His flight had been long and he felt weak and light headed as the heat of the day climbed steadily higher, combining with the temperature he’d created in his own body through his sprint. Energy was completely drained and he was starting to eye the sand, wondering if he could remain standing for much longer. The emotional toll was worse, and the brief respite he had from his thoughts soon ended in a rather decisive manner. He couldn’t run from it, couldn’t physically evade it and that bothered him more than anything else. Horizon blurred from the heat of the desert, fooling those who had not been born in its tender grasp. Tears only made it harder to distinguish what lay before him, but he couldn’t have summoned the energy to move if he needed to. Somehow his entire world had come crashing down, aureate lines blurring with smears of coal and shadow. Breaking down his temple of innocence and naivety with the storms of hatred and cruelty. There had been no warning, no sign of what was going to happen to him. What turned him around that day, Cera had no clue. Whatever it was, it had saved his life. That tiny nudge that told him to move his gaze away. And to see what? A monster that crawled and slithered like a serpent through his nightmares, for no longer where they able to be named dreams. Even mornings, the time of day Cera used to dread before this incident, could not be counted on to relieve him from the horrors of his mind. D’Artagnan followed him everywhere, even in his waking moments. Every shadow had dark glittering eyes. Every unknown sound was him approaching. It was driving Cera to a threadbare state, clutching at whatever he could to keep himself from some sort of breakdown.

What hurt, more than the poison that had nearly killed him, was how distant Midas had become. It only fueled his self-hatred and constant deprecation of himself. Every doubt was subtly made into a truth with every morning that Midas left without a word and returned in the same manner. Cera would watch him after he’d fallen asleep and wonder what he could possibly due to fix everything. He had to prove to Midas that he was a good son. That he regretted what he’d done. Maybe then he would decide to take Cera back, would love him again. It was his fault, he’d completely forgotten about Midas’ enforcing stare the day of the meeting, telling him not to leave the borders without another. But who else would Cera take? Mystique? The thought of her being hurt only made him want to hurt himself worse. Whatever he had done to drive Midas away, he wanted to fix it. Was desperate to fix it. He couldn’t take the silence, the stares, and the looks. Misunderstanding them, believing that Midas was only inches away from disowning him and leaving him to fend for himself. If that happened…if that happened then Cera would seek out d’Artagnan himself and plead for him to finish the job. Because Cera couldn’t live a life without Midas. Couldn’t imagine living on his own again, especially after experiencing the deep bond he held with his father. He was driving himself into a panic every day trying to figure out how to approach him, the one he so desperately needed to keep him grounded.

He felt like he was drifting, losing himself. It was too much, too suddenly. He’d never doubted Midas’ love before, and was appalled to find himself doing it now. But he won’t even speak to you, his mind hissed in reply. Only furthering the trail of tears down his cheeks. Ilaria cooed, sounding helpless and worried. He doesn’t want you, you’re a horrible son! He wished the demon would have killed you! Deep sobs rattled his tiny chest and he shook his head nearly violently to try and rid himself from the horrible voice. The doubt that had taken on his fears. Ilaria stroked her paw awkwardly over his fetlock to try and quiet his tears, chittering in his ear softly. She was lost, had no idea what to do in order to comfort Cera. Her dark mahogany eyes searched the sky for the ever present phoenix, chittering. Phoenix equaled Midas to her. She had no care for the bird like creature but her bonded was upset and all she could discern from his mind was Midas. It seemed she needn’t wait long though, for the approach of the father soon broke her attention. Her paws pulled on Cera’s hairs, alerting him a few moments before he spoke.

Cera lurched as he heard Midas’ voice, large emerald eyes turning to him. Displaying every emotion he was feeling, unable to hide away from him. Always unable to hide how he was feeling. Turning to face Midas, though he took a step back and his head lowered a little. Nearly dislodging Ilaria who seemed disgruntled and scooted back to her preferred position between his shoulders. Cera was terrified that he’d lost his time frame, that Midas was arriving only to tell him that he was no longer wanted and that he should never approach him again. But if that was so, why had he called him son? Cera flinched away from the words as he mentioned the last few days, but obediently and respectfully kept his eyes on Midas. Hoping that somehow this would end well, that Midas wasn’t going to abandon him. His words gave him pause and Cera sniffled away his slowing tears, trying to understand. Why would Cera be angry? Midas should be the one angry, Cera had been the one to cause all of it. Seeing his father so weak, even to the point of crying, had agony spelling its song across his face. All at once the tears came back and he realized then that Midas believed that Cera blamed him. For what, he couldn’t imagine.
"I-I’m n…not a-angry!" Sobbing out the words, cracked and harsh as he was still recovering what little breath remained in his lungs. Wings curled about him as if in a hug, protecting him weakly from the words Midas said. How in the world could he believe that Cera was angry at him? However those three words broke the dam inside him that held back all the emotions he’d been keeping in a big ball. Hardly able to see past the heavy cloud of tears that thickened his vision, face crumpling as if the entirety of the world had just crashed down on him and he was helpless to stop it. From there the words just came tumbling out, confessions that he could no longer keep bottled up. It was tearing him up inside, and he needed to say it before he withered away. ”I’m ugly daddy! I-I’m ugly and bad! Bad! I di-didn’t listen! A-All my fault! Daddy I-I’m sorry please, p-please don’t be angry at me!” Begging him, pouring his heart into every word so that Midas could plainly see how messed up he felt. How dirty and tainted he believed he’d become. ”I-I’ll be better! I’ll b-b-be good!” Nearly wailing now, feeling as if he could hardly manage a single breath with the sobs and the cries he was giving out that tainted every word with agony. ”I’m dirty! Th-This stupid…thing!” Stomping and gesturing to his chest with anger and despair. After that he merely dissolved into tears, unable to create syllables at all for a few moments. ”D-Daddy never speaks to me no more! And I’m scared! Scared all the time! I don’t sleep, I don’t want to eat anymore! I-I don’t want you to make me go away!” Breathing much too quickly by that point so that Ilaria poked her head up again and watched Midas warily. Unable to pinpoint why her bonded was so distraught but believing it to have something to do with the painted stallion. ”I-I so sc-scared…I dunno what to d-do…nobody listens, and y-you never talk no more…I-I don’ wanna be scared Daddy…” half whimpering, half whispering the words.

”M-Mystique…I-I don’t want to see he-her…what i-if she sc-scares me? Why am I so bad? I ruin! I ruin everything!” Blubbering and wailing, unable to contain his misery. ”Who do I g-go to?! I dunno what to do! I don’t want this! I don’t want this, Daddy!” Nearly screaming, white taking over his eyes a little as he tried and failed to keep himself from remembering that horrible day. He didn’t want any of it. The scar, the memory, the emotions…all of it only served to tear him apart. What else could he do? He was trapped, unable to run to anybody. Cera didn’t even know what he was experiencing! Unable to go on he merely cradled himself tighter with his wings, crying his heart out until Midas’ image swayed and melted into a completely different form. His heart was broken and he felt like he was shattered, afraid that he had been broken into too many pieces to be able to be put back together.