Potential

 

“Something terrible has happened.” He says, waking after a strange dream about fiery creatures. A model for a flying device hangs above his bed like a child’s mobile. It serves as a reminder of his late mother, who taught him the art and technology of the ages. As she hung it above his bed she told him about its creation hundreds of years ago by some artist called Da Vinci.

Zayin painfully works his sore body into a sitting position atop his old and familiar bed. He looks around his room, cluttered with loose gears and half-finished mechanical projects, and wonders how long he has slept. He gets to his feet with sleep still clouding his mind and goes to the closet so he can change into his combat gear. “I think I’ll train today.” He says.

Looking into the closet, he realizes that he had been too tired to change when Darren sent him to bed.

“What was I thinking?” He wonders. “Darren being wrong, right? Why did I think that?”

He sighs and then delicately places his crown over his eyes, taking comfort when everything is dyed in the familiar blue he has come to know the world in. He removes the crown for a moment and violently shakes his head, trying to force himself to wake up. Finding himself successful, he feels his usual smile again from on his face and again dons his crown. His stomach rumbles, so he decides to go to the Bakery. Krista has been spending a lot of time with Darren lately, but she won’t refuse someone who wants her cooking. He brushes back his long curly hair as he adjusts his goggles.

Unbeknownst to Aether, the room directly across the hall from his belongs to Zayin. He looks at the door for a long moment. Curiosity takes him and he goes inside.

Aether has left his room a dusty nothing. No personality, nothing to make it stand out or make it his own. Zayin is about to leave when a white light reflects off of something under the bed. Crawling on his hands and knees, he looks underneath and reaches in to find the staff that he had made for the amnesiac newbie.

He shakes the staff in his fist and glares at the instrument. He had spent two days working on it, sanding the wood until it could be no smoother, polishing the metal until he could see his handsome face in the reflection. He had even gone so far as to dye the wood white (no easy task) because Aether believed he was the god of light. To find it thrown under the bed so carelessly, so unlovingly, makes Zayin’s blood boil. He straps the staff to his back and decides that if it isn’t good enough for Aether, he would use it himself.

When he leaves the room the first person he sees his Barth, seemingly about to knock on Zayin’s door.

“What are you doing, Barth?” Zayin asks.

Barth turns suddenly, startled, “Oh…what were you doing in Aether’s room?”

“I can’t say. Just…had an impulse. How long was I out?”

“Throughout the night.” Barth answers, “What’s on your back?”

Zayin pulls the staff from its holster and shows it to Barth. “I made this for Aether. I thought it was beautiful work, but I found it thrown under his bed as if it were junk.”

“Oh, shame.” Barth says. S**t, if that thing contains even a fraction of Aether’s power, then I could lose the only skilled blacksmith here. “It is beautiful work. I know you aren’t much of a fighter, but I am. Would you mind terribly if I took the staff and used it for myself?”

Zayin is about to comply, but another look at his work makes him shake his head and hold the weapon closer to him. Barth chuckles. “Come on.” He makes a grab for the staff, but Zayin keeps it away. The smile continues on Barth’s face, but behind it is a look of annoyance, “Dude, I want the staff.” He makes another grab for it, losing the smile. He manages to grab the end, but Zayin keeps a strong grip on it.

The two struggle over the staff for a while, until Barth’s look of annoyance becomes one of anger. “Give it to me!” He yells.

“I’m taking it for myself!” Zayin shouts at him. With a powerful jerk he rips the weapon out of Barth’s hands and starts taking off down the hallway, not stopping until he reaches the glass double doors on the floor level of the building. When he gets there he pauses and looks behind him to see that Barth has not followed. He holsters the staff again and takes a leisurely stroll to the Bakery. As he nears the shop, he hears strange sounds coming from within. He peeks inside the window and sees Darren kissing Krista.

A smile comes to his lips, “Way to go, buddy.” The smile continues until he sees Darren’s eyes open.

Darren does not seem to notice Zayin hiding in the window, but what startles the blacksmith is the pure ink-like black glow seeming to absorb light into Darren’s eyes. As the reverse glow intensifies, black lines spread from his mouth and travel through Krista’s fair skin.

His hunger immediately leaves him, and he turns and runs to his only refuge in the Fox-Hole: the forge.

When he enters he immediately slams and locks the door behind him. As he turns to rest on it he sees Jack working on a sword, pounding his hammer into the glowing metal. He looks up when Zayin enters, and Zayin swears he can see relief flood the novice’s eyes.

“Hey, Zayin.” Jack says. He shows the working metal to Zayin. “How is it?”

“You’re hitting it too hard, loosen up and gently pound it into shape.”

A shudder goes through Jack, and he drops the hot metal on the floor, narrowly missing his own feet.

“What’s the matter?” Zayin asks.

“It’s Darren.” Jack answers. “Barth too.”

“I’m not the only one.” Zayin mutters to himself.

“What do you mean?”

“Before, Barth…I don’t know, he just seemed a little off. Then I saw Darren with eyes pure black.”

Jack breathes a sigh of relief. “That isn’t the worst of it. What happened to Shin…I watched them do it to him. No matter what they say to you, it was them. And it was horrible.”

“What happened to Shin?” Zayin asks.

“His face and hands,” Jack starts, “his tongue.”

“That isn’t an answer, Jack. Where is he?”

“Dispensary. Last I heard Ana was looking after him.”

“Thank God.” Zayin says. “If anyone can take care of him, it’s her.”

“Yeah, but it still isn’t good.”

“I’m going to see him.” Zayin decides.

“Be careful.” Jack says, “Darren and Barth…they’re gonna be wary of us now.”

Zayin quickly and quietly makes his way to the Dispensary, stopping only to watch as Maranda flips Luke over her shoulder. He hits the floor with a loud ‘gouf’ escaping him.

“Gouf.” The girl repeats.

“You’re getting better at that, Bubble.” Luke says.

“Practice.” The girl responds, to which Zayin smiles.

Zayin continues to his destination without so much as seeing Barth or Darren. When he enters the building he is greeted by Ana, who seems happy to see him.

“Hey Zayin.” She says, a bright smile on her face.

Zayin returns the smile, the girl’s infectious cheer spreading through him.

The smile fades from her lips, and as it does so Zayin’s mood plummets lower than it had been before. “Shin’s not gonna be okay.” She tells him.

“What do you mean?” Zayin asks, “What happened to him?”

“He was doing some stuff in the forge and…”

“Take me to him.” Zayin interrupts.

“He isn’t awake, I’m not sure…”

“Take me to him.” He repeats in a frighteningly calm voice.

Ana looks up into the man’s eyes, taking pity for the concern she sees in them. She looks down and runs out of the building, telling Zayin where Shin is as she goes.

“The poor thing.” Zayin says, “This horror is not for her.”

He quickly goes up to where Ana had instructed him and once there brings his hand to his mouth. Vomit tries to rise in his esophagus, but he forces himself to gain composure. He seats himself in a chair he finds next to the bed, and lays his hand on his brother’s arm.

“What did they do to you?” He whispers, his head falls down and tears well in his eyes. He reaches forward and gently opens Shin’s mouth. Vomit again threatens him, but again he stops it. Shin’s mouth is a horrific mess of scar tissue and hardened metal. His once golden canines have melted and fallen out, as have most of his teeth.

Zayin had always called Shin his brother, but in fact they were cousins. Shin’s father was brother to Zayin’s mother. Because of this they were raised as if they were siblings. Zayin had never known his father, and likewise Shin had never seen his mother, so their individual parents raised them together, teaching them the art of the blacksmith and the ways of the world they had lost.

Zayin remembered a time when Shin had longed to go outside and test out the bow and arrows that Zayin had just made on some wild animals. Zayin had been eight and Shin twelve. The work was shabby but where Zayin’s skills were at the time. The pair had tried to sneak outside the Fox-Hole, but they were stopped by Shin’s father, who pulled Shin aside and explained to him the nature of his desire to hunt. Shin had never told Zayin what it was; just that it had something to do with his mother.

They often wondered about their parentage, as did most of the Resistance. However, nobody had an answer for anyone. Zayin remembered when Solution had found that cave. He snuck in and watched as she poured over scroll after countless scroll. Each stack of books piled up ever higher, and not once did she even pause. The then twelve year old Zayin had been amazed, and it was then he decided he was in love with her. The little boy crush had blossomed into actual love as they grew older, despite even his own sense telling him it was a foolish hope. Solution probably didn’t know, but it didn’t stop him from going out his way to impress her.

He reaches into the folds of his shirt, where he keeps a scroll that he knew Solution had never gotten to. He never knew why he took it, and even now he cannot imagine why he kept it all this time. Looking at Shin again, he pulls the scroll out and for the millionth time unfurls it to read the description of a man, or rather a god, called Hephaestus. According to the scroll, the crippled man was the god of blacksmiths and fire. The volcanoes of earth were his forges, and each eruption was his doing.

He had created a pair of automatons to help him walk; one was gold and the other silver. Zayin often wondered about that because he found it impractical. You’d think the god of blacksmiths would be more clever than that. Still, Zayin had to admire the reclusive god for creating unbelievable works.

Darren and Aether both had claimed that the gods were real and that most of the Resistance was made up of their demigod children. Zayin looks up to the ceiling from the scroll, and says a silent prayer to Hephaestus.

“If you are real.” He licks his lips before continuing in his mind, “I’m not sure whether or not I hope you are; but if you are there, then let me know you’re watching over your children.”

“It was tragic.” Barth says, appearing on the other side of the bed and making Zayin jump. Barth gestures to Shin on the bed, “A horrible accident.”

Zayin raises his eyes to the blonde boy before him and puts the scroll back in its place, unsure of what to say.

“And all because he forgot to make sure the grinding wheel was smooth.”

Zayin recalls what Jack had told him, and glares at Barth with an incomparable rage. “Do not bullshit me.”

“Have a heart man!” Barth says, “You’re brother lays wounded, perhaps dying, before you, and you direct your anger at an innocent bystander?”

Zayin’s mind goes blank and when he comes to, he has one arm at Barth’s throat and the other holds the staff towards his face. Barth is pushed against the wall, looking more bored than threatened.

“You’ve always had a screw loose.” Zayin says.

“That may be, but I’m not so screwed up as to do this to someone.”

The metal end of the staff cracks against Barth’s handsome face, all but breaking his jaw. He crumples to the ground with his jaw askew.

Zayin stands above him, bloodied staff in hand. He gulps and holsters the staff. He turns around, trying to decide if he should feel remorse or not.

A hand wraps itself around Zayin’s ankle and pulls him to the ground. The blacksmith struggles, but is unable to stop his opponent as he climbs on top of him. Barth’s blue eyes fade to black and a knife appears in his hand.

“You’ve pushed your luck.” Barth says, his voice changing to that of an older man’s.

 

ɂɂɂ

 

As I awake, a splitting headache keeps me from opening my eyes. My left leg is numb, as are my hands. Slowly I open them and when the painful brightness fades away I find that I am in Apollo’s room. I lift my head and see the god wrapping my leg in bandages.

“What happened?” I ask.

“A bunch of monsters came…” Apollo begins.

“I know that much, I fought them.” I interrupt. “I am asking what happened after I passed out.”

“Oh. Zeus, Hephaestus, and Morpheus began repairing the gate; they’re due to finish momentarily. I came and saw your condition, so I brought you back here and began operating.”

“Operating?” I ask.

“Yeah, one of those things took a nasty chomp at your leg. Pretty deep gashes, too. Your hands are charred to black crisps. I can’t say how long it’ll take to heal, but I’d be wary if I were you. You may have to use a cane to walk until your leg heals.”

“But I will be alright?” I ask.

“Look at who you’re talking to.” Apollo says, spreading his arms, “you’ll be good as new. Although, if you were still a god, you’d be good as new already.”

“Shame. No matter. I feel as though this experience is going to give me a new respect for the mortals. In fact, it already has.”

“How well can you really say that?” Apollo says, “You don’t remember what it was like to be a god, so you don’t really have anything to compare your current condition to.”

“You are right.” I say as I sit up. Apollo hands me my spear, now back to staff form. I stand up and when I stumble I realize I really will need the staff to walk. “Well, when I return to godhood, I will be able to compare it then.”

Apollo laughs, “Zeus told me to send you back when I could. So go.”

“Thank you Apollo.” I say. He only shrugs.

I limp my way back to the gate and see Zeus lying in the grass. The gate looks brand new, and it is glowing around the edges again, more brightly than before.

“Apollo said you wanted to speak with me.” I say.

“Yeah I did, but now I want to take a nap. You should too. I bet you’re exhausted.”

I lay down slowly and marvel at how soft the grass is, considering the battle we just went through. The battle replays itself in my mind, that bloodlust that nearly took me over.

“How was I able to command your lightning during the battle?” I ask.

Zeus sighs and sits up, nap evidently over. “This bolt is what gives me control over lightning; it isn’t a power I was born with. You however, are light; it’s a part of you. Me trying to hurt you with lightning is like trying to fight a volcano with a flamethrower.”

I hold my bandaged hand up and study it, remembering how it reacted to the lightning blasts.

“Except you did harm me with it,” I say, “My hands are charred.”

“But you didn’t die. And besides, you are a mortal now. When I tried to strike you when you were a god, the lightning didn’t faze you. In fact, you didn’t even react to it.

“It must be nice to be a god.” I say.

Zeus laughs loudly, “Yeah, it does have perks. We command forces that mortals can hardly dream about.”

“Many mortals think that you are just stories that mortals created.”

“That’s because many humans are afraid of the idea that there’s a power greater than them.”

“Do you believe that the mortals should worship us?”

The smile drops from Zeus’ face. “I don’t know what to think about that. I used to enforce the idea. But when the mortals forgot about us…I don’t know. For the first time, I began to think that we aren’t actually divine. We’re immortal and we have power beyond human understanding. But we’re born, we make mistakes, and Pan is proof that we aren’t eternal. We aren’t holy like the Almighty God.”

I raise my eyebrow. “Do you think that there is a power beyond us?”

“I dare say it’s probable.”

“How do we go about that?” I ask.

“I think that we should relax for a while.” He says. I lay back down on the grass and soon hear the sound of Zeus snoring.

We are not divine beings and we are not eternal. When we call ourselves gods, we do not mean that we should be worshipped. We mean only that we are immortal and powerful. Or at least, they do. I myself am human now. Powerful, but human nonetheless. We are not like God. What did I think before? I cannot help but wonder what God is like. Is he kind? What sort of power does He have?

 

ɂɂɂ

 

Zayin struggles to keep the knife from him, but Barth has the advantage. The blade, one of the many Zayin had created, nears his left eye. In one quick motion Barth brings it back up and slams it down faster than Zayin can follow. A stinging pain burns in Zayin’s cheek, and he looks up to see a new crack across his blue glass. He thanks he knows not who for the protective lenses, and before Barth can recover, grabs the knife and rolls over so that he stands over his attacker.

The knife slashes across Barth’s face, leaving a bloody gash. He tries to struggle, but Zayin’s knees keep Barth’s arms pinned to the floor. Zayin raises the blade above him, fully intending to put an end to whomever he is facing.

“Can you though?” Barth says in that strange other voice. “Can you truly bring yourself to kill a man?”

Zayin looks into Barth’s eyes, now blue once again. The morality of his intention causes him pause, but a look at his injured brother assures him his cause is just.

A beautifully crafted knife is impaled in the chest of the blonde boy once called Barth. Zayin falls to the floor on his haunches and considers the action brought about by a sense of justice created by an impassioned rage.

Slowly he gets to his feet and looks down at the freshly dead as the blood cascades down to the floor. Zayin thinks trauma is messing with his eyes, but he could swear that the blood is…no. Zayin leans down and tentatively dips his fingers into the blood that pools around the boy. When he brings it closer to his face, it reflects the light in a way that makes it look like…gold. He stands and moves closer to the wall, where Network is brightest, and as light is shed over his hand, he realizes that the liquid in his hand is, in fact, golden.

He hesitates, but slowly brings it to his lips. He had tasted his own blood before, so he knew the flavor. However, what he tastes now is like nothing else. Zayin has nothing to compare the taste to, it is something all on its own, and certainly not blood. A powerful shudder goes through him that makes him involuntarily swallow the golden fluid.

He turns back to Barth and again kneels on the boy’s side.

“I…I killed you.” He says, “I am sure, but now I almost wish I hadn’t.”

Suddenly Barth’s hand shoots out and grabs Zayin by the collar of his breastplate. He gets in his face and says, “That’s where you’re wrong, b***h.”

He rips the knife out of his chest and jumps up to his feet. Zayin is frozen in horror, now anticipating his own death. Barth, however, remains still. Black smoke pours out of his eyes and wraps around his body. When it vanishes, a twenty something year old man stands before Zayin, a smug smile on his face. His eyes are the same green as Darren’s, and his black hair reminds Zayin of Solution’s.

“No,” Zayin says, “You can’t be…”

“Erebus.” He interrupts, “In the flesh.”

“How long…?”

“Have I been Barth? Always.” Erebus cleans the ichor from the blade and sheaths it in Zayin’s belt. “I must say I’m quite impressed with you. I know what you’ll plan to do next, and I want you to know that you have my blessing.”

Erebus returns to Barth’s shape, and smiles at Zayin. “I did do this to Shin, oh I almost wish you were there to hear his screams and watch him struggle. It was admirable, really. Pathetically useless, but admirable.”

“You…” Zayin cannot think of a word.

“Oh let’s not do anything we’ll regret.” Barth says, wagging a finger. “You’ve gained my blessing, but I can take it away just as easy. Or I could do one better and leave you in a worse shape than your brother.”

Barth goes to the door, “You’ll tell no one of this, though I shouldn’t have to tell you.” He turns back and looks at the blacksmith, “Right?”

Zayin nods, not knowing what else to do.

 

ɂɂɂ

 

 I awake to pain. I roll around in the grass, holding my stomach. Above me I see Solution, standing arms akimbo.

“Why did you do that?” I ask, gasping.

“To wake you up.” She answers.

Slowly and painfully I crawl up the staff to my feet. Solution looks much better. Despite the stitches still in her cheek, her skin is practically glowing.

“What are you staring at?” She says.

“Nothing. I just noticed that you seem healed.”

“I’m a little stiff.” Solution says, rolling her shoulder, “I’ve still got a lot of bruising and more than a few cuts, but I’m basically good to go.”

“‘Basically’ is not very reassuring.” I say.

“Well, it’s good enough for me. Now would you care to fill me in? I heard there was some kind of battle, but no one would tell me what exactly happened.”

“Erebus created monsters and sent a few hundred of them to attack us.”

“That’s all?” Solution says, “Come on, I’m gonna need more than that.”

“Zeus fought them with lightning, Hephaestus used flaming hammers. Ares tried to go against them by himself, but he was defeated quickly. I used a new staff that Hephaestus made for me.” I brace myself for balancing on one leg and hand the staff over to Solution.

“This is beautiful work.” She says, studying the weapon, “What kind of metal is this, I wonder?”

“I have no idea. When I used it, it seemed to absorb my power and then amplify it.”

“What’s this button do?” she asks. Before waiting for an answer, she pushes the button and immediately crumples to the ground, writhing as if in pain.

“Solution!” I yell, kneeling, I pull the staff away from her and she stops moving.

“What the hell was that?” Solution growls.

I pick up the staff and push the button. It extends into a spear as it did before. “Perhaps the spear function can only work for me.” I push the button again and the spear collapses back into short staff mode.

“Handy.” Solution comments, sounding upset. “Intense pain for anyone who tries to use your stuff, aren’t you lucky?” She then looks down and gasps, “What happened to your leg?”

“One of the beasts bit me. Apollo tended to the wound and said I would be fine in a few days.”

“Unwrap the bandages.” She orders.

“Why?”

“I want to check out the wound.”

“You do not trust Apollo?” I ask her.

“Not really, now do it.”

I begin to unwrap the bandages slowly. As skin is revealed a wave of horror comes over me. Spreading out from each wound are black tendrils.

“That doesn’t look good.” Solution says.

“Those beasts must contain some kind of poison.”

“No, it doesn’t look like poison.” She says. “It looks like…Erebus’ power. Like what Darren did to me before.”

As fresh air touches each wound my leg erupts in pain. I try not to show it, but the pain is too great and I cry out, falling to the ground. Each bite mark begins to steam and the black lines spread more quickly. I look for my staff and when I find it, I clutch it tightly.

“Didn’t you say that the staff amplified your powers?” Solution says.

“Yes it does.” I say, immediately understanding her. I focus on my energy, and the staff begins to glow faintly. Immediately the wounds steam more intensely and the black lines grow larger and start twisting around. I begin to scream in pain, but I do not quit. I can feel the staff absorbing my power, and I feel a rush as the amplified power is returned to me.

The black lines grow even larger and start twisting more erratically. I stop screaming because the pain has become too great. Just as I feel I am about to fall unconscious, the lines come together at one wound and seep out like a liquid to the grass. The lines vanish from my leg, leaving only now bleeding wounds.

I start to think that this is over, and am about to rewrap the bandages. But the black liquid rises up and forms itself into a smaller version of the black beasts.

“What is that thing?” Solution asks.

“That looks to be a smaller version of the monsters that attacked us.”

I push the button on the staff and impale the small creature as it shrieks at me. It writhes around on the ground for a few moments as my power spreads through it. Then it vanishes in a flash of white light.

“Well,” Solution says, “That’s not something you see every day, is it?”

“No, that was unusual.”

“How does your leg feel?”

“It still hurts, but now like a normal wound should.”

I rewrap the bandages around my leg, as Apollo had done.

“What do you think this means?” Solution asks me.

“I think it means that Erebus is no longer just sitting in his castle.”

“So we should start moving, shouldn’t we?”

“I do not know what we have to do.” I say, “But for now, I am exhausted, so I am going to sleep for a while.” I lay back down on the grass.

Solution stands and heads for the gate, where Hephaestus is standing, checking it. They begin talking about the gate’s magical protections, with Hephaestus trying to convince Solution that it is sufficient. Solution, however, will not hear it. She keeps telling him that they need more mechanical support, in case something can break through the magic, as Erebus’ monsters did.

After a few minutes of listening to their incessant chatter, I decide to join in. I stand and slowly limp over to them. I had not noticed before, the gate has an intricate golden omega embedded in it: Ω. It is shaped so that each half of the omega is on each door.

“I asked Zeus,” I say to Hephaestus, “But he would not give me a straight answer. How powerful is the magic that strengthens this gate?”

“Zeus himself couldn’t break it down.” Hephaestus replies.

“Who could have built it?” I ask.

“I did.” Hephaestus says, evidently hurt, “Well, with the help of Cyclopes.”

“Cyclopes?” I repeat.

“One eyed monsters, skilled craftsmen.” Solution says.

“Monster is a strong word.” Hephaestus says, “Noble creatures, most of them. But, like all things, the entire species is judged by the actions of a few.”

“Solution,” I say, ignoring Hephaestus’ words, “How do you know so much about these things?” 

“A few years ago, Darren ordered an excavation.” She answers, “He had heard from Julian that a cave far below the Fox-Hole had been filled with information.”

“The Fox-Hole?” Hephaestus says.

“It’s where the Resistance lives.” Solution answers, “Anyway, Darren didn’t know what sort of information was contained in that cave, and he wanted to find out. He grouped up the strongest people in the Resistance, and set them on a path to find it. After several weeks, they were about to give up. Darren didn’t let them, though. He had a need to know. That’s when I began helping, Darren was a good leader, even then, but he’s never been extremely smart. I helped them map out the caves they dug, and eventually, the guys and I found the cave where the information was stored. It was filled with books and scrolls, all containing past history and stories. Or rather, what we thought were only stories at the time. The other guys weren’t really interested in a bunch of books, but I spent four days, reading everything in their. I didn’t eat and barely drank until I had read almost everything.”

“Why ‘almost’ everything?” I ask.

“I had some books left to go. But one of the guys decided to keep digging. They were all under the impression that they were going to find some kind of secret weapon that could take down Erebus. They tried to dig further, but it caused the tunnels to collapse. All of the information was lost, along with six of the guys.”

“That’s terrible.” Hephaestus says while I say “Tragic.”

“Yeah, it was.” Solution says, sighing, “It’s been tearing me apart that I don’t know what was in those other books. I wanted to attempt another excavation, but Darren wouldn’t allow it. He didn’t want to risk another tragedy.”

“How long ago was this?” I ask.

“About seven years, almost eight.” Solution says, “Darren and I were ten, but even then we were ready to lead.”

“And you remember all of the information?” Hephaestus asks, “How many books were there?”

“Forty books and thirty-two scrolls.” Solution answers. At our looks of disbelief she adds, “I have an eidetic memory. I can’t forget anything I’ve seen, heard, or read. Even if I want to.”

“That sounds like a blessing and a curse.” I remark.

“It is.” Solution chuckles. “Ironic, isn’t it? I have an eidetic memory and you have amnesia.”

“Yes, ironic.” I agree. We stand in silence for a few moments. “What are we going to do now?”

“I don’t know.” Solution says. “We don’t know what Erebus is doing, so we can’t know what to prepare for.”

“Can I interject here?” Hephaestus says.

“Please.” Solution encourages.

“Good. I’m trying to think and you’re making it really hard. Leave me alone.”

Solution says nothing, she just gapes at Hephaestus. Seeing no change in expression on his face, she grabs me by the arm and pulls me away.

 

ɂɂɂ

 

Ana’s feet hurt, but she cannot stop running. Behind her, Darren is closing in quickly, knife in hand. Krista appears before Ana and grabs her by the shoulders. She towers over the girl and throws her to the ground. Ana looks up at her attackers and screams loudly. All of them, Darren’s little five-men group, have black eyes. Darren is now standing before Ana, he kneels down and she watches in horror as the blackness spreads from his eyes and condenses into intricate lines that spread through his skin.

“Aether can’t protect you here, Ana.” Darren says. “Here, I am the only power.”

The blackness spreads throughout the others as it did Darren. They all kneel and tear into Ana’s flesh. She screams as she is torn apart.

Ana awakes then, screaming loudly. She sits up and feels immediate pain radiate throughout her body.

“I must still be sore from yesterday.” She says. “This training is more intense than Darren said it was gonna be. Not a single break, all day.” Ana’s stomach growls loudly, “Oh, I didn’t get dinner yesterday, I’m starving.”

Ana had collapsed during training the day before, so Darren punished her by not letting her eat dinner.

She barely had the energy to check on Shin before she had to lie down. Poor Zayin, how did he take it?

“I can’t believe what a jerk Darren is.” Ana can barely sit up; she falls back down and covers herself with blankets. “Darren isn’t gonna let me just stay in bed today, but I can barely move.”

Just as she says that, her door opens. Ana doesn’t look but she knows that it is Darren and Sammy.

“Ana, why are you still in bed?” Darren says. “You were due in the Great Hall an hour ago.”

“I can’t even move, Darren.” Ana says, respect has gone out the window for her; she is too tired to pretend otherwise.

“Sammy,” Darren says, immediately the boy moves forward and places his hands on Ana’s stomach.

“She’s right, Darren,” Sammy says, “If she keeps pushing herself like this, she’ll suffer permanent damage.”

Ana is surprised; Sammy has been pushing her as hard as Darren has.

“Alright, then, when you can move, come to the Great Hall, if you are not going to participate in training, you will at least observe it. Now Sammy, give us a moment.” Sammy leaves dutifully, closing the door behind him.

Darren immediately rushes forward and grabs Ana by the throat.

“Tell me now, how are you resisting me?” Darren screams.

“I don’t know…what you’re talking about.” Ana says, choking.

“Bullshit, tell me now!” Darren begins to squeeze, and Ana attempts to struggle, but she is too weak. “I have been trying to corrupt you since you inexplicably cured yourself, but you remain the same.” Darren lets go of Ana, and she gasps for air. “Aether visited you in a dream, didn’t he? He must have left something behind to make you unsusceptible to corruption.”

“Alright, you’ve got me.” Ana says, seeing no reason to deny it. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Oh, me? Not a thing. Eventually we’ll attempt a strike on the Dark Tower. I’m gonna send everybody, and at the front lines, leading everyone, will be you.”

“Me, for what?”

Darren smiles a cruel smile, “That way, you’ll be the first to die. And Aether will have to grieve over you.”

Ana’s eyes go wide. “Why are you doing all this?” she asks him.

“I already told you. I want to destroy Aether. I know I can’t take him on in a fair fight. So I’m going to fight him in psychological warfare. I’d kill you myself, but then Aether would just come after me, and that sounds like it could be bad for my health.”

“Oh, I get it now.” Ana says, smiling. “You’re afraid of him.”

“What?” Darren says, smile dropping.

“Yeah, that’s it, Aether terrifies you.”

Darren laughs, “Stupid girl, I am not afraid of him. I just know that I can’t take him on by myself.”

Ana fights her pain, and stands up. She stands before Darren and pats him on the cheek. “Say what you want; we both know the truth now.”

Darren grabs Ana by the throat again and lifts her up, “Do you want me to kill you myself? Is that it? Because that’s where this conversation is heading if you don’t watch your damn mouth.” Ana cannot breathe. Darren throws her back onto the bed and walks to the door. “Watch yourself Ana.” He says, “If you don’t, you’ll find yourself with my swords around your neck.”

“Noted.” Ana says, rubbing her throat. Ana quietly congratulates herself for getting under Darren’s skin. However, that small pleasure is washed away with the realization that if something doesn’t happen soon, she is going to die.

 

ɂɂɂ

 

 “What was that about?” Solution says, sitting down on the fountain. We have come to the central Olympian courtyard, where Zeus and I had fought.

“It seems Hephaestus is not comfortable around people.” I sit near her and cradle my leg, the stinging pain making me wince.

“I got that impression.” Solution says. “But it doesn’t matter, what matters is what we’re gonna do about Erebus.”

“Erebus said that he was going to begin his plan by absorbing the gods.” I say, “It could be that he is starting that now. A while before the monsters attacked, I had a horrible feeling and pain flared throughout my head.”

“What do you think it was?”

“I cannot say, but I know it had something to do with Erebus. Something just felt…wrong.”

“That aside, what do you think we should do?”

“Should we put it aside?” I ask. “I know that it means something terrible happened.”

“Yes, but we don’t know what that terrible thing was. Therefore worrying about it is foolish.”

“True, but I cannot shake the feeling. We have to find out what Erebus did and plan accordingly.”

“But that means that we’re running off of his schedule!” Solution says, “If we’re gonna win this; we need to take the fight to him.”

“You are thinking like a warrior, not a tactician.” I tell her. “You know that none of us can meet Erebus in a fair fight. Besides, if we try to make one of the gods fight him, then we risk them getting absorbed by Erebus.”

“You’re right.” Solution agrees. “Tell me honestly, is this hopeless?”

“No, I refuse to think that. I need to get my godhood back from Erebus, if that does not make the world return to how it should be, then it will at least give us a more even ground.”

“So, the question then becomes, how do we get your godhood back from him?”

“That is the question I fear nobody has the answer to.”

“Well, I don’t think that Erebus has absorbed it, otherwise, you probably wouldn’t be here.” Solution says.

“That seems likely. So Erebus must be keeping it somewhere.”

“How could he keep your godhood stored?” Solution asks.

“My first memory is of my fall from Erebus’ tower.” I say, “As I fell, a thin line of blue energy was leaving my forehead and going into Erebus’ hand. It could be that that blue energy was my godhood.”

“So you’re saying that Erebus turned your godhood into a blue energy, and what? Put it into something? Or is he keeping it within himself?”

“I do not know.” I say, “This has never happened before. Ever, I am sure of it. No god has ever been turned into a mortal.”

“Are you sure?” Solution asks.

“Of course not.” I say, “However…” However what? I do not know if this has ever happened before or not.

At that moment, Hermes walks by, whistling tunelessly. He spots us and a smile spreads across his face.

“Hey guys!” He says, “I have to say, this has been the most exciting time in centuries. You have no idea how much it sucks to be immortal sometimes. It gets to the point where it’s almost impossible to enjoy yourself. Thanks to you two, and in part, Erebus. Anyway, things have finally gotten exciting again! So thanks.”

His smile slips slightly when he sees our expressions. “Um…what are you two talking about?”

“Tell me Hermes,” I say, “Has a god ever become a mortal before?”

“Hmm, I don’t think so.” Hermes says, “Pan faded away. But that’s not the same as becoming mortal. We disguise ourselves as mortals all the time. But then, we’re still gods underneath the disguise. But has any god ever actually become a mortal before? No, other than you, it’s unheard of. I mean, we’ve turned mortals into immortals before, like Dionysus and Ganymede. ”

“Thank you, Hermes, you’ve answered the question.” Solution says.

“Wait…” Hermes says, “God becoming mortal…”

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing, forget it. Why’d you ask?” He asks.

“Well...The way I figure it,” I say, “Erebus has my godhood somewhere. We are trying to figure out how he may be keeping it, since we are certain that he has not absorbed it.”

“Looks to me like you’d have to visit one of your shrines.”

“My shrines? What are you talking about?” I ask.

“Well, the mortals did know about you.” Hermes says, “You may not have been worshipped like we Olympians were, but they did create a few sculptures and stuff of what you looked like.”

“Why would that be relevant?” Solution asks.

“Well, shrines act as a focal point of a god’s power down below in the mortal world.”

“Are you suggesting that my godhood is being stored in one of these shrines?” I ask.

“It’s a possibility. It could be that Erebus is keeping your godhood somewhere. However, it is definitely possible that a small percentage of it is contained in a shrine, if not all of it.”

“And you think what?” Solution says, “That if Aether heads to one of these shrines, the power will just leap from it back to him?”

“Pretty much.” Hermes says.

“Where is the closest shrine?” I ask.

“Beats me.” Hermes says, “If any of them aren’t destroyed, their probably somewhere here in Greece.”

“But you do not know exactly where one might be?” I ask.

“No, sorry. Erebus has destroyed a lot of the gods’ shrines. We had to move several of ours here in order to protect them. But none of them are yours. We were selfish when we got them; each god only worrying about his own personal shrines and statues and whatnot.”

“So Erebus may have destroyed all of mine.”

“It’s a possibility.”

“But not a certainty.”  I say.

“No, it’s possible that there is a statue of you, more like a frieze, hidden underground.”

“If it’s underground,” Solution says, “Then it’s in darkness and Erebus would know about it.”

“Not necessarily.” Hermes says.

“Would you cease with the riddles?” I say, “Just tell us.”

“Fine.” Hermes says, “What you buzz kills aren’t thinking is that the statue might be in a volcano, which means that it wouldn’t be engulfed in darkness, so Erebus may not have found it.”

“Why would the statue be in a volcano?” I ask.

“I’d imagine because somebody put it there.” Hermes says.

“Who would do that?” I ask.

“Who indeed?” Hermes says, looking at me.

“I did.” I say.

“Maybe.”

“Did I or did I not?”

“I don’t know.”

“How do you not know?”

“Because you wouldn’t tell me about it. I can’t know.”

“Who would?”

“Someone who helped you put it there.”

“Who was that?” I ask.

“Don’t know; we should assemble the gods and ask ‘em.”

“But wait,” Solution says, “Why wouldn’t Aether put his statue here on Olympus like the rest of you?”

“Maybe he thought Olympus wasn’t safe enough.” Hermes says.

“A focal point of my power would likely draw Erebus’ attention, him being able to sense me. He’d have found Olympus and destroyed us all.”

“Right.” Hermes says.

“Why would somebody have to help him move the statue?” Solution asks.

“Good question. Before Aether became human, he could’ve just teleported the statue wherever he wanted it.”

Something frightening comes to mind. “Is it possible that I had somebody help me so that I could find the statue again should I lose my memory?”

“What? That….” Hermes starts, losing his look of confidence. “That actually sounds really possible.”

“That would mean that Aether was prepared for losing his memory.”

“If that’s the case…” Hermes begins.

“Then my amnesia is not Erebus’ doing.” I interrupt.

“Why would you make yourself lose your memory?” Solution asks.

I stand abruptly and spread my hands, ignoring my leg’s objection to the action, “I do not want to talk about this anymore. I do not know who I was before Erebus took my memories, but now he is my enemy. I have lost my godly power, and it would help us all if I got it back. Talking about what I did before is going to do nothing more than make us paranoid.”

“You’re right,” Solution says, “We can’t afford to question something no one has an answer to. The point is, that statue could be out there somewhere. It may contain some of Aether’s power, and we should find a way to get it.”

“Hermes, assemble the gods, we need to discuss this.” I say. Hermes smiles and runs off. Solution also heads off toward the throne room.

Is my amnesia a result of Erebus’ cruelty? Or was it something I had planned? Just who was I before I became human?

Author's Note

As always, I ask that you let me know what you think by reviewing. And enjoy!