The final chapter of the Paititi arc in here and a fight between two Magicians is the climax. Welcome back to another chapter of The Philosophy of Fear, where we learn the final lesson from Skyfather.
On with the show.
The Temple of Quetzalcoatl.
The summer sun beat down on the platform of sacrifice at the Temple of Quetzalcoatl where two Magicians stood. Harry could feel the beads of sweat collecting on his forehead and begin to snake down the back of his neck. He didn't have time to apply the charms that normally made his conjured armor more comfortable and his Scorpio Armor was still locked up firmly in his truck back at his tent. The only reason why he hadn't put it on was because he needed to catch up with Artemis quickly, and taking the five minutes to slip it on wasn't even on his mind as he rushed out. But now, with his wand back in hand and his magic rushing through him like liquid fire, all Harry could think about was ripping Inkarri apart.
It pulsed inside of him like an inferno, that old familiar rage coursing through his veins and the thing he hated the most- at the moment- was standing right in front of him.
With a crack of displaced air, Harry dashes forward while bringing the polearm up to grip in both hands. Inkarri's hands twitch just before the serrated blades of volcanic rock fly at Harry at high speeds looking to impale him. With a flash of movement, the polearm in Harry's hands lashes out, knocking away two of the six blades. To Harry, the pole axe was off balanced being far too heavy on the front end, he was unfamiliar with the weapon and how to properly use it so the results of his defense was…lackluster to him. But it gives him the opening he needs as he dives through the gap he made in the blades. He hears the impacts of the blades he dodged, the sound of them digging into the tainted gold behind him.
Harry lands just a few feet away from Inkarri and doesn't stop moving as he steps forward, watching as the black dust gathers as the undead before him tries to form a shield from it. But for someone as fast as Harry, it was far too late to try and cobble together some half-hearted defense. Harry drives the polearm forward as if it was a spear, shattering right through the half-formed shield and driving into the midsection of Inkarri. The undead flies back without a scream that any living being would have made when a large amount of their ribs were broken.
Inkarri lands hard on the platform before sliding back as Harry leaps after him, raising the axe above his head to bring it down on the other Magician. But apparently being undead and unable to feel pain does wonders for one's recovery time, for before the head of the axe could be buried in Inkarri's head, the undead rolled to a side to dodge it. The axe head is buried deep into the soft gold of the platform when Harry lands, he turns just in time to see Inkarri leap to his feet. In a show of wandless magic, the undead sent a wave of black dust toward Harry, the Hunter not knowing what it was meant to do and not caring to find out, abandoned the axe for his wand.
With a flourish, Harry summons a wall of interconnecting plates of quartz crystal to both shield himself and to try to keep an eye on his prey. But the last part is rendered useless as his shield is wrapped in black volcanic stone, cutting off his line of sight from Inkarri.
"Fine, if you want to try and play at this game," Harry mutters to himself before, with a deep breath and a flick of his wand, he exerts a finer control over the quartz shield. Little spines begin to grow from it like a Lichtenberg figure, entering the obsidian and growing through it like a wild fern before shattering it. He sends the growing branches at Inkarri like interconnecting spikes to pin the undead down as soon as Harry catches sight of his shadow in the quartz shield.
Inkarri once more raises his clawed hands, wrapping the oncoming attack in the black dust before twisting them, snapping the spikes looking to spear him in twine as he dodges the rest. Harry breaks apart his interlocking shield before levitating the pieces around him and applying a quick Maximus version of the sharpening charm around him. He could feel the slight burning in his stomach, if he wasn't so focused on the battle before him, he would be surprised. If he had tried this a year ago, without the full moon, he would have already fallen to one knee due to pure exertion of his magic.
But in the moment, the Hunter didn't care, only focused on the prey before him. With a spin of his wand tip in a tight corkscrew motion, the fractals of the quartz Lichtenberg figure superheat in red radiance before Harry does a sweeping motion around his head to gather it all to him. The single sphere of liquid hot quartz is then sent in a single wave to try and in case the undead monster. But Inkarri brings forth with a wave of his hand a diamond shaped shield of obsidian to surround him and block the attack. As the shield crumbles back to dust, the undead warrior looks up just in time to see the hexagonal shaped plates that Harry had conjured flying right at him at high speeds.
Inkarri reacts in time to block most of them as he summons forth spires of obsidian that burst forth from the golden floor. But he doesn't block all of them, as a few wiz past his head, and one servers his arm from his body.
The burn in Harry's sternum begins to become too much to simply ignore, he needs a few moments without casting such large spells and decides a change in tactics is needed. With a twist of his wand, he transforms his gauntlets, also dry heaving at the burn. They become thicker, a bit heavier, wider on the bracers making them more like bucklers as spikes protrude from his knuckles. He slides his wand into the back loop of his belt, between his quiver and hunting knife, as he watches as Inkarri's arm reappears, one more attached to his body. Harry bites back a small curse at the memory of the monster dancing in his mind before charging the undead Prince.
Inkarri once more forms blades from the black dust before launching them at Harry. Using his newly reinforced bracers Harry is able to knock them away from himself as he dashes forward. Inkarri tries to summon back the blades in the form of black dust, but he is far slower than Harry as the Hunter smashes through the dust to deliver a haymaker to the war mask of the Forgotten Prince. He feels the mask crumble under the blow, the spiked knuckles on the Hunters gauntlets doing their job as he smashes into the forgotten prince's chest with another blow.
It felt like it had been years to Harry. The snowy campground of Atalanta as she set up a ring of stones to serve as a ring and showed him how to box.
Inkarri's claws reach out, trying to carve into the wolf-like helm of Harry's, only to barely scrape across the top of the helm as the Hunter bob's out of the way of the blow. Harry draws back his fists and brings them up to protect his head, his elbows tucked inward to protect himself from body blows just like how-
"Keep those hands up!" Atalanta tells him as her fist meets his cheek, knocking his head to the side. "You're leaving yourself too open, Kiddo! Bob and weave or keep those hands up, either make sure they can't-"
Harry dodges the next sweep of Inkarri's claws, keeping on the balls of his feet before he delivers two quick jabs to the forgotten prince's ribs with his left hand. He brings up his right to block another hit aimed for his throat before he plants his feet and draws his arm back to-
"That's it!" Atalanta cheered for him. "Just plant your feet just like that and pivot your body before pushing forward with your back leg." She showed him as she held up her hands for Harry to practice his punches. "And don't forget to keep-"
Harry kept his wrist straight as he pushed with his back leg, his fist connecting with Inkarri's helmet once more. The spiked knuckles dig deep into the undead's mask, shattering it and revealing his decayed face to Harry. But the Hunter didn't flinch at the sight, he didn't care what Inkarri looked like under his armor. He just went back to beating the undead monster with armored hands, the memories of the one who had taught him, guiding each blow.
Inkarri, somewhere in his warped and rotted mind, finally abandons his offensive. The Hunters blows coming too fast to trade with and switches to defensive as he blocks and knocks away the blows. The forgotten prince was stronger than the Hunter, and he knew this so he turned away and blocked every blow he could as the Hunter pushed him back against a wall of the temple.
"Never try to out-think someone, Harry," Sirius told him on the second floor of Grimmauld Place. "Thinking you're the smartest in the room is the easiest way to get caught in a prank or a scam, what you want to do is simply try and predict what they'll be next," he said with a grin and mischief in his eyes.
As the black dust begins to gather around Inkarri and Harry, the words of the latters godfather play in his head. The Hunter makes a wild left hook that he knew Inkarri was going to block as his right hand dives behind his back and grips the handle of his hunting knife. Inkarri blocks the blow and knocks it to the side before moving to capitalize on the opening the Hunter had left wide open. The forgotten prince's claws fly forward, aiming for the throat of the Hunter to kill him.
"If you put someone in a situation where you know they only have a few ways to react, you can catch them before they even know what's happening," Sirius explained standing outside of Dora's room, Britomartis giggling uncontrollably in Dora's room as they filled it with shaving cream.
The silver hunting knife punches through Inkarri's arm before Harry twists it, violently, to the left. He could hear the snapping of bones like dry wood before he stabbed downward to pierce the forgotten prince's other arm and pin them both to the wall. As the Hunter's right hand does that, his left hand goes behind his back and grasps the handle of his wand. With a flash of magic that crawled from the floor to the wall, it changed the shape of the wall. Slants open up, sharp and oval shaped with pockets, much like a cheese grater.
Harry lets go of his hunting knife to grab a hold of Inkarri's head before he smashes it into the wall, destroying what was left of the headdress. The Hunter uppercuts him with his left hand, before grabbing the forgotten prince's head with both hands and drags it along the slants of the golden wall that he created. The sharped pockets cleave away huge chunks of Inkarri's face as Harry drags him before tossing the now headless body across the platform with a roar.
The headless body lands in a heap of tangled limbs and broken bones. Harry's eyes burn, but he ignores them, he ignores the pain of his heart breaking, but he couldn't ignore the memories that played in his head.
Of his sister, of Atalanta. Of his godfather, of Sirius.
Of the happy smiles they shared with each other as they danced in the living room with each other.
Of everything he had lost.
Artemis.
Pain shot up her side with every step she took, like white hot lines of burning wires that went from her ribs to her neck. Artemis had been mortal for less then a week and already she had a new found respect for her hunters. In her normal, godly, form broken bones were no more a hindrance than that of a flea bite to her. But now it was a labor just to continue walking up the final steps of the temple. Her fingers felt as if someone had pressed a hot iron to them, they burned, causing her hand to contract and cease in pain.
All things her hunters had to deal with after a difficult hunt with a smile and without complaint, something Artemis was going to look upon with much more pride from now on.
After what felt like hours, and with the sounds of battle below her, she finally makes it to the apex of the temple. There, resting in the open mouth of a visage of Quetzalcoatl, was a hovering and glowing moon. The visage of her power sat along with both the golden torc and silver swiss army knife that belonged to Harry. She smiles at the sight as she limps forward, her uninjured hand supporting her ribs, but as she gets within arms length of her godhood; the smell of the air changes and she pauses with hand outstretched.
"Have you learned my lesson, Artemis?" The voice of her father, Zeus, rumbles like an oncoming storm behind her. Pain and realization twist on her face in equal measure as she drops her hand.
"Yes, I believe I have…father," Artemis says softly before turning to face her father and king. He stands by the apex of the stairs, his dark pinstripe suit pressed without a single wrinkle, his face emotionless and his eyes like a living storm. The cold wind of the mountain tops blew around him, not moving a single hair out of place nor did it look that the chill bothered him any.
"So, tell me, just was my lesson I wanted you to learn?" He asks, his face betraying nothing to Artemis. She is quiet for a moment as her eyes drift to her father's feet, feeling like to all the world that she was a child that had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
"I should have never had a child," Artemis whispers, shame welling up in her guts for uttering the betrayal of the relationship she had built with Harry. "I created a danger to us, to the world, in doing so. If he- if Harry were to try and do as other Magicians in the past did, it would be the end to this world and we, the Olympians, would suffer a fate worse then just that," she tells her father, unable to look him in the eyes for the simple fact that even if she could go back into the past and change certain events; the creation of Harry would never be one of them. Zeus sighs as he turns away from Artemis, casting his gaze over the once golden city of the gods.
"As you should know, Paititi was the gods last warning. When it was delivered to us all those years ago, each of the kings felt the warning shake each of their respected pantheons to their core. I still remember the cold feeling that overtook my whole being, like I was plunged into an icy sea without end," Zeus says, his hands clenching and his voice shakes in remembrance of that day. Of the day an unfathomable power had gripped his spine and seared the warning into his very being. "The only good thing that came from it was the very first King's Moot. While we couldn't agree on a single course of action, it did set a precedent of how we would proceed when something that involved the other pantheons came up," Zeus admits as his eyes drift over the ruins of the Mesoamerican Gods golden city.
"I was not as foolish as King Brahma, who ordered Shiva with the backing of Vishnu, to put all the Magician's born to their pantheon before and since to the sword. No, I knew that we would need the Magicians to maintain the balance between the hidden worlds if for no other reasons," he informs Artemis as he turns back to her, a frown set upon his lips. "Do you know why only Hecate is allowed to have Magicians, my child?" He asks of Artemis, but all she does is shake her head, for she was ignorant of the answer.
"It is because she is responsible and reliable. When one of her children is born a Magician, she never informs the father of the child, the Magician is secreted away to one of the camps to be raised under our watchful eyes. They are taught to honor and respect the gods, no matter what, they are only taught and shown so much of their abilities before they are sent off to the magical school in Massachusetts," he says as he strides forward toward Artemis, slipping his hands into his pockets as he does. "And when they begin to attend that school, Hecate places a spell on them, a spell that will only activate if the magician mantles. If they ever do so, the spell kills them, swiftly and painlessly," he tells his daughter coldly.
"I sent you here to show you the price of our failures, for if it happens again, the world will be turned into this," he says with a sweeping gesture over Paititi. "And when the last star dies and light and life no longer exist in this universe, the End will close the door with this floating mass of rock the last thing left. Untouched and undying," Zeus tells her, his voice strong as the sky rumbles around them as he puts his hand back into his pockets.
"Now do you understand?" Zeus asks, a forlorn anger sitting in his eyes as he scowls lightly at Artemis.
"Yes, father," Artemis answers back, a frown on her face as her eyes turn down cast once more.
"Good," he says with a grumble as he steps past Artemis to look down from the mountains to the endless sea of green below. "If it was under any other circumstance, I would have gladly welcomed any child of yours into the fold, Artemis," Zeus admits softly, almost a whisper on the cold winds as Artemis turns to him in shock.
"What?" She says, her mouth hanging open after she spoke.
"Don't look at me like that, my daughter," Zeus says with a scoff. "Contrary to what most of you think, I'm very well aware of my own faults. I know what my knee jerk reaction would be, but over these long years I've learned not to act upon them," Zeus admits with a frown as he continues to look over the jungle below the mountain. "I am also not blind, I have seen what the boy has done to you; the effect he has had on you," he says, his tone far softer than any before as he finally turned back to Artemis.
"Children have a way of doing that, changing us for the better. You've started to take an interest in things beyond your hunts and hunters, you've started to look past your domains and onto the wider world," Zeus says with a small proud smile.
"I've also seen that you've grown softer," Zeus admits to her, the smile wavering from his face. "Twenty years ago, you would have never allowed a child of Lycaon into your ranks. You would have never saved a male demigod from the monsters hunting him. Instead you would have killed the girl and waited till the monsters were feasting on the boy to strike them when their guard was down," he tells her, his smile growing with each word.
Artemis looks away from her father, her face turning red at his words. Zeus' praise was a rarity among the gods, he did not say something he did not mean. Zeus merely shakes his head at her embarrassment with a small smile before he walks away from Artemis.
"Remember this lesson daughter, for if the day ever comes where the boy ever tries to do what the Magicians of the past did; it will be up to you to kill him, oh goddess of swift death," Zeus says solemnly, his smile melting into a frown as Artemis flinches at his words.
"I…understand, father. But Harry would not go that far," Artemis says to her father's statement, understanding the reason behind his words but even with all she has seen, her faith in her son remains unshakeable.
"It's good that you believe in him, my daughter," Zeus admits with a nod of his head. "Guide him down the correct path, if nothing else. So long as you do, I will allow the boy to live and make no move against him. But-" Zeus says as he raises his hand with two fingers outstretched. "-he is not allowed anywhere near Olympus nor New Roman; admittedly for two different reasons, but so long as you avoid those places with him, you may bring him anywhere else in between," he says as he drops his hand and turns back to look at his daughter. "Retake your Godhood, Artemis…and remember my words, for I will not teach this lesson again," he finishes before a crack of thunder echoed across the Andes mountain range and the Skyfather vanishes.
Artemis stares at the spot where her father vanished from, the last lesson sinking in as she does.
Responsibility.
Something that most of her siblings avoid, be it in how they run their own domains or their own actions. Very few of them actually accepted the responsibility of their actions and the ones who normally paid the price for their irresponsibility were their own children. Her Father, Zeus, wanted Artemis to take upon the same responsibility as Hecate did with her children, to own up to the consequences of her own actions.
"That is fine," Artemis tells herself as she turns to the floating moon that held her godhood. "He would never do it, he would never risk so much for himself. Harry isn't like that," she mutters to herself as she reaches out for the softly glowing moon once more; her faith in her child unshakeable even in the face of the horrors of the past.
Harry Potter.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, where his rage and the Hunt had not yet reached, Harry makes a note of how weird it was watching a head regenerate. The brain reformed before being encased in bone and meat before the skin crawled over it. Honestly quite the spectacle to watch from the outside.
But even the grotesque showing didn't stop the rage the Heir to the Hunt felt as he charged at the semi-headless undead. Driving his knee into the faceplate of bone as he leaps through the air, knocking down Inkarri before landing in a roll and popping back up to his feet. He once more reaches for his wand, as the frail corpse scrambles to its feet. Inkarri lets out an almost deafening roar through his half formed face as he slams his hands into the platform. An uncountable amount of liquid magma tendrils burst from the golden blocks, the tips of the magma quickly form into razor sharp tips to try and punch through Harry, armor and all.
Harry retreats, dodging the threads of melted stone as best as he could. But every time one of the sharped points plant themselves into the ground, the liquid stream of magma would branch off like the limb to a tree to continue the attack. Harry aims his wand behind him and with a wordless spell summons the poleaxe from where it still sat and right into his open hand. He begins to swing the weapon in a wild pattern to shatter or deflect the oncoming branches of liquid obsidian. But with the awkward weight to the weapon and Harry's own inexperience in using it, he knew he wouldn't be able to keep up the defense for long. With a final swing that shattered three on the oncoming attacks, he bends his knees and shoots forward into the forest of obsidian.
He slashed and smashed his way through the cooled branches of volcanic rock while deflecting the tendrils as best he could. What he couldn't deflect, he blocked using his reinforced bracers, the superheated viscous liquid burns at his arms and hands as he tries to fling the mess off of him. He smashes through the final line of trees and reels back the poleaxe before flinging it with all his might at Inkarri. It flew at the forgotten prince like a blurring buzzsaw and Harry watched with a smile as Inkarri, unable to dodge do to the speed of it, brought his arms up to black the attack. Only for the poleaxe to rip right through the forgotten prince's armor and shoulder.
Harry lets out a single barking laugh as he raises his wand, only for him to catch sight of his arms. His eyes widened at the sight of the liquid obsidian crawling across his gauntlets and bracers, up his arm and across his shoulder like a spiderweb. Inkarri raises his good arm and clenches his clawed hand, Harry instinctively brings his arms up to guard his face right before he feels the liquid harden and grow. It locks his arms and legs in place, stopping him dead in his tracks.
The obsidian grows, trapping him and stopping him from moving. No matter how easy it is to craft obsidian into weapons, a rock was still a rock and it wasn't something Harry could just break.
A few seconds of struggling to free himself, Harry feels Inkarri ram into him, knocking him backwards as blows begin to rain down on him. He could hear the claws of the forgotten prince scrape across his armor as he struggles to free himself from the bindings. The sound of slowly wrenching metal reaches Harry's ears and he begins to panic, somehow Inkarri was ripping through the titanium he had created his armor from.
"Chinkachiy!" A voice calls out strong and clear, power ringing in every syllable, a familiar voice at that.
Harry's eyes widen as he feels the stone that bound him vanish, just for him and Inkarri to both turn to look where the sound came from. From the doorway that led into the temple from the platform, the same one Harry used himself, was none other than Caíque Barros, the Grave-robber. His wand was held straight in front of him with determination set in his eyes, his golden furred and mismatched eye cat clinging to his shoulders hissing at Inkarri.
"What the fuck are you waiting for, Gringo!?" Caíque yells at Harry. "Move your ass!"
By the time Inkarri turns his empty eye sockets back to Harry, the Heir to the Hunt had already reached up and grabbed the undead by the throat to keep his head still. His other hand slams into the forgotten prince's unprotected face, smashing in one side of it as Harry uses the momentum to throw Inkarri off of him. With their position now reversed and Harry now on top, he drops his wand to begin to beat down on Inkarri's face. His fist rained down on the face of the forgotten prince, each blow made worse by the spiked gauntlets he wore.
"You should have let them go!" Harry yells as he beats down on Inkarri, every blow enhanced by the Hunt. "You fucking idiot! It wasn't worth it! You killed them! You killed them all and look what happened to you!" He continues to scream as he rains down blow after blow on the undead prince, much like he did to Draco so long ago. "Was it worth it!? What you did!? Was it worth it!?" Blow after blow until Inkarri's head was nothing but a paste under his fist.
"What you did to your mum!? What you did to all those people!? Just because you couldn't let them go!"
Harry moved down to the undead's chest, splintering Inkarri's armor with thunderous blows fed by his one rage, by his own loss, and all the emotions he had bottled up. He kept hitting, and hitting, and hitting, until he could feel the bones in his hand fracture and his knuckles split as every emotion spilled out of Harry.
All of his rage.
The monster looms over him with a cruel smile, knowing he had just taken something so precious from him. His wicked red eyes gleaming with sadistic glee as he rises his wand to point at Harry, and unspoken promise to take everything from him.
All of his sorrow.
Atalanta's laugh echoing throughout the forbidden forest as she and Harry trade jokes and swapped stories. Sirius' warm hugs and his unending acceptance of who and what he was, his unwavering desire to do something for Harry that the boy had never had.
"You should have let them go! They were dead! They are dead!"
A loving family and a happy home.
"They are- they're…" Harry says more to himself than the undead monster undead him. His hands stop beating on a body no longer moving as he blinks the hot tears from his eyes. His vision cleared just to see the symbol carved into Inkarri's chest, just over his heart.
"They're gone. Dead. And- and they're never coming back," Harry whispers to himself as he finally drops his aching hands. The front door in his mind opens but now he refuses to slam it shut, the emotions bubbling back up in his chest unrepentant in their existence. They come so fast and so hot, all Harry wanted to do was scream in his pain, so he does. The scream echoed throughout Paititi, the mournful sound of a lion cub losing his pride, left alone in the world screaming his pain to an uncaring and never ending blue sky.
Empty and raw once more, Harry reaches down and picks up his wand as he stands back up. He turns from the broken body of Inkarri and begins to walk away, his armor melting off of him and vanishing into the aether from whence it came. He looks up to the frightened face of Caíque, backed against the wall and eyeing him like a dangerous animal with Carbúnculo looking at him with narrowed eyes.
"Damn Gringo, remind me-" Caíque begins to say as Harry walks toward him, his eyes down cast as he does, only for Caíque to stop speaking for a moment as the scent of fear floods the area. Harry looks up to see the Grave-robbers eyes wide as he looks past Harry. "Shit!" The Grave-robber says as he levels his wand toward Harry.
Harry turns his head to find Inkarri back on his feet, his body slowly stitching itself back together. Though from the black veins covering his body, Harry's own ability was slowing his healing down considerably. As Inkarri's headless body raises his hand, black dust begins to gather anew. Harry turns to the undead prince fully, his wand at the ready to start the fight once more, until Harry hears a voice call out from above and behind him.
"Harry!" The warm voice of his divine mother calls out, catching his attention. "Catch!" She yells before she throws something through the air. He didn't need to turn to see it, Artemis had no need to call out what it was, all because Harry could feel it. His magic snapped to it like a cord being pulled taught, he smiled as he raised his free hand and called forth to that cord, tugging on it as hard as he could. It answered his call immediately, leaping to his hand like an old friend. He quickly stuffs his wand into his front pocket as he brings the weapon down to level the point at Inkarri.
The Gaé Bolg was back in his hands.
With aching hands, Harry grips his spear with both hands. "Now then," he says softly to Inkarri. "Let's see if I can't find your heart!" Comes out as a roar as the crimson aura of the curse locked away in his spear ignites before Harry charges back into the fray. Inkarri's black dust gathers and solidifies back into blades before launching at the charging Hunter. But this time Harry knew his weapon, he knew this weapon down to his soul, every etched vine on the darken wood to every barb and hook on the blade. Flashes of crimson lash out, knocking away each blade and diverting them from their intended path. With every step he took, the murderous aura of his spear went from a raging inferno to the barbed thorns that the curse took.
Harry appears in front of the body of Inkarri in a flash of silver and crimson. The, now, semi-headless body moves to block whatever attack the Hunter was about to unleash, but it's just too slow.
The barbed blade lashes out, taking one of Inkarri's arms first before Harry begins his dance of shadow and death. He carves through whatever defense the withered body could put up, cutting large gouges into the dried out husk. Every piece of obsidian that tried to collect on Inkarri's body was smashed to bits by the butt of the spear. The attacks came at such a rapid pace they seemed more flickers and flashes of crimson that sliced the forgotten prince's limbs away, inch by inch.
Harry slashes across Inkarri's midsection, bisecting the undead creature in twine before drawing back the spear. His legs wide apart and in a position to step forward into lunge, his free hand rested near the head of his spear to keep his aim steady. His eyes focused on a single point as Inkarri's upper body began to separate from his lower half, the undead prince's face only partially rebuilt from the smear that Harry made it into.
"Gaé-" Harry speaks as a whisper, the twisting barbed thorns beginning to consolidate into a single overlay on his spear. The tip of which burned with the murderous aura that had made it such a feared weapon. "-BOLG!" Harry roars before lunging forward and driving the spear that never failed to strike the heart, right into the chest of the forgotten prince. Harry's lunge carries him and Inkarri's upper half across the platform and right into one of the sides of the temple, planting the forgotten prince into the wall.
"You're a fool, Inkarri. What's dead is dead, and no matter how bad we want it, those who pass on can never come back as we remember them," Harry whispers to the undead prince as the curse of Dún Scaith begins to spread. -But for the first time, not to Harry, as he edges on understanding the final secret to his teachers lessons- Intersecting silver thorns split the dried flesh, weave around bones, and grow into the once golden wall. Even as Inkarri's body rebuilt itself, the silver thorns grow through each part, stitching the body still and sealing it to the wall.
"It's over," Harry says as he steps away from the budding moon lilies and pulls his spear from Inkarri's body. Before the bud that grow from Inkarri's rebuilt mouth blooms, the undead and forgotten prince speaks for the first and last time to Harry.
"Manan imapas hayk'aqpas cheqaqtapuni tukukunchu," escapes him as the moon lilies bloom across his body.
Harry turns to the sound of footsteps to find Caíque behind him. "Nothing is ever truly over," the Grave-robber says with an odd look on his face. "That's what he said, in case you were wondering," he says as he reaches up and scratches his cat behind the ears. Harry scoffs as he turns away from the forgotten prince and looks toward the top of the temple to see his divine mother back in her godly form, smiling softly down at him. He smiles back at her, a tired and sad smile that echoed his pain and loss he felt.
"Soooooo, not to be the bearer of bad news, but the entrance to the temple locked behind me and we can't really apparate inside of Paititi," Caíque says as he looks up at the weird woman walking down the steps of the temple. "Any idea how to get the hell out of the cursed pit of a city or are we just fucked?" He asks, looking back at Harry with a worried look.
Harry just lets out a small, soft, chuckle. "Oh man, I'm about to blow your mind," he says with a smile, knowing that Artemis could indeed teleport them out.
Thus we conclude the Paititi arc and are officially halfway done with Act one of four! This whole first part is set up for some majorcharacter development for Harry, from mourning Atalanta and Sirius, to dealing with the scars that Paititi has left on Harry, to him facing his own demons. I had a much longer plan originally involving Aífe coming back as a full Formorian and her tormenting Harry for being Connla's reincarnation. Which would have her interacting with Narcissa and getting an absolute tongue lashing from her about how she treated Connla. That would have led to a bunch of awkward situations as Aífe would randomly show up and try to "mother" Harry in rather brutal ways and having a peaceful Christmas between them.
But I had to scrap the idea because of story bloat and it would ruin the pacing sadly, and I've learned that lesson from BMR.
But now we move on to another place and another goddess that ends up helping Harry out with his demons. From the dying goddess to the dead one, one I'm sure all of you know who it is. But before we fully get into that Harry meets a few other gods, most new, one old, so that should be fun.
But the last goddess is one I'm looking forward to simply because of all the world building I'll be using her for. So she should be fun.
How did y'all enjoy the fight? I thought it was well paced myself. Anyway, it's time we turn our attention to-
{Buzz zzit Mecha Mecha}
The caverns below Paititi.
A set of footsteps echo throughout the ageless tunnels where rotting and boiling gods lay in a torment that will last far past when the last star in the sky burns out. The haunted whispers coming from the pit of ash and rendered fat grows louder as the figure walks by them, listening to none of them. Their begging and pleading fell on deaf ears, their apologies hollow and meaningless to the figure. It cared not for the boiling gods begging and pleas, they would remain in their pit in endless torment and fear, in a never ending death that would never come.
It looked more like a she, her pale skin giving off somewhat of an illumination in the darkness of the cavern. Her hands tucked firmly into the leather jacket she had lifted off a mortal soul that had passed through her not long ago. It matched well with the torn dark denim jeans she wore with a simple black tank top to match the whole set. A simple single leather cord hung around her neck with a small silver scarab with its wings flaring open with the markings of a human skull under the wings hanging off of it that shines in the darkness of the cavern. Her leather boots echo off the stairs as she takes them down one at a time, her short pitch black and spiky hair bobbing up and down with every step she takes.
It has been many, many, years since she was last in these caverns, but she still remembers the way as if it was just a few hours ago; and to her, it was.
For what is a few hundred years to something like it?
She stops before the large pair of thrones, the headless that once sat upon one of them swept away by some mortal. The quiet feeling of forlorn hope and mourning did nothing for her as she turned away from the almost eternal sight of the thrones that once ruled a vast underworld. She always had a bit of a sore spot when it came to the gods that kept the souls of the dead from it, if it cared anything for it she would have wiped them from this blue rock eons ago. But in the end it wouldn't matter, nothing mattered in the end for the end would claim everything anyway.
She steps around the thrones to find what she was looking for, her head tilts at the sight before her. Mictēcacihuātl lay before her on the stone floor, her eyes closed and a peaceful smile set upon her lips with her arms crossed over her stomach. Looking to all the world to be peacefully sleeping, but in truth, she was dead from a single axe strike to her heart.
She scoffs and shakes her head at the sight before her. "Always making a mess no matter where you go," she mutters to herself as she steps over to the fallen body of the flayed goddess. "And as for you, Mictēcacihuātl. You've been a very naughty girl, haven't you? Tricking him like that, lying to him, you could have opened the door at any time but choose to do it right before you died. All to escape the punishment so tightly thrusted upon you, but you're as foolish as that son of yours, thinking that I would be so easy to escape," she says as she pulls a hand from her pocket and begins to reach for the body of Mictēcacihuātl. Her painted black nails grow into sharp claws to rip the goddess before her back to its half-life.
As a tear slides down the cheek of the flayed goddess, her black lips hook into a cruel smile but before she plunges her nails into Mictēcacihuātl, a sound stops her.
A single soft hiss.
She turns towards the sound, curious as to what it was, as a black scaled serpent slithers out from the stairway. She leans back up before stepping over the body of the flayed goddess, her smile turning softer.
"Well, hello there precious," she says before kneeling down and holding out her hand, allowing the serpent to slither into her palm and wrap around her arm. "Are you the one that helped him find this place?" She asks the serpent and watches as its head swivels up and down. "Well that was very kind of you," she coos at the snake before rubbing the tip of her button nose against the snout of the serpent.
The serpent hisses into the dark, long and low, as the girl nods her head with a small grin on her lips.
"Did he now? Well, I should be all that surprised he smelt like me all things considered," she says with a tilt of her head and a soft, almost loving, sigh. "Well, I suppose I shouldn't be too mad with you, after all, you're practically programmed to like him in some way," she says with a hum before turning back to the dead God with a frown, wondering what she had felt for him. The snake hisses once more, gaining the girl's attention again.
"Are you sure?" She asks a question only she and one other could understand. "You're more than welcome to stay here if you wish, I could even send you to him if you'd like. He goes to this castle with more of-" she says but is cut off, rudely, by the serpent. But they are simple creatures, ignorant of any form of manners when they manifest. "Okay, if you're sure," she says before the snake hiss once more as it nods its head. She smiles as she opens herself up to the serpent and watches as it slips under her pale flesh and back to where it once came.
She sighs before turning back to the still body of Mictēcacihuātl, raising her hand to rip the goddess back to life to continue her punishment. But…she pauses and then frowns as her eyes narrow at the body.
"Fine. I'd rather not anger him anymore than I've already done," she says out loud before flicking her hand at the body of the dead goddess and watches as it begins to break down to ash. But this ash would not be added to the boiling pit, it would pass on to give Mictēcacihuātl her final rest. She turns to leave with the frown plastered on her face. "The others will remain and so will the city above, just consider yourself lucky that the last act you did was helping My Harry," she says possessively to the darkness around her, as her {Fathomless Black Eyes} twinkled in the darkness.
Chapter done!
Kingsaxcul, out!