"I can't just sit around. I need to do something..."—Pit, in Chapter 18

XxX

A man and his dragon.

Or rather, a god and his dragon. Because only those bred for divine power could place a hold on the mystical creatures of old, especially an old one such as this one. They both shared the same elemental magic of fire, and their thoughts were so interconnected that what the one creature felt, the other one felt as well. Right then, the two magical beings paced the small clearing in which they were trapped in, enclosed by the moat that obstructed their way. Both the god and the dragon burned bright with eyes of blue fire; for whatever alien infestation he was caught with, the dragon had as well.

Pyrrhon, in his more saner moments, could safely say that a death would be welcome. He was tired of trying to prove his awesomeness, and was doubly tired of being used. He had escaped the Aurum for a quick second, driving them out into space before they could find their way back to earth again; but as soon as he hit back to earth, he realized that he hadn't erased them entirely from his mind yet, and they enwrapped him with their invasive fury once more. Angry at what he had done, the Aurum's sole purpose in lingering in his mind was to drive him absolutely mad. But that didn't mean that they couldn't use him to destroy what was left of his precious Overworld in the process. Now, every move he made was like a conflict within himself; trying not to hurt he things around him, and trying not to cave into the madness himself.

His finding the dragon was part him, part the Aurrum influence. They had noticed that Pyrrhon was lacking in power—not as "awesome" as he had said he was—and sent him off to meld his power with another being that would give him strength to further his quest for destruction. Pyrrhon, though—the real Pyrrhon, the one locked up in the recesses of his depraved mind—had rejoiced at the sight of another being that seemed just as lonely as he. He hadn't seen another dragon in years, and he despaired at what the Aurum might force him to do to it once they felt that its usefulness had run out.

So the lunatic-driven man stumbled about, caught between the throes of this alien influence and his own sanity. And . . . of something else. His mentor had always said that he had the gift of Sight rolling about in his head somewhere, but the young god had never found the time nor the motivation to pursue it any further. Driven by the Aurum-influence had further disconnected him from reality, however, and had pushed him to lose his hold on his mental capabilities; so much so that random Words that were not his own would filter through the computer speech of the parasitic presence that currently resided there. A tug-of-war was to be had, his eyes sometimes glowing with a bright blue luminance, and then, sometimes glowing with a neon-green one.

"Who can conquer Chaos?" He mumbled. "Who can restore Peace? The Mark," he said with a smile. Pacing back and forth, his green eyes of fire darting to and fro, he muttered like a madman, whispering the same words to himself, over and over—

"The Mark will try to destroy us all. Until the Spirits find one." His smile deflated. "Then order will be restored. The Spirits will find one, and at the same time, he will control the Spirits, because they are as much as a part of him as he is a part of them. He will be called The Winged One, but he won't be the first of his kind. There will be Chaos and death, but he won't be the first of his kind. The first of his kind will be called coward, and self-serving, and the Chosen will drive off Chaos where it belongs, and then restore order where it is needed. Only where it is needed," Pyrrhon sing-songed, halting his pacing steps to fold himself cross-legged on the dirt ground beneath him. "Because it will take more than a little time for the Chosen to figure out how to control the Spirits."

"Oh," Pyrrhon moaned. He settled his head between his hands, his face contorted with anguish and his head pounding. The prophecy fever leaving him, he found his way back to reality with little satisfaction. "My head," he muttered, and suddenly he was possessed, possessed with a mad anger of the awareness of his predicament. "GET OUT OF MY HEAD! He screeched to no one, and directly across from him, a tree caught on fire. When he could still feel their presence, he rumbled to the ground and sobbed. "Get them out . . ." And like a light switch, the man immediately stood up to attention, his eyes now glowing with the most vibrant of blues. Like a torch, he shot up into the air, into the sky and through the forest that surrounded him, decimating all that lay about into the destruction that he craved. And all the while a new, manic fervor protruded from his lips, not like the sing-song voice from before, but of a tone that was vastly different. It was a tone that was almost mechanical, driven in its speech, and it was clear that there was a different energy that possessed the man of fire; the energy that he still feared after all this time. And whatever possessed the man with this new, automated drive had taken on the strange drone of numbers, and the man's voice kept on repeating the same ones, over and over and over and over –

"01100100 01100101 01110011 01110100 01110010 01101111 01111001."

XxX

There wasn't much to Cupid's dormitories that the boys had been given to sleep in, so Pit often felt himself rather pressured by boredom more often than not. It was day three of his stay at Cupid's, and with each day that passed he began to feel the walls closing in on him more and more. Cupid's Palace was beginning to appear as a prison to him, and his inability to fly had much to do with that line of thinking.

He turned over in his bed, facing the wall opposite his window. There was a crack there, and he found himself strangely transfixed by the irregularity of his room's construction. He wished that he had made it a point to as Marsh to come and visit every once and a while. As much as he might try and hide it, Pit could feel it (in his belly) that Marsh more than just tolerated his presence. Marsh just wasn't as demanding of company as the light angel was.

But everyone had a want for company every once and a while, right? If he caught Marsh that day, he would have to make it a point for the angel to come and visit him some point in the morning. Because it wasn't like he was actually going to sleep the entire 16 hours he was confined to his bedroom, right? This stuff was boring!

Pit gave a great sigh, flopping down onto his bed back first. This was it—this was hopefully going to be the day when Pit could test out if his wings were working properly. This would also be the day when Pit finally made up his mind to go visit Palutena—and get the chance to go and talk to her about his past.

He tried to remember the last time he talked to her about something like this, each time failing miserably. He even tried to think about a time when he lived without Palutena, and failed at that as well. He couldn't, for the life of him, pull out a single face from his life before Palutena had summoned him to serve.

From what Palutena had told him, he knew that he was five or so when Palutena first found him. But beyond that, the waters of his past were murky. Had he just been too young to remember any detail from his past life? Or was there something else prohibiting him from remembering?

He sat up then, turning around to look at the anomaly that was his wings. Up until about three years ago, he thought himself to be the only angel in existence. Then came Dark Pit, and now there was Cupid, an angel older than both he and Dark Pit. Palutena had kept the existence of another angel hidden from him, and he wanted to know why.

On this matter, he could allow some leeway on the goddess' behalf. It didn't seem like she and the God of Love got along very well on account of some past history no one cared to enlighten him about. It seemed as if she wanted to keep her past—at least, that part of it—hidden.

But even if she chose to ignore Cupid altogether, he still felt like he deserved to know why he was born with wings and no one else had been. What in the world made him, and Cupid, for that matter, so special?

"Good morning, Pit," said Teegan, walking into his room after giving a knock.

"'Morning."

She smiled at him, going about her business like always. She lingered by the room's only table, distributing the various medicines that he was to take that day. They still hadn't exchanged words since the previous morning, when he had asked her about her past. He had a question burning on his tongue now, but he felt like he didn't quite know how to broach the topic.

"Hey, um . . . Teegan?"

The pretty girl with the striking blue eyes looked up at him.

Pit shifted in his bed. "Um, does Cupid have a library around here? Somewhere?"

Teegan smiled brightly. "Of course. Do you know where the Main Dining Hall is?"

"Um . . . no."

Teegan tilted her head in innocent looking confusion. "The one with the five fireplaces in it?"

"Still, no." Pit smiled slightly. "I never really got the official tour . . ."

Teegan stepped back in surprise. "You haven't? But that's Ella's favorite things to do when we have guests!"

"Ella?" said Pit, slightly piqued. "Is that—um, is that the blonde one?"

Teegan smiled mischievously. "Yeah. Why? Do you like her?"

Pit blushed like mad. "Um—no, not exactly. I haven't really gotten a chance to speak with her, is—is all." He cast a hand behind his head. "You're the only one who actually helps me out with anything. What do—what do you guys even do around here?"

Teegan shrugged. "Clean, mostly. Help Dio out when we're not doing errands for Cupid." She made a little pouty face. "Nikki's Cupid's little messenger. She's always going down to the Overworld to spy out on all the humans, while Ella and I have to help Cupid with the simple things. Which I don't really mind, not that much. It's just—I wish he would put some variety in the schedule, sometimes."

"Uh-huh," said Pit. "So, you help Cupid with making his spells and potions?"

"Sure," said Teegan. "Sometimes it's boring work, like taking stock of the inventory or fetching him the right powders while he's working when he's too busy to do it himself, but sometimes it's fun. When he has time, he even teaches us about magic."

"Magic?" said Pit, straightening up in bed. "You guys do magic?"

Teegan smiled and shrugged. "Maybe a little, but not without help. My sisters and I can only do it while we're together, and only through certain spells."

"So, you're more than humans," guessed Pit. "Since humans can't do magic anymore, right?"

Teegan looked at him like he was stupid. "How many years of formal education have you taken, Pit?"

Pit looked taken aback. "Um—well, Palutena taught me how to read and write, and I know some basic math, like fractions and multiplication tables—"

"History," said Teegan. "What time periods has she gone over with you?"

Pit looked at her blankly. "I—I guess early history, like when the gods first created the humans and—and stuff like that?"

"Wow," said Teegan. "So you know nothing about recent history? Or about magic?"

" . . . No."

"Wow," Teegan said, not believing her ears. "Pit, humans can do magic. Humans were able to do magic for years—but only certain humans can be called magic-users. They are either born with it, or come across in in their lives through some magical talisman or through some –I guess, special places where magic grows from the earth."

"Whoa," said Pit, feeling extremely stupid. He felt like he should pick up a book. And actually read it. "That's . . . great."

"Cupid found us at one of these places," said Teegan, looking down at her hands. "Our parents—they had left us there as an offering to the gods. They recognized our power, and treated us with great respect, but they were scared of what we were capable of. Eventually they just abandoned us, at the top of this enormous volcano, and demanded that we stay where we were, lest the gods be displeased."

"Wow. I'm sorry, that's just . . . terrible. I guess it would be better if you didn't remember your parents at all, huh?"

Teegan smiled at him slightly but gave no reply.

Pit swung his legs out of bed. He was tired of lying around. He didn't think he could sit still for another moment, despite Cupid wanting him to stay in bed for at least another hour or so. So, he sprung up, took the potions that Teegan had laid out for him (they all tasted amazingly good, but the cotton-candy one was still his favorite), and turned the girl promptly. Suffice the to say, Cupid's servant looked surprised at his eagerness, for usually, because of his healing state, and because of the drugs he was constantly on, Pit was drowsy for the better part of the day. But not today. Today he was going to find a cure, and they were going to be able to save the rest of the humans of the Overworld, too.

"Hey, Teegan. You wanna help me with something?"

XxX

"What's up, Chuck?"

Dark Pit cringed inwardly as he turned around, already knowing who it was. Phosphora felt the need to grace him with a new name every single week. It was probably the reason why he didn't get too annoyed anymore with the name that he was originally donned with –Pittoo. Now Phosphora seemed to have a new personal favorite, and Dark Pit had been dealing with it for about a couple of weeks now. But now Phosphora was here. What in the Underworld did she want?

"That's not my name," said Dark Pit, sticking out his chest a little bit. "The same with Dark Pit, too, or Pittoo or any of the other names you've thought for me. My name's Marsh."

Phosphora cocked her head to the side, looking faintly bemused. "Really? That's the one you came up with?" Dark Pit clenched his fists.

"Yeah."

"That's too bad. Did Pit choose it for you, and you had to live with it 'cuz you lost a bet?"

"Ignoring that. What in Skyworld do you want? You can go back to Viridi's place, now that you're not needed here anymore."

Phosphora grinned at him like an elf. And she really did look like an elf right then; she had cut her hair, right above her ears. Pixie-cut. Now she didn't have those stupid red highlights at the end of her hair anymore. She looked better this way. "Cute. I was looking for you, actually. You ready to head back?"

"Back where? To Hanging Gardens?" said Marsh, hardly able to believe his ears. "No!"

"Sorry, bud, but that's not an option," said Phosphora. "I came here to deliver weapons, sure, but Viridi never agreed to this being a long-term stay."

"It's only been two days!" insisted Marsh. "I haven't gotten anywhere because Palutena's been so sick, and Pit's been trying to recover, too."

"You don't have anything?" said Phosphora in irritation. "You haven't even cracked open a book to see if you could find anything there?"

"I have," muttered Marsh, surly. "A little."

"And what have you accomplished, huh?" said Phosphora, hands on her hips. "Have you even mentioned this prophecy to Palutena?"

"No!" said Marsh. He could hardly believe that he was being bossed around by this brat who Viridi called her Second Lieutenant. "You wanna know why? Because this stuff is old. Take the Chaos Kin. Nobody can explain its origins, and barely anyone remembers the last time it got out. You wanna know why? Because it happened such a long time ago, and nobody was there when it devoured its god!"

"I was there," said Phosphora.

Marsh blinked. "You—you were?"

Phosphora looked to the ground as she replied. "Yeah—sort of a wrong place, wrong time deal. I didn't see it, per se—but I saw its victim. A god. The Thunder God, actually . . ."

"I didn't know," said Marsh quietly.

"Doesn't matter," said Phosphora, refocusing on the dark angel. "The Chaos Kin didn't get to me, and the God of Thunder was already dead when I found him. This Mark is new for everybody, because barely any have gotten attacked by the Chaos Kin and have lived to tell the tale. But that's completely off subject—"

"But it could help," said Marsh with a hint of hope. "It could give us a starting place to look to help with the cure."

"Or, we can move on with trying to find out what's up with this Prophecy, and see if it has any connection to what's been infecting the Overworld—"

"No Prophecies, from what I've read," said Marsh lowly. "Like I said—the histories don't even cover it, it was so long ago. From what I've seen, all the gods who knew the original Prophecy have all died –except Palutena—"

"But you haven't gotten anything out from her," said Phosphora, leaning against the wall.

"I'd like to see you try it," spat Marsh. "Accusing someone who's been sick all this time to tell you more information—even Pit's been feeling the strain. I don't want to be an inconvenience."

"I know it's been hard," Phosphora said tersely. "But Viridi's getting impatient. If you're not feeling useful here, then just leave. We need to be taking action, and we need to be taking it soon, With you and me and Viridi together. She wants you to transfer your interests to what's going on down at the Overworld."

Marsh was silent. "I'm not going to just quit when things get hard. It's only been a couple of days."

"It's not all as simple as that," said Phosphora.

"No, you're right," said Marsh, looking at her. "There's something else, isn't there?"

Phosphora didn't say a word, holding his gaze.

"Well, my leaving isn't an option," said Marsh. "No matter how disposable she thinks her allies may be—"

"It's not that, either," said Phosphora. "But you know how she is. She wants results, and she doesn't want to see me back at the Hanging Gardens without you in tow."

"In tow?" said Marsh with a snide air. He crossed his arms, leaning against the opposite side of the wall just like she had done. "I'm not some kind of pawn. Sometimes I think you gods forget that."

"Would it kill you to check up at the library, at least?" said Phosphora, clearly on her last straw. "I could help you, even, before I took you back."

"What, did she tell you to do that too?" said Marsh, rolling his eyes. "Look, I'm staying here. I haven't had much progress, but I'm sure I'll get somewhere." He smirked. "Besides, I'm pretty sure she's not going to murder you if you go back there and I'm not with you-"

"STOP MAKING THIS ABOUT YOU!" said Phosphora, her eyes ablaze. Marsh blinked at her, his gold-violet gaze wide, and wondered at the pain that was in the back of his head. Wait, had she shoved him against the wall? He looked down at the space between them. She had! He looked back up at her. Yeah, and she was definitely grabbing him right now, too. What in Skyworld. . .?

Her mouth was tight and tiny as she spoke. "This isn't just about you, okay? This isn't about you and your delusions of independence and about her asserting her control over you. You need to get your head out of your ass—for once!" Marsh blinked, noticing even in the dim light of the hallway, the purple rings underneath the goddess' eyes, wondering, where the hell did those come from?

"I'm not making this all about me!" Marsh said, not liking the way she was holding him right then. "Haven't you been listening to me this entire time? I want to stay here in order to help Pit and Palutena. I want to find a cure, and I want to find some answers."

"If the truth's what you really want, then find some answers for us," said Phosphora heatedly. "And make up your mind!"

"My mind's already made up!" shouted Marsh. "Tell that to your goddess, huh?"

"There are people dying down there, and you're just going to hide up here?" said Phosphora, her voice low and tense until the very end. "This isn't just about what's good for Pit and Palutena and all of the gods living comfortably up here—this is about crops being destroyed and whole families' life lines being demolished!" Phosphora let go of him and began to pace around their small little space. Marsh brushed himself off, wondering, is it really all that bad down there?

"This is about people starving and people being scared, not knowing what's going to happen next, and you're just here, being so freaking selfish, while Arlon and I have been working non-stop and –and—"

"Okay," Marsh said, noticing her tension building. "I understand."

"Do you?" said Phosphora, casting him a hateful glance. She let go of his collar—He was really, really getting sick of all of this grabbing just to get across a simple point—and looked as if she were trying to compose herself. He let her. He didn't want another bout of yelling being launched at him, in any case . . . "I just don't want you to be getting all comfortable up here. Viridi's all stressed out, and it's—it's not pretty. She's barely had time to come up with ways to save the ecosystem, nevermind trying to find the source of all of this dark magic. And her power's weakening . . ."

"Her too?" said Marsh quietly.

"With all the damage being done on the Overworld? You bet," said Phosphora, her anger finally draining away to something more soft, into something a lot like sympathy. "If you could see her . . ."

"I'll try harder,' said Marsh resolutely. Phosphora gave him a doubtful glance. "I will!"

"I should take you down on the Overworld to let you see all of the fun you're missing," said Phosphora without a hint of sarcasm in her voice. She sighed. "I should take you back . . . "

"I need to stay with Pit," said Marsh, resolutely. "Really, I do. This is as hard for him and . . . I can't picture him being alone in this love nest with Cupid and his little servants running around . . ."

Phosphora rolled her eyes. "Oh, don't even get me started with those girls. I know what you mean. His servants?" She scoffed. "More like his little love slaves." She puffed out her cheeks. "Viridi's not going to be happy about this . . ."

"I'll handle this," said Marsh. "I'll get the information . . . I'll think of something."

"You better," said Phosphora, starting to walk off, and Marsh did his best suppressing what would've been his immediate response to that. No, if he wanted to get their trust, he'd probably have to try just a little bit harder.

Something like guilt dripped its ugly way through his stomach, a feeling that he thought he'd be free of too many times before. But ever since all of the trouble on the Overworld had cropped back up again, it had started making its unwanted way back to him again—first with seeing Eden, and now with hearing of the situation down at the Underworld. Now, he suspected that he wouldn't ever be free from the hands of guilt until he was all good and free—but truly, at what cost? Leaving the gods behind would mean leaving behind the Power of Flight—as well as abandoning Pit. He couldn't do that . . .

It was the first time in his entire existence that Marsh had to choose between helping the gods and helping the people of the Overworld. Phosphora was already worn thin, and her words resonated deep. Was he really making the right decision? Or was he just being selfish, as usual, choosing comfort over duty?

No . . . no! thought Marsh, with difficulty. The world just had to wait a little longer. He would find out the information, about the Prophecy, and about these occurrences down on earth.

Thinking back on it, he figured he must have been changing, because since when did he care more about the gods of Skyworld more than the people in the Overworld?

Anxiety settled in again, clinging to his rib cage like some parasitic creature.

But worrying about the consequences of his actions wouldn't do him any good. The only thing he could do at the moment was getting stuff done, in order to prevent future losses down on earth.

Damn, he hoped he was making the right decision . . .

XxX

A/N: Had to shorten this chapter. I felt like my chapters were getting way too long. As a result, not much happens . . . but there's a rendition of that 'prologue' section at the beginning that I said that I had missed. You guys didn't forget about Pyrrhon, did you now?

I have mixed feelings about his character. Felt totally betrayed when he allied himself against Pit in the game. Now, despite everything that I've done in this chapter to make him somewhat relatable, I feel as though everything I'm doing to him—and about to do to him- is everything he deserves.

Did Phosphora seem a bit too OOC? Wasn't sure. I sort of wanted to age a bit, you know? Make her more capable, more mature-like for this story.

And don't worry, my next update won't be a month in between. (Hopefully) What I want to post for Chapter 21 is almost complete.

Prepare for the feelzzzz.