18 - Begin

Silence descended upon the hallway, the weight behind Voós’s message slowly falling on Ándras’s shoulders. “A cherry seed? But… how… that shouldn’t be possible,” Ándras babbled to himself, causing Voós’s already huge smirk to grow even larger.

“And yet, it just happened. Was the demonstration sufficient,” Voós asked, though he already had a good idea of what the answer to that question was.

“I see what you meant, but,” Ándras paused as his eyes wandered towards the ground. “Will it even help me? I mean, I can’t even generate a spark. Even if I’m the youngest apostle of Hephaestus, I should still be able to do that much.”

Ándras bit his lip as his face crinkled bitterly. “I already told you, didn’t I,” Voós chuckled. “Even though the gods are… the way they are, they have never and likely will never give someone a worthless power. Yes, some will be considered better than others, but…” Voós knelt down and plucked a leaf off of Ándras’s shoulder. “There is always something there.”

Ándras’s eyes met Voós’s, a mix of emotions rushing through them. Eventually, a sigh slipped from his lips as he planted his feet and stood up.

“Fine,” Ándras muttered with a steady tone, “I’ll do it.” Voós’s eyes lit up in surprise. “Are you sure,” he uttered, his tone turning somber. “Yes. I’m sure,” Ándras confirmed while dusting a few other leaves off of his back. ”So, when do I begin?”

Voós’s hand wandered to his chin while he pondered. “Well, Moró won’t return for another two weeks, and he starts the process. So, you’ll have to wait a while. But Ándras,” Voós muttered while placing his hand on Ándras’s shoulder, “you do not have to do this. I know you’re mind is probably under a lot of stress, so maybe you should—”

“I’m doing this,” Ándras interrupted, a spark of resolve appearing in his previously misty eyes. Voós bit his lip in response. “Very well… would you like to go tell the leader?”

Ándras nodded his head, causing Voós to begin walking down the hallway. An awkward silence fell over the two as their footsteps reverberated through the hallway.

The corridor was fairly thin, and the only sources of light were the windows constructed of thin, cloudy glass. The floorboards gently squeaked beneath their feet as a familiar looking door grew closer.

After passing through it, the two entered a slightly brighter, more lively room filled with half-occupied tables and the faint smell of fresh produce. The room was quite large, and lit by the skylights that appeared periodically on the roof. The walls were made of musty wood, and small specks of lumber seemed to be splintering off.

Ignoring the handful of gazes that flickered over them, the duo continued forward onto the opposite side of the room until they crossed into yet another hallway made of chipped brick.

Stopping at a door, Voós turned his head towards Ándras, a speck of uncertainty in his gaze. “I’ll be fine,” Ándras blurted as he watched Voós gawk, though this didn’t seem to ease his worry.

The cool, smooth doorknob clicked in Ándras’s hand as his gaze fixated itself upwards. With a small groan, the door opened, revealing a familiar sight. The room was hardly different compared to the last time he saw it. It still maintained its humble, scholarly aura, though the oddly intimidating man sitting behind the desk seemed to directly combat the aesthetic.

“Hello, Ándras,” Droserós commented, his brown hair and eyes glinting in the sunlight. Without responding to his greeting, Ándras sat down on the only other smooth, wooden chair, waiting for what would follow.

“So,” Droserós uttered after a long pause, “Voós told me that something happened?” Ándras sighed as his eyes became muddy. “Yes,” he grunted under his breath, causing Droserós to raise an eyebrow.

Again, silence floated through the air. “Care to share,” Droserós eventually asked, his sharp eyes seemingly cutting into Ándras’s brain. “What’s the point in telling you what you already know,” Ándras griped. After all, there wasn’t much point in telling the same story twice.

…That, and it wasn’t exactly a story Ándras was happy to tell.

“But I don’t already know,” Droserós replied while raising an eyebrow. “You mean Voós didn’t tell you,” Ándras inquired, his eyes clearing a bit. “I asked him, however he said it wasn’t his story to tell. If it is that displeasing, I won’t force you. I just need to know what you plan to do,” Droserós stated, a small smile emerging on his face.

Voós’s odd act of compassion caused Ándras’s mouth to open, but no words ever left it. On one hand, Ándras appreciated the gesture, but, on the other hand, he’d rather have someone else tell this story so he didn’t need to.

In the end, Ándras stayed silent, his slack jaw suddenly regaining its ability to close. For a time, no words came from the two. Suddenly, Ándras’s eyes jerked upwards, causing them to meet Droserós’s.

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“I will go through with this training,” Ándras sputtered, as if a large weight had been lifted off of his chest. Droserós’s mouth slightly curved upwards as he reached down into his cabinet and pulled a somewhat fancy looking bottle from the drawer.

“I’m not usually one for splurging, but,” Droserós commented as he popped the bottle open, “I always make sure to give participants a good time before they depart.” Understanding the message, Ándras bit his lip and kept silent.

“What if I back out,” Ándras suddenly blurted for reasons he didn’t even know. In response, Droserós simply chuckled. “You won’t,” he answered as the smooth, gold liquid poured from the bottle and into a small, wooden chalice.

Hearing such confidence, Ándras had no idea how to respond further. Luckily, it didn’t seem like Droserós intended on forcing any more conversation. “I won’t ask you why you’ve suddenly become so dead set on this, but,” Droserós paused as a grin that didn’t really fit Ándras’s image of him manifested in his lips, “I’ll respect your wishes. It’s not like I have nothing to gain if it succeeds, after all.”

With a sigh, Ándras picked up the cup offered to him and downed the entire thing. The smooth ale trickled down his throat, causing it to burn. “I was told the guy needed for this would come back in two weeks,” he commented as he placed his cup back on the desk.

“True,” Droserós responded as he filled it back up. “So what will I do until then,” Ándras asked, his fingers tapping against the desk.

With a sigh, Droserós put his legs up on the desk. “Well, I’ll be trying to give you the skills to survive the ordeal,” he answered, Causing Ándras’s eyebrow to raise. “What exactly does that mean?”

“Well,” Droserós began, “the process can be quite painful on the mind and body. You’ll be in the least danger during the first part. Most of the stress will be mental. However,” Droserós poured himself a glass and downed it. “The next part… will not be so enjoyable.”

Hearing those words caused a tingle to shoot down Ándras’s spine. “You see,” Droserós began before Ándras could even ask, “Agóri’s ability is quite… unique. Aside from being very easy to mess up, it causes your body to, well, not quite realize that it’s your body.”

Ándras frowned at this vague explanation. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” Droserós sighed, “that your soul is the only thing left of you that you can confirm is actually you. So, if you lose that…” Droserós trailed off, though Ándras was able to put two and two together.

“What should I be prepared for,” he asked while gulping. “Well, at first it’s really painful. Equivalent to having all of your limbs chopped off. Your torso and head too. This is the easy part.”

Ándras’s eyes widened. In what world could that be the easy part? “After that,” Droserós continued, “You’ll only have your consciousness left. But, without a physical body, you can’t sense anything. Light, sounds, heat, even time. It’s that last one that makes this process so problematic. For all you’ll know, you’ll be floating around in an abyss of nothingness for what feels like forever. To put it lightly, it won’t be fun.”

Ándras couldn’t even imagine what that would be like. A horrific amount of physical agony followed by a horrific amount of mental agony? It was inconceivable.

“How do I even prepare for this,” Ándras blurted. “It’s simple. First, we’ll get you accompanied with physical pain. After that, all we can do is temper your mind to be able to bear long periods of solitude,” Droserós commented. Ándras was confused how he could make it all sound so easy.

With a gulp, Ándras asked his final question. “When do we start?”

A glint of mischief flew across Droserós’s face. “Now.”

…

“Do we really have to start now? I feel too full to do anything.”

“That’s your fault for eating so many damn olives. Anyway, they’ll probably finish digesting by the time I finish explaining things.”

Fíle groaned at Pierre’s heartless rejection before plopping down in the grass with a sigh. “What do you even need to explain,” Fíle moaned. “How to do this properly without you dying,” Pierre responded in a deadpan tone. Perturbed, Fíle sat up.

“Now listen. While it’s not exactly known how to hone your blessing, there are a handful of theories that have some amount of sense in them. Personally, I think that there are a few factors that need to blend together to create the optimal growth speed.”

Finishing up his introduction, Pierre grabbed a waterskin from his hip and flung its contents into the air. Before the sparkling liquid could even begin falling, it came to a stop. “Back in the day, I used to be stationed on the outskirts to put down any… overzealous neighbors. Then, I used to be learning under a mentor. Then, well, the skirmishes began.” Fíle shivered as he recalled the few, yet loaded words his mother had used when describing ‘the skirmishes.’

“For the first bit of the skirmishes, things were going well. We were able to hold up the fort, but then… well…” Pierre’s eyes sunk to the ground, and Fíle had a feeling he knew why. “They never managed to break through, but… they took out my mentor. Everything nearly fell apart after that. Morale was low, tensions were high, and I was a mess. And that’s when it happened.”

Fíle raised an eyebrow. “What happened?” A small grin overshadowed Pierre’s previous empty look. “I grew stronger. Way stronger, in fact. Not as strong as my mentor maybe, but strong enough to keep myself alive until the whole thing ended.”

Pierre’s intense gaze met Fíle’s. “People have always wondered why wartime always seemed to enhance blessings. And I think I found out why. It’s the stress. The human body is miraculous in that it has the ability to adapt to a whole hell of a lot of things in order to keep itself alive. And I’m pretty sure the stress is what triggers that change in your body. So, when the stress of dying in war gets you, your body adapts by becoming stronger.”

Fíle pondered Pierre’s theory for a bit. “I guess that makes sense, but have you tested it at all?” Pierre smiled. “That’s what I’m doing now.” Suddenly, one of the globs of water that had been suspended in air began expanding before Fíle’s eyes. After stepping back out of caution, he watched as Pierre’s ball of water turned into the vague shape of a man.

“Meet… uh… Private Ay. From now on, he’ll be your new best friend. And, on the other side is… uh…” As Pierre spoke, another ball of water took the shape of a man; though, this one seemed a bit different. Unlike Private Ay, this water person had some amount of detail carved into his face and appearance in the shape of a big, creepy grin. “Sergeant… Bee. It’s your job to beat him up while preventing Private Ay from dying. Got it?”

Fíle’s mouth creaked open as his mind tried to process the bizarre scenario. “But… How exactly am I supposed to do that? I don’t know how to fight.” Pierre slightly shrugged in response. “Figure it out. Get a bow maybe? Or an instrument. Not sure what you’d do with it in a fight, but Apollo’s are typically good with that stuff.”

Fíle slightly grinded his teeth. “How am I supposed to figure it out when you won’t help me?” Pierre stroked his chin for a second before shrugging once more. “No idea. Most I can do is get you a weapon. From there, you’re on your own.”

Fíle sighed in annoyance. “Fine. Then, can you get me a bow?” Pierre scratched his head. “Probably, but it’ll take me a while. Just use your fists for now.”

Before Fíle could even complain further, more floating water began changing its shape into white walls that cemented themselves in the ground. “I’ve got some business to take care of, so take care while I’m gone. I’ll be back in like two weeks maybe. Have fun.”

Walls shuffled around all around Fíle as he stood there motionless. What could he even do? Teleport?

‘Wait a minute,’ he thought to himself, ‘yeah, I can do that!’

However, before Fíle’s hair finished dying gold, a thick, transparent slab of water locked itself on top of the walls, leaving Fíle completely trapped in a maze of water.