Chapter Two
Two thousand steps. "Fight for me, Zephyr. Help me save them."
Two thousand and ten. "Look at me, Caelum. You did this to me."
Two thousand and thirteen. "Burn with me, Kallie. This is our justice."
Kalligan closed his eyes, falling to his knees on yet another platform between two flights of steps. He pressed his hands to his ears. The voices surrounded him, whispering and hissing in the blackness, blurring and fading like the haunted cries of dying men on a battlefield. He'd been climbing for hours, days, years, and yet the light at the top of each staircase faded as soon as he came close, leaving him to stumble alone through the dark with only his dying hope to sustain him.
"I loved you, Zephyr."
"You broke me, Caelum."
"Kahyem, Kallie."
Kalligan clenched his jaw to keep himself from crying out. The throbbing in his muscles and the sensation of airlessness burning in his chest made him dizzy with fear and pain. The cold echoes of human words mocked his sanity, twisting themselves through his consciousness until he didn't know whether he was alive or dead, falling or flying, burning or frozen solid.
"At last, he arrives."
Kalligan looked up at the sound of a strange voice, his blue eyes full of swirling terror and confusion. He let his shaking hands fall from his ears. A tall young man stood at the top of the final stairwell, dressed in white from his booted feet to the top of his hooded head. Half of the stranger's face was covered. He was surrounded by a dull white glow. His mouth was quirked into a half-smile, as if pleased by the sight of the teenage boy at his feet. His fingers had curled into fists by his sides. Although he didn't look strong or particularly dangerous, there was an aura of deadly self-confidence and determination about him that sent a shiver down Kalligan's spine.
"Zephyr of Amaranth. I am Arken, God of Thought and Memory." The man spoke again, his low voice reverberating through the narrow passages of the dark tower. "I am here to guide you through the darkest moments of your past, to show you where it all began. Are you ready to learn who you truly are, Zephyr? Are you prepared to face your crimes?"
Kalligan took a deep breath, slowly rising to his feet and blinking as he took in the blinding whiteness before him. Not trusting himself to speak, he gave Arken a quick, sharp nod. I'm not ready, he thought, his heart thudding painfully against his ribs. I don't think I'll never be. But I have to know.
Arken dipped his head slowly, his hood falling lower as he did so. Turning away, the God of Memory disappeared into the white glow in a sweep of snowy robes. Kalligan followed at once, afraid to lose his new guide in the blinding light outside. His legs were weak but his desire to know the truth kept him going, one painful step after another.
"Behold, Zephyr," Arken stood at the edge of the dark spire, one hand extended toward the sky. He made a sweeping gesture at the sprawling magnificence of the glorious city far below. "Amaranth the Eternal City. Home of the powerful Pure."
Kalligan stepped forward, his breath catching and his heart pausing in his chest as he stood beside Arken at the edge of the dark tower. "Amaranth," he repeated in an awed tone. The word was heavy and familiar on his tongue. "Kil juna. Kil iotan. (My hope. My heart.)"
Arken's hooded face turned toward him and for an instant Kalligan caught sight of the God's dark eyes beneath the ivory cloth. They were deep gray like the heart of a terrible storm, churning with the chaos of a thousand wars. "Ϋoa, Zephyr. Salara lorma klanakar feala. (Yes, Zephyr. She was your home.)"
"Was?" Kalligan murmured, abandoning the strange, melodious words that had sprung to his lips at the sight of the shining city sprawled below. The language was of Amaranth, that he knew. Àmandinian, the tongue of the Gods. And I'm a God, he realized; in that instant the full impact of all that he had seen and heard in the Timeworld hit him. He nearly fell to his knees again from the shock of it. Zephyr of Amaranth, he thought numbly. The fallen God.
"You burned her," Arken said quietly, his gaze returning to the gleaming civilization. The ivory buildings seemed to glow with a light all their own. The sky held no sun, moon, or stars, and yet the soaring white towers and shimmering topaz fountains sparkled as if bathed in the heat of a bright summer's day. "You razed her to the ground, ripped her open jaroa akana eshira-harnt mérkakis sarishana (until the motherland herself bled). You were lost, Zephyr, taken by the furious madness of your ruined soul. Exiled and dishonored, broken and desperate, you destroyed the most beautiful and pure realm this universe has ever known." His tone was perfectly neutral, cold and detached, as if he were simply repeating a fact he'd recited a thousand times before.
"I know," Kalligan replied, and as he looked down at Amaranth, his homeland, he felt his eyes burn with grief and shame. Tears streaked down his cheeks, hot and fast as they dripped off his chin. Leaving tracks on his face and across his tarnished heart. "How could I do that, Arken?" He whispered, his voice breaking on the God's name. "I don't understand. Please, help me understand. I couldn't, please, tell me I didn't..."
With an animalistic snarl, Arken seized him forcibly by the shoulders and spun them around so that Kalligan hung out over the tower's edge. "I was your friend, Zephyr," he said. "We all were. And you betrayed us." Arken's voice was flat, void of emotion or variation, but his grey eyes roiled with fury and hatred. "This isn't punishment. This isn't vengeance." His grip loosened, and Kalligan slipped in his grasp, gasping and shaking with fear and shock. A snarl contorted Arken's lips. His voice sunk to a contemptuous hiss. "This is justice."
Kalligan screamed as Arken released him, the sound stolen from his lungs by the shrieking of the wind and the weight of terror crushing his chest. As he tumbled toward the city far below, just before he hit the ground, the last thing he saw were two points of stormy gray watching him from the tower-top. There was no warmth in Arken's gaze; no hope, no light. Just cold, dark, terrible satisfaction. And in that moment, Kalligan was not afraid to die. If he was truly the monster the Gods believed him to be, then there was no punishment on earth or torture in hell that would be cruel enough to redeem him.
There is no redemption, Zephyr. A familiar female voice rang inside his head as he hit the ground. Deyanira's words were like molten silver flowing white-hot in his veins. Kalligan's vision faded and blood bubbled at the back of his throat. Not for you. Not now, not ever. His body went limp, fingers uncurling and head lolling helplessly on blood-spattered marble tiles. You are ruined, Zephyr, she hissed. You are ruined.
. . . . . .
"Zephyr! Akrin, Zephyr! Zeyin!"
Kalligan's eyes opened slowly, his senses returning in a confused haze of color, sound, and sensation. His Amaranthine name, for once uttered without hatred or disgust brought him back from the verge of unconsciousness like a hook dragging a fish from the ocean's depths. He lifted his head, shaking it groggily and reaching up to rub his eyes with both fists. As his vision returned, he realized that he was lying in the middle of a vast city square. He was sprawled on huge ivory tiles, surrounded on all sides by tall pillared buildings. Around him children and teenagers clad entirely in white ran and played, screeching and giggling happily as they tossed a glowing golden ball roughly the size of a man's head between them. Although they caught it with grace and ease, it appeared to be made of gilded stone or solid gold, sailing through the air with great whooshes and landing with heavy thuds.
Kalligan watched with growing concern as a strapping young man caught it with one hand, spinning it around on one finger before launching it straight into the outstretched arms of a black-haired little girl. She couldn't have been more than five or six years old, yet she caught the enormous globe as if it were made of foam. Cradling it to her chest, she smiled up at the young man, tilting her head so that her bangs fell into her bright silver-blue eyes. "Àkal zeyin, li-oro!" She said in a sing-song voice.
Good throw, brother! The girl's words translated easily from Àmandinian to Nathandrian English, the alien sounds flowing seamlessly from one language to another in Kalligan's brain. Blinking in surprise, he scrambled to his feet, staring in shock at the smiling little girl and her beaming older brother. "You," Kalligan whispered, staring at the dark-haired Amaranthine teen. "You're..." he swallowed hard, shaking his head and clenching his fists as a sudden flood of emotions threatened to overwhelm him. "Klanak ŵik ki. (You're me.)"
The happiness in the boy's sky-blue eyes grew brighter as he looked down at his little sister, his face—so similar and yet so different from Kalligan's own—set in an expression of love and adoration. "Trendri jaran klanak, Juna. (Anything for you, Hope.)" He held out his hands to receive the gold ball. "Zeyin, kol li-ara! (Throw, little sister!)"
The little girl—Juna—smirked as she lifted the ball high into the air. She stepped forward as if about to toss it back at her brother, but at the last moment whirled around, giggling mischievously, and threw it haphazardly away from the crowd toward a sparkling blue fountain. Kalligan watched with wide eyes as the sparkling orb arced through the air; he wondered if it would dent the snow-white tiles when it landed.
In a whirl of white silk and orange flames, a young woman appeared from behind a pillar, catching the gold ball between her white gloved palms in a graceful swoop. "Now now, children," she scolded, and although part of Kalligan knew that she was speaking Àmandinian, her words translated so quickly that he hardly registered the change. "The City Center isn't a place for games. Take your frolicking to the fields and mountain paths, where freedom and life reign supreme over young hearts and minds. Do not trouble yourself with the rigidness of buildings and streets while you still have the time and desire to run and jump, to laugh and play."
Still giggling and grinning, the children saluted her, their hands splayed over their hearts and their heads tilted forward respectfully. With a start of surprise, Kalligan recognized the gesture's extraordinary similarity to the Liberators' salute. He wondered if Jason had learned it from an Àmandinian. Or from me. The thought struck him like a physical blow to the chest, and in an instant he found himself wondering how much of the past Jason remembered. Did the young Prince of Nathandra ever find himself doing things that just felt right, without ever thinking to question why? Could he do things and speak languages without trying, make decisions and fight with the skill of several warriors because those instincts were stored in the darkest corners of his subconscious? Did he find himself drawn to dusty history books and outdated fictional heroes because somewhere in the back of his mind he remembered?
As the children turned and fled into the surrounding streets and buildings, chasing each other and letting out wild whoops of joy and excitement, the flame-haired woman turned and dropped the golden ball into the fountain. It sank slowly, glinting behind a haze of little ripples. "Zephyr," the woman's voice was smooth as honey, dripping with an almost sickly sweetness. Her emerald eyes sought out the two remaining children in the Square, settling on the elder sibling. "The Council wishes to speak with you. They have decided to grant your request earlier than anticipated."
Kalligan saw Zephyr's whole face light up at the woman's words. In an instant the Amaranthine teen had dropped to one knee beside the wide-eyed little girl and placed his large hands on her slender shoulders. Looking directly at her, he smiled slightly and leaned down to press his forehead to hers. "Kahyem," he whispered, and for the first time since he'd arrived in Amaranth, Kalligan had absolutely no idea how to translate the word into English. "I'm leaving now, Juna, but you will be fine without me. I promise we will meet again someday. Play, laugh, and love. Explore the Realm while your heart is young and your spirit is free and wild. Do not forget me. I will see you again."
"Kahyem, Zephyr," she repeated her brother's phrase, and although her words were obviously meant in farewell, there was no trace of fear, doubt, or sadness in either of their faces. "Good luck. You'll be amazing! I promise."
Smiling widely, Zephyr tilted his chin up to press a kiss to his little sister's forehead. "You always did keep your promises, didn't you?" he laughed, straightening up and lifting his hands from Juna's shoulders. Stepping away from the little girl, he turned his gaze on the flame-haired woman. Bright blue met cold green, and for a moment tension crackled between them like sparks from a severed power cord. "I'm ready, Deyanira. Show me the way."
"Don't worry, Zephyr," Deyanira's lips twisted into a vulpine smile. For an instant Kalligan could swear that her dark gaze flickered away from his past self's eyes to meet his own. "I will show you everything."
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(Question of the Chapter: Any guesses as to which three people were speaking in Kalligan/Zephyr's mind at the beginning of the chapter when he was climbing the stairs? ;D)
Yay! I actually got this chapter (semi) edited in time to post it this weekend!
If you liked this chapter, I would absolutely love it if you gave it a vote! <3 As always, comments are amazing, and I love seeing any and all reactions you might've had to this chapter. ^)^ As always, I want to thank you all for the amazing support! <3 Ya'll are the very best, and I hope that you enjoyed this chapter! :D