Prologue:
Achelous, A young boy of 12, sat huddled in the corner of the small, drafty room he shared with his mother and little brother. The bruises on his arms throbbed, a sharp reminder of the day’s lesson. His father’s voice still echoed in his head, sharp and cutting, as relentless as the blows. “You’re weak. Useless. What kind of man hides behind his mother?” The words were worse than the strikes—he’d heard them so often they felt burned into his soul.
He glanced toward the other side of the room. His mother knelt by Terran, singing softly to lull the boy to sleep. Her voice was a gentle balm against the chaos of their home, but Achelous could see the strain in her face. The shadow of a swollen bruise darkened her cheekbone, a reminder of their shared suffering. She caught him looking and smiled faintly, but there was no warmth in it. It was a smile meant to reassure him, to hide the growing despair she carried like a weight too heavy to bear.
His little brother, Terran, only four years old, remained blissfully ignorant of their father’s wrath. Terran’s biggest concerns were playing with sticks in the yard or sneaking extra bites at supper. He didn’t understand why his mother flinched when their father entered the room or why Achelous stayed silent after “lessons.” Achelous envied his brother’s innocence, but he knew it couldn’t last.
That night, as the house settled into uneasy silence, his mother pulled him aside. The firelight danced in her weary eyes as she whispered the words that would change their lives forever.
“He’s going to kill us one day,” she said, her voice trembling but resolute. “Maybe not all at once, but little by little. We can’t let him.”
Achelous swallowed hard, his hands clenching into fists. He hated the way his father’s voice still rang in his ears, even when the man wasn’t in the room. “What can we do? He’s stronger than us.”
His mother placed her hands on his shoulders, grounding him. “There’s a way. The cave by the river—it’s slippery, dangerous. If we bring him there, make him think it’s his idea, maybe…” Her voice faltered. She didn’t need to finish the sentence.
“We’ll get rid of him,” Achelous said, his voice low but firm. The thought of killing his father should have scared him, but it didn’t. It brought a strange, fierce hope instead.
His mother nodded, her gaze heavy with guilt. “Terran can’t know. He’s too little to understand.”
Achelous thought of his brother’s bright eyes and carefree laughter. He doesn’t need to understand, he thought. He just needs to be safe.
For days, they planned. His mother would convince his father to take them to the cave under the pretense of teaching the boys a lesson in courage. Achelous’s role was simple: play along. Do what was needed to ensure the plan succeeded. He would do anything for his mother and brother, even if it meant staining his hands forever.
Achelous sat huddled in the corner of the small, drafty room he shared with his mother and little brother. The bruises on his arms throbbed, a sharp reminder of the day’s lesson. His father’s voice still echoed in his head, sharp and cutting, as relentless as the blows. “You’re weak. Useless. What kind of man hides behind his mother?” The words were worse than the strikes—he’d heard them so often they felt burned into his soul.
He glanced toward the other side of the room. His mother knelt by Terran, singing softly to lull the boy to sleep. Her voice was a gentle balm against the chaos of their home, but Achelous could see the strain in her face. The shadow of a swollen bruise darkened her cheekbone, a reminder of their shared suffering. She caught him looking and smiled faintly, but there was no warmth in it. It was a smile meant to reassure him, to hide the growing despair she carried like a weight too heavy to bear.
His little brother, Terran, only four years old, remained blissfully ignorant of their father’s wrath. Terran’s biggest concerns were playing with sticks in the yard or sneaking extra bites at supper. He didn’t understand why his mother flinched when their father entered the room or why Achelous stayed silent after “lessons.” Achelous envied his brother’s innocence, but he knew it couldn’t last.
That night, as the house settled into uneasy silence, his mother pulled him aside. The firelight danced in her weary eyes as she whispered the words that would change their lives forever.
***
The cave’s entrance loomed before them, hidden among the thick vegetation that surrounded the riverbank. The air was cool and damp, the sound of rushing water echoing faintly from somewhere deep within. Achelous’s stomach churned as they approached.
“Get moving,” his father barked, his voice breaking the quiet. He grabbed Terran by the arm, hauling the boy forward. “Scared already? Pathetic.”
Terran squirmed but didn’t cry. Achelous followed, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached. He knew the plan, his brother was the only variable.
Inside, the cave opened into a wide chamber. Water dripped from the jagged ceiling, pooling in slick streams along the floor. The slide—a smooth incline of rock leading into the darkness below—glistened with moisture. Achelous felt a knot tighten in his chest as his father eyed it with disdain.
“Looks simple enough,” his father sneered. “Even you two weaklings should be able to manage.”
Acheleus sat with his brother, his heart pounding in his ears as he braced for the landing below. The water hit him like ice, shocking his senses as he surfaced. He scrambled to the side, his breathing ragged, his limbs trembling.
Then he heard it: Terran’s scream.
“BROTHER, HELP! I CAN’T SWIM!”
Achelous turned, panic seizing him as he saw his brother flailing in the rushing current. Without hesitation, he dove back in, the cold water dragging him under. He reached for Terran, but the current was too strong. His fingers brushed his brother’s hand for a fleeting moment before the river swallowed him whole.
His father’s voice roared from above. “WHAT DID YOU DO?!”
Achelous barely had time to look up before his father plunged into the water after Terran. For a moment, he thought the man’s anger would be enough to overpower the current, to save his little brother. But the darkness closed in, and neither of them surfaced.
Achelous clawed his way to the shore, coughing and shivering, his vision blurred by tears. The cave was silent now, save for the relentless rush of the river. He collapsed onto the cold stone floor, his body wracked with sobs.
***
The walk back to the house was a blur. His clothes were soaked, his legs shaking with every step. When he pushed open the door, his mother looked up, hope flickering in her eyes for a brief second before it died.
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“Where are they?” she whispered.
Achelous shook his head, the words caught in his throat. He sank to his knees, and his mother rushed to him, her arms wrapping around his trembling frame.
“They’re gone,” he choked out at last. “I couldn’t—”
“Shh,” his mother murmured, her voice breaking. “It’s not your fault. You tried. You tried.”
The two of them sat together in silence, the weight of their loss pressing down on them like a physical force. Achelous felt hollow, his chest aching with guilt and grief. He had wanted to save them, to keep his brother’s laughter alive, to give his mother freedom. Instead, he had failed.
As the days passed, the house grew quieter. Terran’s toys sat untouched in the corner. The bruises on Achelous’s arms faded, but the weight in his heart did not. He began to understand something he hadn’t before: strength wasn’t just about muscle or power. It was about carrying the weight of the world and moving forward anyway.
***
The night pressed heavily on the small house, suffocating in its stillness. Achelous sat beside his mother, his hands trembling as he clutched a wooden carving of a bird—one of the few things he had made that his father hadn’t destroyed. His mother sat across from him, mending the hem of a dress by the weak light of an oil lamp. Her hands moved with a steady rhythm, but her eyes flicked toward the door every so often. They both felt it—the weight of something massive pressing down on the world, a storm that hadn’t yet broken.
“What’s wrong?” Achelous asked softly.
She didn’t look up, her voice calm but tense. “Something’s changing, Achelous. Something we can’t run from.”
Before he could reply, the stillness shattered. The ground trembled violently, and the faint sound of screaming echoed in the distance. Achelous shot to his feet as the oil lamp tipped, its flame snuffed out in the chaos.
“Stay here,” his mother commanded, but the front door burst open before either of them could move.
The figure that stepped inside seemed to bend the air around him. His presence radiated power, making the small room feel impossibly small. He looked human, but his eyes glowed faintly, and his movements were too smooth, too precise. Achelous instinctively stepped in front of his mother, his fists clenched.
“Who are you?” he demanded, his voice trembling but steady.
The figure stepped closer, and Achelous froze. The man’s face was older, lined with years of experience, but it was unmistakably his own.
“I am you,” the figure said simply, his voice heavy with an impossible weight. “Or what you will become.”
Achelous staggered back, his eyes darting to his mother, who stood frozen in shock. “What are you talking about? How is this—how are you here?”
The older Achelous took a step forward, his gaze fixed on the woman standing behind the boy. “There’s no time for questions. A celestial immortal has descended on this world. It seeks to claim her soul, to bind her in torment for eternity.”
Achelous stared at his mother, his heart pounding. “Why her?”
“She is the anchor of your existence,” the older man replied. “A pure soul, untainted by greed or malice. A rarity in this dormant world.” He turned back to Achelous. “And that purity makes her a target. But there is a way to stop it.”
His mother spoke for the first time, her voice steady despite the fear in her eyes. “Tell me what needs to be done.”
The older Achelous hesitated, his jaw tightening. “She must die before the celestial can claim her. It’s the only way to sever the bond they seek.”
“No!” Achelous shouted, stepping forward. “There has to be another way. You can’t expect me to kill my own mother!”
“I don’t expect you to,” the older man said, his voice softening. “But I know you will. Because I did.”
The older Achelous extended his hand, and a deep violet light flickered to life in his palm, swirling with dark energy. The room seemed to warp around it, the light both mesmerizing and oppressive.
“This is the Vanta Executioner,” he said, his voice low. “A weapon that will grow stronger as you do. It will bind to your bloodline, and through it, you will carry a piece of her with you.”
Achelous stared at the weapon, its form shifting between a blade, a bow, and something else entirely. The light it emitted was cold, yet it seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat.
“What is this?” he asked, his voice trembling.
“A tool,” the older man replied. “One that you’ll need to survive the trials ahead. But there’s something you must understand first.”
The older Achelous gestured to the glowing blade, and the violet light shifted, creating faint images in the air—visions of worlds beyond imagination.
“From the beginning of time, soul shards have been the key to ascension. They are fragments of existence, scattered across the universe and bestowed upon lesser beings in what we call dormant worlds. This world—our world—is one of them.”
Achelous’s mother watched the display in silence, her eyes wide.
“What do they do?” Achelous asked, his voice tight with a mix of fear and curiosity.
“Soul shards amplify the power of their bearers exponentially,” the older man explained. “Each shard you bind doubles your innate strength. They can manifest in two forms: the Physical Soul, which draws on elemental abilities to enhance your body, and the Soul Projection, which allows you to summon an aberration—a manifestation of your soul—to fight on your behalf.”
The images shifted again, showing figures battling with massive creatures of fire and shadow, their bodies glowing with otherworldly power.
“But there is a cost,” the older Achelous continued. “For Soul Projection users, every fight takes a toll. The ability burns your own blood, sapping your life force with every battle. And the stronger you grow, the more tormenting the process becomes.”
Achelous swallowed hard. “And the worlds?”
“Dormant worlds, like ours, are the lowest tier—forgotten and devoid of soul energy. Above them are celestial worlds, often terraformed by deities or conquered by existing celestial powers. At the pinnacle are true worlds, where angels, devils, and True Gods reside.
The light faded, and the room seemed to grow darker.
“You are destined to rise,” the older Achelous said. “But you must take the first step. And that begins with her.”
His mother stepped forward, her face calm but resolute. “If this is the only way to stop it, then you must do it, Achelous.”
“No,” he whispered, shaking his head. “I can’t—”
“You can,” she interrupted, her voice steady. “You must. You are stronger than you know, my son. And you will grow even stronger.”
Tears streamed down Achelous’s face as the Vanta Executioner materialized in his hand. Its weight was unlike anything he had ever felt—more than just metal, it seemed to carry the weight of his choices and the lives tied to them.
His mother knelt before him, her hands resting gently on his trembling ones. “It’s all right, Achelous. I will always be with you.”
The celestial immortal’s presence loomed in the distance, a growing pressure that threatened to crush them. Achelous raised the blade, his hands shaking violently.
“I’m sorry, Mother,” he whispered.
The Bow knocked,shot, and a brilliant light erupted from its edge, enveloping them both. In that moment, Achelous felt her presence merge with the weapon, a warmth that calmed the storm within him.
When the light faded, she was gone. The older Achelous stood silently, his expression unreadable.
“You’ve taken the first step,” the older man said. “This weapon will grow with you, its power tied to your own. And one day, you will face me. When that day comes, you will understand why this had to be.”
Achelous’s grip on the weapon tightened, his tears falling freely. “I will break this cycle. I will find another way.”
The older Achelous began to fade, his voice echoing in the small room. “You are not alone. You carry her with you now. And you are stronger than you know.”
As the presence vanished, Achelous collapsed to his knees, the Vanta Executioner still pulsing in his hand, reduced to a purple mist in the palm of his had. The air was thick with grief and determination as the boy who had lost everything resolved to carve his place in the shattered world that remained.