When Technical Support is Too Helpful

Mystin drummed his fingers together in front of his face. His treasure sat beside him to his left, the sniveling little brat was sprawled to his right, and his defiant little sister sat across from him, her eyes ablaze like a thousand suns. His corrupted mind thought of ways to make her bend to his will. How did Grey do it? He huffed angrily as he ran his hand on the smooth glass of his coveted treasure’s prison.

“You’ve got to know when to hold ‘em,” Déshū began to sing, “know when to fold ‘em. Know when to walk away, know when to run.”

“Where have you heard that song?” Mystin asked sincerely.

“Just a little place, from a slightly large place, which is all part of a bigger place,” she said cryptically.

Mystin blinked blankly at her, “What does it mean?”

“That’s for me to know, and you to find out,” she spoke, “And trust me—you will find out.”

Rage painted his face, “How many times are you going to make your nephew suffer?!”

“I can sacrifice one life if it means saving trillions!” she shouted.

He drummed his fingers on the chair of his throne annoyed.

“Why don’t you just fight me like a man, coward!” she challenged.

He huffed, “I’m not stupid. You are way more powerful than I could ever hope to be. The only reason you are chained here is because I tricked you out of the Netherworld. Father’s power is binding you.”

“Right…you ‘tricked’ me,” she rolled her eyes.

He ignored her, knowing she was trying to play mind games with him.

She began to laugh softly which then crescendoed slowly into a diabolical laughter.

“What?” he asked unnerved.

“That’s for me to know,” she giggled with playful eyes, “and you to find out.”