Aphrodite

Rachel lay on the cold, hard floor of the cell, her body aching with bruises. Each breath was a struggle, shallow and laboured. Trapped by the humans, she could only cling to a faint hope of rescue.

Suddenly, a subtle warmth began to blossom on her arm — a warmth that originated from the mark the Abaddon had branded into her flesh during their first encounter. What started as a slight tingle soon burgeoned into an insistent blaze, compelling her to grit her teeth and clutch at the burning skin.

As the pain intensified, the atmosphere inside the cell shifted. The air grew dense, almost tangible, as if responding to her agony. The walls seemed to pulse with a sinister, invisible heartbeat. A chilling mist materialised in the center of the cell, swirling around her as shadows began to coalesce into a formless, terrifying presence.

The creature in the cell opposite, previously a silent observer, now recoiled at the unfolding scene. It scurried to the furthest corner, pressing itself against the cold wall, its eyes wide and filled with primal fear.

From the midst of the swirling mist, the Abaddon emerged. Even in his incomplete form his presence was overpowering. He advanced toward Rachel, each step resonating with the authority and dominion of his power.

“Aphrodite,” the Abaddon’s voice rumbled deeply. “I feel your essence dwindling. Please, don’t give up. You cannot let these humans be your end.” His words, intended as reassurance, provided only a cold comfort. His shadowy hand reached out toward her, bringing a strange warmth as it hovered near her cheek, unable to truly touch her.

Rachel’s voice was weak, wearied by her ordeal. “I’ve tried so hard, but they are strong. They are filled with so much hatred. I don’t know how much longer I can last. I don’t want to lose my memories again.”

“It’s not hatred, but envy,” the Abaddon corrected, his form swirling with a visible agitation. “They resent the power they do not understand, cannot possess.”

“Power? I have no power? My abilities won’t work. They do everything they can to hurt me. I still don’t know what they want from me.”

He tsked. “No power? My power runs through your veins.”

She laughed in defeat. “You act as if I know what I’m doing, what’s happening. I’ve been lost since the moment I found out what I was. I make mistake after mistake, and I’ve caused others pain. I wasn’t made for this world.”

“You must fight them, Rachel. They are just humans,” the Abaddon urged. To him, they were weak mortal beings, and she was more than that. However, they had stripped everything away from her, and she couldn’t see a way out.

“I can’t…” she whispered, tears of defeat streaming down her cheeks. “I can’t.”

The Abaddon’s anger flared, his shadowy form growing darker. “You are the Aphrodite! These pests of humans cannot be allowed to make a shadow creature feel inferior. You are bonded to me, and one of your abilities, Aphrodite, is the merging of powers. You have my powers.”

Rachel laughed bitterly, a sad, hollow sound. “Does that mean I can burn this place to the ground? I can barely move. I would probably burn with it.”

“You underestimate your strength,” he said, his tone softer but resolute. “Together, we can destroy them and claim our place in the world once more. You are capable of so much more than you realise. You just need to tap into your true potential.”

Rachel closed her eyes, trying to summon the strength within her, but the pain and exhaustion clouded her mind. She didn’t believe she had the power to face these humans, let channel the Abaddon’s abilities. The idea seemed as far-fetched as escaping her cell.

“I’ve failed everyone. The warnings were all there, and I didn’t listen.”

The Abaddon growled, his frustration palpable. “It angers me that I have no body, for when I do, the humans will regret what they’ve done. I need you to survive, Aphrodite. You must remember who you are, who we were together. Perhaps that might motivate you to fight them.”

His words stirred something within Rachel, a flicker of resolve. She needed to remember, to hold onto her identity, not just for her own sake, but to withstand the forces that sought to strip her of her power and autonomy.

With a touch to her mark, reality shattered around Rachel, and suddenly she found herself in the midst of a grandiose Egyptian ceremony. The air was thick with the exotic perfumes of frankincense and myrrh, and the sands beneath her feet thrummed with the rhythm of drums and chants. The vibrations seemed to resonate deep within her, awakening a long-buried memory.

She was draped in fine silks, her skin adorned with gold and intricate paintings, embodying the essence of a goddess beside her god—the Abaddon, regal and divine. The scene was mesmerising, and filled with a profound sense of belonging.

The ceremony’s atmosphere was electric with devotion, opposed to the fear she’d seen in the eyes of those in her current world. Here, she felt powerful, respected, and revered. The people knelt before them, eyes filled with love and awe, a testament to the divine authority they once held together.

As dancers swayed, their bodies undulating like the snakes at their feet, Rachel’s heart ached with a longing she didn’t understand. The scene tugged at something deep within her, a memory that was hers and yet not.

In the midst of the ceremony, a young Egyptian woman approached Rachel, her eyes cast downward in a display of reverence and humility. Clad in simple yet elegant linens, she held a golden chalice in her hands, the vessel as delicate and beautiful as the young woman presenting it.

“Aphrodite,” the young woman began, her voice trembling with emotion, “I offer this humble gift to you, a token of our people’s endless gratitude and unwavering devotion.” Her hands, though steady, betrayed the slightest tremor, revealing the depth of her reverence for the deity she served.

Aphrodite, moved by the gesture, accepted the offering. As she took the chalice, her fingers brushed against the woman’s, a brief contact that nonetheless conveyed an entire spectrum of emotion — reassurance, gratitude, a silent promise of protection. She brought the chalice to her lips and sipped the wine.

“Your gift warms my heart, and your devotion lights my path,” Aphrodite responded, her words drawing a tremulous smile and glistening tears from the young devotee.

This brief interaction, though simple, was a microcosm of the bond they shared with their people — not founded on terror and oppression, but on mutual respect, affection, and shared prosperity. It was a poignant echo of what they once represented to their followers, and what they might one day embody again.

No sooner had the young woman retreated a few steps, the leech appeared by Aphrodite’s side. In his human form, he was less menacing but still commanded an air of authority and respect. His eyes, always a well of dark intentions in his leech form, now held a softer gleam, portraying a character who understood his place amongst the higher echelons of this ancient society.

With a courteous nod to Aphrodite, acknowledging her status and power, he offered his arm to the young woman, who still seemed overwhelmed by her encounter with her goddess. “Allow me,” he said, his voice smooth.

The young woman placed a trembling hand on his arm, allowing herself to be escorted back to the throng of dancers. He released her into the celebration with a flourish, his eyes never leaving Aphrodite, ensuring his actions reflected her expectations. The young woman rejoined the dance, her movements more spirited, her joy infectious.

When he returned to her side, something shifted in the air, a subtle current that Aphrodite sensed more than saw. He halted before her, his head bowing in a show of deference that belied the familiarity that thrummed between them. Then, he lifted his face, and his eyes met hers, his dark irises giving way to a brilliant flash of golden light.

As the ceremony continued around them, a dance of devotion and celestial reverence, Rachel felt the weight of that bond anchoring her to this moment, to the memories of their shared past, and to the leech who stood by her side, as constant as the stars in their celestial dance.

The Abaddon turned to her. “Do you remember this, Aphrodite? Our bond, our promise to our people?”

Aphrodite, her gown shimmering in the sunlight, shook her head. “There’s something familiar about it, but I don’t remember.”

He captured her hand, his warmth a balm to her frigid skin. “My essence will keep you strong.” Darkness seeped from his hand into her mark. “I bestow this memory upon you. Our subjects revered us, and our affection for them was boundless. They recognised us for what we are.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“A time existed when harmony reigned between us. You must remember who you were, that you might reign beside me once more, where you rightfully belong. You must persevere, remember our might, our connection. My form is yet incomplete, but once it’s complete, I will come for you.”

As the vision began to fade, Rachel felt a mix of emotions—nostalgia, confusion, and determination. The Abaddon’s shadowy form receded, his words a lingering echo in the vaults of her mind.

“Remember our legacy, Rachel. Remember our bond. Hold on, just a little longer.”

As the vision faded, Rachel felt a surge of determination. The cold floor beneath her no longer felt like a prison but a temporary barrier. The mark on her arm, once a painful brand, now pulsed with promise and hope. She would endure, fortified by the memories of golden days and the promise of a future reclaimed. In the silence of her cell, Rachel closed her eyes, drawing strength from the echoes of chants and the warmth of golden sands, her heart filled with hope.