Court Servant

Bloody footprints, so murky they were almost black, were left in the place where the man had walked. The pristine robes of this mysterious man were slowly turning a nasty shade of red. It was the tainted blood of a man who sinned. I scrubbed ferociously at the footprints, and other servants joined in. We were the dead who could not pass judgement in Themis’ Court, and were ordered to maintain the court. Forever. Or, until our minds gave out.

I watched the man twitch as pain racked through him. I was impressed. Very few of those who were judged at the court could withstand the pain of the Cursed Shackles placed on them. Then again, not many had committed grievous enough crimes to be forced to wear them. The shackles originally gifted to the court by Styx, the personification of hatred and ruler of the Cursed River caused unbearable pain to the wearer. That the man was standing at all was a surprise, much less walking up the many pristine marble steps. The many, many steps that they were forced to clean. Now with as much of a pained expression as the robed man, I got back to work. But, despite my ferocious scrubbing, the tainted blood refused to go away. Looking around, I cautiously decided to use the one thing I still retained, even in death. Magic.

I’d long been taught that it was wrong to not clean, and torture had driven that into me. But, magic was something they didn’t know about. I placed my hands over the footprint and muttered, “Sanctum, munda.” A white light spread from my fingertips and wiped away the black blood. I grinned to myself, and stepped up a single stair, and got ready to clean. I had work to do.

Prometheus

The souls that couldn’t pass judgement were cleaning. I would have felt sorry for them, as I was leaving a bloody trail, but didn’t. They were sinners after all. True sinners, not like me. All I did was lead to the possibility for the downfall of the Titans.

I noticed many of them continuing to scrub, but my blood couldn’t be washed by normal means. I did, however, notice an unassuming girl managing. My eyes glinted at that, only very powerful human wizards could retain magic in death, and only magic could cleanse Titan Blood. I wondered who the girl was. I hardly ever paid attention to the antics of my children. The pain washed through me again, and agony spread across my face. No sound escaped my white lips.

I dragged on, teetering up the steps. I was surprised to see, as I was halfway up the steps, a familiar face. I waited until we were next to each other before I whispered to Wodan. “So they got you too. I have to wonder who did it, after all, they have no jurisdiction over Norse Boh. They cannot rightfully punish you.” At, there was another jerk on the chain. Not a pleasant feeling, but one you- well you don’t really get used to it. But you do learn to cope.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Wodan smirked at me and sent me, telepathically, ‘We’ll talk later.’ I would have sent him back, but I was never very good at using a mental link. Instead I just thought repeatedly, ‘For me, there will be no later. This is obviously just a matter of following their laws. After all, I could have caused their downfall, they will just send me to the pit.’ It didn’t get through.

Wodan

I chuckled, mentally at least. Who would want the guards to think they were crazy? Not someone sane. Noting that I made my chuckle audible. Then I proceeded to listen in at Prometheus’ mad and rambling attempts to contact me. I watched through his eyes as Themis judged Prometheus to be innocent. As she was believed to be completely fair, and one of the 12 Ruling Titans, her word was accepted. I smirked, as Themis was fair. But the bind snake I placed on her mind temporarily altered out her memory of the situation. She thought that Prometheus had weakened the structure of Mount Olympus. Again. Magic was nifty, wasn’t it?

Now, with that under control, I went back to our plans for the… I suppose he should be called the Reborn King. I think it fit. With that done I reviewed what we must do with the Reborn King.

1: Make sure the soul transfer works, so we don’t have to start again.

2: Teach him.

3: Test him when they’re ready.

4: Overthrow the Titans.

With everything sorted in my head, I was ready for the hardest part of nurturing the Reborn King. The wait.

Court Servant

At last, I had finished cleaning the steps. They were returned to being spotless, however, I was drained of energy. Magic didn’t come from nowhere after all. And then, of course, the man came walking back down the steps. Every single step staining the marble again. I gave up on magic and just glared daggers at the man. He must have sensed it or something, because he looked back at me, and waved his hand. Suddenly, like a glass of water filled from a lake, I was brimming with energy. I nodded at him, and got back to work. Of course I was still angry. But I would have had to do it eventually, there were no other magic users at this place. It just makes a difference of when I did it. So I repeated, “Sanctum munda.” On every step of the stairs. Again.