For the last couple of days, the house had never felt so quiet - so empty. When they all lived toegther at home, and even after Silas left, the house always felt alive - warm. Welcoming. Now to the musician, it felt hollow, as though it had lost its essence - its magic. She had so many fantastic and unforgettable memories here while growing up. But it was only now, given what has happened, that Amy noticed the absence. The shell it had become.
If there was any ounce of quietude within the home, it was peaceful, but this type of silence left her feeling unsettled - as if she was a ghost revisiting her own grave. Amy stood in the hallway upstairs, staring at the empty spaces along the walls where picture frames once hung. She turned her gaze to the other side of the wall, just opposite. There used to be a table with a vase wth flowers in it. Engel had it delivered to his doorstep, and it wasn't what he had expected. He complained for the entire day that the colours were dull and whoever painted the vase had no artistic flair in their body. He became angrier when he couldn't have it refunded.
Prosper had it secretly replaced so he could finally put his flowers in there and arrange them accordingly. He was very much a perfectionist, but when it came to music, he expressed himself more freely. He was sometimes a walking contradiction.
Amy remembered laughing the entire time. He would always become theatrical when annoyed, and Prosper would just watch him go on a rant with a mug of coffee in his hand or reading the newspaper. Engel could threaten entire nations - and yet spend an entire day ranting over a vase.
Amy swallowed the lump forming in her throat.
The world had already determined what her father was.
A monster.
A tyrant.
The dreaded emperor
But for Amy, it was hard to imagine her father as either of those things.
The only version of him she ever knew was as a dad.
***
Later on in the evening, Amy discovered the family album by accident as she was rummaging through storage boxes, buried beneath some old books. The album cover was worn and slightly ripped at its edges. The corners had softened over time and had folded. Then, when she looked at the back of it, she saw her own handwriting scribbled on it, which read, family.
Amy smiled gently. She wrote that when she was eight. With fondness brewing in her chest, it delivered a fluttery feeling of familiar warmth. She sat down on the cream carpet and crossed her legs as she opened the album. The first photograph was one she had already seen countless times. It was a picture of Engel in bed, holding Silas when he was first born, which they never quite explained properly - as though they were just as surprised themselves.
The terrifying meepor of the criminal underworld looking completely defeated by a newborn baby gripping onto his finger.
Then her smile faded slightly, because she knew no matter how many times she looked at these photos, it was going to change what happened - what he kept from the family.
There was another photo of Prosper standing outside in the garden covered in mud and Engel standing next to him, not looking impressed. She remembered when they were having a mud fight during a thunderstorm.
Then she looked at another photo inside the plastic sleeve. It was a photo of Engel attempting to cook and Prosper trying to hug him while covered in mud.
Then there was one of herself and Prosper both smiling in front of her first snowman. She was only around five years of age when he helped her build this snowman, and also recalled Silas playing with this alchemy set. He almost set the bathroom on fire.
Amy sighed.
"I just wish they could know this side to us," she murmured to herself.
"They would never accept it."
Amy looked up.
Prosper stood in the doorway.
He looked tired still. She could tell he hadn't slept again.
His insomnia was persisting.
"I didn't hear you come up the stairs."
He chuckled lightly.
"When you have been in my job for as long as I have, you learn to be light on your feet, but it has become more of a habit in recent years."
He walks over and sits next to her, looking at the photos with her.
"Do you hate him?" Amy asked while looking at the photo of them standing knee-deep in fallen snow.
"No."
"Even after everything he has done?"
"Even after everything he has done," Prosper reaffirmed while looking at him in the photos.
"He was such a clean freak," the elf commented with a bittersweet smile.
Amy's expression lightened.
"That he was," she laughed.
"Your father was wrong about many things amy, but he always loved you."
Amy looked at him, with tears threatening to bead along her eyelids.
"He loved Silas. He loved me."
The elf's fingers rested against the photograph.
"That was never a lie."
***
Dinner was quiet - too quiet - as per usual.
The table was set for three people.
It was a touch of habit.
One that neither had broken just yet.
One that had been realised, but neither of them chose to mention it aloud.
The chair remained vacant.
The very one Engel had always sat in.
It was where he drank his coffee in the evenings.
Where he would read the newspaper.
Where he would ask during eating what Amy and Silas did at school - or how their day was.
Amy pushed her food around her plate with her fork, not really eating it.
"I want to hate him," Amy finally said.
Prosper looked up from his plate.
"Well, at least a part of me does."
The elf remained silent.
"But there is another part of me that still loves him."
Her voice cracked under the weight of it all.
The weight of her own grief.
"I can't erase those memories. They are a part of me."
"Your father was - complicated."
Amy laughed sadly.
"That's one way of putting it."
***
After dinner, Prosper started to wash the dishes.
Amy spotted him from the doorway into the kitchen.
"You don't need to do that right now."
"I know."
"Then just leave it. Come and sit down for a bit."
"I need to."
Amy paused.
"You don't need to do anything."
She walked over to him and stood beside him as he busied himself.
"You didn't sleep at all last night, did you?"
He didn't say anything.
"Please just let me do this, Amy. I'll sit with you in a bit."
Then the kitchen lights flicker, and a strange tingling ambience fills the room.
It wasn't their central heating.
It was something else.
The plant pots on the shelves shifted of their own accord, and their leaves unfurled.
Amy frowned.
"Are you doing this?"
Without bothering to look, he replied adamantly.
"No."
Her frown deepened. He is either unaware or he is lying.
That's when she noticed something protruding out from the top of his skull, covered beneath his hair.
It looked like bone.
"What's that in your hair?"
His hand moved instinctively and brushed his hair back to reveal a small pair of stubs.
"Are those antlers?"
He said nothing.
"Dad," she pressed.
"Yes."
"How come I have never seen you with them until now?"
"I've always sawn them off, but given what has happened, they haven't been my main focus of late."
"But why would you saw them off?"
"I would rather not draw attention to myself. Although we are allowed to co-exist with humans, if they saw someone walking around with antlers, my lineage would be further questioned."
"What do you mean by our lineage? I didn't even know we could grow antlers."
"Well, with you and Silas, we were unsure how your characteristics would manifest. You are a mixture of vampirism and elven. But I can see that you take mostly after your dad; it would be interesting if you do eventually grow a pair of antlers, though. You might be a late bloomer like Silas."
"When were you going to tell me about this!?"
"We were going to eventually, but it was never the right time. There was always something coming up."
"You never told me much about our family history - not even your parents."
"Your grandparents are not so simply found."
"What do you mean they are not so easily found? What does that even mean?"
Prosper shot her a knowing look.
"I'll talk to you tomorrow about this, but as of right now, I don't have it within me to explain everything."
***
Later that night, after Amy had gone to sleep, Prosper stood alone in the living room. He took a family photograph off the fireplace and touched the sheet of glass between the frame, brushing his thumb over Engel's face.
"I don't know what I am supposed to do without you."
The house continued to remain silent; however, the plants within the living room began to shift and grow further. The antlers extended themselves by another inch upon his head. He could feel them, but the desire to remove them was lost to him.