Paramythi III: Prometheus

Becoming a parent was supposed to be a choice. For Zyki Cronos, it was a necessity.

They were never to know that their children were being created in hopes to summon Sytry, the Prince of Moons. Even if they were aware, there was nothing they could have done to prevent it. Erebus Dionysus had been thorough in his experiments; even going far enough to use his son’s DNA to impregnate Zyki.

Three litters were born and Zyki had only been seventeen. Their animalistic nature was becoming feral by then. Their children were their possession and they were only guarding their own whenever men in white coats would pull the crying Allawo babies away from Zyki’s shaking arms after giving them a sedative.

Over and over, Zyki would relive the same nightmare of losing their little ones. Their heart soared towards the little Allawo that climbed against its parent’s chest when they slept in the corner of their crammed room. It had been the small locks of white hair and the pattern of their black veins that caught Zyki’s interest.

Icarus. The name given to a long-lost soul. Zyki knew it was a cursed name to give to one so young, so small. The idea to escape with wings into the sun was so appealing to them; even if it meant crashing into the abyss below. Anywhere was better than here.

Zyki found the days were going by quicker the longer they spent with Icarus. They held the babe in the soft cloth of their shirt, tucked away in the darkest corners of the room as they kept the small creature fed. They climbed the walls and let the baby sharpen their growing claws into the metallic tiles, and whenever someone crept in to steal them away, Zyki would tear them apart.

It took Erebus Dionysus himself to steal Icarus. There had been no room for Zyki to prepare themselves when the door flew open and Erebus strode in, firing a tranquilizer through the air. Zyki felt their eyes close before they even hit the floor. When they woke, they were alone.

Icarus went on to become Riyo Midas, freed from the imprisonment of Erebus Dionysus’ laboratories when Kane Ruskin and his Rebels infiltrated. Riyo could remember being the reason for Erebus having one eye. They could remember digging his eyeball out with a scalpel only moments before Nyx – a member of the Rebellion – had rescued Riyo. The rest was history.

A reunion with your parent was supposed to be happy. For Riyo and Zyki, it had been a challenge of dominance and bared teeth until Zyki had clocked it. They had been inconspicuous, softening to the younger Allawo as time went by. Riyo seemed too caught up in their own head to even realise the change of heart.

By the time the curtain was pulled from Riyo’s eyes, Sytry had already claimed their body. The Dionysus bloodline ran through their veins; the human side of their origin was nothing but malicious. The Allawo side belonged to Zyki, a pure descendent from the original Allawo bloodline from Amaltheia – direct from Sytry’s creations, made by the Prince of Moons’ hand. It left little wonder to how Riyo became the vessel to such a selfish creature.

Two years of mourning gone and Riyo had lost nothing. Only returning to face the war their demons had started; did they begin to lose something; or gain something worth losing? It was difficult to say.

“My newest creation,” Erebus’ face appeared, filling the numerous screens in the large room. “What do you think?”

Riyo’s chest turned tight. The sound of their captor had them frozen, unable to defend themselves when Zyki took a swipe through the air. Their palm struck Riyo across the cheek and they flew, crashing into the glass of water tanks surrounding them.

“Between you and I, keeping something alive this long just for them to turn out like this, well…” Erebus chuckled lowly as Zyki approached Riyo curling against the floor, covered in glass and water. “I would have personally put them down by now.”

Zyki’s scream was ear-piercing. Their hands were balled, and their knees bent as the scream was delivered in waves of drool and jiggered teeth. Standing over the younger Allawo had Zyki pause. When they knelt to meet Riyo, the half-breed had pushed themselves up and leant against the broken glass wall.

Riyo turned their head, avoiding Zyki’s glare. They squeezed their eyes shut when Zyki’s nose nudged their cheek and their hands opened, declaring their unarmed state. It was a means of submission and Zyki kept nudging their cheek until they were satisfied before moving away, crawling against the balls of their feet and knuckles of their hands.

Erebus’ face turned to disinterest. The screens flickered before turning black. There were no sounds, save for the heavy breathing of Zyki skulking in the corners. Riyo fought back their frustration as they reached for the trident on the floor and leant against its shaft.

If Zyki noticed Riyo’s attempt to escape, they made no indication as Riyo limped for their exit. The hairs on the back of their neck stood when they were interrupted by the silhouette in the doorway.

“Riyo,” Quincy stepped into the room, holding a hand out in defence. “Please, don’t be fearful. I’m your-”

“I know.” Riyo deadpanned. They tipped their head back with a long, drawn-out sigh. “Are you on his side?”

“What?” Quincy scoffed. “No! Nothing like that! It’s just, well, complicated.”

Riyo noticed the way Quincy’s eyes wandered past their shoulder, watching Zyki huddle into the corner of the room. They moved aside, allowing the man to step into the messy area, glass crunching under his thick-soled shoes. He made a comment about the mess as he approached Zyki, hands raised as the Allawo turned on him.

Zyki did not attack. They sunk against Quincy’s embrace, knees knocking together until they slid to the ground, pressing their forehead against the man’s chest. Hushed reassurance was given by Quincy until the veins on Zyki’s face sunk away.

“Come,” Quincy raised a hand towards Riyo. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. Not really.”

Riyo subconsciously raised their hand to the forming bruise on their cheek. It would be a momentary reminder of Zyki’s rage. Not enough to stop them from approaching their parent and kneeling to accept Quincy’s hand.

Zyki’s arms flew up, pulling Riyo down into their mini-circle. A reunion with your parent was supposed to be happy. It should have been spent in the warm sun, surrounded by fresh air and freedom. It should not have been spent in a dingy dungeon, surrounded by broken glass and stale water.

“So touching!”

Riyo had turned first, trident high above their head to strike down the owner of such a shrill voice. They saw Leto standing in the doorway, tranquiliser fast in hand. She wasted no time to shoot, sending the needle into the centre of Riyo’s throat.

“The greatest experiment to conclude our research.” Erebus cooed, appearing behind Quincy and Zyki. His cane swatted broken glass and slushed against the ground when he leant forward, watching Riyo squirm under the serum’s influence. “If Sytry can consume the host whole.”

“Only one way to find out, dear brother.” Leto mused, tossing the tranquiliser aside.

“My son and his pet are your host’s parents, Sytry.” Erebus motioned to Quincy. “They are the only tie keeping them to this world. Should you tear them apart, you can finally consume your new body whole and walk the earth for all eternity!”

Riyo’s breathing was laboured. An invisible force, similar to a gravitational pull urged them to their knees. The trident landed at their side while hands shot to their neck, quick to pull the needle out from their flesh. The vial was empty. They could feel the poison slipping through their veins before their lips could even part.

“No…. I won’t kill my parents.” Every word was a laboured struggle for air. Riyo panted, tongue darting out across their numb lips. Their neck cracked when they turned, eyes wild and cheeks hollow. “Sytry hates you.”

“The serum will kick in soon enough.” Leto scoffed. “After that, I think I’ll take Helios back to the theatre. Where he belongs.”

Erebus said nothing. His attention was fixated upon Riyo and the way they moved. It was a possession-like motion. As if their limbs were turning in the opposite direction they were commanding. Bones popped, blood poured from every orifice and Riyo keeled forward, jutting their hips back in the air; almost prayer like.

“It’s working.” Erebus commented. He glanced to Quincy, then to Zyki’s snarling face and elongated claws. Despite their threatening demeanour, neither Zyki nor Quincy could move to stop Riyo from flailing around. “Icarus Midas will soon be no more.”

As if on cue, Riyo screamed. They sat back, arms extended against the weight of their golden wings behind them. Black droplets of blood drooled across the crown of their head, clinging to their white hair as two, bony antlers peaked from atop their hairline. Their eyes rolled back into their head, jaw turning slack as the bones running up their spine extended, cracking audibly until their skull was ready to split in two.

“The symbol of regeneration,” Erebus twirled his cane. The sounds of screams and cries from his own grandchild seemed to weigh little on his shoulders. “A grand resemblance to Sytry’s true form.”

“The best serum, yet.” Leto laughed, running her fingers across her bottom lip in thought. “What can I say, brother? You were right all along.”

“Naturally.” Erebus cocked his head. The screams had stopped. The water lapping at his heels was the colour of blood. Sytry’s corpse lay in a heap of their own tangled limbs. “Rise Sytry. Smite those ties which bind your host to this world.”

Shoulders clicked, arms cracked. Each joint rubbed as the so-called Prince of Moons stood, adorning newly made antlers which seeped with fresh blood. The droplets splatters with an audible ‘drip.’ A sound loud enough to fill the silence as everyone turned silent. Watching. Waiting.

“I won’t.”

Erebus blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“I won’t kill my parents.” Riyo’s icy blue eyes peered from behind the mess of ivory stained hair matted across their face. “I’d rather kill you.”

As quickly as Riyo had been taken from their parent’s side all those years ago, they watched their parent be stolen from them just as quickly. Erebus did not change any notable expression when he pulled a gun from the folds of his coat and shot Zyki.

Riyo felt the world slow turn. They saw blood fly in droplets across the room, watched as Quincy’s mouth opened in fear with no sound to escape. His arms were quick to wrap around Zyki as the remainder of their life escaped their deadened eyes. Riyo’s eyes turned on Erebus and the world sped up again.

It took a collection of seconds for Riyo to kneel, grab Sytry’s trident and throw themselves across the room. Bullets flew and they felt one or two bury themselves in the swell of their chest. They screamed, bringing the trident down on Erebus with a brute force that shoved the entire shaft down the man’s throat and pin him to the floor.

Leto did not need clarification. She heard the crack of her brother’s skull before he began to bleed. Waiting for her turn would be foolish and she turned, fleeing the scene with a hobble against the jutted ball of her broken ankle.

She slapped her hands against the walls, pulling herself along to escape into the air and feel the wind on her sweaty face. She would have given anything to see the surface again, to encourage her Faeman to sing and dance, to make scandalous deals with snooty nobles and earn a pretty penny whilst she did so.

Leto could have wished for anything other than the gut-wrenching sight of Riyo Midas charging down the hallway behind her. She had screamed, toppling over to land on her front when clawed hands dug into either side of her head and pulled.

They did not stop pulling until Leto’s head was separated clean from her shoulders.

What emerged from the depths of the Colosseum had no longer been Riyo Midas. It was indeed Sytry, dragging his bloodied trident in one hand whilst gripping the short hair of Leto Dionysus’ head with the other.

His expression seemed uninterested beneath the heavy coat of black blood and grime. He even managed to stifle a yawn once the shadows had cleared and he stood in the open gateway, following the tunnels that Allawo and Avolaki were sent down to face off in the centre.

Leto’s head was tossed through the air, landing just short of Psykhe’s left foot. Sytry had expected a comment, something encouraging for his ego or at least something to praise him for his host’s glory after all these years. Alas, no-one seemed vocal enough to even greet him or address the new set of antlers atop his head. How rude!

Then the shadows shifted and Sytry knew why they were so quiet. It was not to do with the unexpected entrance he had made; but because everything else had gone quiet. Remiel was no longer on a rampage because he had found what he was looking for.

Sytry cursed himself for not noticing the God’s presence sooner. He had been clouded with the thoughts and feelings of his lost, little host. He could have laughed, but only spared an upturn of lips when his head turned skyward and there Remiel stood, perched on the crown of the Colosseum, looking down.

The heavens had begun opening. The sky was black and gold. Remiel’s eyes were black with fury and Sytry’s trident glinted as he flew up. They commenced; they fought.