Every muscle in his formidable frame flexed and fought against Nox’s firm grip. Lygo’s own force seemed to be working against him, like a lever his struggle only furthered the strain on his neck. Clever, he thought, it was a very clever move on his son’s part. Could it be that his son’s honor would now out-strip his own? To die at the hands of Nox, perhaps the only child in his eyes worthy of surpassing him This would be a very proud death for Lygo Luna.
Heat swelled within Nox, like lava coursing through his veins. This was the meaning of life, this was the sole thrill that signified superiority and purpose. And here he was on the verge of earning his place alongside his father, when an icy spark knifed it’s way into his skull. He was about to slay the one person he and all his clan looked to. Who was he to topple Lygo the legend of Luna? And if he did what dishonor would he bring the clan? Nox could never match his father’s strength. Speed and cunning could never bring the honor Lygo had.
What am I doing, Nox thought, his resolve crumbling like gravel. I can’t kill my father, he thought even as he felt his right hand working again. Feigning a weakening grip and loose footing Nox gave his father the one slim opening he was sure that would be all Lygo would need.
Nox was prepared for his father’s hammer hard hands, the impact jarred him hard enough to send him to the ground. Even the fresh pain didn’t surprise him but the gaze of his father tore through his guts worse than any goring he could imagine. Shame froze him in place, extinguishing the thrill that fueled him only seconds ago. Exile would be a blessing to escape the knowledge of what Lygo’s eyes proclaimed.
Clouds cloaked the moon from view, and like it the clan itself turned from the spectacle before them. Lygo, his pride wounded mortally, wailed forth a painful bellow. His head held low, duty still required speech. Resigned, Lygo forced his voice from his throat. “Nox, you have failed. You have not the strength for manhood. The honor of death is denied you, as is the clan name. Go now, leave us eternal child bereft of name.”
And with that, Lygo himself turned to present his back. His shoulders low with grief, mourning the introduction of weakness into his bloodline.