A few miles from the old temple on the outskirts of Rhodes was the sea coast, swarming with seagulls that had made a home of the unmanned ports. Kratos could not see a single boat in sight. He looked to the Priestess, expecting a solution. She returned his gaze, her lips turned upwards.
"We're not traveling by sea."
"How do you expect us to reach Troy otherwise." he said
"As I said before, my lord Hades had given me many gifts." from the hem of her peplos a black mist gradually pooled, expanding outwards. Kratos felt his instincts go haywire and immediately backed away from the oddity.
"Do not fear Spartan. It is merely energy, gathered from the restless dead residing in Rhodes and also within the water. I will have enough power to jump us to Lesbos. From there we can take a ship to Troy."
"What do you mean 'jump'?" the black mist became more opaque as it grew, obscuring the Priestess's body from the waist down.
"Think of it as a portal," the Priestess said with an amused pitch in her voice. "It's the same power Death incarnate uses to navigate between the Underworld and the Living world. But I cannot use it as freely as a God. Without souls, I cannot use it at all. Try to relax, I promise, the jump is painless." Kratos was filled with doubt, but he had no reason to distrust the Priestess. Why go through the effort of saving someone just to kill them the next turn? He forced his instincts into submission and allowed the black mist to overtake him.
He was floating, but the sensation was peculiar. He knew his feet were not on solid ground, yet he felt grounded as if on an invisible platform. He couldn't see the Priestess, only darkness. But this void was nothing like in his nightmare, when the Furies terrorized him. Strangely he felt comforted, a subtle warmth surrounded him and he was reminded of nights lying with his wife in bed as she cradled him in her arms. And his mind brought forth precious moments when he and his daughter would sit together as he listened to her play her flute. In the blink of an eye the black mist retreats. Immediately his eyes are met with a ginormous curtain wall with battlements stretching as far as the eye could see in either direction. It was as white as the sand on the sea line and seemed even greater in the presence of the blazing sun. As close as the walls seemed, he knew they were quite a distance away; if they hurried they could reach it in a few hours. He tore his focus away from the wall, searching for the Priestess and finding her on her knees and breathing heavily. He rushed to her side. She glanced up at him, sweat gathered along her forehead and slicked down her temples.
"I used too much energy," she huffed, "it wasn't my intention to jump this far. But we won't need a boat anymore. Troy is right there." Kratos grasped the Priestess's forearms, encouraging her to stand. She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes and concentrating. When she opened them again, she seemed to have found her equilibrium.
"The portal," Kratos began, "It was not what I expected."
"And what were you expecting?"
"...Pain."
The Priestess laughed mockingly, "Most assume the Underworld is but suffering for all eternity. Although the mist originates from the Underworld it is not a tool meant for harm. Depending on the one who conjures it, the jump can be a pleasant experience. Was it pleasant for you?" he set his lips in a tight line, refusing to speak of his feelings on the matter. But the Priestess was right, it was the most pleasure he had felt in years. He let go of the Priestess when she could stand on her own without falling forward. He was incredibly close to her, and could see her dark nipples through her clothing. Under different circumstances he would have tried seducing her into sleeping with him.
The sun's heat didn't made the trekking any more bearable. His pale skin burned, blisters formed along his bare head and back but were gone within minutes, due to his fast healing ability. The Priestess paced peacefully, not at all bothered by the heat. By the time they reached the gates the sun had left its zenith position in the sky. The gates were stripped of their doors, a pile of burnt wood, broken marble statues, and other rubble was stacked between the entrance's boundaries.
"Step aside." Kratos said, grabbing the twin blades secured to his back. Instantly, their magic set to work, creating flame links to the chains on his forearms. With a single strike, the barricade was asunder, and within minutes it was reduced to ashes.
"Amazing." the Priestess said with awe. But her wonder of his powers would not last, as an arrow flies past his head and stabs the dirt beside the Priestess's foot.
"This is your only warning!" the archer stood in the battlement, directly above the main gate. "If you continue any further, you will die!"
"We're looking for Achilles!" the Priestess yelled back, her voice strong and confident. Kratos wondered if he should just kill the nuisance- it'd certainly be easier, rather than talking.
"Who are you!"
"I am a simple Priestess of Hades." Kratos internally scoffed; a priestess with an affinity for sensing souls and an ability to teleport was not a 'simple' priestess.
"What about you? Who are you!" the archer referred to him. Kratos glanced at the Priestess; she nodded, urging him to introduce himself. "How mundane." he muttered quietly to himself.
"I am Kratos." just as his name left his lips the archer grunted in pain, and soundlessly disappeared. Replacing his spot was a skeleton dressed in old Spartan armor, glaring down at them. The Priestess nodded wordlessly and the skeleton shuddered and became lifeless once more. 'And also a necromancer.' Kratos thought to himself, 'if she has such power, what use is my strength?'.
They entered the city, finding it as much a ruin as Rhodes. Besides the mounds of debris and stone the city was empty. Skeletons littered the ground, some almost as black as the soot around the Priestess's eyes. The Trojan horse, which had been Troy's ultimate doom, stood proud and untouched in the center of what may have been the marketplace, based on the deteriorating stands and numerous vases and silks left alone.
"Where are the rest of them?" the Priestess spoke, poking at a vase covered in sand and dust, "Only one man was manning the gate?"
"Or maybe the warrior is sure of his capabilities." The Priestess shrugged and continued down a lengthy pathway, leading into an alley. Each step she took was deliberate, despite neither having ever visited Troy. Occasionally she would pause, closing her eyes and inhaling. "This way." she would urge, and continue in the desired direction.
"How do you know this?" Kratos finally asked.
" I feel an exceptionally strong presence nearby. He's practically pulling me to him. But…"
"But?" the Priestess chose to keep quiet. After passing through two more alleys, they came upon a clearing drenched in red. The three walls enclosing the space were draped with crimson silks, flowing and blending into the red stained ground- Kratos had a feeling it wasn't paint. In the middle of the space was multiple pillows and vases of red wine. A naked man sat on a pillow, holding a vase high above his head as he drank. Wine spilled down his mandible, streaming down his filthy bronze skin. Once the vase was emptied he tossed it to the side. Sandy blonde hair wildly cascaded down his shoulders. Murky green eyes, like damp moss, narrowed at Kratos and the Priestess.
"Who, *hic* wher' theothers?"
"Achilles?" the Priestess was just as baffled as he.
"Yes. It is *hic* I. The one. And only." the warrior tried to stand but swayed so much that he fell back on his bottom.
"This man hardly poses a challenge. I doubt, in his state, he could hardly fight off a child." Kratos spat; he had hoped to fight against -what the Priestess considered- a powerful foe. All he could see was weakness. The Priestess glanced at him in warning, "even in his drunken stupor this man is still dangerous. Do not underestimate him." she approached Achilles, stopping a few arm lengths from him.
"Your men kidnapped my sister."
"Yo-*hic* your who?"
"My sister. Her name is Agave." Achilles crossed his arms and casted his eyes down in contemplation.
"Perhaps I could help his memory." Kratos said, as he approached the drunken warrior with clenched fists. The Priestess grabbed his arm,
"Don't." she said. But he had run out of patience. Kratos grabbed Achilles by his hair and slammed his head into the ground. The was no reaction from the Hero of Troy- in fact, he hadn't made a single sound. Instead, Kratos' arm was grasped with an unyielding grip as the warrior stood. Achilles was a few inches shorter, but that didn't deter him. From this proximity, Kratos could smell the warrior's awful stench. He wondered when was the last time Achilles bothered to bathe. And his breath stank of wine. Blood slicked down his nostrils and his nose looked slightly crooked.
"You shouldn *hic* havedone that."
"Achilles-" the Priestess tried but it was too late. Before Kratos could blink he was being thrown across the courtyard.