The Fallen Valkyrie

Jeremy: Family.

Jeremy quietly maneuvered his car into the garage, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. He took great care to ensure that the engine made the softest hum, not wanting to draw any attention. The last thing he desired was to fall under his father's scrutinizing gaze. His eyes darted to the familiar car parked on the curb, and a wave of relief washed over him. Knowing that his father, Lucas Candence, was preoccupied with the police chief of Lakefall attending to matters outside the house reassured him. It provided a small window of opportunity to slip into the house unnoticed.

As Jeremy exited the car, his gaze fell upon the unsightly dent that marred its once-pristine exterior. He sighed in frustration, running a hand over the damaged area. If only he had more time before the curfew, he would have spared a moment to scrutinize the dent properly. But time was a luxury he couldn't afford, not with the weight of his father's expectations always pressing down on him.

Silently, Jeremy crept through the garage, careful to avoid any creaking floorboards or stray objects that could betray his presence. He stealthily made his way around the garden, his steps light and deliberate, until he reached the backyard door. It led directly into the kitchen, where the sound of running water greeted him. His mother, Josie Candence, stood at the sink, diligently washing the dishes, her graceful movements a stark contrast to the tension that filled the air.

Jeremy hesitated before knocking on the door, a mix of apprehension and weariness washing over him. It was late at night, and the scent of cigarette smoke still clung to his fingers. He blew into his fisted hands, attempting to warm them against the unexpected cold. Taking a deep breath, he wrapped his knuckles against the door.

The soft glow of the kitchen lights illuminated her delicate features, accentuating the warmth and kindness that radiated from her. Her eyes, filled with unconditional love, met Jeremy's, immediately detecting a hint of unease. Despite her own worries, she mustered a reassuring smile, attempting to ease her son's burden.

A series of clicking sounds emanated from the other side before the door swung open, revealing his mother's concerned face. She peered behind her, checking for any unwanted observers before addressing Jeremy. "Jerry, where have you been?" she asked, her voice laced with worry.

Jeremy mustered a weary smile. "Is Dad still occupied with the police chief?" he inquired, his voice hushed.

His mother nodded, her eyes darting back and forth. "Yes, he's engrossed in some official matters," she whispered, her voice tinged with relief. "But he's been on edge. He's worried about something."

Jeremy's brow furrowed, a mix of curiosity and concern flickering in his eyes. "I wonder what has him so riled up," he mused, more to himself than to his mother.

Jeremy tried to maintain a distant from his mother. His mind racing with thoughts of the lingering scent of cigarettes on his fingers. He knew it was a dead giveaway, a tell-tale sign of his recent indulgence. Before he could gather himself, his mother’s eyes fixated on his hands, while he was trying to hide them from her.

Josie reached out and grabbed his hand, drawing it closer to her face. She furrowed her brows as the smell of nicotine wafted up, her disappointment evident. "You've been smoking again, haven't you?" she scolded in a hushed tone.

Jeremy's head hung low, a tinge of shame coloring his cheeks. It wasn't that he believed what he was doing was inherently wrong, but he knew his father's disapproval would be relentless. If only he had a little more time before curfew, he could have eradicated the lingering scent of nicotine from his fingers.

He glanced up at his mother, meeting her searching eyes. "I... I'm sorry, Mom," he mumbled, his voice barely audible. "It was just... a moment of weakness."

Sensing her son's internal struggle, Josie reached out, placing a hand on his arm. Her touch offered a small measure of comfort amidst the turmoil. "Jeremy, you know your father has always been this way. Don’t mind him," she said softly, her voice tinged with a mixture of sympathy and frustration.

Jeremy scoffed, “of course, he has been that way.” He said bitterly.

His mother cast him one last disapproving glance before releasing his hand. "Quickly, go to the shower," she instructed, her voice gentle yet firm. "Dinner is on the table. Eat quietly."

With a nod, Jeremy acknowledged his mother's words, grateful for her understanding. He side stepped under the staircase, finding solace in the shadowy space, hidden from the prying eyes of his father. He yearned for a moment of respite, a sanctuary from the constant expectations and scrutiny that surrounded him.

As he ascended the stairs to his room, memories of his childhood flooded his mind. His father, Lucas Candence, an orthodox man fiercely proud of his culture, had always been a dominant presence in his life. Jeremy had grown accustomed to his father's unyielding nature, his persistent nagging about tradition and the importance of upholding their heritage. But Jeremy couldn't help but question why his father couldn't be more accepting, more understanding of the world beyond their own. He couldn't stop wondering why his father couldn't be like other dads, supportive and understanding. Why did he have to be so rigid, so stuck in his orthodox ways?

Jeremy had a memory when he thought his father was a good man, just one memory and that’s all he remembers when his father had actually been nice to him. Undoubtedly, Jeremy is aware of all the comforts his father is providing, a roof overhead and good food on the plate. He is thankful for that, but he also believe that being a father is something beyond that.

With each step he climbed up to get to his room, thoughts kept overwhelming him and taking him with them. His heart kept getting heavy with every passing thought and memory, and there was this one particular memory which hurt him the most. The memory of his older brother, Jake.

Reaching his room at the top of the stairs, Jeremy pushed open the door, revealing a space that was a reflection of his complex personality. Entering his room, Jeremy was greeted by a realm that replicated his innermost desires and dreams. The room was a mixture of order and chaos, a blend of his practicality and his love for the fantastical. The walls were adorned with posters of fantastical landscapes and mythical creatures, transporting him to realms far beyond his own. His study table, meticulously organized, boasted a collection of well-worn fantasy novels, their pages filled with tales of magic and heroism.

However, the rest of the room told a different story. Though drawn to the enchanting world of fantasy, Jeremy remained grounded in practicality. The bed lay in disarray, its sheets messily strewn about. The curtains hung unevenly, the folds disrupted by the breeze that had sneaked through the slightly open window. The contents of his wardrobe spilled out, with clothes haphazardly arranged and unfolded. Earphones lay abandoned on the bed, accompanied by a few scattered magazines.

Jeremy suddenly noticed the open window. “Oh, s**t,” he uttered and rushed to close it.

The snow was already created thin patches of itself on the ground. Flakes continued to fall from the sky sure to cover everything till the morning. He sighed when he noticed a little snow collected near his bed side table from the open window.

“Always…,” he grumbled, and plopped on the bed, “…always forget to close the window.”

He pulled his headphones from under him and tossed the magazines out of his way. He skimmed through his playlist on the phone. Plugged his earphones, and let the music ease him for a while. the sounds of movie soundtracks, predominantly Celtic music, was the only collection he had in his phone, he usually listened to Celtic music while he is reading. It creates an ambiance of enchantment as he immersed himself in the pages of his favorite tales. Which he finds it to be the best feeling ever.

After letting his mind ease off a bit Jeremy went to take a shower. Freshened up and ready to face the world once more, Jeremy descended the stairs, his ears attuned to the murmurs that echoed from his father’s office room below. The stairs which lead upstairs are just adjacent to the living and the office’s side wall supports the stairs. The voices grew louder as he approached, revealing the heated conversation between his father and the chief of police, Rick Kinston. Jeremy strained his ears, determined to catch every word exchanged.

"...There was an activity at the Gateway in the Blarson's villa," the unfamiliar voice of the police chief resonated through the room. "Maybe you should investigate it. There are also two new girls going around the town, driving recklessly. They moved here last week in the house just opposite of the Blarsons’ villa."

A piece of information the chief thought seemed to hold a significance. Jeremy's father, however, dismissed it passively, asserting that it meant nothing.

Lucas's gruff voice filled with skepticism. "New girls moving in, you say? Opposite the Blarson's villa? That doesn't mean a thing."

The chief persisted, his tone insistent. "Either way, Lucas, it’s time we take a closer look at the matters."

Lucas resigned, speaking a little louder than before. "Alright, I see your point chief. We’ll have to call a meeting of the Keepers and look into the happenings, if you are so sure about it."

The words echoed in Jeremy's mind, leaving him with a sense of unease and curiosity. Suddenly the picture of the two sisters he had just bumped into popped in his mind. The chief’s muffled voice detached Jeremy from his mind. He quietly stepped down the stairs and slightly leaned closed to the wall, barely few foots away from the office door.

The chief spoke again, but very carefully and with reluctance in his voice. "Lucas, maybe it’s time you should pass the mantle of the Keeper to Jeremy."

A derisive laugh escaped Lucas's lips, laced with arrogance and disdain. "Get a hold of that boy? He's too fragile, like a girl, always whining. He wouldn't be able to handle it. he scoffed. "I can’t entrust that responsibility to him. Only if my elder son, Jake, were still alive. Lucas’ voice fell, came out almost in whisper, "the legacy of Candence family died with him, chief."

Jeremy's heart sank at his father's callous words. A pang of sadness pierced Jeremy's soul as his mind wandered to the memory of his older brother, Jacob, who had tragically lost his life three years prior while on a treacherous trek. Jake’s death changed his father a lot. It hardened him, it compelled him to think that all of his hopes died alongside his elder son. Lucas still couldn't let go of the grief. The constant reminder of Jake's absence burdened Jeremy with unspoken expectations, a weight he couldn't bear. Three years older than Jeremy, Jacob was a favored son, the one who could do no wrong in their father's eyes. The untimely demise of his brother had only heightened his father’s expectations and grief. Whereas Jeremy’s mother Josie, she became extremely protective of Jeremy, to a certain point that it suffocated him. Everything happening in this house suffocated Jeremy. Jeremy developed a smoking habit after Jake’s death, and so the rebellious attitude towards his father.

Jeremy remembered his brother being very polite and patient with him. Jake had the rigidness of Lucas and the compassion of Josie. Whenever Jeremy’s dad would go at Jeremy, Jake would always have his back. The brotherly bond was the only bond Jeremy had; Jake understood it unlike their father.

In the midst of these contemplations, Jeremy's ears perked up at the sound of the familiar clinking of dishes downstairs. Dinner awaited him, a quiet affair that he hoped to complete without incident. In the kitchen he noticed the absence of his mother, Josie left as soon as she put a plate on the table. He saw a plate with bread and some beans served on it, on the side of chicken and rice.

Seated at the dinner table, Jeremy ate in silence, a whirlwind of emotions churning within him. Halfway through his meal, his father's voice reached his ears, mingling with the chief's departing footsteps. Jeremy paused chewing, his curiosity compelling him to eavesdrop on their conversation. His father's voice dripped with authority and determination as he spoke of the Gateway and the need to gather the town's keepers. Whatever that meant, Jeremy had no idea.

The sound of the chief's car pulling out of the garage, signified the end of their conversation. Jeremy knew that his father would soon enter the kitchen, ready to unleash his frustrations upon him. Shaking off his curiosity, he devoted himself to finish his dinner and escape before the inevitable confrontation, Jeremy ate with a sense of urgency.

But before he could make his escape, he sensed his father's presence looming behind him. The air in the room grew heavy with tension as Lucas's voice pierced the silence, his tone dripping with contempt. "Josie! Where has your lovely son been?" he bellowed, his voice echoing through the walls.

Jeremy gritted his teeth and tightened his grip around the spoon. He tried to push back the anger, but the fear weighed greater on the scale than his temper.

His father walked around him and stood in front of him while Josie hurried into the kitchen, her eyes darting between her husband and son. She knew all too well the storm that was about to unleash. This was a frequent occurring here in this house. Josie noticed Jeremy muscles tightening around his face. The mother and son exchanged glances before Josie opened her mouth to answer, but before she could answer Lucas spoke again. "I asked a question. Have you gone deaf?"

Jeremy glared at his father from below his eyelids, with his head still down.

Josie quickly spoke trying to avoid the conflict. "You can interrogate him after he eats, Lucas."

"People need to know the timings of their meals in this house. If they can’t be here at the table on time they can’t eat." Lucas said.

Jeremy slammed the spoon against the plate and stood up to leave. His father’s question stopped him. "Where have you been, Jeremy?" He spoke again, "is there anybody here who’s going to answer my question."

Josie’s gaze holds Jeremy. Sensing the brewing storm, Jeremy's anger surged, his voice sharp as he interjected, suppressing his rage. "I was with Sabrina," he retorted, his words laced with defiance.

A mocking laugh escaped Lucas's lips as he taunted his son. "Hanging out with girls, were you? How will you ever become a man if you keep indulging in such frivolities?"

Jeremy spoke through his clenched jaw in defence. "What do you mean frivolities? I don’t neglect people in their vulnerabilities. Unlike you dad, I care for my friends who I love."

The amusement on his father’s face disappeared behind a hardened and cold frame. "Being around weak people makes you weak too, Jeremy. You have a bigger purpose in your life. You need to be a strong man." He said.

Unable to contain his mounting frustration any longer, Jeremy lashed out, his voice filled with suppressed fury. "And what kind of man have you been, Dad?" he shot back. "If being a man means being a stone-cold, insensitive jerk like you, then I'll pass. I don’t want to be a petty man who can’t show a least of affection towards his own son."

The sudden silence filled in the air. Nobody in the room moved or uttered a word. The only sound which resonated through was the sound of the branched rattling and the air whistling, until Jeremy’s mother sighed.

Josie, caught between the warring factions of her husband and son, reprimanded Jeremy for talking back, her voice trembling with a mix of worry and helplessness. "Jeremy, please," she pleaded, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "Just go to your room."

Lucas’s face repulsed into an unspoken remorse. The aging lines on his face became clearer, the creases beneath his eyes tightened and face fell into unseen sadness. Only Josie could see the pain on Lucas’s face.

Anger seething within him, Jeremy stormed out of the kitchen, his footsteps heavy on the stairs. Before disappearing into the sanctuary of his room, he couldn't resist one final retort, his voice laced with pain. "I wish it had been me instead of Jake!" he shouted, his words echoing through the house. "Then at least I wouldn't have to deal with a man like you as my father!"

Josie pushed back her urge to break down in tears and shouted back, her voice spilt with authority. "Shut up and just go, please!" she finally broke into tears, she couldn’t resist the sobs.

Jeremy can hear his mom crying. Lucas left Josie crumbled on the floor and retired to his room with cold silence.

Slamming the door shut, Jeremy sought solace in the haven of his room. The weight of his father's disapproval still lingered, gnawing at his spirit. He needed an escape, a way to distance himself from the suffocating atmosphere of his home.

He donned his earphones, the soft melodies of Celtic music transporting him to a realm of solace and imagination. The ethereal tunes danced through his ears, each note weaving a tapestry of emotions within him. As the music enveloped him, Jeremy's mind began to drift, carried away on the breeze of his dreams.

In the dimly lit room, he picked up a worn sketchpad and a well-used pencil, their familiar textures bringing him comfort. His fingers moved with a grace born of practice, gliding across the paper, bringing to life the image that had captivated him earlier—the girl he had encounter earlier. With each stroke, he etched delicate lines, crafting her form as he remembers. The fact that he had actually been influenced from Sabrina’s stories and mistaken the girl as Valkyrie from the pages of mythology made him smile. He blended the girl’s features with those of the Valkyrie, he’d her mistaken for and combined it together.

As the sketch came to conclusion, he brought to life the image of the girl he had encountered earlier, capturing her disoriented beauty as though she were a Valkyrie with delicate wings. A bittersweet smile played on his lips as he whispered to himself, "Wow, those wings suit her more than they ever did Amaela."

As fatigue slowly washed over him, Jeremy succumbed to sleep, his dreams filled with visions of the upcoming Halloween party. He hoped to cross paths with Bianca once again, vowing to finally ask for her name. And as he drifted off into the realm of dreams, a single tear escaped, its silent descent marking the profound longing within his heart.