Father and Heir
Author: Perfect Pen
last update2025-10-05 20:12:25

The rain hadn’t stopped since they fled the mansion. It hammered the windshield, washing the world into streaks of gray and gold. Bill kept both hands tight on the wheel, driving by instinct through backstreets no GPS remembered.

In the back seat, Jason held Emily close. She drifted in and out of consciousness, her head on his shoulder, murmuring half-formed words that broke against the hum of the engine. Every time she stirred, Jason’s arm tightened, as though the smallest motion might steal her away again.

“Where to now?” Bill asked at last, his voice raw.

“Keep going,” Jason said. “Old district. Dockside. The warehouse by the tracks.”

Bill glanced in the mirror. “That place? You said you’d burned it years ago.”

“I lied.”

Bill grunted. “Of course you did.”

When the car finally rolled to a stop, the warehouse looked like every ghost story Bill had ever told—rusted gates, windows blind with grime, puddles that reflected only darkness. Jason pushed the door open, rain slappin
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  • The Price of Protection

    Morning bled gray through the broken windows of the safehouse. The storm had passed, leaving a hush so complete that even the hum of the city seemed afraid to intrude.Jason sat at the edge of the couch, eyes half closed, one hand stretched over Emily’s sleeping form. The air around them shimmered faintly—threads of gold twisting like fine smoke, forming a translucent veil that pulsed in time with her heartbeat. Every pulse cost him.Each breath drew the warmth from his veins, a slow siphon that left his skin pale and his head aching. The System whispered inside his skull, cold and unyielding:[Protection Protocol Active: Shield of the Heir.][Energy Source: Divine Core.][Warning: Excessive strain will result in loss of function.]Jason ignored the warning. He adjusted the veil, watching its glow settle over Emily like soft dawn.A voice from the doorway broke the quiet. “You’ve looked better.”Bill leaned against the frame, holding a coffee mug and a folder stuffed with printe

  • Father and Heir

    The rain hadn’t stopped since they fled the mansion. It hammered the windshield, washing the world into streaks of gray and gold. Bill kept both hands tight on the wheel, driving by instinct through backstreets no GPS remembered.In the back seat, Jason held Emily close. She drifted in and out of consciousness, her head on his shoulder, murmuring half-formed words that broke against the hum of the engine. Every time she stirred, Jason’s arm tightened, as though the smallest motion might steal her away again.“Where to now?” Bill asked at last, his voice raw.“Keep going,” Jason said. “Old district. Dockside. The warehouse by the tracks.”Bill glanced in the mirror. “That place? You said you’d burned it years ago.”“I lied.”Bill grunted. “Of course you did.”When the car finally rolled to a stop, the warehouse looked like every ghost story Bill had ever told—rusted gates, windows blind with grime, puddles that reflected only darkness. Jason pushed the door open, rain slappin

  • Warning from the Inquisitor

    Smoke drifted through the ruined hall like ghost-light. The marble floor still glowed faintly with golden cracks where Jason’s power had scorched its memory. Silence lay over everything; even the chandeliers had stopped swaying, their crystals quivering in mid-air as if afraid to move.The Inquisitor knelt in that silence, his once-shimmering cloak now dull and torn. Silver runes flickered and died along its edges. Each breath rattled inside the hood.Jason stood before him, motionless, the gold fading from his eyes but not the fire behind them. Emily clung to the edge of a broken pillar, her face pale, her breath catching in soft, terrified gasps.Jason’s voice was low. “Speak. You came here to judge me. Judge yourself instead.”The Inquisitor lifted his head slowly. Beneath the hood, only shadow remained, but his voice had lost its arrogance; it was raw, human, almost weary.“You think this victory matters? You think this house was your battlefield? Fool. The moment you

  • Duel of Wills

    For a heartbeat, time itself forgot how to move.Dust hung in the air like frozen rain. Every candle in the mansion dimmed to a trembling spark as Jason and the Inquisitor locked eyes.Power bled silently from both of them—Jason’s gold, the Inquisitor’s cold silver—filling the room with a shimmering haze that hummed against the skin. The guards who had survived the earlier chaos clutched their heads and fell where they stood, breath leaving them in quiet groans. Servants collapsed beside them. Even Mrs. Lee staggered, her hand gripping the banister as if the marble itself were tilting.Only Emily remained standing, though the air pressed against her chest like a mountain.“Jason…” Her voice broke. “What’s happening?”He didn’t look at her. His gaze never left the man beneath the hood.The Inquisitor’s tone rolled like a storm tide. “You can still stand under the weight of judgment. Impressive—for a fallen god.”Jason’s mouth curved in that dry half-smile that always meant dan

  • The Order of Silence

    The hall fell into a silence so heavy it crushed the air from every chest.The cloaked figure stood like a shadow carved into stone. His very presence warped the light; lantern flames sputtered and bent toward him, as if afraid. The guards who had moments ago aimed rifles at Jason now pressed themselves back against the walls, rifles forgotten at their feet.Emily’s hands clutched Jason’s arm, her voice trembling. “Jason… please… who is he?”Jason didn’t answer. His eyes, burning faint gold, never left the figure.The man’s voice thundered, low and resonant. “Ar-Zekar.”The name cracked through the hall like a whip. Even Mrs. Lee, poised and cold, flinched as if the syllables carried weight older than stone.The figure continued, voice heavy with disdain. “It has been centuries since I last looked upon you. I did not expect to find you crawling in the dirt of mortals, parading as a husband, a servant, a nothing.”Jason tilted his head, his lips curving into a cold smirk. “Funny. You t

  • Guns Against a God

    The marble hall vibrated with noise as armored guards stormed in, rifles raised, laser sights dotting Jason’s chest like a swarm of red insects.“On the ground!” the captain barked, his voice cracking with the weight of authority. “On the ground, now, or we fire!”Jason didn’t move. His body was loose, calm, hands folded behind his back as if the rifles aimed at him were nothing more than children pointing toy guns.He smirked faintly. “You sound nervous. Maybe you should lower your voice before it cracks again.”The captain stiffened, grip tightening on the trigger.From the staircase, Mr. Lee’s triumphant sneer echoed. “Do it. Shoot the dog where he stands.”Emily screamed, stumbling forward, tears streaking her cheeks. “NO! Don’t shoot him! Please!”Jason’s eyes softened for half a second at her voice, then hardened as he lifted his chin toward the guards. “Listen to me carefully. If you pull those triggers, your lives will unravel faster than your bullets can fly.”The head guard

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