Ryan felt tingles on the back of his neck as he laid his head upon the hard-packed cushions meant to serve as pillows. Soon they shall be back in Antalya; he'll see Avery one last time before he departs for the Empire and embark upon this new path he has chosen for himself. Ryan tried to remember his thoughts just a month ago, that he felt that his approach had reached an end, that he was chasing mere ghosts and shadows through the dark halls of his past. That he saw a future where he could find peace. Now he knows that his peace will not come so quickly, that he has a long fight ahead of him to decide the Fate of not only his life but so many others that Talin plans to ruin.
He expects many sleepless nights to come for him, but he hopes that this night will be quiet. Amond is dead; he made sure of that. The children of St. Aggies should find peace. But as he closed his eyes and met the familiar darkness of sleep, it was not peace that had gripped him, but instead a rolling tide of chaos. Almost immediately after closing his eyes, Ryan felt his skin chill, the hairs all over his body standing on end as a wind that did not exist washed his senses in an unfelt cold. He opened his eyes, finding that he was not lying on his cot in a tent but instead standing in a field of blackness. The air felt thick, like he was moving his arms and legs through molasses. He still managed to lift it, raising both arms up for him to see. The six rings of tattoos on his arms were gone. And it felt . . . wrong. Even in dreams, he has never seen himself without these six markings since childhood. The air only seemed to grow colder to him, almost to the point of freezing. He walked forward with much effort. The blackness didn't seem to change around him; he couldn't even tell he was moving beside his boots, clacking against the solid obsidian floor. But after some time in his traversal, the ground began to crunch underfoot like dried leaves and coarse earth. The coldness started to shift to an unbearable heat that made his plain shirt and scarf unnecessary. The darkness began to fade into a hazy grey sky as the world seemed to come into existence. He was in a field, suddenly flat and empty of life. The dead grey grass withered to dust at the slightest touch, blowing away in this intangible wind. Ryan doesn't know where he's going, but he feels an impulse, a pull at his center telling him where to go.
After some time wandering the wastelands, he noticed pillars in the distance, emerging from the hazy atmosphere. Six of them, each of solid black metal or stone situated in a ring around a stone platform. As Ryan approached one and set his hand upon it, he felt a slight humming in his bones. These black towers were radiating with avra so intricate; it put any spell he's ever seen to shame. He looked up, seeing that each black pillar reached up and out of view—all but one. Ryan approached it; about a hundred meters or so, it looked like it had been broken. As Ryan looked closer at the ground around him, he saw what looked like the debris from whatever shattered that edifice and fine cracks in the pillar itself. Ryan placed his hand against this pillar and felt a similar hum, though much weaker than the other. At that moment, the six rings of tattoos returned to his forearms. But now, one of them, on his left, was incredibly faded.
The hum around him grew worst, his bones shaking in their sockets. The sky darkened, shrouding his vision until there was nothing left but the altar in the center, a stone disk five meters across and carved with ancient symbols he could not comprehend. He held the sides of his head as the humming grew even more intense, almost threatening to turn his brain into a gel. But what captured his troubles even more, was the alter itself. Something was . . . coming out of it. From the carvings, like oil seeping from the frame of a barrel, a black substance began to merge in the center. It wasn't liquid, not gas, or anything solid. It was energy, no, power. Ryan's eyes widened as the substance began to take shape before his eyes, lumping itself together and solidifying somewhat into recognizable features. First legs, then a torso, then arms and hands grasping the air. And finally, ahead. A head with no face, no other orifice, but Ryan knew that it was looking at him. Ryan wanted to run, grab a weapon, anything. But he was rooted where he stood as the creature walked across the altar towards him. Then, on it's forearms, six rings of tattoos made from pure white appeared, and the creature stopped at the edge of the stone platform as if it suddenly came across an invisible wall.
"What are you?" Ryan's voice was distant and echoed like voice was coming from a cave or tunnel. The creature seemed to consider his question with a tilt of its head. Then Ryan remembered the dream he had when he first met Lyse, where he met the god Zagreus, and both were attacked by . . . by this thing. The creature lifted its arm and somehow forced Ryan to hold up his own, the one with the faded ring identical to this creature.
"What am I?" the voice it spoke with was not a voice but something that tried to imitate one. It was so cold, so inhuman and unadorned; it couldn't be anything else. "I am what they fear. I am the dark shadow of what came after me. The ancient sea that has never been but will be. I am you. I am the final word of the creation."
"What?" Ryan looked about, but he still could not move. Finally, the creature lowered it's arm, allowing Ryan to fall as well. In fact, it mimicked most of what Ryan was doing. "This is a dream, it has to be."
"Dreams," the creatures said. "The realm of dreams has no power here. This is a place out of time, a prison with bars that will only erode itself due to its own magnificence. And when I have been freed from it, we shall be one again, Ryan."
"That sounds dandy," Ryan's nerves felt like they were in shock. "But that doesn't tell me who you are."
The creature glanced to the horizon before returning its non-existent gaze towards Ryan and his tattoos. "The only reason we speak now is because of the prison's magnificence. I see that you will come to call upon my power as you used to. And the more you do, the more the prison erodes. The sooner I am freed. Power, use my power. Make us whole again."
"You speak in error and riddles," Ryan said. "What happens when we are . . . whole again? Are you some spirit that wishes control over my body? If so, I have no real reason to give you anything; leave me be, Demon.
The creature took a step back, forcing Ryan to step back as well, almost like it was startled by his answer. It seemed to think for a moment before returning its attention. "It's too soon. Close, but not quite. Begone, for there, is much more to come. We will not be separate for much longer."
The being flicked its hand, and Ryan felt an invisible force flung him away at high speeds, leaving the black pillars and the altar to shrink away into the distance as he was soon lulled back into unconsciousness.
(X)
Lyse took a deep breath as he felt the shift of Avra ever so subtly. He was getting used to the strange man known as John of Nule's uncanny abilities. As he blinked, the skinny man with the wide-brimmed hat was sitting across from him from the fire. Lyse continued stirring the little bit of rabbit stew left in his pot.
"I assume this is no visit of comfort, mage?" Lyse asked him readily.
"Of course not," John said with the faintest hint of a smile. "It's a warning, in fact, from your mother."
"Really?" Lyse asked, taking a spoonful of the reasonably bland mixture. "I suppose it must be quite urgent if she decides to send you. So tell me, what is it that my mother deemed imperative to relay to me, John?"
"A certain goddess," he said. "Aphrodite Pandemos. You already fought her Areia counterpart, congratulations, by the way. However, Pandemos will not be dealt with so handily, I'm afraid."
"Are you sure?" Lyse asked. "I was lead to believe that it was Areia who was the more combat-oriented aspect of the goddess of beauty."
"And she is, but there is more to Pandemos; she is far more . . . cruel than Areia. Normal conventions will only lead to your death. Or worse . . ."
"I see," Lyse looked skeptically. "Exactly in what methods does she chooses to exercise her cruelty?"
"Do not take her lightly, young godslayer," he said. "Her machinations were able to defeat your father, manipulate him so thoroughly that he was forced to fight the other godslayers, including your mother. He was in her trance, believing that it was she who his lover was and that he must protect her from his comrades. Only you're mother could stop it before anyone was killed, but Aphrodite escaped in the chaos."
The winds stirred, making the flames flicker over John's still face. Lyse knew that he was trying to instill within him the caution his mother no doubt wished to convey. And it was working. If his father could fall to such things and be made to fight his fellow godslayers, the same could happen to him and Ryan. Both of them could fall into Talin's hands.
"How did my mother break my father from her control?" he asked.
"She hasn't informed me of that," he said. "But I can make a theory that perhaps Athena's blessing of wisdom was able to override Aphrodite's enchantments."
"Then I should be able to do the same," Lyse tapped the pendant around his neck. "I've already resisted her manipulation before; surely I can do so to more significant effect if she attempted the same."
"Lyse . . ."
"Ryan has the abilities of Aphrodite, but he is very much a novice in that regard," Lyse began to consider. "Then perhaps I should face her alone."
"Perhaps you are missing the point of this warning, Lyse?"
"Yes, yes, I understand that I must approach with caution; thank you," he said. "Unless you have another idea to defeat her."
John chuckled. "I suppose not. Your mother simply wanted you not to engage her at all, but it looks like you are eager to throw yourself into danger."
"Of course, I shall engage with caution," he said. "But I am not leaving her in that city, where she can resume her deeds unabated. We will deal with her swiftly and then return to Silondras. Tell her that, John."
"I very much doubt that will put your mother at ease, but very well." John stood, beginning to wander into the cold desert. "Peace be with you, young godslayer. May your next encounter spell victory."
"It must be," Lyse said softly as the mage disappeared into the darkness of night. "I have no other choice but to be victorious."
(X)
They saw the skyline of Antalya on the far horizon. Something was wrong, very wrong. This feeling, he knew, wasn't his natural sense, not at all. They were perception gifted to him by the pendant he wore around his neck. Now, is able to receive the power of gods. And as he turned to Lyse next to him, he was confirmed of what it was. His tense body upon the pegasus, staring in the same direction, indicated that he, too, felt this immense pressure even leagues away from their destination. It was far worse than when they had encountered Areia days ago. His pendant nearly burned against his chest, even being this close to the source. It was responding to this power, almost a reflection of it, in fact.
"Is that her?" he asked Lyse, who still stood in silent observation.
The knight nodded gravely. "It is her. And it appears that she's been quite busy in our absence."
"What could drive her to do . . . this?" Ryan felt a pull in the pits of his abdomen.
"Us having completely uprooted their operations here could have been the catalyst, I'm afraid." Lyse thought. "This, if this presence is right, would be Aphrodite Pandemos. And she's going to tear this city down to cover their tracks. That, or this, is an enticing trap to lure us back here. The place could be crawling with Makhai as far as we know."
"What is she doing?" Ryan asked him, the feeling getting worse the more Lyse talked. "How is she going to . . . rip the city apart?"
Lyse shook his head. "She isn't going to do anything. It is the people who will destroy their home."
"What?"
"I can feel it," he said wistfully. "The people are enjoying their most basic, carnal desires—a sea of hedonistic indulgence of a scale hitherto undreamt of. These people will love, drink, and destroy, whatever momentary impulse may come to their minds until there is nothing left but dust."
"We can not allow that!" he declared angrily, resisting the immediate urge to hop from his horse and rush there now. But as he met with Lyse's cold blue eyes, he found hesitation. "Please don't tell me you are hesitant to act. We can't let those people die, Lyse."
"You think I do not know that?" Lyse's eyes flared with well-hidden frustration for just a moment. In Lys's mind, he has been reminded of ht conversation he had with the guardian, John, just days ago in the dead of night. He carried the warning from his mother, his predecessor. He had thought little of the strength Areia boasted, but if this Aphrodite was so much trouble that it threatened his father and his mother in the prime of their power, then he should be more than wary, at least till he is fully aware of her capabilities. Even his pendant, the wisdom of Athena echoed this sentiment, carrying warning from times long since passed that this god is unlike any he has ever fought against. That would be the safest option, yet . . . he could not ignore the same urge that Ryan no doubt felt. The need to do something about this. He tolled the decisions in his mind again and again, trying to consider any alternate routes through this. But his hesitation only further irritated his comrade, who grabbed Lyse by the hood of his cloak and pulled him into an intense glare.
"I am not leaving my friends to die," he said. "So either stay hear drooling on yourself or come with me, damn you!"
Lyse shook off his initial surprise, nodding to Ryan. "Very well. But we need to be clever. You go after your family, make sure they're safe. I'll go try and deal with Aphrodite myself."
"Are you sure about that?" he asked. "Fighting her alone."
"I'm the only one of us who can resist her abilities," he said, clutching his pendant tightly. "But as soon as you get your family to safety, you may come to aid me just like you did with Areia. Use your illusions, and keep them at a distance. I doubt I can fend off both of you if she gets her hands on you. Understood."
"Yes," Ryan dismounted immediately, tucking Avery's scarf into his cloak. Vire spread his wings, eagerly beginning to jettison into the air, headed directly to the only tower in the city, which Lyse suspects had been her main base of operation all this time. Ryan instead channeled the power of Hermes, the swiftest of the gods, and ran as quickly as possible into the city of Antalya, his home, to once again rescue his friends and family. And he was not quite ready for what he saw.
The city was on fire; almost a third of every building he came across was up in flames. But these fires were not caused by some attack or intentional sabotage of any kind. No, it was indeed sheer elegance. People knocked over candles and lanterns, not caring a bit to fix what they had destroyed, for they were entirely enthralled in other activities. People lay in piles all over, drinking., eating, indulging in one another in a hedonistic sea of mere impulse and nothing more. Many have discarded much of their clothing, either from the heat or to prepare for the next time they felt like getting into bed with someone else at any point in time. Even some of the police seemed to obtain from any responsibility, leading to the fires only growing more and more rampant. And the worst part was that Ryan felt it. They were trying to infect his mind with these same impulses, the smiles and temptations of these women around him trying to beckon him into their slow decline, the stench of drink and food intoxicating. Several attempted to pull him into their bed of sex and pleasure, tugging at his cloak and pants. But just as it felt like some influence had gotten to him, it vanished, shattered by something within him, and he was left to see the reality around him and assured him what must be done next. He broke free from their grasps, which they seemed hardly, if at all, taken aback by his resistance, simply returning to their evil.
He continued running, faster and faster, zipping through the city streets, leaping over any obstructions. The wind that followed him buffered the growing flames, even putting out some at close proximity, but he was not interested in that at the current moment. Instead, he headed directly to St. Aggies and burst through the door. It was thankfully untouched by flame, thankfully, but it was completely empty. Zeke was not here. He then sped directly towards the hospital where Avery was to be staying. He again ripped open the doors, and he was met with humanity. The doctors, equally as entranced as those in the streets, have left many of their patients to negligence. The stench hit him with a powerful blow even he could not withstand, as his pendant grew hot. Every patient, bedridden, had long since died, filling the rooms with rot and decay. Not a living soul remained. Some had tried to crawl out but were too weak, leaving themselves stranded on the floor as they slowly died through infection or hunger. Ryan steadied himself before pushing forward.
"Avery!" he opened the door. The room was empty, the bed undone, and the window wide open. Ryan's breathing grew erratic as the worst-case scenarios played in his head. "Avery?"
Ryan tried to calm his nerves and slipped into the void to look about his surroundings for clues as to where she may have gone. But she was nowhere nearby, it seemed. Instead, however, he could sense the presence of several abnormally powerful entities closing in on his position: Makhai, thirty of them. The fire began to boil in his veins. He took out two knives and immediately jumped out of the window. He landed before four of them, their weapons having already been drawn, and was startled that he spotted them so quickly. But surprised them more was the expression he wore on his face, an expression of pure hatred and death radiating with the necromantic powers he had stolen from their commander. But something more, far more powerful, boiling just beneath the surface, disturbing his avra.
"Is this all of you?" his voice was deceptively calm, hiding malice so potent none dared to answer. "No matter. I'll purge the lot of you either way. Run or fight; it doesn't matter, for my vengeance will be swift."
(X)
Lyse could feel it, so palpable, tangible even. Even more potent than before, the powers of Dionysus responded heavily. Vire set him down on the tower's high-slanted roofs. She was directly below him; he could feel it. It bothered him that he couldn't before, that she could hide her presence so thoroughly. That he has allowed her influence to spread so far this way. This is something he was going to fix at this moment. He took a deep breath, channeling the wisdom of Athena, and entered her domain.