13 White hair

STARING at myself in the mirror I couldn't help but look at my hair. It was getting obvious that I dyed it black. Shit. My white roots were showing.

Seeing my hair I couldn't help but remember my mother's words from when I was a little girl.

'Flashback.....'

"Bethel honey, you know I love your hair right" my little self nodded her head in agreement. I did know my mother loved my hair, She and my dad always commented on how beautiful my white hair was. Even though it practically looked exactly like my mother's.

"But I want you to do something for me my darling daughter" A lone tear slipped down her face. I looked confused as to why my mother was crying. Did I do something wrong?

"You will have to hide your beautiful hair from people, from the world in general Sweetie" not understanding the reason I had to do that, I asked.

"Why mommy" she smiled with teary eyes.

"Because the world we live in is extremely wicked and desperately vile" Though I didn't still understand any of the words she had said because of how young I was I nodded my head and promised her I would do exactly as she had asked. I hated seeing my mom cry.

"That's my baby, now do you want Ice cream?" She chuckled lightly with a genuine smile on her face.

"Yayy! Ice cream!" I giggled excitedly.

'End of flashback......'

I looked at myself once again in the restroom mirror. I noticed my eyes were already teary. I hated that particular memory, I didn't have a lot of memories of my mother, but the ones I had I always felt an intense sad emotion anytime I recalled them.

Up to this day, I still didn't know the reason why my dearest mother wanted me to keep my pure white hair a secret but I still complied with her wishes up till this day, dyeing it black every two weeks, because for some reason my white hair always appeared right back as if it was magic. Weird I know, but I've never really paid mind to it. I just concluded that it was probably a hereditary thing passed down from my mom.

Rinsing my face with water I decided to head back to the training room. My stomach turned to remember I still had to talk to 'him'.

......................

Cyrus POV:

"Damn you messed up big time bro," I told Seker as his attention was focused on the exact spot Bethel was standing a few seconds ago.

"I know" he replied softly.

"She's pissed off at you" I continued.

"I know" once again he replied.

"I think she might hate you at this point," I said mostly playing this time, trying to gauge what his reaction would be and he didn't disappoint. A pained look crossed his face while he gulped as if scared that she might hate him.

"Really" he responded solemnly. If I hadn't known him for more than thousands of centuries he could have easily fooled me with his unfazed look and response. But unfortunately for him, I did.

I sighed "She doesn't hate you brother, she is just hurt by the fact that you avoided her like she was a plague... wait now that I think about it, it was you that Father sent to purge the Egyptians with those plagues ages ago right?"

"You're deviating from the point Cyrus" he pointed out while rolling his eyes.

"Right, as I was saying you shouldn't have avoided her, you could have just....." I paused mid-way because a certain aroma invaded my nostril. I knew that scent anywhere.

I spotted a small figure hiding behind Seker. Wait is that...

Moving forward to see if what I was thinking was true, the woman clinging unto Seker tightened her hold on him, as if she was scared of me. I frowned a little.

Uttering the words I haven't uttered in centuries.

"Mom?" I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed her presence since. I was too engrossed in my talk with Seker that I didn't notice. Some god I am right?

Seker sighed, "Cyrus she doesn't remember anything, not who she is, not even us" what? how was that possible. Oh, right only one being would have the power to do this Dad.

I scoffed in disbelief, how could he do this. Why Would he do this? But I still knew not to question our Father, when he did do something he always had a valid reason behind it.

Every 100 years our Mother dies and she would be reincarnated into another body. This has happened more times than I could count. And I was a bloody immortal.

Our almighty Father cursed her because of the grave betrayal she did against the whole host of heaven. It didn't matter the number of times we begged, Fathers rules were absolute.

But this time something was incredibly wrong. She had lost her memories, the first time this has ever happened. Dad, what are you up to this time?

I looked at my mom, well her 2,000th reincarnation (it could be more I didn't know), and just like every time her reincarnations always had black silky hair, with royal blue eyes, though other features were always different apart from those two. One time she was reincarnated as a 12 years old which was a little bit hard to come to terms with at that time.

But this time she was reincarnated as a woman who looked like she was in her late 30's, beautiful but couldn't be compared to her first and formidable original self.

"If she doesn't remember any of us why is she holding unto you that tight? And where did you even find her?" I asked Seker skeptically.

"I saved her from some- would I say Sketchy beings- she's extremely scared at the moment that's why you can see she's holding unto me for dear life, seems I'm the only one she knows presently in this whole miserable world" I was about to ask more questions when I felt Bethel's presence closing in.

Bethel's POV:

I halted my steps as I realized they all went extremely quiet as they saw me approaching. What were they hiding? Hmm, suspicious.

"Ehrm" when I finally reached where they were standing I cleared my throat loudly to gain their attention.

"Yes, Amicá Maé" I didn't even bother to look in the direction of Seker. Ignoring him I asked.

"Cyrus are we going to continue with our training or what?" Okay, I know my attitude sucked at the moment, but guess what being angry and jealous wasn't a pretty emotion to have at the same time.

"No, we are done for today, and also Randuff is running some errands so I don't think you guys would be doing your training section today" I nodded my head in understanding, using my peripheral view I could see that the lady was still holding tightly to Seker's arms. I tighten my palm. Why am I this jealous, I don't like this feeling one bit.

"Oh alright, in that case, I'm going to head to my room" right let me explain, yes we were still in the basement we use to train. But the fun fact is that the basement was so huge that it had a lot of rooms, so yeah I'm presently residing in one. What does my Aunt think about this? Well, she obviously didn't know, I kinda told her I was going on a work retreat. I really do hate lying to my aunt Vicky but what do you expect me to do, if I told her about everything she won't believe me, I mean who in their right state of mind would?

"Amicá meà please wait" my features soften as I heard the plea in his voice. I sighed.

"I don't want to talk to you" I muttered softly. He had to know the degree to which his actions had hurt me.

I heard him sigh softly, I used that short time to take in what he was wearing. For the first time I saw him in something other than an Armani suit or a hoodie, he was wearing a black button-up dress shirt which clung to his body perfectly, with black slacks and shiny slick shoes. From his head to his toes you could tell that he radiated money. His hair looked messy yet divine like he's been rubbing his hands through it vigorously. Just to put it simply he looked immensely edible

Gulping slightly I turned my head in the opposite direction and began to walk in the direction of my temporary room. As I passed the Living room -yes, once again the basement was 'that' big- I heard footsteps closing in on me.

"Amica mea wait, we need to talk" still ignoring him I continued walking. I noticed the woman from before wasn't with him anymore. Good.

"I'm sorry" his deep yet soft voice called out. Immediately halting on my steps I turned back.

"Fine" I exhaled "Talk" I finished raising an eyebrow in expectation.