Ryth: Origins

"I'll make it very simple for you, Ryth. Come with me now and you shall stand as a god. You shall live and die and live again, Ryth. You shall become Deathless…

Or you may choose to stay here, confined by your mortality and you will die. You are aware of this, Ryth. You are reaching the end of the line. It could be tomorrow, or it could happen in minutes. You will experience chills and your muscles will begin to spasm. As the nerves in your brain starts to degenerate you will feel weary, and while you drift into unconsciousness…"

"Ryth? It is time to make your choice."

Prologue

"You can get up now, Ryth." And he did, pushing himself up from the examination table. His doctor sat, gazing thoughtfully into a screen.

"Is everything fine, Mr. Galath?"

His doctor, Mr. Galath turned his chair around to look at him. "I'm not seeing anything severe at the moment, Ryth. But if you experience any symptoms, you will inform me, I assume?"

"Of course." replied Ryth, looking down at the ground.

"You are free to go now."

Then Ryth looked up at Mr. Galath and met his gaze. "Lynne…Is she alright?" He blurted out.

There was a slight pause, "She is well." Mr. Galath said. "Is there anything else you wish to know, Ryth?"

"No, doctor. That is all."

I: Despair

Time passed.

For how long, Ryth wasn't quite sure.

It is the moment in one's life when seconds turns into hours, and hours into days, days into months until months felt like years. It felt like eternity.

"Just hope for the best." He thought, a little frantically. It was what she had told him to do. He turned uneasily in his bed, eyes opened wide in the pitch darkness. The door was slightly ajar and Ryth could see light behind it. White, blinding LED lights shone in the hospital corridors 24/7. Ryth held his breath for a moment and listened intently.

Silence.

Pure dread coursed through his veins, his stomach throbbed, and Ryth felt that he could bear it no longer. He wanted to leap from the bed. "WHERE IS SHE? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH HER?" He wanted to scream. He would break the door of the operation room wearing only his hospital issued shirt and underwear if he had to…he would…

But somehow, he restrained himself.

II: Eternity

He didn't know how long he slept. Something moved on the bed next to his and he awoke in an instant. Lynne sat with her legs dangling over the edge of her bed, a blanket draped around her shoulders. Her hands were cupped around a glass of warm water.

'What happened? Did something go wrong? What took them so long? I was worried as hell!' he wanted to say, but somehow he couldn't. For some time they simply gazed at each other with the aching look that only teenagers are capable of.

"I want to sleep with you." She said softly, putting down the glass. "Scoot over."

And he did, with his left arm dangling over the edge, making as much room as he could on the narrow, wheeled hospital bed that was designed for one person only. She lay down beside him, and as her body pressed against his, Ryth realized that she was trembling. "I'm sorry." Lynne whispered with her head close to his shoulder. She smelled like iodine.

"I thought I was never gonna see you again."

"I know." She said.

For a while there was silence between them. A friendly and good natured kind of silence, and little did he know this moment would stay with him for a thousand lifetimes, it would stay with him for eternity.

"Maybe when we wake up tomorrow, this will just be a dream and all'll be fine." Ryth said reassuringly. He felt the rhythmic and warm breathing on his neck and knew Lynne was already sound asleep. For the first time in six month, he slept easily, with no dreams at all.

And when he did wake up the next morning, he would find that it hadn't been a dream and everything wasn't fine. But Ryth had been right about one thing.

He was never going to see her again.

III: The Escape

He didn't remember unplugging himself from the ICU system that day, neither did he recall having breakfast. And god knew what he ate.

He didn't remember walking out the hospital gates, neither did he recall making his way towards the mono-train station. Yet here he was, sitting on the hard plastic seat with his backpack held close to his chest, looking out the window as the mono-train glided smoothly along the track. Outside, triangular buildings and apartment blocks sped past him in a greyish blur. Below him, he could hear the blaring of horns as cars and buses plodded along the road. "I don't know where you're going but do you got room for one more…troubled soul…" Whatever the song on the radio was, Ryth didn't like it, but he listened anyway, his mind drinking in every single lyric and synchronizing with every single beat of the drums as the song progressed. He focused on everything….anything to keep the memory of this dreadful morning from his mind.

It was rush hour, but the train was becoming more vacant with every stop.

In the west, the sun was setting. He didn't know how long he had been on the train. Ryth looked out the window again. Everything was unfamiliar to him now.

He didn't know where he was going. But he knew one thing, for sure.

He wasn't going home.

IV: A Shallow Dent

There was a screech as the mono-train braked, slowing down. Ryth opened his eyes. It was lready dark outside. He looked at his watch. "8:30pm" It blinked. Through the window he saw someone stare at him. It was a black-haired boy with dark circles around his eyes. Ryth blinked. The boy, no more than sixteen, blinked back, his eyes were dim and bloodshot. Twelve hours into the trip his condition was worsening steadily. Staring at his own reflection, he saw her once more. He could smell the scent of iodine. He remembered how pale she had looked when she lay down next to him, and he remembered waking up alone, a shallow dent on the spot where she had lain the previous night. The bed next to his had been remade, the blankets replaced with fresh new ones. Her monitors were powered off. Her glass of water emptied. No tags, not a single trace.

Sometimes what is left of you is nothing but a shallow dent.

"Terminus Station: Border Town" The automated voice crackled as the doors slid open. Walking out, he wrapped his coat tighter around him against the cold. None seemed to notice him as they passed, and he couldn't help but ponder, did they know he had less than one day to live?

V: Exhibition

Ryth stood looking at the sign. It read:

"Featuring a private collection of ancient artworks and sculptures. Never before seen!" Below it

"Admissions:

Ages 12-17: $5

Ages 17 and up: $7

Seniors: $3"

Ryth fished in his pocket and took out the last of his coins. Carefully, he counted them, and sighed in relief as he counted 5.25 in total. Pulling open the door he entered the exhibit room. A young man in his twenties sat behind a wooden counter, typing into a laptop. Next to him was the same sign with the admissions printed on it. He looked up as Ryth entered. "May I help you?" He asked. His voice was rich and smooth. He had buzz cut blonde hair and his eyes were blue. On the front of his suit was a name tag that read: "Mr. Ausare". Ryth presumed him to be a man in his twenties.

"One admission for a teenager, please." said Ryth as he put three coins onto the counter, five dollars in total. "Thank you very much." Mr. Ausare smiled his brilliant smile and took the coins, counted them. "The exhibition starts there on your right hand side. On your left hand side you will find the sculpture section."

"Thanks." said Ryth as he walked towards the entrance.

"Enjoy your visit." He heard Mr. Ausare say in his elegant voice.

VI: The Choice

There was no one else in the gallery that hour, and Ryth found himself wandering alone. The artworks were quite nice. Most of them were based on ancient mythology. Ryth recognized some of the themes. There were gods, deities and immortal heroes. The rest were all confusing. He turned a corner, and stopped, realizing that he wasn't alone after all.

At the other side of the room a stranger stood facing a large oil painting. He had his back to Ryth and his hands were crossed in front of his chest. The stranger was wearing a hood of dark fabric, and when he turned to look at Ryth, he fell back a step in surprise, for beneath the hood where his face should have been, there was a golden plated mask.

"How do you like my exibit, son?" A voice spoke behind the mask. It was a deep voice, slightly metallic and a bit distorted.

"I…I didn't know they were yours. They…they're…" Ryth struggled a bit, trying to grasp the suitable word for such an occasion.

"They're exquisite." He finally decided. The latter made no reply. Ryth's heart thumped.

"I guess they were sort of confusing." Ryth admitted. The stranger chuckled. He took a step forward, and Ryth stood his ground, though it took him some effort.

"Myths, or mythos. Whatever you choose to call it…they are mere words, stories past down from generation to generation." said the masked man, his hands now behind his back. "They are, myths, as they tend to stay, and in the ancient days people took them seriously." He gestured at the painting behind him. It was a portrait. A tall, radiant figure clad in dark metallic armor, and on his face he wore a golden mask. Ryth gazed at it without a word, marveling at the resemblance. "What are myths, but a way of understanding incomprehensible events? Are they deliberate fictions, or are they simply a shadow of the truth, long forgotten?" The stranger said the last sentence in a tone that it sounded like a statement rather than a question. Ryth kept silent.

"Tell me, son. Do you believe in gods?"

"Who are you, really?" asked Ryth. His voice was surprisingly steady.

"Oh I am no one in particular." The stranger sounded rather amused. "Throughout the years I had many names, though I regard myself as only a humble worker of secrets." He paused. "I am here to offer you a chance, Ryth. This world of yours is plagued, on the brink of destruction, and salvation is coming. Soon, Ryth, and nothing will be left in its wake. I need a few to stand with me when that time comes."

"I'll make it very simple for you, Ryth. Come with me now and you shall stand as a god. You shall fight and conquer and ride the waves of the apocalypse. You shall witness wonders and unravel secrets that your mortal mind could never even have dreamed of being possible. You shall live and die and live again, Ryth. You shall become Deathless.

"Or you may choose to stay here, confined by your mortality and you will die. You are aware of this, Ryth. You are reaching the end of the line. It could be tomorrow, or it could happen in minutes. You will experience chills and your muscles will begin to spasm. As the nerves in your brain starts to degenerate you will feel weary, and while you drift into unconsciousness…"

Ryth listened to all of this in silence. The inside of his mouth felt dry. He shivered.

'No! Too soon!' he thought, despairingly, and realized that he didn't want to die. How he wanted to live.

"Ryth? It is time to make your choice."

VII: Betrayal

"Wake him." said the worker.

Ryth's eyelids fluttered. He blinked. Someone wearing a lab coat was leaning over him. "How do you feel?" asked Mr. Ausare.

"Fine, I guess. Where am I?" Ryth muttered. He tried to sit up.

"Slowly." said Mr. Ausare, putting an arm around his back to support him. "This is the Pinnacle of Sanctification. You're a deathless, now." A cup of water was handed over to him and Ryth drank greatly. He looked around, almost choking on the water in disbelief.

"Mr. Galath! What?" Then realization dawned on him.

"Hello, Ryth." said Mr. Galath, alias the worker of secrets. Anger overtook his surprise.

"You knew all along, didn't you, Galath?" he spoke with such force and venom that he bit his tongue. "Ryth, I don't…" Galath started, bewildered, but Ryth cut him off. "She was your patient, too! You could have done something!" his body shook uncontrollably. "She was dying and you could have saved her!" The glass shattered as it hit the ground, the shards flying in all directions. In a split second, Ryth was on his feet. Galath looked at him, face vacant of emotions.

"YOU LEFT HER TO DIE!" Ryth bellowed and shoved Galath backwards. The sheer force was enough to knock any man off his feet but Galath was no ordinary man. He retreated a step, regaining his balance. Now he looked at Ryth with an expression that was thoughtful, and almost amused.

Mr. Ausare made a grab for him, but Ryth sidestepped and launched himself at the door. He burst through into a dimly lit corridor, and he started to run, his vision blurring.

In the Pinnacle of Sanctification, Mr. Ausare strode towards the door.

"Let him go, Ausar." said Galath. "He will be back."

"Very well." Ausar replied.