Author's Lamentations — Ah, woe is me moment. I've been knocked overboard with the sheer masses of homework burying me alive. I got this out as soon as I could, but am unsure when I can find the time to post another chapter. Soon, I am hoping.
On the bright side, I won the award for best strings player in my city, which was quite humbling and shocking at the same time. So, with more exams and competitions coming forth, I only pray I survive intact.
-X-
"...goodbye, Aether."
Chapter V
Gebo
X
Rune for sacrifice, balance, honor.
It happened at dawn, just as the sun was starting to melt into the velveteen blue sky, fading away the night to expose the new day.
Percy —sprawled over a tree branch, one leg hanging off and swinging unconsciously with the wind— was jerked awake when his scythe-necklace heated up to almost unbearable proportions. Flailing for a second, managing to regain his bearings before he plummeted back to earth, Percy grabbed it one hand, wincing as it burned through his glove and began to eat through his skin.
He had fallen asleep yesterday from sheer exhaustion, and getting a grand total of two hours of sleep, snatched between all the assassination attempts on his life and his hunting new targets (read: generally pissing Order off a great deal), it was safe to say that Percy was dead on his feet.
Especially with finding out Nyx and Aether —his estranged siblings who no doubt hated his guts with a passion —really weren't themselves at all, it was a wonder Percy didn't topple over halfway through their fight. That would have been embarrassing, and an incredibly stupid way to get captured.
But to think... Aether as Nico, and Thalia as Nyx? It was almost as crazy as him being Erebus.
The crystal in his hand flared again, reminding Percy of the predicament he was supposed to be handling.
Usually, when Death called for him, it would warm over and the inside of the crystal would fog up. This time, it was as though she had forgone all the necessary precautions —sometimes, Death seemed to forget that humans were fragile— and poured all of her power into the summons, something Percy knew would obliterate the other end with distress signals.
Was she in trouble?
The idea was ludicrous; how could Death be in trouble?
"Okay, Death, just take me wherever," he said aloud, frowning a little when nothing happened.
The thought simply didn't make sense, but before Percy had any more time to think, there was a tugging in his gut and before he could recalibrate himself, he was sucked into a wormhole.
Colors—blinding colors, molten colors seared themselves into Percy's eyes, forcing him to squeeze them shut, turning off the last of his working senses. His arms and legs flailed around helplessly, like a rag doll caught in a maelström, unable to do anything but hope the calamity wouldn't kill him.
As fast as it had started, it was over.
Shakily getting to his feet, Percy noticed that wherever the wormhole had spit him out, the landscape was vastly different. He had fallen asleep in a glen of forests, the soft humming of the birds lulling him to sleep.
Here, it was harsh, barren, and cold.
Dark mountains, superimposed over the horizon, surrounded Percy in a vast circle. The whole world was blackened, as the ragged peaks of stone blocked out the sun, locking out any semblance of warmth or life.
How did he end up in the mountains, and such a desolate one at that?
"Never doing that again," he muttered, peeling himself from the ground. Impossibly, he had found a new form of travel he hated more than shadow travel. "Wormhole" was now in his number one spot.
Percy's footsteps were muffled by the mud squelching underneath his boots, the brown dirt somehow working its way into every possible surface. He swiped the back of his hand over his cheek, attempting to wipe off a smear of mud, only serving to spread it everywhere else. Scowling, he gave up, letting his hand drop back to his side.
"Death!" Percy shouted into the rain, rivulets of water dripping from the corners of his downcast mouth. "You're the one who summoned me here, so come out already!"
There was no answer except for his own voice ringing back, echoing over the wasteland.
Percy growled in frustration, slamming his open palms into a dark brown stone from where it jutted out of the earth. The top crumbled under the force, and Percy was about to turn away when a glimmer caught his eye. Hesitating, he brushed away the remnants of the rubble, ignoring the piece that sliced into his hand, making a few drops of blood ooze from the scrape and onto the crystal in the heart of the rock.
His fingers closed around a faintly glowing emerald, the crystal warm underneath his touch. Under his tunic, the scythe-crystal started to burn in tangent with the one still gripped in his hand. A wave of familiar power rolled over his body, and it was with no small amount of trepidation that he recognized it as his own.
Percy touched the end of his scythe-crystal, noting the ragged edges that indicated that some part of it was missing. Originally, he had thought it was just meant to be like that. Now, he wasn't so sure.
Carefully, as though one false move would blow him sky high —for all he knew, maybe it could— Percy fitted the two crystals together.
The two pieces began to glow with a soft white light, the scythe's gem seeping tendrils of black hellfire over the emerald, drawing it in like an octopus would pull in its prey with twisting tentacles.
And as soon as the two crystals touched, several things happened at once.
The first was the sharp crack that signaled something being forcibly smashed. Percy spun around, intent on defending himself from an unknown assailant, until he realized that it was coming out of the mountain face.
A rectangular hole caved in, revealing an open passageway that stank of age and mold and death.
The second was the banal melody that had begun to play, filling the air with its oppressive notes. Though at first it may seem rather bland, one comes to realize that there is something oddly sinister about the five notes repeating over and over in different keys. It was the same melody from when Percy had first gotten his scythe, and even after six months, it didn't fail to send shivers down his back.
But the third and last thing was the most prominent, and certainly the one that caught Percy's attention the most.
Black wings, each feather razor sharp, exploded from his back in a burst of wind. Percy stiffened in surprise, barely in time to stifle a yell of shock from passing his lips. Reeling back several paces, he regained his composure, drawing in a deep breath, only to splutter and choke when a feather attempted to make its way up his nose.
Gingerly, Percy pulled one of his extended wings forward, careful not to catch his fingers on the jagged edges. Even with no light in the sky, the feathers glowed with an obsidian fire, rippling with every little movement, flashing into a myriad of colors.
Percy opened his hand, letting the wing go. When opened to their full length, they spanned around fifteen feet. Despite the excess weight, it was surprisingly light, something Percy contributed to the porous bone structure.
He had seen these wings on Erebus in some of the memories he retained. They seemed to be very useful tools, allowing him to fly, to fight —the feathers were like an endless supply of knives— and would allow him to block most projectiles, so long as they weren't augmented.
An augmented weapon was a weapon that had been strengthened in a blood ritual. He didn't know exactly how it was made or why it worked. It could cut through almost anything, and Percy really didn't fancy having to put it to the test.
Turning back to the scythe, which had extended itself into its full form, Percy noticed how the engravings on the side were now filled with liquid green fire, one that ripped and pulsed. A single green emerald was the center of an intricate carving, entwining with the original black gemstone.
In its compacted necklace form, the crystal remained its obsidian black, but with green stippling up the side like trapped lightning. Percy tied the ends around his neck, letting the crystal's familiar weight drop from view.
Turning back to the hole that had drilled itself into the mountain's face, Percy scrutinized it with narrowed eyes. For a second, he almost thought he could see a figure draped in brown shawls, and even with her eyes closed, he could feel the malice and pure destructive force that rolled off of her.
In the next second, she was gone, and Percy wrote it off as a trick of the light.
A rumble echoed through the empty chasm, sounding like a moan of the earth. Certainly, with its gaping maw, the darkness didn't look particularly inviting.
But there was something—something obsolete—that drew him closer, entranced, one foot in front of the other until he was standing right in front of the entrance, the cold tunnel draught blowing his hair back.
It was raining, thick sheets of water pouring relentlessly from the heavens. Erebus grimaced as he nearly slipped for the nth time, the limp body dragged over his back in a fireman's hold threatening to send them both tumbling into the chasm. Deep, exhausted coughs wracked his insides, sending the rusty taste of blood flooding his mouth.
Blinking away the vision, Percy ran his hand along a smudge of ashen colored rock, marvelling at the pulsing feeling that filled his arm. Keeping one hand on the wall, he took a last breath and plunged in.
Darkness set in. Not the kind Percy could control, it consumed his eyes until he was forced to close them, relying only on his sense of touch. The sloping rock walls were oddly smooth, like they had somehow been polished. Instead of the temperature getting hotter, like it had in Mt. St. Helens, Percy could feel his breath misting over, the chill of the night flooding his senses.
At some parts of the tunnel, it was half collapsed from age, or like someone in a hurry had tried to bar entrance. It took Percy several minutes to scramble over the debris, for once wishing he had Grover's mountain goat legs.
Erebus pushed himself forward, only half aware of the ragged breaths hitching in his chest. He gritted his teeth and continued on, his wings flaring out to catch the upward drafts. But he was tired... so tired...
In a fraction of a second, the ground beneath Percy's feet disappeared. The wall continued, but the tunnel widened and the bottom dropped precariously into a cliff.
And then the wind ripped him aside, but instead of fear, there was an odd exhilaration in his blood. Any sane person would be screaming, but Percy had lost his sanity a long time ago.
Something in him seemed to click, a part of him that had just awoken.
He knew what to do.
Percy's wings trailed uselessly, cocooned by the wind and forced against his body. He angled them out carefully, all too painfully sure of the earth speeding closer. The draft caught the feathers, pushing him down even faster. The world became a blur, speeding faster and faster until he had to close his eyes before the wind ripped them out. Percy braced himself and unfolded the rest of his left wing from where it was pinned there by the wind.
His descent stopped suddenly, as fast as it had started. Percy sucked in a breath at the sudden feeling of vertigo, the dizziness that made the world rise and fall in great, lurching waves.
Craning his neck up, Percy could barely see the tiny ledge —maybe thousands of feel above him— jutting out from the side. Had he really fallen that far? It only took a few seconds.
Getting used to the sensation of swooping in tight, looping circles, he had the insane urge to shout "I am superman!" and listen to his voice echo, but squashed it down before he could embarrass himself, even if there was no one around to witness it.
Banking sharply before he could crash into the steep sides, Erebus used the last of his strength to pull one of his wings in, crashing into a small alcove, the body draped over his back flopping bonelessly. Craning his head up, he stared wistfully at the spot of cerulean sky peeking out from amidst the rocky overhang. Stumbling the last few steps, his ankle no doubt snapped clean through from the unintentional landing, Erebus knew this was as far as he could manage.
For a few seconds, time seemed to become obsolete, and Percy was able to see an after-image of Erebus, flickering in and out like there was bad connection. His wings propelling him forward, Percy was drawn in by some kind of inexplicable force, coercing him to land on a small ledge jutting out from the side of the stone wall.
He landed clumsily, almost missing the ledge completely, the momentum throwing him forward for a second. Percy's hands flung forward, in front of his face to protect it from impact against the wall. He winced as his hand, still covered in scrapes, impacted against the hard stone, leaving a trail of blood streaking down the side.
The scuff marks on the wall Percy had previously overlooked flared out in a hailstorm of fire and light, his blood trickling into the runes, turning them from a glowing green to a crimson red, and then to a black that seemed to ripple with a thousand different shades of darkness.
With shaking hands, his knife scratched thin, barely noticeable runes into the stone, each stroke leaving a glimmer of green behind. Algiz to protect against invaders, Fenu to power the rune chain, Uruz to preserve against time, and finally, his own runic signature, three diagonal slashes resembling three claw marks.
But as soon as Percy's fingers grazed the scratches, his left eye seared over, his vision rapidly declining into darkness. With a gasp, his hand came up to press against his face, his body doubling over in pain, one arm clutching his side. It was as though someone was trying to carve something with a red hot needle on his eye.
Erebus wiped away the blood trickling from his eye. He had tried to adjust to the sudden darkness from the end, but he found himself constantly turning towards his blind side, his other eye trying to make up for the loss of information received. He hated feeling so... defenceless.
"Now, that won't do," a female voice said behind him.
Once Erebus got over the shock of someone getting the jump on him, something that had not happened for so long, his knife came up unsteadily to point at the speaker. His hand shook from exertion, the runes he had been carving pressed protectively against his back.
"Show yourself!" he snarled, trying not to let his fear show.
He was weak and tired and dead on his feet; his assailant only had to push him over and impale himself, and he'd have little strength to stop her.
A hand curled around his chin, resisting his surprised jerk, forcing his eyes up to meet dark soulless ones. It took a moment for him to recognize her.
"Death?" he muttered in surprise, letting his guard drop a little. "I have until sundown, don't I? I still have a few more hours..."
Her head tilted inquisitively to the side. "Can I not visit my champion?"
"I doubt that that is your only reason, especially with the carnage from the war seeking your attention."
Death bared her teeth in something that vaguely resembled a smile. "You always were my favorite. Yes, I have come for your," she gestured at Erebus' eye, "injury."
Erebus grimaced at the reminder. He started to move away, her icy grip on his face starting to make him uncomfortable. "I–"
"Hold still," she snapped, a rare surge of irritation dominant on her pale visage. Her nails dug into his skin, forcing his neck to remain vulnerably exposed as she examined his eye, careful with her movements.
Erebus' entire body was tense. "Death, what–"
Something sharp scored down his mangled eye, causing blood to well up and coalesce down his face, forming crimson streaks. He barely held back a scream, adrenaline almost giving him enough strength to jerk out of Death's grasp.
When she finally released him, he collapsed against the wall, breathing deeply. Death wiped her fingernails on the hem of her cloak, leaving a dark smear on the fabric.
"What was... what was that?" he gasped, immediately slamming down his mental shields to block the pain, forcing his eyes to open.
His right began to work again, blinking through the haze of red that encased his world, sending clear images of his surroundings to Erebus. The colors were almost blinding in intensity. He could see things he had never, even with his eagle-like vision, noticed before.
But it was his left that made Erebus suck in a sharp breath.
The world was dark, impossibly dark. He could see vague shapes –figures– that his right eye told him did not exist. Bemused, he turned his eyes to Death, only to see her entire figure encased in a glowing black aura, a pulsing fire fueled by fear and mayhem. Looking down at himself, while his right eye saw his bloodstained armor, his left took in the flickering emerald swirls wrapping themselves lovingly around his body.
Bringing a hand up to wipe away the blood that had spilled from his eye, he stumbled to a halt against the ledge. Blinking away the pain, he let his eyes flicker open, only to freeze in shock as his left projected only shadows and whispers of memories.
Death looked pleased with herself, a faint hint of a smug smirk shadowing her face.
Forcing himself not to panic, Percy scanned his surroundings with only his left eye. Immediately, several things caught his attention, things he never would have noticed with his normal vision.
Tucking his wings tightly against his back, feeling its reassuring weight at his shoulders, Percy walked forward to examine the faintly glittering scratches in the stone. Frowning, Percy stooped down to pick a rock, letting it fall into his fingers before he whipped it at the seemingly empty air.
Immediately, the previously transparent barrier sizzled to life, dark tendrils of energy lashing around the "intruder," engulfing it in a maelstrom of hellfire. And as soon as it had come, the fire faded, leaving the ashes to flutter down in a fine dust.
Percy leaned back on his heels, impressed with Erebus' runic capabilities. From what he could remember, he had been running out of life and power, yet had managed to find a way to sustain this protection through millennia. It only made him even more curious to what lay on the other side.
He would need to find a way to deactivate the rune chain, and that was no small feat. He would need to find books on the subject, so further exploration would have to wait, however much it pained him to say so.
Still lost in thought, Percy didn't really pay attention to the journey back up the massive underground canyon and through the tunnel leading back to the surface world. His mind was bursting with the things he had learned.
Just who was behind that barrier?
Perhaps if he recategorized all of the things he had learned about Erebus, he would be able to solve this puzzle. Even though Percy wasn't curious by nature, the idea of not knowing something potentially important was starting to nag rather irritatingly at him.
Okay. First things first. What did Erebus do?
From what he knew through the visions and what people told him, Erebus had worked, at a young age, as a mercenary to support himself and his family. When his mother died, he was left with nothing, and turned to the darker path of revenge, something that reminded Percy sorely of Nico.
After killing the murderer, Chaos somehow showed up —Percy still wasn't sure how that had happened— and pretty much browbeat Erebus into accepting a position as a lieutenant in the ASPECT forces, the black operations division of the regular militia. They were responsible for the particularly gruesome missions no one else would even touch.
Erebus met and inadvertently saved Aether on the first day, gaining himself an avid new fan, something he despaired over. Aether basically worshipped the ground he walked on, to the chagrin of Erebus, who took it upon himself to avoid his brother —though Aether didn't know that— as much as possible.
In the course of five years, Erebus had accelerated through the ranks at an almost frightening pace, being made a commander right at the outbreak of another war. This war, however, was very subtle and very manipulative. It was easy to miss, especially if one was not looking for clues. Indeed, many people still don't know that there was a war at that point. Order had covered up his tracks well, making it seem like an outside force was invading the kingdom.
Chaos had enlisted Erebus as a spy for Order after hearing the Primordial's suspicions laid on his brother. Even he could admit, while he didn't want to, that Order had been acting especially secretive these past few years. And so, Erebus, following his orders, used any means necessary to gain Order's trust.
After two years of subtle prompting, Order finally relented and spilled his secrets to Erebus, who pretended to help him with his goals with the blessing of Chaos.
Then the matters spun out of control.
The warriors and mercenaries Order had recruited broke free from his command, mutinizing and forming alliances between themselves, all intent on destroying the entire kingdom to get their petty revenge.
All ASPECTs were recalled to be put back on the mission roster, whether they were on sick leave or retired. In a war situation, there simply wasn't enough specialized troops to handle the onslaught of the enemy. What with the constant attacks aimed to drive up fear and mistrust in the civilians, the ASPECTs were being run ragged.
Erebus was no exception. He was set on some of the most dangerous missions, since Chaos had a good understanding of his strength and ability to handle almost anything thrown at him. There was a reason he was called the "Destroyer." But as one of his victims was A-ranked, the highest rank that one can achieve, Erebus had been blinded in one eye and almost bled to death from a deep gasp across his chest that only just missed his heart.
While he should have been pulled from active missions and instead been put onto defence, they had suffered too many calamities, and Erebus was forced to continue.
Aether, of course, was devastated at the state of his "hero." Erebus had almost given him a heart attack when he'd stumbled into the Great Hall, drenched with blood, half of his face bleeding profusely. He just couldn't understand how calmly Erebus had taken the news that he would never be able to use his left eye again, the damage being too much for the medics to fix. Aether knew that if their situations were switched...
Five days after being injured, Erebus was sent out again on another massive A-rank, this time with his ASPECT unit comprising of himself (as Thanatos), Delusion (Hemera, Primordial of the Day), and Strife (Phanes, Primordial of Life). Unit Thurisaz was to hunt down and eliminate a possible threat in the form of a neighboring kingdom's Minister. The man had been bolstered by the rebellion rumbling in Chaos' dominion and was attempting to side with the attackers.
On the way back, every single one of them were killed.
It wasn't a glorious way to die. Strife had turned on his teammates —people he had bled with, fought with, people that had his back and saved his life numerous times.
Delusion died first, a spear through her back ending her life.
And then Strife had come after him. Exhausted and worn after using one of his trademark assassination techniques that required a copious amount of energy, Erebus could only fend him off for so long before he was defeated, slammed to one side until his wounds from the past mission reopened.
He refused to beg, and his defiance of the inevitable caught Death's curiosity. Before he could truly be considered dead, Death had intervened, pulling them off of the plane of time. Erebus had pleaded to be granted some more time to accomplish his goals, to stop Order's mad ascension to power before it was too late.
In return, he sold his soul to Death.
Erebus was granted another six months; six months to bring a conclusion to the war, for better or worse. At the end of his allotted time, Death would become his master.
The rest of Erebus' history Percy wasn't sure about. Somehow, Order had managed to poison Chaos after Erebus was presumed dead, and it was killing him slowly. Playing the part of the faithful and heartbroken brother, he wept and begged the people to help him find a way to get better, but Erebus could see through his mask, right down to the smug arrogance he felt in his heart.
Erebus was already under heavy suspicions from the High Council, for many of the old geezers were afraid of how quickly he had risen in power. Building on this uncertain fear, Order proclaimed one night at the Great Hall that he had been able to find the poisoner after days upon end of searching. It was only out of sheer luck that Erebus hadn't revealed himself to be alive to the world yet.
His accusation of Erebus being the traitor was meant by equal parts incredulity and disbelief. They were told that he had defected on his last mission, killing his teammates and sneaking back into the castle with his shadows, strangling the guards on duty. Order procured corpses from somewhere, ones indeed choked to death by shadow manipulation, but not by Erebus' hand, though the others didn't know that.
The worst part was, Erebus could imagine himself doing that. He was more than capable. But while his hate for Chaos had not diminished in the slightest, he had gained a sort of grudging appreciation for the man's tactics.
With a time limit looming over his head, Erebus went to the one person he thought he could trust.
But Nyx didn't even try to hear his side of the story, screaming at him to move, to never see her again. Her accusation bit sharply at his heart, and even though he had been careful not to form attachments (for they would result in nothing but pain in the end), she may as well have stabbed him with a rusty dagger and twisted the blade.
Erebus didn't see Aether. The boy was naiive (lovably so), but easily manipulated. Especially with the belief that the one person he looked up to was the one who killed his father, his only family (that he knew of)... Erebus couldn't grind up enough courage for that confrontation. Nyx's accusations still rang sharply in his ears, drowning out everything else, even the sound of his own heartbeat, and at times, he wondered if that had abandoned him too.
And so for weeks on end, he remained in the shadows, plotting Order's demise. Remembering his promise to his mother, he did his best to find a way so that Aether would be protected. Nyx already hated him, so he tried not to think of her too much. Erebus did not want to fill his remaining days with hurt and betrayal, or any more than it already had been.
Percy wasn't sure what exactly Erebus had done during that time, but knew that he was constantly disguised, taking on a new name so to not draw attention to the fact that he was still alive. The only pieces of memories Percy received from that time was confusing; shapes blurring together with Erebus' two-toned vision, flashes of red and regret, feelings of worry and the threat of time hanging over his head.
However it started, however it climaxed, Percy knew how it ended.
Erebus had intercepted an enemy transmission from the enemy, discovering their plan to attack in two days at midnight.
By then, weakness from Death's sickness was taking its toll. Slipping into the castle without anyone the wiser —after all, he had protected this place for years— Erebus took Chaos' body. He was almost completely gone by then, and Order had taken up the throne. Ironic, really, how he had achieved his goal to wrest power only to be turned on by the ones he had enlisted as allies.
Hastily scribing some runes on Chaos' chest to keep him alive a little longer, Erebus took to the skies, only barely missing an air patrol as the body weighed him down. Even if he was at full strength, it would be a struggle to keep them both aloft. Now, it was almost impossible.
They crashed in the Ranged Endless, a ring of dark mountains that smothered everything below it in darkness. The shadows almost seemed to have a mind of their own, clinging to Erebus as he drew up the last reserves of his power to launch himself back into the air. Angling his wings to catch the upwards draft, he rocketed upwards, disappearing into a small tunnel that was perfectly hidden from the rest of the world if you weren't specifically looking for it.
The entire chain of mountains were interconnected via small underground tunnels, and the insides were hollowed out into great, steep canyons. It was only a matter of picking a small and unnoticeable alcove and carving the appropriate runes into the walls, covering the entire space with protective power.
Death had come, bringing with her a last gift. By fixing Erebus' eye, she had given him a special vision that, while limited in color perception, was able to see everything as it was, as its true form.
With her help, Erebus had created a runic chain that froze Chaos' body as it was so that the poison couldn't spread any further. Seeing as his time was running out, he forced himself to fly back out of the labyrinth-like tunnels. He broke open an obsidian colored rock, hesitating for only a minute before pulling his emerald colored crystal over his head and tossing it into the center.
Immediately, he felt weaker, more vulnerable, but it was necessary. His soul shard (a piece of their very soul, forged from raw elements upon their creation) would serve to act as a key to where Chaos was hidden. Whoever picked it up would be insatiably pulled towards the alcove unless the shard judged their soul to be impure.
It was only by sheer luck that Erebus managed to stumble across the battalion heading from the castle to deal with the invaders. And it was then that Erebus saw Aether's bright red cloak —so naiive, so helpless— standing out in the sea of black armor.
He saw his chance when the light cavalry stopped for a small break. The horses needed to be watered, their foam flecked lips open and panting. It would take at least half an hour before they could move again, and in that moment, Erebus struck.
When Aether headed to the edge of the woods to secure their perimeter, Erebus knocked him out with a quick blow to the back of the neck. Grabbing his body before it could crash to the ground and alert the soldiers, Erebus dragged him into a denser part of the forest, binding him tightly to a tree trunk. It wouldn't be enough to hold him forever, not that he wanted it to, but it should suffice to keep him preoccupied until the battle was over.
He should leave. He should go before Aether awakes, but some part of him couldn't —wouldn't— let his brother's last memory of him being one of hate.
Donning Aether's armor, Erebus let the helmet rest cradled under one arm, pressing his fingers to a pressure point on Aether's neck, effectively jerking him awake. His eyes, still groggy, roved around the clearing before settling on Erebus.
It took him a few moments to figure out who he was staring at, but when he did, he roared out, "You!"
"Me," Erebus reiterated calmly, thankful that he had put up a silencing ward up earlier. Otherwise, this place would have been swarming with soldiers, and he really didn't feel like fighting his way through them.
"What... what are you doing?" Aether demanded. He tried to tackle Erebus or do something worse, as the insanity in his eyes attested to, but the ropes cut into his skin when he struggled to break free. "Let me go—"
Erebus held up a hand, silencing Aether's enraged growls. "I'm afraid I can't do that, nor tell you what's to come." His eyes were sad. "If you wish to know the answers, they can be found at the Ranged Endless."
Aether had quieted, the tension between his eyebrows still visible as he took in Erebus' appearance. "You're supposed to be dead," he said finally. "What happened to you?"
Erebus turned away, and when he spoke again, his voice was cold and hard. "Unimaginable things."
"I—"
"Do not trust, for it will only lead to your demise. Goodbye, Aether."
Letting the helmet condemn his fate, Erebus turned away and began to walk towards the encampment, imitating Aether's movements perfectly. Years in ASPECTs had trained him to be observant and to be able to gauge a person with a single glance.
"Move out!" he barked in Aether's voice, using latent Silvertongue abilities to ensure they didn't ask questions.
The journey to the battleground was uneventful and lasted for several hours. Reigning in Aether's horse, he wheeled them around to face the cavalry unit.
"If, at any time," he said sternly, letting his gaze meet every one of them,"you will die if you continue to fight, retreat and find shelter. Call to Nyx for reinforcements. Though she is at the castle, they may be able to come in time."
Pinning them under a piercing glare as they looked at each other curiously. It wasn't something "Aether" would say, for he hated to run away. Erebus was more practical in that sense.
"There is no point in wasting a life that can be saved," he said.
In reality, Erebus knew that they had no hope in winning this battle, but he couldn't do much else than to warn them to retreat. He had to play up his part as Aether, who was as stubborn as a mule at times and would never give in if his life depended on it.
Yet he didn't want these soldiers —people, his heart amended— to suffer just because he was powerless to rectify Order's mistakes.
By now, he had come to accept the stark truth that he wouldn't be able to stop Order's rule with the little time he had remaining. He could only hold to his promises and protect Aether, while making his sacrifice count as much as he could by saving as many as he could. They all had a part to play in the world, and he hoped that they would trigger a change, a revolution to last the eons.
After giving another motivational speech (or at least he hoped it was motivational), Erebus sent them forward, telling them to use stealth until he gave the signal to continue.
As they were occupied, Erebus traced the rune Gebo over and over on his palm. Sacrifice. Balance. Honor. A fitting end.
When the ringing of pained voices and the screech of steel grinding against steel roared up in the crescendo of war, Erebus closed his eyes, whispering a last apology to the others before stepping into the fray.
It was a mass of writhing bodies. There was no order, nothing but the fear and panic that threatened to choke him out until nothing remained.
Under normal circumstances, he would able to shrug off the rather impressive show of power without a second thought. But weak and exhausted, he felt like it was slowly crushing him alive, boulders of earth raining down from either side, the sides of his vision caving in...
Erebus' arms jerked to his head, forcing himself to dispel the illusion.
The cavalry was losing. The soldiers were valiant, but they were outnumbered far too hopelessly to do any good.
"Fall back!" he tried to shout, but the acrid smoke the enemy was starting to set to their lines clamped its slimy fingers around his throat, choking his voice into nothing more than a whisper.
And then he saw Aether.
Stumbling from the way they had come, he wore only his civilian clothing, Erebus haven taken his armor to impersonate the Primordial of the Day.
He wasn't the only one who noticed his brother's arrival, for an uproar rang out from both sides of the battle, and all eyes turned onto him.
Erebus let the armor melt away, relinquishing its crushing hold on his body —no wonder Aether's muscles had muscles; it would be a wonder if he didn't, lugging that hunk of metal around all day.
The masquerade was over, anyways. It didn't really matter.
A cold touch cloaking his shoulders drew his attention, and he saw Death from his peripheral vision, the metal of her scythe glittering in the dying light of the sun.
"Are you ready?" she said quietly.
Erebus hesitated, letting his eyes flutter closed. He drew in a last breath.
"Goodbye, Aether," he whispered, and somehow knew that his little brother could hear him from the other side of the battlefield.
Erebus made a few gestures, slamming his open hand on the ground, sending a chain of runic symbols splitting the earth in half, black hellfire spewing from the crevice, fingers of death licking at everything it consumed.
Panic ensured, and in the chaos, no one noticed that the runes slowly crawled over the earth, forming a large, impossibly wide circle.
And when the ends met, the entire chain glowed a sickening red.
Erebus let his eyes sweep over the battleground one more time. Death gave him a tiny nod, and he returned it.
"Gebo... detonate."
Erebus laid the body he had carrying against the wall, wincing and rubbing his arm to get the feeling to flow back again. Checking the man's pulse one last time, he could feel the faint whisper of life beneath his fingertips, and smiled grimly.
No matter what happened tonight, Order's plans would never truly come to fruition.
Carving the runes Isa (time), Thurisaz (defence), Uruz (power), and Algiz (protection) on the figure's hand, Erebus forced himself to his feet, swaying a little as he struggled to function with dangerously low power reserves.
Stopping at the mouth of the small alcove, he paused, his body silhouetted by the light streaking in from the outside world.
"Goodbye... Father."
A single feather floated down.
-X-
"Our trackers have him here," Nyx said, a raised hand shielding her eyes from the afternoon sun. She glanced back down at the device in her hands, before snapping it shut, stowing it securely in her pocket.
Aether squinted, peering in confusion at the range of jutting mountains, and released a little bit more of his light. He couldn't fathom how anyone would want to live here (well, maybe except Nyx). Drawing his sword, Aether frowned at the blade.
They were to be tracking Thanatos —apparently, Order wasn't a "forgive and forget" kind of person— and the tracking device had led them here, in the middle of the Uncharted Lands.
The middle of nowhere.
"Are you sure we're in the right place?" he asked for the nth time. "Because I sure as hell don't like it here. There's a reason no one's ever documented the Uncharted Places. And plus, it's cold and dark."
"Be quiet," Nyx snapped back, but her voice lacked its usual venom. She spun in a circle, vainly searching with her eyes for something that didn't exist. "Don't you feel it?"
There was a tingling in the back of his brain, warning of death and darkness. The silence was foreboding.
"I'm... not sure," he admitted. "What do you mean?"
"Time doesn't exist here. I am not sure how it is possible, but it has no dominion over this place."
Aether raised an incredulous eyebrow. "So... the rocks are immortal?"
Nyx rolled her eyes, grimacing in exasperation. "Aether!" she exclaimed, swatting his arm with an ironclad fist. "Be serious!"
Aether held up his hands in mock surrender, giving his sister an overly exaggerated bow, his arms swinging into a ridiculous gesture.
"Thy wish is thine command, o sweet and kind lady of doom and gloom! Thine pale pallor—"
His good natured sniping was cut off by a rumble of the earth, as though the ground was cracking open beneath his feet. Grabbing Nyx's arm and jumping back, Aether was just in time to see a figure, cloaked in black, rocket out the side of one of the mountains as though shot from a cannon.
Nyx's hand jerked him back down, restraining him before he could do something rash.
"He's going to die!" Aether shouted, watching the tiny speck crash into the mountain thousands of feet above them.
An eruption of dust billowed from the impact point, clouding Aether's furious attempts to see if the figure was still alive.
"Get back!"
Nyx pulled him out of the way as a boulder tumbled from the mountain's face, crushing the place Aether had been a second earlier.
Dust consumed everything they could see, filling his lungs with dry powder, choking him until he couldn't breathe. Coughing harshly, he flapped his hand in front of his face, trying to avoid breathing in any more ashes.
When the light finally filtered through enough to provide a little illumination, Aether raised his head to see a figure perched on the peak of the boulder with unnatural balance. Nyx, with all of her cat-like grace, would have had trouble emulating what this stranger did with careless abandon.
"Who are you?" Aether demanded, reaching defensively for his sword, but in the next second, the figure was gone, only to reappear without a single sound in front on him, his wrist caught in a surprisingly firm grip.
He moved like a ghost. Like the wind. Like... Thanatos.
But it wasn't. He could tell. Even with the shadows amassing his face, throwing it into darkness, Aether could make out his heterochromatic eyes, the right a vivid green, the other shining crimson with three emerald streaks through the iris. They glowed with unshielded power, luminescent in the otherwise bleak landscape.
Beautiful.
Aether let his gaze turn to the slender fingers wrapped around his wrist. It looked deceptively fragile, and impossibly pale, almost unhealthily so. But he knew that despite the figure's languid appearance, he could kick Aether's ass so hard it would still hurt millennia later.
And when he spoke, Aether found his mind fogging up, a calm mist pervading every movement, every thought, until was could not think...
Then the moment cleared and Aether was left groggy and confused.
"Peace," the stranger's voice was strangely melodic, "I mean you no harm. Nor your sister. You may wish to tell her to come out from the shadows. She cannot hide in my domain."
Nyx stumbled out, most likely from astonishment than compliance.
"Who... who are you?" she asked, incredulous. "You're the first that's been able to sense me when I'm hiding."
Even with the figure's face concealed, Aether could hear the thin smile in his voice. "I have my ways," he said quietly, finally releasing Aether's wrist. When the Primordial looked down, he could see the pale finger marks slowly fade to a healthy pink.
Frostbite?
"And if we're playing Twenty Questions, it is now my turn. What are you doing in my home uninvited?"
The question was cool, but Aether could hear the underlying threat. From the stiff set of Nyx's shoulders, he knew she heard it too.
"We were looking for someone," she said, picking her words carefully, "someone wanted by our master for killing many of his subordinates ruthlessly."
The stranger's eyebrow quirked. "Indeed?"
Aether swallowed the tenseness in his throat, hoping the figure's hawk-like eyes couldn't catch his nervousness. "Aye," he agreed. "Thanatos, he is called. The Champion of Death itself."
"Her," the stranger corrected, almost as though out of habit. "Death is a female."
Aether pushed away the surprise, telling himself that he shouldn't even feel surprised after this. "You have... met her?" he said faintly.
The stranger shrugged nonchalantly, as though one met Death every day for tea (though for all Aether knew, maybe he did).
"Once upon a time," he said dismissively. "She is not the monster your people make her out to be."
"Just who are you?" Nyx's voice was wary.
The figure's eyes rested on Nyx for a moment, his gaze impossibly heavy and assessing. When he looked away, Nyx felt as though she had failed some sort of test.
"A wanderer," he finally replied, and anger tinged his words an icy color. "Nothing more."
Aether was the first out of the two to shake himself out of his awed stupor.
"We are sorry for intruding," he said, for once glad that P— that people had forced him to learn formal language and etiquette.
"Nevertheless, we are searching for Thanatos. Has he passed your lands these past few days?" Nyx continued.
The stranger did not reply for a few moments, and Aether thought he never would. Then:
"I do not believe so."
When the stranger turned to leave, Aether caught a flash of black, gleaming at him from within the expanses of smooth flesh exposed by the wide collar.
And it was also then when Aether realized why he looked so familiar. Now his cerulean eyes trained unblinkingly on the stranger. He raised one finger, pointing to at the dull glimmer.
"You!" he said in astonishment, eyes the size of porcelain dishes. "I recognize you!"
The stranger stiffened, his entire body tensing as though ready to fight. Hastily toning down the eagerness in his voice, Aether shoved Nyx aside with speed he didn't know he had and snatched the chain from around the stranger's neck.
The stranger staggered back, his hands clenching and unclenching as though he was physically forcing himself not to attack. Beside Aether, he could hear Nyx's sharp intake of breath as Aether stared, motionless, at the small crystal nestled in his palm.
"You..." he said again, awe in his voice. "You are a Primordial!"
The stranger growled, a low guttural sound, ripping Aether's hands off of him.
"Do not. touch. me," he snarled, implacable rage poisonous in their close proximity.
Aether blanched, his mind finally catching up to his actions. Before Aether could stammer and make a fool out of himself (stupidstupidstupid! what was he thinking?) Nyx pushed him aside.
"I apologize for my bumbling oaf of a brother," she said smoothly. "I hope you can forgive his trespassing on your person. We were just... surprised, to find another one of us. Another Primordial. Indeed, I did not know it was possible for one of us to remain hidden from the others for so long."
"No, no, that's not it!" Aether had finally regained his tongue, though he cringed at the venomous glare sent his way by Nyx, and the practically scathing one from the Primordial. He pressed on, adamant and stubborn. "You saved me once, millennia ago. I had almost forgotten but for your eyes. Never in my life have I seen something so..."
Aether trailed off, unable to think of those eyes as beautiful when they were practically spitting fireballs at him.
"...unique," he finished lamely.
Nyx pursed her lips. "I know of you," she said, words slow as she pondered over her thoughts. "Eons ago, Order told us of a new power that had come to pass, one of undetermined strength. But when we tried to contact you, our sources came up blank. And then, one day, you just... disappeared. There have been no traces of you ever since. Until now."
The Primordial was silent.
"Eloquently stated," he finally reiterated. "I have been... ah, incapacitated, for the past—"
"—seventeen thousand years," Nyx supplied.
"Has it really been that long?" the Primordial muttered. "This place has not changed in the slightest. But yes, I have awoken only now."
"What will you do now?" Nyx asked, leaning back on her heels, arms crossed. The Primordial's eyes lost their focus, as though remembering some long forgotten memory.
"Do?" he echoed. "I'm afraid I have not thought that far yet."
"How would you like to come work with us?"
"—how would you like to work for me?" Chaos' eyes gleamed—
"And why should I tether myself to one man with delusions of grandeur?"
Nyx gritted her teeth at the barb directed towards Order. The Primordial was being unfair. While Order may not always make the right decision, his heart was in the right place and he tries his best. No one could ask for better.
"The world," she admitted grudgingly, "is corrupt. While the nation was first formed on values based on bravery and intelligence, of selflessness and truth, time has corrupted these ideals into something twisted and ugly. If there is no change, the world will end. I know it. Order tries to quell the particularly ambitious ones, but it is of no use. Truthfully... we need new blood. New power. And I have been lead to trust my instincts, which have saved me countless times in wars. They are begging me to recruit you right now, for you may very well be our catalyst for change."
The Primordial appeared to be deep in thought, though Nyx got the feeling that his decision was not, in any way, swayed by her passionate speech.
Erebus gritted his teeth, eyes blazing with unsuppressed fire. "I accept—"
"—your generous offer," he said, and Nyx jumped, having missed the first half of his statement.
"I will come with you to your fortress," the Primordial continued, his voice cold, daring either of them to try to break their oaths. "Provided that you show no hostility and speak only the truth. I have my ways of knowing who is lying, and I cannot trust my life with someone who holds important information within themselves when it could impact the world."
Nyx got the feeling that it was another dig on Order's character.
"Do not try to subdue me in any way, for I will ravage your cities to the ground without a second thought. Do you understand?"
Before Nyx could retort, Aether cut in, elbowing his sister hard enough in the ribs to send her breath flying out in a heavy whoosh.
"It's is perfectly acceptable," he said, and hesitated, blue eyes careful. The stranger nodded in permission, his stance shifting into a more relaxed —yet no less ready— position. Holding his hand out in a handshake, Aether said,
"I am Aether, Primordial of the Day. Nyx, my sister, is that of the Night. May I inquire your name?"
The stranger hesitated, seemingly thinking his question over before deeming it appropriate. His voice was as quiet as always, but something about his stillness sent wary shivers up Aether's spine. As he drew his hood off with a graceful hand and those piercing eyes found Aether's, he felt so powerless and insignificant, like the Primordial could crush him under his foot if he wanted.
And then there was that nagging feeling of nostalgia, of... remembrance. It was starting to drive Aether mad, not knowing.
Even pale and worn, the Primordial radiated unadulterated power. His eyes —red and green clashing in a fiery maelstrom of barely suppressed emotions— bore into Aether's very soul, and suddenly he felt so very small.
"I... am Erebus, Primordial of the Endless. Hello, Aether, Nyx. It's a pleasure to meet you again."