plan on loving him?"

Rena shook her head, "Dragons don't intend to fall in love; I simply realized one day, that I was."

"Why did you decide to keep Zane from him?"

The joy she'd felt talking about her lover disappeared, and I was afraid I'd crossed a line. I didn't want her to leave yet. She took a moment before replying, "It was the right thing to do. He would have had to choose between his purpose and fatherhood. So I made the decision for him."

"Do you ever wish that it had been different?"

I thought she was going to snap at me about not having regrets. "There was, in a moment's breath, where I saw how much Zane would need him, and I wished we could've raised our son together." Her eyes brightened, "I didn't need to worry. He's loved and protected Zane regardless."

"Will he ever know that Zane is his?"

I only realized after I asked that I had implied that she may have been sleeping around. Technically. I really hoped she wouldn't kill me. Rena responded, "He knows, even without my confirmation."

"Why hasn't he told Zane?"

"Because he's honoring my wish. He doesn't realize that I did it for him, or perhaps he does. You'd have to ask him." Rena shrugged.

"Do you think that Zane knows?"

"It has never really been important to him, who his father is. Having Zirus around as a father figure helped him. It probably also helped that Zane's father has been present all throughout his life, even if not in an actual parent capacity. They have a strong bond."

"Do you ever get to see R---------?"

Rena looked sad, "No, we are currently incapable of meeting, as my duty hasn't been completed. Even then, I doubt it would be a painless reunion. I hurt him in my decision making, and even though I know that, I wouldn't apologize."

I stared at her in a mixture of awe and confusion. Was she convinced that she had done the right thing, or was she heartless? It dawned on me, that this woman had never apologized for anything in her life, and I wasn't sure how I felt about that.

"You're probably questioning my morality or even if I'm worth all the 'hero worship', as you put it." Rena spoke up. "I have only ever done what I believed was right, either for my family or my mission. If that makes me a hero in their eyes, so be it." She paused for a moment, then added, "He is the only man I've ever loved."

The words "Prove it" were out of my mouth before I could stop them. I saw the flare of anger, and her amber eyes turned gold and reptilian and I realized in a moment of horror, that I was staring into the eyes of a dragon. I felt a ripple of power wash off of Rena, and suddenly she sighed heavily and it was gone. She suddenly looked tired and overwhelmed, but she muttered her lover's name under her breath so low, if I hadn't already known his identity, I would've missed it.

When she spoke, her voice was raw and filled with admiration and love, "I only ever loved R---------, and it was never my intent, but as I look back, how could I not love him? He was everything I wanted before I even knew I wanted anything."

I blinked and she was gone, and I wished she'd stayed longer or that I'd asked different questions. I understand their hero worship now, I don't worship her, not the way her family does (but they'll never admit they actually do it). I realize the role she played in shaping her son, and even her nieces and nephews. How she was the one that encouraged a strong family unit and instilled the protective streak that runs through them. She was the big sister and the mother and the warrior. They want to live up to the standard she set, fill the shoes she left behind, or step out of the shadow she cast.

Whenever his people talked about angels, they were always monsters. They were just as bad as demons in their cruelty, some even said worse because they were beautiful as they slaughtered whole families and hunted down innocent children.

For most of his life, he believed it.

He'd been the hunted, by demons yes, but he hadn't seen an angel in his life before. It was a natural fear, almost instinctual to fear them despite never having seen one. His older brother said that the job of the Nephilim was to be invisible, to look out for their own; and to never let an angel find them.

"We can kill demons, even outwit them, but no one has ever killed an angel." His brother always reminded him. "Angels have this single-mindedness, where once they have you in their sights they won't rest until you're dead."

It was their way, Nephilim were forced to live a nomadic life, always on the run, because you never knew who was going to kill you when you opened the door. Fear the demons. Fear the angels. Fear mankind. Your only friend is the Nephilim. It was a cold existence, it was barely a life, always looking over your shoulder for someone to stab you in the back.

"Damien?" He looked up at the sound of a quiet voice, it was questioning and he could hear the heartbreak in her voice. He looked up into the watery eyes of his best friend. An angel. "Its time." Her voice broke and he watched as his brother, Dimitri, placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. She turned and buried her head into his chest and Dimitri held her.

He looked up and found her entire family, a family of angels, looking at him with sorrow in their eyes. His feet felt like lead, he didn't want to do this. He didn't want to say good-bye. Finally he took a step, and then another, and he walked towards the coffin.

She had saved his life when his brother had left to 'protect the Nephilim'. She rescued him from demons and monsters; from himself. She took his betrayal of her familiy and she forgave him; they all did. The angels hadn't been the monsters he'd been taught to fear, at least not this family. They were loving, forgiving, and everything you would expect with the term angel. Were they terrifying when angry? Yes. Were they capable of the destruction he'd heard stories about? That and then some. But he'd seen them at their lowest, and they mourned like humans, they had souls and hearts that could be shattered, and despite their own suffering, their own hurt, they'd taken him in and protected him. And it cost them.

He finally stopped in front of the coffin and looked down. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her. She looked so peaceful, as if she were sleeping, and she was beautiful. Every moment he'd spent with her flooded his memory, from their awkward official meeting and his confession of his crimes to the first time she kissed him and right before she left.

Her baby blue eyes had been filled with some wistful glaze, as if she was trying to find words. He'd spoken instead.

"So this is it. The final battle."

"Something like that." She had replied in an off-handed way.

"You're gonna win." He'd stated.

She watched him quietly before she spoke, "You're confident. I don't deserve your confidence."

He had shrugged, "I believe in you. I don't really know how to explain it, but, since the day I met you, I've always had faith in you. You've got this-"

"I love you." She had cut him off.

Damien had stared at her, in shock. "What?"

Her baby blue eyes rolled, "I'm not repeating myself." She looked unsure, "But I know I'm in love with you. Angel, she showed me what that felt like....when I was trapped with her. I faked everything, even love for my family, before you, but then...somehow, you made me realize I did have an emotion besides fury." She paused, and offered him a bittersweet smile, "I don't deserve your confidence or your friendship. Not when I'm about to go kill the love of your life."

He shook his head, "Camilla was never real, and I know what you're going to do in battle, its war, right? Angels versus demons. The good guys need a win, and someone has to die." He tried to be nonchalant.

"And what determines good, Damien? I can't be good." She took a step towards him, "I'm not whole." She shook her head, "I'm going into battle to kill my counterpart, your lover, and I can say I love you over and over again, and know its true, but also know that I'll never be able to actually feel it." She looked over her shoulder, as if she heard something, before she faced him again. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" He asked.

"That someone has to die, and it will either be her, or it will be me. I will win, because if I don't, you will never be safe; my family will never be safe. No matter what happens today, Damien, you will lose someone."

Damien opened his eyes as a sob choked him. "You won, Shay. You won, but we lost. You were right about me too. I wasn't over Camilla, her death hurts, but so does yours." He blinked away tears, "You know, your family offered me a place to stay, since Wolf burned down our house, and we've been practically living here anyway. I'm gonna stay a while, probably pray for a miracle. Angel comes back from the dead all the time, so, why can't you?" He whispered the last part.

She wasn't coming back. She would be placed in the family crypt, alongside her older brother and sister, her nephew, and her mother; casualties of war. Shay would be locked in a dark room and it wasn't fair. She deserved the sky, the warmth of the sun, and all four seasons. He sighed, 'You deserved a happy ending.'

@chainedinshadow

Wolf walked through the door, his body tense for a fight. He could smell the fire and the ash, his Angel had a bad day for it to be this strong. As he walked further into the house, his senses were assaulted with the salty sent of tears and the sense of hopelessness and frustration that normally pleased him, left an emptiness in him that broke his soul. His Angel was suffering.

That thought made him angry for a moment, but it disipated when he finally found her. She was sitting with her back against the bedroom door, her knees pulled up to her chest and her head buried in her arms. He heard her sniffles and watched as she looked up at him, tears still flowing from her silver eyes.

"I'm a horrible mother." She whispered in a broken voice, obviously strained from her weeping and begging.

Wolf knelt down, "Don't say stupid things, Angel. You're an amazing mother. Our little Siren adores you."

Angel shook her head, "No, you don't understand. It only happens when you're not here. She rejects me. My daughter rejects me and I know its because of what I am; who I am." A new sob tore through her and she wiped her tears away, "Part of me rejects her, but I love her so much. She's my everything, Wolf. I-I don't know what to do!"

Wolf pulled her into his arms as Angel disolved into a new set of tears. He hated when she cried. It meant she was hurting and all he wanted to do was set her world right so she could be his happy Angel; but there was no fixing this. He knew that Angel and Siren suffered when they were left alone together. His lover's power made her a danger to their daughter, and the parts of his daughter that were him, Hell-borne and unworthy, recognized Angel for the danger she was.

A loud cry came from the room behind them, and Wolf looked wistfully at the door. Their daughter was singing her siren song, and he knew his Angel would put her suffering aside to answer the call. As he predicted, his lover pulled herself from his hold and wiped her eyes, all signs of her pain gone, and she stood and entered the room.

"Hello my Little Bird." Wolf watched from the doorway as Angel cooed at their daughter and picked her up. She was beautiful every second of the day from the moment she was created, a smile deserved to be on her face all the time because she was a God-send. And he'd hurt her too many times before to not want to make up for it. As he watched her hold their child, he realized that he'd inadvertently hurt her again. It was his fault their daughter couldn't stand Angel when he was gone. It was his blood that ruined everything.

His Siren was smiling up at her mother with wide eyes and little giggles. Wolf looked at his Angel curiously when a wave of her sadness washed over him. She was smiling, but it wasn't reaching her eyes. "Angel?"

"I'm happy to be able to hold her again, to end her crying and her pain, Wolf, but....mine still exists. Even now, I'm so happy to have her in my arms again, but the moment you're gone....she won't want me anymore." She turned to him, and Wolf froze at the desperate look in her eyes.

Nothing good ever happened when she had that look in her eyes.

"What are you thinking, Angel?" He asked, his voice was lower than normal as he prepared himself for whatever awful idea she was about to suggest.

"I love her so much."

"I know you do. You love her more than anything. I see the way you look at her. She's the light of your life." Wolf remarked.

Angel nodded, "Then you know...., tears began to fall from her eyes again as she approached him and offered him their now silent child, "You know this breaks my heart."

Wolf took Siren, but the smile he normally recived from her, he didn't get. Her silver and green eyes were focused on her mother. "Angel, what are you doing?"

The woman gave him a bittersweet smile as she pressed a kiss to her daughter's head, and finally she looked at him. He saw the answer in her eyes, and before his Angel, Wolf never thought he'd fall apart the way he found himself in that moment.

"I hurt her. You don't. She adores you most of all. I've always loved that, but, she can't stand me when you're not here. I hurt her and she hurts me. I'm weak, Wolf. I can't keep doing this, listening to her cry and scream because of my presence. I hear the Fire within me make demands I can never follow. She's in danger with me, and she knows it." He saw her heart break in her eyes, a look he'd caused once, and vowed never to do again.

"Angel-"

She silenced him with a kiss, it was full of love and sorrow and good-bye. Then she was gone.

Wolf felt her absence, and when his daughter began to cry, he knew that she felt it too. These were here normal cries though. He was never around when Siren threw a real tantrum, with power in her voice that shook the whole house. Others had witnessed the effects of Siren's terrified screams when she was alone with Angel, the way they both suffered without his presence. The tears his daughter cried now, hurt his soul in a way Hell never could; she knew her mother was gone.

He rocked her gently and began speaking to her. "Your mother loves you very much. More than anything else in this world. You and I broke her heart, my Siren." His daughter hiccuped and looked at him with water eyes; her mother's eyes. "It wasn't your fault, Little Bird." The nickname Angel gave Siren sounded odd coming from him, but he saw how it soothed the child. "She's your guardian angel, Siren, don't ever forget that. Angel and I would tear the world asunder for you. Always remember that Angel did this because she loves you so much. She would rather suffer alone than risk you. She's stubborn that way." He paused and saw that Siren had stopped crying, she was looking around the room for her mother.

'Angel, I wish you knew how much our daughter loves you. When you're not here she looks for you.'

"He's a good leader." Wolf answered immediately.

Michael hesitated before responding, "He was always the better warrior."

"He plays beautiful music." Raphael broke in.

Uriel crossed his arms in defiance, "He was loved most of all."

Lucifer waved his hand and the shattered mirror stopped showing him the images. Wolf's loyalty was expected and appreciated. He was certain Uriel and Michael choked on their words, and Raphael had always been the kind one, but nothing they said was interesting.

"Well that was a waste of my time." Lucifer remarked aloud as he stood up to leave the room.

"Everyone says he's incredibly selfish and power hungry. I believed it at first, I mean, that's what they teach you in Sunday school." He turned immediately at the sound of her voice. The Mirror conjured her image in its shattered visage. "He also wants to right wrongs and take care of others." She paused, "He's understanding and always willing to listen to complaints and worries. He a great teacher too, and- she hesitated, "he's a good father." Her dark eyes met his through the mirror and he watched as they turned blue to match his, "I'm proud to be his daughter."

He inherited his connection to the ocean from his mother. His mother was beautiful and brave, with mysterious cerulean eyes, dark wavy hair, and limitless laughter; an Oceanid. He inherited everything from her: beauty in his chisled chin, large eyes, and wavy dark hair. She called him her treasure.

It was supposed to be the beginning of his life, an endless adventure as wide as the sea. Poseidon's rage brought wild and destructive waves while the wind howled in rage. He remembered the spark of panic as the ocean engulfed him. Then he took his first breath. For a moment, he was at home in the deep, stormy depths. Suddenly a pair of strong but delicate arms wrapped around him, he expected his mother, but then there were more hands tearing at him, and the sound of cruel cooing and purrs of laughter echoed around him in the vast nothingingness that he realized with horror that he wasn't going to be saved.

He survived, but the ocean had changed him and he took no pride in the immortal blood and salt water that ran through his veins. The ocean had been his prison, had devoured his suffering and freedom, even his love. He couldn't describe the ocean as soothing, with its bright, blue, endless beauty; not when it housed his nightmares. All he felt was the icy darkness of the depths, heard their never-ending, watery laughter ringing in his ears, and saw the cruel, unfeeling cerulean eyes of his mother.

"Papa, what does it mean to fall in love?"

The sound of his daughter's voice captured Wolf's attention.

"Why do you ask?" He questioned.

"Auntie said that love made you stupid." She answered matter of factly.

He sighed heavily, he was going to have words with his sister. "So instead of asking me to explain your aunt's reasoning, you'd rather ask me what it means to fall in love?"

She looked up at him finally, revealing her gorgeous silver and green eyes. Heterochromia, they called it.

"I figured Auntie was being facetious." He chuckled at her word choice. She was incredibly intelligent. "And I wanted to know what falling in love with Mama meant to you."

There it was, the real reason she asked. He leaned back in his seat as thoughts of his daughter's mother filled his mind. He could still feel her touch in the middle of the night, felt the heat from her body lying beside him, and even tasted her kisses when he was lost in thoughts of her.

"I was a bad man when I met your mother. I didn't have good intentions with her; I wanted to break her spirit and her heart. It was a game for me." He answered truthfully. She was still looking at him so he continued, "I wanted her to fall in love with me so I could break her heart. I wanted her to hate." Siren stared at him in confusion. "I was a bad man. A monster. Your mother never broke; instead, she broke me. I was losing myself to the game I was playing. I was losing sight of my individuality, and she made me different. She broke me to the point that I didn't know myself anymore and I hated that she made me feel that way. I hated that she had power over me while I had no power over her. I hated her."

Siren blinked at him, "Papa, I'm confused."

He smiled softly, "Falling in love means giving someone the power to break you; it means falling apart. Falling apart meant that I could build myself stronger and better. Love made me stronger."

His daughter smiled, but then frowned, "Then why did Auntie say that love made you weak?"

"Because she's a bitch." He took a sip of his coffee, "And you can tell her I said that if she asks."