Nyxpera

The 19th of Thargelion

The Year 4631 in the Era of Mortals

Rainwater coursed through the streets of Ephyra, washing days’ worth of muck and trash down into the sewers to flow back into the sea. The night revelers had forsaken their festivities, choosing instead the comfort of a rain-proof roof and a warm hearth fire. Some manic few continued their frolic, their wild motions kicking up curtains as they danced beneath flashes of lightning and swaying lanterns. They were caught up in the frenzy of the storm and so taken by it that they failed to notice the small group racing past, coloring the rainwater red in their wake.

Tess led the way, carrying the Tridory as they sprinted through the streets. Arche carried Basil’s mother, trying to keep her as steady as he could, but his injuries made using his arms difficult. The woman hadn’t regained consciousness, always a bad sign, and the wound in her back spat blood with every step. Whenever Arche could, he channeled Minor Heal into the woman, hoping it would be enough to keep her alive until they got to wherever Tess was leading them. Basil’s sister ran with them. The girl had gone quiet and, by the all-too familiar far-away look in her eyes, it would be time and effort before she was able to rejoin them fully in the present. Time and effort they didn’t have. It was by luck alone that the girl had enough presence of mind to follow them as they raced through the storm.

“This way!” Tess called over her shoulder, moving from the main thoroughfare to a small, side-alley.

They were still in Hekatonkheires territory, as far as Arche was aware, but he trusted Tess to know what she was doing. She had earned that of him. They stopped before a nondescript door, almost indistinguishable from the wall beside it in the dark of night. Tess used her fist to bang out a series of rapid, off-tempo knocks.

A second passed. Then two. Then five.

Tess banged on the door again, halfway through her strange rhythm before it opened.

“Yes, yes!” a croaky voice snapped as the door opened. “I heard you the first time. Get in!”

They pushed inside, finding a small, cramped room packed full of medical equipment. Knives, needles, and more than Arche knew to name were scattered about the place. Once inside, Tess pushed a pile of clutter off of a table and gestured for Arche to set the woman down. He did so, laying the woman down on her front to keep the wound up.

“Let’s see what you’ve brought me,” the voice croaked again.

Arche turned to find a positively ancient woman with spectacles an inch thick bending over the table to examine Basil’s mother. He stepped out of the way, letting the woman work as he tried to catch his breath.

“This is Thalia,” Tess said. “She’s a fixer and a friend.”

“A fixer?”

“Healer. If anyone can help her, Thalia can.”

Thalia’s eyes darted to Arche, taking in his wounds, then flashed to Tess before settling on Basil’s mother.

“Haven’t seen you in a while, Theresa. Heard you were dead.”

Tess paused.

“I haven’t been around in a while. I only recently got back.”

Thalia snorted.

“Liar. You got yourself out. Well, good for you. Always said you were too smart to be running with those thugs. You were either going to get out, get killed, or get ahead.”

“Can you save her?”

Arche and Tess turned toward Basil’s sister. Even Thalia looked up at the girl before resuming her examination of the wound.

“‘Can I save her,’ she asks. Of course I can. Come over here, you’re going to help me. Now, stand here and hand me these things when I ask for them.”

The girl moved to do as she was told and the two of them got to work. Arche moved to a less cluttered corner of the room and tried to catch his breath. His arms dripped blood, cut to pieces under Tess’s knives. She sat next to him, leaning the Tridory up against the counter within Arche’s reach.

“I think we’re overdue for a conversation,” Arche whispered, half to not distract Thalia and half not to be overheard.

“I think we are,” Tess agreed. “Come on, a bit more rain can’t hurt.”

He followed her outside, back into the storm. The high walls of the buildings around them provided shelter from the worst of the downpour, but rain still pelted through from above and the wind would whip up a frenzy around them, tunneled by the walls, before dying down again.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“I owe you an apology and an explanation,” Arche said. “But the apology comes first. I’m sorry for what I said, how I acted. It wasn’t fair and it wasn’t right.”

“I wasn’t exactly forthcoming with you, either. I should have told you about Amphios. What I remembered, at least. I’m sorry I kept it from you.”

Arche shook his head. “You have a right to your secrets. Even from me.”

“As do you. You said you had an explanation?”

Arche hesitated, then shared everything that had happened at Rune’s shop. Right up until he used the Agony of Psyche.

“I learned who I am. What I am.”

“And?”

“I’m not from Tartarus. I’m from somewhere else. Somewhere completely different. Different technology, no magic at all. I can’t begin to explain it, but that’s not really the worst of it.”

Tess frowned.

“Not from Tartarus? I don’t understand.”

Arche’s breath hitched in his throat. The rain pelted down, running into his eyes and dripping off the back of his neck.

“I was a monster, Tess. A monster in human form. I wanted change. Justice, I called it, and I didn’t care who I had to hurt to get it. And I hurt a lot of people. Killed a lot of people. And I wasn’t going to stop. I was just going to keep killing and killing until I got what I wanted.”

Arche shut his eyes. He didn’t want to see her reaction. Didn’t want to see the disappointment in her eyes or disgust twist her face. Other faces stared back at him from the black. Drawn and gaunt, some terrified, others slack. His victims. Too many to count.

“Where I’m from, we call it acts of terror. Attacks against a civilian populace designed to instill fear for political purpose. And I was good at it. I had a plan. Thousands were going to die. Maybe millions. Maybe more. But before I could pull it off, I…I died. And I woke up here.”

“Millions…” Tess echoed. The word was soft, like she was trying to grasp the concept of a number that large.

“I met that version of myself inside my own headspace. He was terrifying and intense. All the memories came flooding back with him, but he changed some of mine. There are multiple versions in my head and things got jumbled. I lost track of which ones are real.”

Arche took a shuddering breath and pressed on.

“I thought I beat him. I thought I pushed past his manipulations and came out the other side. The Agony was supposed to keep him trapped but I don’t think it worked. I think he’s still inside my head, even if it’s just in memory. I’m terrified I’ll become him, but I know that’s the wrong way of looking at it. I’m already him, just as he is me. I did those things. I am that monster. I killed those people.”

The world spun and his breath came in gasps. Arche felt the wall behind him and pressed himself against it, trying to keep hold of something firm. Something to keep him from spiraling.

“My father is one of the wealthiest merchants this side of Tartarus with trade partners as far away as Krete. He has more drachmae in one of his alternate accounts than Myriatos is likely to see in a hundred years. Every single coin is born of blood.”

Arche opened his eyes. Tess’s expression wasn’t of disappointment or disgust. It was something close to empathy.

“He owns the largest mercenary guild in Tartarus,” she said. “Built entirely off of slaves.”

His shock must have shown on his face because she tilted her head to the side and gave him a small smile.

“Didn’t see that coming, did you?”

“No. I didn’t.”

“I started running early. I ran to the Hekatonkheires because I thought they could hide me and I was right. But doing that connected me to Amphios and, with them, I did terrible things. His voice is…difficult to resist. I lost years with them. I have no idea what actually happened during that time but I know what I remember is wrong. When I felt like myself again, I had his ring on my finger. That’s when I had to leave. Heard about some rich noble funding an expedition out to the wilds. Thought it might be far enough away that no one would come looking for me there, so I signed up as a mercenary once I was sure my father’s people would have no part in it.”

“He called you his wife.”

“A lovely word for a prison worse than death.”

“I’m grateful you’re telling me this.” Arche frowned. “But why?”

“Because I know monsters, Arche. I’ve been around them my entire life. You are not a monster. You did awful things and you died for it, but I have known you since and you have fought and died for better. It is the fear of becoming a monster that will keep you from it.”

“It doesn’t pay for what I’ve done. What penance could possibly absolve so much pain? So much death?”

“Do the good you can.”

“I don’t know if I deserve the chance.”

“Perhaps, but you owe the effort.”

Arche nodded.

“I owe the effort.”

He raised his face to the sky and let the rain wash over him. He was grateful for the storm, it masked the tears running down his cheeks.

“There’s one more thing,” he said.

“Oh?”

“I destroyed the Agony of Psyche. I panicked. Thought it was the only way to stop Alex from taking over. Who knows, maybe it was. It put me into a situation with Rune. She demanded I replace the artifact with another of equal value.”

“Which other?”

“The Golden Fleece.”

Tess stared at him for a moment.

“You’re going to steal the Golden Fleece?”

“Yes.”

Lightning flashed.

“From the palace?”

“Yes.”

Thunder shook the walls, rattling glass and stone. Beneath it all, Tess’s hysterical laughter broke the night like a possessed witch cackling away her spells.