Hermera
The 18th of Thargelion
The Year 4631 in the Era of Mortals
Rune’s reaction to the destruction of the Agony of Psyche was immediate. The woman cupped her face with both hands and wiped toward her ears. The face left behind was not the one she’d wore the moment before, but the one behind the mask. Her clothes darkened and morphed into a tight-fitted, black, combat robe. Three metal orbs took to the air behind her, swarming threateningly.
“I’m sorry.”
His voice sounded different, even to his own ears. There was a weight to it, now. A heaviness brought about by all the lives he’d taken. By the knowledge of all the lives he would continue to take. The dam of his memories, now undone, would never be in place again.
Rune hesitated, orbs still hovering behind her. She narrowed her eyes.
“Why?”
“What I left behind in there was everything you accused me of. I couldn’t risk him getting out.”
He didn’t know if it was true, but he hoped it was. Too much had happened, he couldn’t begin to process it. He shoved it all away, locking it tight in a prison in his mindscape, knowing it was only a temporary solution.
“That was not yours to break.”
“Consider me in your debt.” Arche met Rune’s eyes. “I don’t want to fight you. How can I repay you?”
Rune shifted her stance and the floating orbs combined into one, which settled onto her palm. With a turn of her wrist, she made it disappear, then did her strange face-wiping gesture, returning to her previous look.
“The Agony of Psyche was a unique item. It was irreplaceable.”
“Then the debt I owe is steep.”
“Indeed. You owe me a powerful, unique magical artifact. Those are not easy to come by.”
Arche took a deep breath.
“You want the Tridory.”
Rune gave him a look of such derision, he thought she might actually spit on him.
“Keep your murderer’s spike. I have no use for it here, especially as it is bound to you.”
“I didn’t mean to offend.”
“No, only to destroy what you don’t understand.”
Arche gritted his teeth and tried a new tactic.
“What item would you like me to get for you?”
Rune glanced around at the many books on her shelves, clearly thinking it over. Arche didn’t believe it for a moment. She was making him stew with uncertainty as additional punishment for breaking her toy. He was hard-pressed to blame her. Eventually, she had mercy.
“There is a dungeon beneath the palace that is said to hold the treasury of Ephyra. I have no need for the money there, but there is an object rumored to be among the collection that is of interest to me. A fleece of gold. Retrieve it for me and I will consider your debt eliminated.”
“No.”
“Excuse me?”
Arche shook his head. “The palace is the second most difficult place in Ephyra to break into, after your shop. What you’re asking for comes at great personal risk on top of replacing one item for another. If this is going to be the deal, then I want something more. A counteroffer, if you would.”
Rune tilted her chin up, eyes glinting with avarice. There was a deal to be made.
“Go on.”
“I want to learn how to enchant things.”
Rune blinked in surprise.
“What?”
“My village has no enchanter and we are in a dangerous part of the Sylv. We’ll need to create magic items if the people there are going to have an honest chance at survival. Since I doubt you’d be willing to part with any of your enchanters, I want you to teach me.”
“Enchanting is a difficult skill. Even if you understood the theory behind it, failure brings with it a constant risk of death.”
“I’ll take that risk.”
Rune frowned at him.
“Very well. You bring me the fleece and I will give you one week of enchanting lessons. If, by the end of that week, you are unable to break into the Novice rank, then that is your failure, not mine.”
“Deal.”
Arche held out his hand and Rune reached past it, shaking him by his forearm. A notification appeared.
You have accepted a Quest.
Equivalent Exchange
As repayment for breaking a unique magical item that did not belong to you, you have agreed to retrieve the Golden Fleece from Ephyra’s Palace for Rune Oyl. In return, she has agreed to give you one week of Enchanting instruction.
Objective
· Acquire the Golden Fleece
· Deliver the Golden Fleece to Rune Oyl
Rewards
· All debts cleared with Rune Oyl
· 1 week of Enchanting instruction from Rune Oyl
Rune gave a grim smile, and a pop-up appeared beneath the quest line.
Penalty for Failure
· Rune Oyl will hunt you down, lock you in a hole, and throw away the hole
“Tough, but fair,” Arche said. “When this is over, I hope we can come to a more amicable acquaintanceship.”
“I would focus on your heist first, if I were you. You can plan for the future after you make it out alive. I don’t expect I’ll see you again.”
Rune snapped her fingers and Arche was no longer standing inside her shop, but instead on the street outside, next to a very surprised Helwan.
“Thrice blast and curse you!” the satyr exclaimed, clutching at his chest as he staggered away. “Oh, Arche, it’s you. What happened? Why are you bloodied? You didn’t hurt yourself again, did you?”
Arche only stared. Helwan’s expression was the perfect mixture of shock and concern, but Arche couldn’t help but think of the sinister smile that had transfixed the satyr’s face in the Agony of Psyche as he learned how he’d been played. It wasn’t true, of course. The Agony had only shown him lies. Lies that Alex manufactured to manipulate him.
Nonetheless, a little bell of warning had been raised in the back of his mind and, try as he might, looking into his friend’s eyes, he couldn’t quiet it.
“Met your boss. Seems nice.” Arche rubbed his arm, freshly healed from its break. “She kicked the shit out of me.”
A moment later, the Tridory appeared next to him. He grabbed it out of instinct, eyes flashing at Helwan as he did so, as if he expected Helwan to attack. The satyr blinked in confusion, momentarily taken aback.
“Why did you not wait for me? I told you I would make introductions.”
“Ah, yeah.” Arche thought back to Basil’s goading. “It’s not important. You should go have your talk with her. I’ll find my own way back. Don’t worry.”
“What? Arche, are you feeling all right? You’re acting strange.”
Arche shifted his weight between his feet.
“Never better. Go on, I’ll catch up with you later.”
“Arche—”
“Go.”
Helwan frowned, but lifted one hand slowly up to the door. Arche forced a smile as the satyr disappeared inside, the uneasy feeling didn’t quite fade until he was entirely out of sight. The visions had gotten to him, that much was clear. He could feel the distrust sown into him by what he saw. It wasn’t true. None of it was true. He knew that, but knowing and feeling were worlds apart, and what he felt was that he couldn’t be near his friends. He needed time to process, to come to terms with what had happened to him, with who he was.
Alex Dazend.
Monster. Terrorist. The man who tried to end the world. A man who slaughtered children. Rune was right, there was no end to the blood on his hands. The justifications were there, sitting in his mind, but they seemed a poor excuse. The world was bad, so end it and start over. The strong bullied the weak, so kill them all and set the rest on even footing.
Arche felt the bile rise in his throat and ducked into an alley. Sick splattered against stone. His head spun, the whole world twisted around him.
Monster.
What had he done?
Hundreds dead by his hand. Civilians. Innocents. All to start a war. A pointless war that wouldn’t have solved anything. The sick gurgled up his throat again and Arche fell to the ground, panting. Violent tremors shook his whole body. He shut his eyes but that only make it worse. Images crawled out of the black; slack-jawed, bloodless faces twisted in fear with gaping wounds. Bullet wounds. Men, mostly, but not only. Women join the growing crowd flashing in front of his eyes.
Children.
The boy’s neck in his hands. A dozen more necks, just as soft, just as small.
Arche retched again, but his stomach was nothing but a writhing knot. His hands were bathed in blood. His voice was death for thousands. There was nothing in him worth saving.
A knife appeared in his hand, glinting silver in the sunlight, sharp point angled back toward him. There were a thousand ways to kill a man and a million more to break one. He knew them all. How easy it would be to turn the blade on himself. How many times over had he earned it? A nick to the femoral artery, the brachial, the carotid. A swift plunge to his heart. A gash down his forearm. A nice, long knife like this, he could even take it behind the jaw and the tip would scratch the top of his head. It would be over in moments, barely any pain. Probably. But that was the quick way. The coward’s way. He had killed like that. Quickly. People who deserved it and people who hadn’t. There were much slower ways to kill a man. Much more painful.
Arche held the tip of the knife against his neck, where throat met jaw. The world above had suffered him enough. Death had not had the kindness to wipe clean the evidence of his existence but he could remedy that mistake. A flash of the blade and it would be over.
Alex would never hurt anyone again.
Arche would never hurt anyone again.
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Tartarus would be saved from his good intentions. Ares’s war would never come to pass, not with Arche as his instrument. This world, this underworld, would be spared him. All it took was a refusal to play the game. One deft stroke with a knife. One more body in the gutter. One more monster slain.
Tess’s face flashed before him, then Lyssa’s.
A trickle of blood ran along the knife’s edge. They would never understand, never know what happened to him. What would they even care, anyway? He was the reason, after all, that Lyssa could never go home. He was the sad puppy Tess had adopted. They’d known him for what, two months? What had he expected? He was nothing to them. Nothing but a bad bet, held onto for far too long. Tess should have finished the job when she’d had the chance, done them both a favor. Now it was up to him.
He held the blade higher. A single stab wouldn’t be enough, Thanatos would send him back. It would have to be extreme. He’d have to take his head off, if he could. That should do it, probably. It wouldn’t be pretty, or fast, or painless, but it was what he deserved.
Nothing left but to do it.
He let out a shaky breath. Now was not the time for second thoughts. Now was the time for action, for doing. There was no place for fear. No place for regrets. No place for the soft touch of a friend’s hand on his shoulder. No place for the taste of strawberries and mint on his lips.
His cheeks were wet, but that was stupid. Monsters didn’t cry. What would he even cry for? This was justice. This was righting so many wrongs. This would be peace for so many.
The blade was hot as it pressed into his skin. Blood pooled around the tip, ran down the edge of the blade and over his hand. It wasn’t enough. He couldn’t hesitate. He had to do it quickly, take off as much as he could so Thanatos couldn’t send him back. It was the only way, it had to be.
A shadow fell over him and the knife ripped free from his grasp. Arche’s throat bled but the cut wasn’t deep enough to kill. He tried to look at the shadow but all he could see was a dark cloak, silhouetted by the sun. Then the figure was on him. Arche struggled, though he wasn’t quite sure why. Some primal instinct to survive, perhaps, or maybe he was just taken by surprise.
The figure grabbed his head and slammed it against the stone street of the alleyway. The world blurred before him, then went dark.
----------------------------------------
It was night when Arche opened his eyes. For a single, terrible moment, he thought he’d been blinded again, but the wall of the building next to him came into view a moment later. He held a hand to his throat but the wound had closed without a scratch. The skin wasn’t even wet and, as he pulled the hand away, there was no blood on his fingertips. Like it had never happened.
“Won’t let me live, won’t let me die.”
The knife was gone. That was probably for the best. He didn’t know who or what had attacked him but they had probably saved his life. He was still wearing his clothes and cloak, still had no money, and the Tridory laid on a trash heap next to him. For a moment, he considered putting his neck through the tines and switching the spear into mode one, but the thought fled. He’d had his moment and he’d failed. For better or worse, he was too much of a coward to try again. There was nothing to do now but hobble his way back to the Styx and Stones and try to figure out his next steps.
Lights hung across the streets. Musicians played and people danced, but Arche felt hollow amid the noise. He stayed on the edges, away from the throngs. Too many emotions, too much strange magic. He could feel it in his chest. A hum, lower than even the booming drums. Those near the center of the crowd were manic, flailing as they lost themselves entirely. The stench of their sweat mixed with the salty sea air, making a pungent mess.
The party consumed most of the city. Arche was forced to take a long, meandering way back, but anything was better than trying to get through the crowds. The stink was less powerful near the alleys, though the sour smell of trash and waste presented an issue all its own. When at last the Styx and Stones came into sight, he felt no relief. The others would be here, watching him as they schemed how best to make a fool of him next. How to take advantage. How to betray him further. Still, he had no other options. Without money, he couldn’t stay anywhere else. Without daylight, getting out of the city would be difficult, and he still owed Rune and the Lyceum. Dying might have been a way to get out of debt, but living certainly wasn’t.
He pushed open the inn door, ignoring the curious looks from various patrons, and trudged up the stairs. He stopped in front of Basil’s room and slid the key into the lock. He peered around the door as it opened, but the room was blessedly empty. He slipped inside, turned the lock, and was about to set the Tridory down against the wall when the hairs on the back of his neck bristled. He spun round, spear at the ready, and found Tess sitting on one of the beds, her face full of angry concern.
“Where have you been? We were worried about you.”
“Didn’t know I needed to report in.”
The words were low, rough in his new voice. They seemed to belong to someone else, entirely.
Tess’s eyebrows drew together and she searched his eyes. He didn’t know what she found there, but her face grew guarded, almost haunted. Arche said nothing, just stood there. It was hard to look at her without seeing the memory of her laughing and sneering at him, mocking every last feeling he had for her. All the solace he had found in her presence had been torn to shreds and being near her now was like dragging himself over the sharp edges of what remained.
“Are you going to run me through, or can you lower the spear?”
The Tridory was still pointed at her. Arche dropped his eyes to it, then tossed it into the corner and turned his back to her. The tip dug into the wooden wall and stuck, quivering at an angle.
Everything was wrong.
“Where are the others?”
“Helwan went looking for you after you never showed up. Basil and Cora went to visit his family. They aren’t back yet.”
Arche didn’t turn, didn’t look at her. Couldn’t look at her. He wanted to hold her but couldn’t meet her eyes. Wanted to kiss her but couldn’t bring himself near her. She was playing him, but did he deserve even that? It had all gotten so muddled. What was real? Had she really looked at him with such scorn, or was it a dream?
“Was it the Hekatonkheires?” Tess asked in a low voice. “Did they get to you again?”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“Helwan told me you went to Bits and Baubles without him, then you were gone all day with no word or explanation. Now you’re back, but you’ve never felt so far away.”
“No, your gang didn’t get to me.”
If only.
“They’re not my gang.” Irritation broke through her mask.
“Right.”
Silence reigned between them, but he could feel her anger filling the other side of the room.
“Did you buy a whore?”
Arche froze.
“What did you just say?”
“You’ve given me nothing to go on, what am I supposed to think?”
“So you immediately jump to that?”
She had a low opinion of him, indeed. Perhaps there was more scorn there than he knew.
“If you would just talk to me, I wouldn’t have to guess.”
Her voice rose as she stood from the bed, the floorboards creaking beneath her feet. Arche turned back to her, finally meeting her eyes. Hers full of fire, his full of ice.
“I don’t want to talk about it. I’m working through some shit. Alone.”
She was close. Too close. Her face was scant inches from his. How could he have ever thought that she was impassive? A million things burned in those eyes. He could smell her in the space between them, practically taste her lips, but his ears were full of her mocking laughter. He could see the whole world in her face – but behind hers were the dead faces of the families he’d butchered.
“Then you say that, Arche. You let me know. Because I’m not the mind reader.”
And there was the rub. The thing that had connected them came to light, yet again.
“What is it that really bothers you? Is it that our minds connected or is it that you couldn’t hide from me?”
Her eye twitched.
“Excuse me for being a bit conflicted about having my entire life opened up and put on display to a stranger.”
“A stranger.” Arche put as much venom into the words as he could. “You saw as much of me as I had to show. Don’t worry, I won’t make that mistake again.”
“Don’t be stupid.”
“What, like I always am? Because I wore my heart on my sleeve and was honest with you about how I felt? Because I’ve kept chasing you when you’ve given me nothing but empty promises to go on? Because the most attention I’ve ever gotten from you was when I was crippled?”
“That’s not fair.”
“No, I know what I am to you. Just a toy for you to pity and play with, seeing how far I can bend before I’ll break. You’re too late. I’m broken. Save your pity and your promises for someone who deserves it.”
“How dare you—”
Tess raised a finger to jab it into Arche’s chest but, before she could, the door flung open. Wood shattered and flew in a spray as the lock tore free from the wall. As they turned to look, Cora and Basil collapsed into the room, sprawling across the floor.
“Help,” Cora cried.
Tess pushed Arche away and was at Basil’s side in a moment, her hands moving to cover a dark stain.
“He’s been stabbed. Arche, get me something to stop the bleeding.”
Arche hucked his shirt over his head and handed it over. Tess wadded it up and pressed it against Basil’s chest.
“Who did this to you?”
Basil’s blue eyes lifted to meet Arche’s.
“They have…my mother. My sister.” His body convulsed, shuddering like a tree in a storm.
“Said they’ll kill them if we didn’t deliver you,” Cora finished, staring at Tess.
“Hekatonkheires,” she snarled, then spat to the side. “Damn it, I needed more time.”
“Docks,” Basil gasped. “Tonight. Before dawn.”
Tess glared at Arche. “We’ll finish this later. Can I trust you?”
“That’s never been the question, has it?”
Tess grunted and turned her attention back to Basil.
“Help me move him to the bed.”
Arche scooped Basil up, trying to be mindful of the stab wound beneath his ribs. Tess tore one of the bed sheets into a long strip and used it to tie Arche’s shirt around the wound.
“He’ll be laid up for a while. We’ll have to do this without him.”
“Hang on.”
Arche held out his hand and summoned the spellbook of Minor Heal from his inventory.
“Where did you get that?” Tess demanded.
“It was a gift.”
Cora snorted. “Some gift.”
Arche looked down at the book as Hippokrates’s voice drifted into his head.
‘Most of all, honor those who stand by you.’
Arche clenched his teeth. He’d failed enough people, killed enough people. It didn’t matter what they thought, they didn’t deserve to die. Not right now. Not tonight.
“Hold on, Basil.”
“I’ll try to keep him stable,” Tess said. “I have no idea how long you’ll be out.”
Arche opened the book. Flowing script and diagrams shifted on the pages, outlining the theory and anatomy in the spell.
You are attempting to use a Spellbook of Minor Heal.
Do you want to attempt to learn Minor Heal?
Yes
No
Arche selected ‘yes’ and the knowledge rushed into his head. Years of theorems and magical manipulations entered his mind, filling him with awareness and understanding. A new channel opened in his Mana pool, like a river had been carved into him.
You have successfully learned the Spell:
Minor Heal — Level 1
Touch is important throughout the entire scope of a person’s life. Yours is now more comforting than most.
You can now convert Mana into Health through direct contact.
Channeling this spell requires concentration.
+0.5 Health per 20 Mana
Current conversion rate: 0.55 Health per 20 Mana
You have learned Biomancy.
Life is as nebulous as it is important. You have started down the esoteric path of understanding and manipulating it.
The quality of Spellbook you have used has granted you the Novice Rank in Biomancy.
Novice Bonus
+10% Effectiveness of Life Magic
+10% Spell Stability of Life Magic
The room came back into view gradually. Basil was still laid up in bed, Tess and Cora stood over him, arms covered in blood. Arche joined them, trying to assess the damage.
“About time,” Tess snarled. “I can’t stop the bleeding.”
“How long?”
“You’ve been in your cursed trance for half an hour.”
Arche pressed his hands against Basil’s side and concentrated on his new Mana pathway. He focused on the spell and felt his Mana drain away into Basil. Whatever Alex had done inside the Agony had worked. His Mana scars were gone. That demonstration of control was terrifying. Arche gritted his teeth and shoved those thoughts away before they could distract him and break the spell.
The conversion rate truly left something to be desired, but it was working. Arche kept a close eye on his Mana. It dropped at twenty Mana per second, which didn’t give him a lot of time to actually channel healing out of his limited Mana Pool of only three-hundred-sixty. He focused on trying to use his Mana Manipulation to ease the flow and pressure on his Mana Channels, ensuring the Mana ran smoothly and without too much force, and he stopped after fifteen seconds, leaving about sixty Mana left.
“How’s the bleeding look?”
“It’s stopped. Was that you?”
“Yeah.” Arche bent the fingers on his left hand, doing some mental calculations while he waited for his Mana to regenerate. “I gave him back about eight Health and that was almost my entire Mana pool. Not much, but it might kickstart his natural healing processes. I’ll get back to full Mana in a little over eight minutes.”
Arche looked down and Examined Basil, focusing only on his vitals.
Health: 84 / 560
15%
Stamina: 122 / 480
25%
Mana: 100 / 100
100%
Arche shook his head.
“Too long.”
“What?”
“He’s lost too much Health. It’d take over four hours for me to heal him completely. If we wait a half hour, I can give him about thirty more Health. That should put him in a good spot but he’s still low.”
Tess scowled but nodded.
“Do it. Cora, gather medical supplies, anything that might help. I’ll find Helwan.”
She stopped at the doorway and looked back at him.
“I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I need my Arche back tonight.”
He said nothing. He wasn’t sure that was an option.