Authors: Sherrilyn Kenyon
How could they talk when he couldn’t speak?
She held a cup out to him. “Drink this and I’ll be able to talk to you.”
Furious with her, he grabbed the cup and downed the contents without tasting them. “Go to Tartarus and rot,” he snarled at her, grateful that this time she could hear the venom in his voice.
And then something happened. Pain and fire ripped through his body as if something was setting his internal organs aflame. Panting, he looked up at Artemis. “What have you done to me now?”
There was no mercy or remorse in her gaze. “What I had to.”
One moment he was in the quiet darkness of Hades’s domain and in the next, he was standing on the banks of Didymos, not far from the palace.
Or rather what was left of it.
Confused, he looked around, trying to make sense of what had happened to him, and to the land. Before he could figure it out a searing pain tore through him with such ferocity that it drove him to his knees in the surf.
Acheron cried out, wanting it to stop.
Suddenly, Artemis was there before him. Gathering him into her arms, she held him close as the waves crashed against them. “I had to bring you back.”
He shoved her away from him as he looked around at the smoldering remains of Didymos. “What have you done?”
“I didn’t do this. Your mother did. She’s destroyed everything and everyone who ever went near you. And she was coming to kill us on Olympus. It’s why I had to bring you back. She would have killed us all had I not.”
He glared so hard at her, he was sure his eyes were red. “You think I give a fuck about that?” He started away from her, only to be frozen in place by the pain tearing at his stomach. The agony of it caused him to double over as he struggled to breathe.
Artemis approached him slowly. She stood above him, looking down. “I’m the one in control here, Acheron. I’ve bound you to me with my blood. I own you.”
Those three words set fire to his wrath. He felt the familiar heat ripple over him as his human appearance gave way to that of his god form. Rising against the pain, he held his hand out and brought Artemis into his grasp. “You seriously underestimate my powers, bitch.”
She clutched at his hand, trying to loosen his feral grip. “Kill me and you’ll become the worst sort of monster imaginable. You need my blood to maintain any sort of sanity. Without it, you will become a mindless killer, seeking only to destroy any and everyone you come into contact with … just like your mother.”
Acheron roared with frustration. The bitch had thought of everything. Even as a god, he was still a slave. “I hate you.”
“I know.”
He shoved her away from him and turned his back on her.
“Acheron, did you not hear what I said? You will have to feed from me.”
He ignored her as he made the long trek from the beach to the hill where the royal palace had once stood. There was nothing left but smoldering ashes and busted stones. There were hundreds and hundreds of bodies of servants, citizens, and merchants everywhere. Innocent victims of his mother’s wrath.
Tears filled his eyes as he ran through the debris, seeking a sign of Ryssa or Apollodorus.
Aching and broken, he used his powers to move stone and marble until he uncovered the room that had been hers.
There in the wreckage he found three of the diaries she’d so meticulously kept. They were a little scarred by fire, but miraculously, they’d somehow survived intact. He opened the first one and stared at her childish writing as she described the very day he’d been born and the joy she’d felt at having twin brothers. Wiping his tears, he closed it and held it to his heart as he heard her voice in her words.
Styxx had been right. His precious sister was gone and it was all his fault. Devastated from the truth of it, he saw one of the silver hair combs he’d given her on her last birthday, just days ago.
He crawled over to it and placed it against his lips. “I’m so sorry, Ryssa. I’m so sorry.”
And in that moment it hit him how pathetic it was that all he had to show for a life so vibrant was such minuscule things. Three diaries and a broken hair comb. Leaning his head back, he sobbed from the agony of her loss.
“Apostolos … please don’t cry.”
He felt his mother’s presence. “What have you done, Matera?”
“I wanted them to pay for hurting you.”
Did it even matter? What they’d done to him was nothing compared to what had been done this day because of his mother’s actions. “And now Artemis owns me.”
His mother’s scream mirrored his own. “How?”
“To stop you, she’s bound me to her with her blood.”
He could feel his anger mirrored through his mother’s voice. “Come to me, Apostolos. Free me and I will destroy that bitch and those bastards who cursed you.”
Acheron shook his head. He should do it. He should. They all deserved nothing better, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to destroy the world.
To kill innocent people …
He looked around at the bodies and winced. No. In spite of it all, he couldn’t do this to the world.
His mother appeared before him as a translucent shade. Acheron sucked his breath in sharply as he saw her for the very first time. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Hair as white as new-fallen snow fell from a crown that shimmered with diamonds. Her pale, silver eyes swirled just as his did. Her black dress flowed over her body as she held one hand out to him.
He tried to touch her, but his hand passed through hers.
“You are my son, Apostolos. The only thing in my life that I’ve ever truly loved. I would give my life for yours. Come to me, child. I want to hold you.”
He treasured every word she spoke. “I can’t, Matera. Not if that means sacrificing the world. I refuse to be so selfish.”
“Why would you protect a world that turned its back on you and abused you?”
“Because I know what it’s like to be punished for things not my fault. I know what it’s like to have things forced on me that were wrong and against my will. Why would I ever serve that to someone else?”
“Because it would be justice!”
He glanced around at the scattered bodies of those who hadn’t deserved to die like this and rot out in the open. “No. It would only be cruel. Justice to the humans has been more than served.”
Her eyes flashed angrily. “What of Apollo and Artemis?”
He ground his teeth at the mere mention of their names. “They hold the power of the sun and the moon. I can’t destroy them.”
“
I
can.”
And thus she’d destroy the entire earth and all who lived here. It was why he couldn’t free her. “I’m not worth the end of the world, Matera.”
Her eyes burned him with her sincerity. “To me you are.”
In that moment, he would have sold his soul to be able to hold her. “I love you, Mama.”
“Nowhere near as much as I love you,
m’gios.
”
M’gios.
My son. He’d waited his entire life for someone to claim him. But as much as he wanted his mother, he wouldn’t end the world for it.
Suddenly a cold wind whipped around him, tearing at his clothes and hair, yet not hurting him. The world around him faded as he found himself on unfamiliar ground. His mother’s image flickered by his side. “This is Katateros. Your birthright.”
He frowned at the pile of rubble. “It’s in ruins.”
She cast a sheepish look toward him. “I was a little upset when I came here.”
A little?
“Close your eyes, Apostolos.”
Trusting her completely, he did.
“Breathe in.”
He took a deep breath and then he felt his mother inside him. Her powers merged with his and in the blink of an eye, the ruins reunited to form a beautiful palace of gold and black marble. His mother’s presence pulled out of him.
“Welcome home,
palatimos.
”
Precious one.
The doors opened and as Acheron passed through them, his clothing changed. His hair grew long and black and a flowing robe fanned out behind him as he walked over the white marble floor. He paused at the sign of the sun that was pierced by three bolts of lightning.
His mother slowed as she noted him studying it. “The sun is my symbol and it represents the day. The silver of the lightning bolts is for the night. The bolt to the left is for me and the past, and the one on the right is your father and the future. Yours is the bolt in the middle that unites and binds the three of us together and stands for the present. That is the sign of the Talimosin and represents your dominion of the past, the present, and the future.”
He frowned at the Atlantean word. “The Harbinger?”
She nodded. “You, Apostolos. You are the Talimosin. The final Fate of all. Your words are law and your wrath absolute. Be careful as you speak, for whatever you will, even in carelessness, will determine the fate of the person you’re speaking to. It’s a burden I would never have wished upon you. And it’s one I hate those bitches for. But I can’t undo what they’ve given you. No one can.”
“What exactly are my powers?”
“I don’t know. I took them from you and never looked at them for fear of exposing you to the others. I only know what Archon’s daughters cursed you to. But you will learn them all in time. I only wish you’d come to me so that I could help you until you grow stronger.”
“Matera—”
“I know.” She held her hand up. “I respect you for being the man you are and I’m proud of you. However, should you get your fill of this world and change your mind, you know where I am.”
He smiled at her.
“In the meantime, this is all yours now.”
Acheron looked around at the statues and somehow he knew who each and every one of them were. As he approached the set of gold doors, he saw the image of his mother to the left and Archon to the right.
The doors opened and there he saw the remains of the gods where his mother had attacked them. They were frozen in the horror of their last moments.
His mother didn’t show even the tiniest bit of remorse for what she’d done to her family. “If the sight of them bothers you, there is a room below the throne room where you can store them. While I’m locked in Kalosis, my powers won’t let me put them there, but you shouldn’t have that problem.”
Closing his eyes, he wished the statues gone. In an instant, they were. He had no desire to see the images of people who’d wanted him dead.
His mother smiled approvingly. “You should have the ability to come and go from the human realm to this one at will. You’ll find that Katateros is a large place with areas unexplored. The mountaintops are windy … and it’s on the northernmost point that you can hear the sound of your grandmother, the North Wind. Zenobi will whisper to you and succor you in my absence. Any time you need to be comforted, go there and let her hold you.”
“Thank you, Matera.”
“I will leave now and give you time to adjust. If you need me, call and I will appear.”
He inclined his head to her as she faded away and left him alone in this unfamiliar place.
It was so strange to be here and it would take some getting used to. Closing his eyes, he could see the gods as they’d been. Hear their voices echoing in the faintest of whispers. And when he opened them, they were all gone and he heard nothing.
As he moved around the room, he realized he wore some kind of leather leggings.
Pants.
How very odd to know the names of everything and everyone without even trying. Whatever information he needed was there instantly.
Crossing the room, he approached the single black and gold throne … Archon’s. An image of his own dead human body in it appeared in his mind. And in the next, Acheron was sitting in it, looking out on the gleaming, empty room. Though ornate and gilded, it was sterile.
There was no life to the palace. No comfort here.
He stood and as he did so a large staff appeared by his side. Over seven feet tall, it held his emblem in gold and silver on the top. Atlantean words were inscribed down the smooth wood.
By this the Talimosin will be known. He will fight for himself and for others. Be strong.
Be strong. Acheron flinched as the demon Xiamara’s words whispered through his mind. He teleported himself to the top of the northernmost mountain. The sun was just beginning to set as the winds whipped his formesta out behind him. He gripped his staff tight, looking back over his shoulder to see where the palace stood below.
Then he heard it.
Apostolos … feel my strength. It will be yours when you need it.
He smiled sinisterly as he felt his grandmother’s caress against his skin. Closing his eyes, he took comfort and strength.
And when he opened his eyes, he could tell they glowed red now. His vision saw so much more than it had as a human. He felt the pulse of the universe in his veins. Felt the power of the primal source, and for the first time he realized his place in the cosmos.
I am the god Apostolos. I am death, destruction, and suffering. And I will be the one who brings forth Telikos—the end of the world.
That was if he could ever figure out how to use his powers. Acheron laughed at the truth of it.
Turning, he headed down the mountain and back to the throne room in Archon’s palace. No … it was his now. Sadness hung deep inside him as he realized that though he had his grandmother and mother with him in spirit, he was still alone in the world.
Completely alone.
He froze as he heard something moving behind his throne. It was a soft scurrying sound … like a large rodent. Frowning, he teleported toward it, prepared to kill whatever dared defile his new home.
What he found there stunned him completely.
It was a small demon with marbled red and white skin and long black hair. Small red horns poked through the tangles of her curls as she looked up at him with red eyes that were rimmed in orange.
“Are you my akri?” she asked in a childish lilt.
“I’m no one’s akri.”
“Oh…” She looked about. “But akra sent me here. She said my akri would be waiting. The Simi is confused. I lost my mama and now the Simi needs her akri.” She sat down and started crying.