Welcome to Anchovies! (It's an internal joke, don't worry about not getting it XD)
We are back with another Optimus Tuesday, and this time I don't actually have a lot to say. Just to remind you of my two fabulous collab partners Ben (aka My-Mental-Mind) and Haile (aka Optimisms). They're both doing wonderful work right now with Borrowed Time and A Propositional Response. Not to mention that Haile's still got subs open for her first SYOT Clandestine Operations. I encourage you all to head over to their profiles and send them some love. They deserve to be showered in praise.
Also, a special thank you to ladyqueerfoot, my-mental-mind, josephm611 and district11-olive for reviewing! you're great!
trigger warning: mentions of abuse and general violence
"And as Jupiter had once again established order to the mortal realm, he retreated to the heavens. In his absence, inter-dimensional beings started to slowly intervene, sending echoes between worlds."
Echo Sabellius slid under the covers, certain of what came next.
"You look like a funhouse mirror!" rung through her mind the moment she closed her eyes. The words manifested themselves in a burning sensation, like small bursts of fire bouncing against the walls of her psyche. It hit her forcefully, grasping her with the strength of a titan and squeezing tight. She gasped, panicking, before the relief came.
This had become a familiar scenario by now. As she settled into the host she occupied during sleep, she was no longer burdened by the prospect of seeing things through their perspective. She almost thought of the two of them as one, and found herself thinking of their shared experience in the singular. They were not the same, she knew that much, but Echo could definitely feel a sense of belonging, and could often make out fragments of what the other was perceiving.
Currently it was a bubbling anger just waiting to burst. A fury so hot it was blinding. Echo didn't necessarily want to take part in any of it, but whether she was inclined to believe it or not, a bridge had been built between them.
They were separate yet connected, by a gravitation she could not even begin to comprehend.
"President Snow, please do not let her fool you," said the figure in front of them, which was at whom Echo's anger was directed. Something about them was peculiar. They gave off an almost grisly vibe, with how their silhouette blurred at the edges, widening and thinning to create a patchwork of oddity. She could make out no recognizable traits, just overlapping shadows, obscuring any of the components that created what was commonly known as a face.
The third presence, however, seated atop a pink klinai with her fingers drumming on marble, lit up the room like a globe of captured sunlight. The blonde, practically white, braid snaking down the nape of her neck gleamed brilliantly.
She looked Delphian, blessed by Apollo.
"Darrell, be professional," the woman chided, her voice stony and authoritative. Very unlike the smooth sultriness her host possessed. "Echo's pronouns are they/them. I will not remind you again." It sounded like a condemnation.
"Echo, stop acting like a child and start acting like you care about why you are here." The sudden change in focus shot a spike of alarm through her. Suddenly the woman was looking at her, the Echo beneath an Echo, and as she stared into the woman's unearthly eyes, she could feel her otherworldly counterpart peel off like a second layer of skin. They were floating in a bottomless pit of nothingness, alone in a cold and dreary existence. Silence in an empty void.
In a split second, the woman's face was cut down the middle, falling away like a broken mask. It gave way to the terrified expression of Drusilla Theroux, the exact one she'd worn when she fell through the floor. Then, as Dru's face repeated the process of the former, Echo found herself face-to-face with Romulus Pacieco. His right side charred black.
"Help."
Echo shot up, panting heavily as she threw herself out of bed. The signs were clear enough
She knew exactly what needed to be done.
At the sound of groaning, Jericho Barca immediately ran over to Ceasar's hospital bed. Opening his eyes after a week's sleep, the deputy head gamemaker looked pretty worse for wear. But that didn't mean Jericho could not see the fighter under the surface. Ceasar sounded gravelly as he asked, "Where are we?"
"The Basilica," Jericho immediately answered, swallowing down a sob. The days since the earthquake had been horrendous in every way possible. Not everyone had woken up yet, some of them might never.
Ceasar parted his lips to say something else, but Jericho didn't let him formulate the question. "Dru and Heron are gone." Ceasar's eyes widened as a tear ran down Jericho's cheek. He couldn't hold back the flood of emotions that overtook him. He'd been crying and crying since he woke up himself, and the sadness that overwhelmed him at the thought of losing his friend did not cease. It was a constant misery.
Clearing his throat, Ceasar said, "What of Morgana?" Jericho remembered that the two of them been found close to each other, spread out on the cavernous floor beneath a bluff of fallen stone. He closed his eyes and gestured to the bed next to Ceasar's, where the redhead lay still, breathing ruggedly, face hidden by wraps.
The first thing that hit her was the potent smell of flowers.
Echo found herself in a garden, surrounded by arrangment after arrangement of frivolous plantlife, their colors so vidid they glimmered in the darkness of night. She padded through their stalks, some not reaching past her calves, others towering above her head. Their scents were almost intoxicating. But then, knowing her, the blurring wisteria and nauseating hyacinth might as well be her own sanity slipping away.
When she reached the ivory porch, she stopped to calm her breath. In front of her loomed a luxurious mansion similar to the other homes built in this part of New Rome. It was a senator's establishment down to a tee, with its thick columns and triangular roof. It looked like a small temple, without any of the shrines.
Although, the statues scattered throughout the garden's vegetation suggested they worshiped in here too.
A vision flashed through her mind, of an iron turning in fire. It lit a fire in her chest, like the one she'd felt bubbling beneath the other Echo's skin just moments ago. She gripped the slick handle. Focus.
Scaling the steps two at a time, she used the tip of the dagger she'd stolen from Thessaly's altar to pry open the lock on the door. It opened with a click, and she was inside seconds later, in a hallway lit up with white gemstones that ran in a line along each side of the floor. She sheathed the weapon, using some of her peplos to cover it from prying eyes. Though there had been no sentinels outside, they could still be in here.
She managed to get to the stairwell unnoticed, and was at the second floor landing without hearing a sound. Was this family so sure of their favorable reputation that they thought nobody would target them?
A boon to Echo's quest, certainly. She was thankful for their delusion.
Searching the rooms without finding the solar she remembered from the lair, she made her way to the third floor landing. Only, as her sandaled feet made contact with the beautiful Liberan rug, she could hear the faint rumble of a baritone voice. She walked slowly towards the source, finding a doorway, slightly ajar.
"No, he'll be back soon. We haven't finished for the night yet." It was the same voice she remembered from countless visits to the Forum. She could see him atop the podium, arms spread as he preached to the other senators, receiving bouts of applause in return. Too bad she couldn't see past the facade before now. The monster hiding beneath the surface. "He still needs to learn obedience. I did not raise a plebeian."
Echo grabbed the doorknob to steady herself, and the hinges creaked at the slight movement. "I think that's him," said the dark voice. "We will talk again later." There was the surge of a hologram powering off.
"Romulus?"
Heart beating fast, Echo opened the door fully and stepped inside, closing it behind her.
The startled expression on Senator Pacieco's face held the confusion she'd been hoping for. "Echo?" he asked, clearly startled by her unexpected presence. His lips tensed, as if irked. "What are you doing here?"
"Remus Pacieco," Echo said. "I've come to talk."
Bartholomew McVellan had not gone an hour without thinking about Heron's name on the list of people whose bodies had yet to be found. He snuggled closer to Julian, burying his face in his lover's tunic.
The hand on the back of his head cradled him, fingers running through his chestnut locks comfortingly. Bart was thankful for the attempt at making him feel better. He knew that nothing would fully heal the rip that had been torn out of his heart at realizing his friend's probable death, no amount of hugs and kisses could make up for losing that part of himself. He wasn't sure if he'd ever get over it. Knew he would not.
His sadness over Heron mingled with his worry over Rom. The boy was clearly hurting, but in the same way Julian could not magically vanish his own pain, Bart could not alleviate Romulus. The fact that the boy had no shown up at the Basilica drove him mad. Even Bartholomew, who had not fainted whilst so many others had, was here grieving with his fellow gamemakers. He needed to be present if someone passed.
Where was Heron? Had he somehow made it out whilst Bart helped Rom get away, or had he been a victim to the rubble? Where was Romulus? Was he being harmed at this very moment? Was he even alive?
Remus Pacieco looked like he'd been thrown off a chariot mid-sprint, seeing the head gamemaker in his solar at this time of night. She was dressed in a white peplos, dark hair a dishevel cascade of unruly curls.
"You've come to talk?" The senator seemed offended by the idea, of someone appearing out of nowhere to simply talk. No heads-up, no scheduling beforehand, no nothing. Just announcing themselves, and in his personal space. Echo understood the vitriol. She'd react similarly, had the roles been reversed. "Of what?"
Echo leaned her back against the closed door, putting her full weight onto it. "Of your son, senator."
The senator's expressions changed from agitation to one of perplexity. "Romulus? What of him?" He crossed his arms, sitting down on the edge of his wooden desk. "What did he do? I swear to Jupiter, if—"
"He's good," Echo interrupted. She had a hard time listening to his tone, it sent shivers up her spine. Every time he opened his mouth, she was back in that shaking room, seeing his son's toga slip down to reveal burn mark after burn mark. It made her feel ill. A cold sweat was pricking her skin. "But you're not."
His anger returned, and then mixed with his puzzlement, resulting in some sort of hostile confusion. He looked about ready to leap. There was little of it showing on the exterior, but Echo had been in the field for long enough to recognize it clearly. His knitted brows told the whole story. He was calm, if a little stern, on the outside. His insides were no doubt a mess of turmoil. "What do you mean i am not?" he questioned.
"The burn marks."
"Ah, he's showed you huh?" His speech got a threatening edge to it, sounding almost sharp. Like the knife hidden in her peplos. She could feel it brush her thigh through her thin garment, as she grabbed the handle tighter. "You see, I need to teach him obedience. If he's ever going to take over for me one day, he's got to—"
"By having his skin burned off?" The words came out before Echo had time to process them in her head. She hadn't meant to have a conversation with this man. She was supposed to get in and then get out.
She clenched the knife-handle. "By bringing him up here and torturing him with that iron?"
Remus was taken aback as Echo nudged her chin, gesturing towards the long black metal stick stood cocked up against the lively furnace "He told you all of this?" he asked, seizing her up with his steely gaze.
"No." Echo shook her head, easing herself slightly from the door. "I have a special friend."
Before he could react, Echo lunged. She was swifter than the older man, and much quicker. He'd barely taken a step away from the desk when she was upon him, swiping her knife forth. It graced his shoulder, drawing blood immediately. She made another slash, tearing through his toga to cut a line across his chest.
The item in her hand was no usual weapon. It was an athame - a ritual knife meant to make rites go by with as little clutter as possible. The edge was one of the sharpest Hammerfall made, so allowed for easy access to the senator's body despite the thick garments he wore. In a matter of minutes, he had slits all over his upper body. Echo moved onto his face, holding onto his nape as she stabbed his neck, jaw and cheeks.
Throughout the exchange, Remus stayed silent. Shock, Echo thought, and adrenaline. He gurgled, but she ignored it. Instead, Echo grabbed the front of his torn clothes and dragged him towards the fireplace.
Pulling him close, she whispered, "You raised no plebeian." Then she threw him into the fire.
"Stop it, Zaelia! You're only hurting yourself."
Punching the wall one last time before looking over her shoulder, Zaelia Fabii fought hard to keep her eyes dry. A few paces behind her, Joy was huddled at Amriel's side, Dio sitting with his head in his hands a little ways off. The three of them weaved an image of the Basilica's atmosphere - tense, somber melancholy.
She had tried the happy route. She had tried to retain a positive approach to life, and had done her best to make friends with everyone. But that hadn't worked in her favor. Zaelia just wasn't that kind of person.
There was a guard up around her, and for good reason.
Bringing her wet knuckles away from the blood splatter on the wall, she opened the locket hanging around her neck, looking down at the handsome man portrayed in its small oval frame. Stranger, Outsider, castaway - that's what they had called him. If Zaelia didn't act accordingly, that's what they'd call her too.
She was on the verge of breaking then she heard the scurrying of feet. She turned to see Goldene come running. "Come quickly," she urged, distress written all over her usually gentle expression. "It's Morgana."
Echo stared at the flames, and at the cut-up body being devoured by their incinerating touch. She was enthralled by the sight. Couldn't quite tear her eyes away, even as her victim was baked to a charred crisp.
Forcing herself to turn around and leave, she was held in place by the smoke rising from the furnace. At first she thought it was the other Echo appearing again, and she gripped the bloody knife-handle tighter in preparation. Whilst she'd gotten used to intermingling with her alien counterpart in sleep, she wanted as little to do with them in real life as possible. Especially now, when she had more pressing matters at hand.
Like getting away from this solar, and escaping the mansion unnoticed.
Something about the grey wisps called to her though, and as they filled the cramped space around her like a thick fog, she couldn't find it in herself to move. She was rooted in place as the smoke crept up the walls, hiding the regal paintings and handmade furniture from view, whipping her head around frantically.
Her eyes trained on something in its depth. A bright light of some sort, the shape of a human, walking towards her with steady strides. It reached the edge of the fog's barrier, where the haze had left a circle around Echo.
Stepping forward, Echo saw it fully - a being so tall it towered at least two feet over her. It was wide, with the sculpted body otherwise seen only on statues, its skin tan and toned into a mass of human perfection. No, not human perfection. This was something else. Otherworldly, with its strands of glistening hair and cloudy eyes. There was a luminous aura emanating from the being, seemingly from inside. Electrifying.
It clicked then. Echo knew exactly who this was. Had seen him in so many tapestries, heard all of his tales. She looked up into his eyes, and as their gazes met, thunder struck. Like it had at the altar that night.
He'd heard her pleas after all.
Collapsing to her knees, she gasped, "Jupiter."
The deity squared his jaw and took yet another step forward. He didn't say anything, just kept Echo's gaze. Holding it as his hand reached up, gently grasping her head and tilting it back to look at her features.
It is time, Harbinger. The words echoed in her mind for just a flash before she felt the floor shatter under her like glass. She was falling, seeing Jupiter become smaller and smaller above her as her body tumbled through an endless pit of darkness. Thrills shot through her stomach as she somersaulted, round and round, faster and faster.
Was this the end? Speeding into the abyss, she couldn't see this ending in any other way than death.
The moment she heard Morgana's name, Livia Valerius was on her feet. Leaving the bed behind, she followed a group of senior gamemaker led by Goldene Caan towards the opposite end of the rock chamber.
There had been no news of the unconscious gamemakers since Ceasar Romagi woke some time ago, an hour or so past moonset. Livia was eager to see another one of her colleagues survive the earthquake. The two disappearances had been harrowing enough, despite her not knowing either of them particularly well. Best friend or not, Heron and Drusilla were everyday presences in her life. The loss of them was horrifying.
Livia and the others made it to the crowd surrounding Morgana's bed. Pushing past the outer ring, they got a glimpse of the redhead laying on her back in a sea of blankets, headwrap covering most of her face. The older woman's breathing was steady, to Livia's relief. She was just about to ask what was going on when she heard an agitated voice say: "Someone get this things off of me. Chop chop, I need it off. Now!"
Whilst the other gamemakers sniffled and gasped, Livia couldn't help the laugh that burst from her. So many bottled emotions were bound to do that to a person. And Morgana Bellefonte lived! She would live!
After what felt like hours, she hit solid ground.
There could have been a better word for it, the soft substance her body bounced against. But she didn't have time to think about that. Not now, nor why Jupiter had sent her here in the first place. It didn't matter.
Standing up, she spun around in the star-filled expanse. Though she didn't feel dead, she could not be sure that this was not in fact the entrance to the afterlife. Thanatos could come around the corner any minute, ready to pick her up in his boat of the deceased. Or perhaps she would be met with Cerberus, who'd chew her up with all of their three mouths before leaving her to wander Ashpodel's hazy meadows for all of eternity.
Rather than death gods or hell hounds, however, she was met with a cacophony of voices.
Bertrand, do tell me the time won't you?
It's 06.45 am, Echo.
Good morning, Timekeeper.
Headaches again, Bertrand. The nightmares, the dissociation.
She turned, trying to find the source of the sound as the voices kept whooshing like a wind around her body, gripping her peplos and pulling its fabric in different directions. Was it leading her somewhere?
You look like a funhouse mirror!
President Snow, please do not let her fool you.
Darrell, be professional.
Echo, stop acting like a child.
The woman's voice made her stumble, as she was reminded of how her face had been peeled away to show Drusilla, then Romulus. Was his charred face a possible future? Something she might have seen when she touched the Fates' thread had she not killed his father. As the voices yanked her along, she tried to resist. But escape was futile.
Mx! Mx, are you alright?
Yes, Bertrand. It was just a dream.
She had just about given up on getting away when a final phrase hit her in the chest, making her halt.
If I may, I don't remember the weekend either, Echo.
She closed her eyes, trying to shut everything out of her perception. This wasn't real. This couldn't be real.
Only, as she opened her eyes again, Echo realized she wasn't alone.
Before her stood the person she hated, yet felt a magnetic pull towards. A cocked eyebrow, red lips, unearthly attire. She could hear the sultry laugh ring through her mind. This warped version of herself.
Finally you meat. She could see a sparkle flickering between them. Like a beacon of intense light.
Jupiter.
He had sent her here, to this other Echo. There had to be a reason.
She stiffened, knife in hand. "Who are you?"
There we have it, the finale of Echos Between Worlds.
This has been a long time coming, and after countless sessions thinking and plotting with Ben, i have to say that I am very happy with the results. Perhaps it did not answer all of your questions, but it did conclude some of the plot points that earlier chapters set up, and has started the sub-plot that will carry through my first SYOT - Into The Abyss. And though this is an ending of sorts, it's not the end of this story. We still have the epilogue next week, where some questions will actually be answered. Stay tuned.
For the sake of my own survival from Em's merciless hands, I want to touch on one thing. The fact that I named Romulus' father after myself. What some of you who are reading this might not know, a lot of my characters (namely the gamemakers and mistress of ceremony) are inspired by my dear friends over on discord. When I first began writing this story, I wanted to pay homage to all of the people who I've been following on this site for so long, and who I've finally gotten to know personally (which I am very thankful for, ily all!) It just so happened that Romulus became my own self-insert, and thus I used him as a way of exploring some of my own insecurities and doubts. It became a sort of therapy.
I'm not saying I have been victim to the horrors that Romulus' has had to face, but I have had some troubling familial relationships in the past. Naming Romulus' father Remus and then having Echo kill him is my way of trying to let go of my own father's influence over me, and killing the part of myself that is still stuck in the past. It's been an emotional ride, but it needed to be done.
There's a significance as to why Echo killed Remus as well, but that will have to stay in the DMs. Just know that Em (who you might also know as district11-olive) is a wonderful person. That one conversation meant a lot to me, and will for a very long time.
And with that sob story out of the way, let's move on to thanks.
This week, I want to thank everyones over on discord who's encouraged me throughout the duration of this story. The people who I've only had one or two conversations with, but who's been the most supportive, kind-hearted people I've ever met. I can't want to get to know you all better in the future.
And as per usual, I want to thank everyone who's kept up to date with this story over the last two months. If you feel so inclined, I'd love to here your thoughts overall in a review. If not, that's a 100% valid and i will see you with the last chapter next week.
Until then,
- Remus