~Chapter Thirty-two: Unintended Consequences~
"Finally!"
Atlas spits out a curse that has more feeling than meaning, as it does not translate into anything I am familiar with. I do not bother to dwell on that, though, when what started as dark, if not outright menacing, clouds forming on the horizon starts to take the shape of a towering being with outstretched wings that flash with lightning while the sky rumbles with laughter like thunder.
However, Atlas does not allow me to dwell on that for very long either, as he places one hand on my cheek and another on my side to turn me to him almost immediately, though it is not enough to actually make me look away since my eyes feel compelled to follow the steady growth of the cloud-being. "Ainmire," he says, demanding my attention, and I tear my eyes away long enough to meet his before I find my attention drifting again. He jerks my face around until I am physically unable to look at anything else but him. "Ainmire!"
I inhale sharply and try to shake away the fog that seems to have left the surface of the lake only to settle in my mind, but it refuses to leave. "What?" I ask, though it comes out as little more than a muffled mumble.
Atlas cups my face in his hands. He then asks something, and it must be serious judging by the desperate look on his face, but the words scramble themselves in my head, or maybe they just do not make sense from the start, and he is the one speaking nonsense. Still, either way, it makes no sense, so I just stare at him in incomprehension, wondering if he will repeat his question in a more understandable way if I look at him long enough.
If anything, though, it just seems to make him worry more, and maybe I should be worried as well, but the fog in my mind has turned into a pressure that feels a great deal like a building ache in my head, not unlike a headache but too sudden to be just that.
I might not understand what is going on, but I can tell one thing at least - something is very wrong.
Understanding that helps me very little, though, and the next time I blink, I end up wavering on the spot. And when I blink again, I open my eyes to find that Atlas is now holding onto my arms, holding me steady. "Ainmire," he says, and that is apparently understandable, even though the words that follow still fail to-
Something snaps in my head - a feeling so foreign and alarming that the pressure immediately disappears, or maybe the snap is the pressure leaving, but even without the pressure, the throbbing headache remains, and I come back to myself shaking like a newborn foal.
"-you leave?" Ainmire demands, shaking me a little, and though I only catch the end of his question, I still gather enough from it to shake my head, even though it is hard when every centimetre of my body is intent on shivering from a chill that does not exist. "You can't?"
I blink in incomprehension before realizing that while I understand the question, I did not really think about it, but now that he has pointed it out...
My magic rises up inside of me, but maybe it is the shaking, or maybe something else is wrong, because any attempt to actually summon my magic to flare it to disrupt my connection to the dream falls flat. So, not trusting the tongue that feels like it is stuck to the roof of my mouth to form words, I shake my head again.
I don't know.
"Damn that masterbator," Atlas hisses, using a term that has always translated odd, and I would have laughed at the choice of words were it not for the fact that I can feel fear starting to claw at my throat as the winged being of clouds stops its approach just over the center of the lake, looming over us and blocking out the sun that should have been still rising but is now in the center of the sky. Atlas seems intent on ignoring them, though, as all he says is, "They can't have you."
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," the cloud-being calls down to us, but when I attempt to look up, Atlas just grabs my face again to keep me looking at them.
"Atlas?" I ask in concern, though his name leaves my lips in a rasp so dry it almost does not sound audible. He still picks up on it, however, and presses a kiss to my forehead while one of his hands falls from my face.
"Forgive me," he murmurs, and then there is a brief flash of gold followed by a dull pain in my side.
Having seen the flash of gold, I know even before I can fully acknowledge the pain that there is no reason to forgive him since there is nothing to forgive in the first place; he is just trying to free me from the dream through a painful awakening. So, because of that, he has done no wrong, but...but then the pain does not end. There is no abrupt awakening followed by the startling clarity that usually follows a sudden disconnect from a shared dream. All there is is a red, hot ache that turns into a startlingly sharp pain under my left arm, and when I look down, the golden hilt of a dagger is sticking out of my side, right where it would need to slide between my ribs to reach my heart.
My next breath is ragged, and the breath that follows that comes too fast. And when I look back up at Atlas, there is nothing but confusion and horrified fear staring back at me. "Shit," he whispers, his hand hovering beside the dagger, which probably would have killed me in reality but only feels like it is in this dream fantasy. "Shit, Ainmire."
"I warned you."
This time, Atlas does not stop me from looking towards the cloud-being when they speak again, and the ominous, glowing purple eyes that did not exist the last time I looked stare back at me now. The being starts to laugh again, creating more thunder echoes that rumble across the sky, before they lean down, forcing me to crane my neck until my head is almost horizontal with the ground.
"Hello there, Ainmire," the cloud-being greets, surprisingly cordial for someone undoubtedly sent by or otherwise allied with Zeus - a member of the Oneiroi, most likely. Their pleasantry does not detract from the fact that their very voice sends a shiver of dread down my spine. "We haven't met, but you can call me Epiales."
Epiales of nightmares.
We have not met, as I never had much cause to spend time with the Greek gods in general before the Titanomachy, let alone individual members of the one-thousand-being force composed of both gods and spirits that is the Oneiroi. I still know a few of the gods who are part of the Oneiroi by name, though, and Epiales is among those I have heard. A god of nightmares who possesses a title despite the anonymity that being a part of the Oneiroi is supposed to provide - the Dark Dream. The title itself has no particularly significant meaning in the words themselves, but while I never learned the reason for the title to be given, there is no denying that it is a title only someone unpleasant would have.
And he has control of the very dream I am apparently stuck in.
Before I can say anything in response - which may very well be impossible because it feels like my voice has withered away in the mere seconds since I last used it - Atlas' hand on my face suddenly ripples, and when I look back at him in concern, I am met with the sight of his stomach, and then his crotch, and then his legs as he shifts from his more human-sized shape to the tower form fitting of a Titan.
"Epiales, release him!"
Though he is still growing as he starts to roar the other god's name, the ground beneath my feet shakes, and the part of the lake that I can see from where I stand ripples from the force of his voice. Were this not a dream, I imagine even the stars would be quaking in the face of his absolute fury. And if Epiales has any sense, he should be afraid, too.
Only, the cloud-being that is Epiales does not even blink in the face of Atlas' rage. And why would he when this is a dream that he can manipulate? Atlas is not truly before him, which means that his rage is inconsequential here; he is just a projected mind in a false landscape, connected via magic. I would not be afraid under these circumstances, either.
Yet, I am afraid, because I am not in his position. This is not my dream to manipulate as I please, nor do I have the choice, apparently, to leave at my own discretion. If Atlas' attempted disruption of the dream and the pain have not woken me up, and if I cannot attempt to disrupt the dream on my end either with my magic refusing to answer my call, then my only hope is that someone on the outside realizes that something is wrong and attempts to wake me up. Until then, though, I am at Epiales' mercy, and so is Atlas.
And that is terrifying.
"I will not." The reply is stated so matter-of-factly, so void of emotion, that it is almost hard to believe that the god was laughing mere moments ago. "Whether you accept it or not, this has been a long time coming, Atlas."
Memories of dreams filled with dark clouds and uneasy feelings appear in my mind, and I grimace as I realize that some dreams that I had thought were simply normal dreams were not as normal as they apparently felt. And though I am not sure if all of those uneasy moments were caused by Epiales, each one had to have still been the Oneiroi. For months, and months, trying but failing to fully invade my sleep until...
Until now.
I look up at the towering form of Atlas and struggle with the urge to adopt my taller, though not quite as tall, god form in an attempt to ease the unsettledness in my gut, but when I look down at my side, the dagger is still deep in my side, and even in a dream, I am not sure what would happen if I were to try to grow with what might be an actual hole in my heart. After all, I have never been stuck in a dream before, either.
Injuries can't carry over into the waking world...but they can probably still affect me while I'm here.
So, rather than grow, I shift a little - and wince when this movement tugs at my side - to stand more behind Atlas, all but hiding in the shadow of his left leg while I try to think of what I should do. And even if I do not see him look down, Atlas moves his leg just enough that he completely hides me from Epiales' sight. It feels incredibly cowardly and like I am giving my every weakness away, but it is harder to think when Epiales' eyes are on me, and my increasing fear is like an all-consuming ice that spreads through my body to keep me rooted to this spot now that I have found a moment of reprieve from the glowing purple stare.
I just need a minute...a second, even...
My head still aches in a dull sort of way that makes it difficult to consider the best course of action, but I do know that one of the stupidest and also smartest things to do would be to remove the knife, as I should be able to heal from it, and leaving it in only keeps the wound open. Yet, I am also not in control of this dream, so it may be pure foolishness to even think for a second that I would heal.
Still, it will either heal or it won't; no sense worrying about it now.
Just as I reach across my chest with my right hand to grab the hilt of the dagger, though, my sight blurs, and when it clears not a second later, I am no longer standing in Atlas' shadow but am instead standing on the surface of the lake, somehow not falling in despite the way the water ripples unsteadily when I flinch at the sudden change of scenery.
"You can't hide from me in here, Ainmire."
It is said like a warning, but I understand it as the threat it truly is, and ice slides down my back. I immediately clench my hands into fists to keep them from shaking too obviously, but I am sure it does little good when I am pretty sure from the way the water is rippling that my entire body is shaking. Before I can sink too far into the fear, though, Atlas' furious roar makes me straighten, and my next breath is unsteady, but it is deep enough that I use it to steel my nerves.
"I don't need to hide from you, Epiales," I reply, with far more bravado than I feel.
The clouds give a considering hum that sounds not unlike a heavy breeze on a windy day. "I wonder how long you will believe that," he comments, though I cannot tell if he is actually addressing it to me or just saying it to the air. "Remove the knife. You will heal this time."
This time.
Swallowing around the sudden thickness in my throat, I do as he said, and sure enough, the stabbing pain that follows quickly dissipates before vanishing all together, leaving only the wet mess of blood on my shirt as evidence of any injury. I am sure that the blood could have been vanished as well, but it remains, as does the hole in my-
The blood and hole in my shirt vanish before I can even finish the thought, but as they disappear, the pounding pressure in my head returns with a vengeance, almost making me cry out as I drop down to one knee while reaching up to clutch my head. There is no hazy fog this time, nor is there a snap, but it still feels like something is pushing down on my mind, and I try to cringe away from it.
And oddly enough, the more mental distance I try to put between myself and the pressure, the more it eases until the mental noise I had not even noticed until now fades enough that I can hear Atlas' concern calls from the distance. Before I can answer them, however, Epiales calls back, "You can leave at any time, Atlas. No one's keeping you here anymore."
What?
When I look at Atlas, who is standing near the shore, knee-deep in the water that apparently refuses to hold his weight despite the fact that I can apparently stand on it with no trouble, the Titan looks just as confused as I feel. He does not seem interested in testing Epiales' proclamation, though, and I cannot say I blame him when we both know what his departure would mean. Still, if it means escaping, then he should just go.
And if he can go, a sly thought whispers in my mind, then what is stopping me now?
Carefully, as not to draw any attention before I can actually try, I reach for my magic. It rises up again in response, much like it did last time, but to my disappointment, it remains too deep to be of use, still refusing to answer my call, so I let it fall back again with a sigh.
"Not you, Ainmire," Epiales says, and I would have started if I had not already expected him to notice my attempt. Subtle though it was, I did not think it would remain unnoticed for more than the second it took me to try. "You will remain here with me for a while yet."
"He has nothing to do with our war, Epiales," Atlas tries, but the clouds that make up Epiales' winged shape just scoff.
"He has everything to do with this war, Atlas," the god counters. "And even if he was uninvolved, Zeus would still want his head. Your lover chose his side long ago, and for that, he must suffer."
Atlas falls silent, and it is because of his current size that it is easy to spot the almost sickly pallor that comes over his skin. After a beat, though, something like confusion flits across his face before he asks, "And do I not deserve to suffer a fate worse than his?"
The question does not really make sense to me, though I understand the words, but Epiales seems to gather something from it, as his response is too sharp to hide it. "That is what Tartarus is for, in case you have forgotten."
Atlas' next question makes even less sense, though it niggles at something in the back of my mind, even if I cannot figure out what with the lingering pounding ache in my head. "Why am I still here, Epiales?"
The now-overcast sky rumbles with what might very well be a growl. "Because you insist on lingering."
Epiales' response immediately has bells of alarm ringing in my head, as that does not make any sense at all, but Atlas seems to already know why it is off, as he addresses me next. "I will return."
I freeze. "What?"
"Trust me, Ainmire," he says - pleads, even. "Trust me. I swear I will return, but you have to stay strong until then. Don't give up. Please."
And then Atlas vanishes from the shore in instant, leaving nothing in his wake but a brief shroud of silence and a distressed unease in my chest that refuses to be ignored. The clouds rumble with thunder-like laughter again, but I do not look back at Epiales. I just stare at the place Atlas was for a moment longer before looking down at the water beneath my feet and closing my eyes.
He will be back. He promised.
A little voice in the back of my head whispers that that is a promise I have heard before, and it did not turn out well for me last time.
I have to trust him, though.
"Now, where shall we begin?"
He swore.
Glowing blue chains fly up from beneath the water's surface, wrap around me in a binding grip, and then pull me down into the depths of the lake.
Trust.
EXTRA
Atlas awakens with a start, and for the briefest of moments, he dares to hope that everything he just witnessed was all part of a twisted nightmare that will fade in a minute like all normal dreams, even the unpleasant ones, do. However, even as he calms his breathing and starts to gain more awareness of his surroundings, the dream's events do not fade; if anything, they grow sharper.
So, with a quiet curse, he rises from his bed and approaches the open bars of his cell. As he opens his mouth to call down the twisting halls to Cronus - or to someone further down the line, who will in turn then pass along the message to Cronus if the old Titan is asleep or otherwise unable to hear, as is sometimes the case - the lights in the hallway flicker, which...they simply do not do. And when Atlas pokes his head through the bars curiously, which are far enough apart to allow it but are too criss-crossed for him to actually slip through entirely, he spots a green-haired goddess just stepping into the hall he is in.
Even in the dull lighting, he recognizes her easily and inhales sharply, as though he had been warned that she would be here, he had not known that she would be here today, nor was he even truly sure he believed that she would come at all. Cronus had said that she recently visited him and his other siblings to offer a deal, but though he dared to hope that her offer would hold true, Atlas would not have been surprised if she had just been completing her once-every-millenium motherly duty in checking on her children. She has visited once before, after all, and all she did was see how her children were fairing after the loss of the Titanomachy.
Atlas holds his breath as the primordial goddess passes his cell without sparing him even a glance, and if he strains his ears, he can hear the faintest tune of the song that she hums as she walks by. He only remembers to breathe again once Gaia vanishes around another corner, though that breath is almost immediately stolen from him again when the lights flicker once more before promptly dying. And then the bars to his cell disappear, leaving him to stumble into the hallway in surprise before he straightens up as he vaguely sees the outlines of other Titans joining him in the corridor.
Soon, he promises, holding onto his memories of the dream he just shared with Ainmire. There is nothing that can be done now, not here, but soon. Very soon.
Beyond the lower levels of the Titans, the monsters of old that have been forced to call these halls their home for nearly as long as the Titans start to wreak havoc in Tartarus.
They cannot steal Ainmire from me. Not again.
[AN: So, sorry to do this on such a cliffhanger, but there will not be a chapter next week because I'm about to be very busy for a couple weeks, but the next chapter will be on Monday the 17th (this is only a temporary return to Monday updates). Anyway, I hope you are all doing well, and have a great couple of weeks!]