Paramythi III: Prometheus

Twyla had lived a full life as a criminal and test-subject for many greedy hands. They had been born near the border of Tipota, huddled in a happy little litter of thirteen Avolaki, all nestled in a cave just East of Yomi.

Humans had destroyed their home, raided their belongings and killed their siblings. Twyla was the only survivor because of their hair. A Blessed Avolaki was like striking gold. A Blessed, Magick Wielding Avolaki was as good as playing God.

Twyla had saved themselves and slaughtered those horrible men and women. Their powers had awoken only after their family’s demise. It often takes a traumatic experience – one enough to rattle every bone in the body – before a Magick Wielder’s power awakens.

Avolaki held the favour of kingdoms, often finding themselves able to cross the borders without a sneer or curse. Allawo were the opposite – no-one wanted one of them to sneak past their walls. Twyla could never understand this. They knew their own kin were far more devious in a sense of impish ploys and spiteful acts, unlike their counterparts. Allawo were just frightening.

Whether the law of the world was right or wrong, it was enough for Twyla to live for as long as they did; going from kingdom to kingdom and telling prophecies. They grew a name for themselves; the Fortune Teller of Galaxis.

It took a sixteen-year-old boy named Kane Ruskin to change their life for the greater good. He had been a scruffy teenager, with messy black hair and fresh stubble on his chin. There was nothing bright about him other than the shining pair of blue eyes peaking through the fringe adorning most of his grubby face.

Kane claimed to have the hands to change the world and Twyla was smitten with everything he said and everything he did. Kane may have gone to Twyla to hear his future, but Twyla followed Kane to create a future. Their love was strong enough to begin a revolution which would pull apart whether the law of the world was right or wrong – which came with its consequences.

It had been Twyla who paid the price when Kane’s cottage had been raided by Capitol soldiers a year later. They had gone with them willingly, claiming they had been playing with Kane’s mind the whole time which left Kane free of questioning and a court session on why he was keeping an Avolaki in his cottage.

Four years later, Kane ambushed a laboratory South of Hera, saving thirty Allawo and twenty-free Avolaki, including Twyla Tychi. Reunited, they turned to Capitol in hopes to have their petition for Avolaki recognised within Emvolo but was turned down by the former Governor. The latter Governor, Phobos Enyo, had been no better and during Kane’s assassination attempt on the Governor herself, Ciiria Zabitha-Adrestia had intervened and the Rebellion flourished at long last.

Kane had gotten drunk the night their Base left the ground. He danced with Twyla on the open roof until his knees were tired and he fell asleep against their shoulder while Twyla held him and floated through the sky. Their best moments were spent in the sky, filled with drink and freedom.

Love fades when war begins; Kane and Twyla’s love was no different. They grew distant and focused their whole attention on everyone else around them. Aligning the kingdoms together became less and less of a drunken dream, forcing itself into a responsibility Kane began to carry on his shoulders alone.

Twyla felt as though they had lost the man they fell in love with. There was no longer a scruffy sixteen-year-old boy standing in front of them, staring with bright blue eyes and reaching with hands that could change the world. He had turned into a man who followed the law and stayed within the lines of what government and leaders expected of him. Even Ciiria seemed more Rebellious than Kane.

It took the return of Erebus Dionysus’ greedy clutches to reignite that spark in Kane and Twyla. Nine months of searching for them and Kane was ready to give up, convincing himself that Twyla had used the excuse of going on a mission when they had actually left the Rebellion. Left him. Alas, Elias Kara and his comrades had found Twyla and taken them down.

When Twyla had awoken, Kane had been there. He apologised over and over, making assumptions and leaving wet tears across the sheets covering Twyla’s shaking body. They had been delirious and dehydrated to the point all of Kane’s apologies were long forgotten after Neoma had inserted a cannula and ran fluids through their system.

Seeing the scars on the inside of Twyla’s elbow made Kane sick to his stomach. The light in his eyes came back, infused with a fury towards those who oppose his people. The tears had stopped rolling down his cheeks and he turned serious, mulling over the options in his head as he held Twyla against his chest until they came around again.

They loved as if they had never loved before; until the end came knocking at their doorstep. Ciiria fell, Tentrail was destroyed and the Rebellion was over. They had lost; all because the Gods above could not allow their mortal actions to surpass that of their might. Wrong place, wrong time.

Like clockwork, Kane and Twyla grew distant all over again. Everyone noticed it, the great depression which had taken them all was no match to the tension and sorrow in the eyes of Kane Ruskin to this day.

Twyla could see it in their mind as they lay upon a metal table. The glowing lights in the ceiling did not distract them from the idea of Kane laying on his poor excuse of a bed underground. He had not seen the spell coming and Twyla was thankful; thankful they could save the boy they loved, hidden in the husk of the broken man they adored.

“I’m sorry.”

Twyla laughed. It was a short outburst of sound, bouncing off the walls around them. “Me too,” when they turned their head, white hair spilled across the lip of the table. “You look good, Quincy!”

Quincy Dionysus, the son of Erebus Dionysus and the father of Icarus Midas, Sytry’s host. He had always been a short-looking man with long hair and round glasses. Whilst he had been in the Rebellion, working under Kane and Ciiria as the Rebel’s tactician, he had dyed his hair a turquoise colour in honour of his fellow fighters; now it streaked down his back in light shades of brown. When he smiled, it was a warn look and he clasped his hands behind his back.

“You saw Kane hang, didn’t you?” Quincy’s eyes were soft, voice low. “You changed the future. That stuff comes with a price, Twyla. Someone will always die on that day, even if it’s not Kane.”

“I know that. Of course, I know that!” Twyla exclaimed, stretching their arms above their head. “I remember the day Neriah Kiska was going to die. We changed fate and two people died in her place.”

Quincy’s lips clamped shut.

Twyla continued, “Lady Neriah must have meant a lot in the Gods’ books. To think two people died in her place! I wonder… just how many people will die in Kane’s place?”

“You’re not yourself.”

“I’m not.” Twyla hopped off the table, landing with an inaudible thud. They idly rearranged their hiked shirt and slacks; an unimpressive outfit compared to their usual attire of flamboyant clothes and colour. Living underground for two years really cuts back the fashion options. “Kane and I have cut our romantic ties, for good.”

“You have?” Quincy blurted.

“Oh, don’t be so surprised!” Twyla shoved the man aside and strode out of the door. They admired the large room awaiting them, peering at the numerous water tanks surrounding the walls. “…your father is very particular with décor as always.”

“You will always care for Kane, Twyla.” Quincy followed, dismissing the comment. “It shows in everything you do. You’re a creature of the Moon and you’ve followed that man through hell just to be with him. Look at you now, here of all places. You wouldn’t have strolled into my father’s hands if it meant you did not love Kane Ruskin.”

Twyla’s reply was nothing but a short sob. They covered their mouth with one hand, squeezing their eyes shut to hold back their tears. They were an uglier crier and took no pride in showing it. “I just-“ They inhaled sharply, waving their free hand, “I just can’t let him die.”

Quincy moved, setting a warm hand upon Twyla’s shoulder. “Love sticks. Kane will always be with you, just as Zyki will always be with me.”

“It’s more than just that!” Twyla shrugged Quincy’s hand off their shoulder and turned, black veins running down their cheeks. “I’m pregnant! Kane and I have grown so distant in the time we’ve been in hiding. I tried my hardest to comfort him in the beginning, make him feel again. But he is nothing but a shell of a man, he does not even look me in the eye because he thinks he’s ruined my life. Trapped me in a ditch while the world falls apart!”

Quincy’s eyes flitted around the room. “Does Kane know?” His voice turned to a whisper. “When did this… happen?”

Twyla sniffled, pressing their hands upon their stomach. “We have not been together in months.” They released a low sigh as their body morphed, changing to a physique to that of a woman’s. Their stomach jutted out first and hands curled into fists against the bump. “He does not know. I have been very… careful with shifting my body. I don’t want to harm the being inside me, but I could not stare at myself in the mirror knowing it’s there.”

“You really shouldn’t be shifting at all, no Moon Graced creature has the physical strength to keep a womb shrunk when there’s something growing inside it. You could do serious damage to yourself!”

“I know.” Twyla said, wiping their cheeks free of tears. “I just… could see the way Kane would look at me if I told him we would be bringing a child into this world. He would either give up completely or run into war guns blazing with no plan of action. It’s not the right time for this. I should have been more careful.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Quincy stepped forward and offered his friend a smile. “It’s a beautiful thing to have a child. You should be happy-“

Their conversation ceased as the air turned tense. Footsteps filtered the room, additional with the heavy tap of a walking stick. Growls and hisses could be heard from every angle, Allawo and Avolaki caged away in fear of the man with white hair and one eye.

“Twyla Tychi,” Erebus Dionysus cooed. He stopped, a mere distance to save himself from being attacked, and leant against his cane. “There you stand in all your glory with Kane Ruskin’s child in your womb. How lucky am I?”

“Father,” Quincy stepped in front of Twyla. His tone had changed, mirroring Erebus’ in a way that made the hairs on the back of Twyla’s neck stand up. “I made it clear not to approach Twyla while I am around.”

Erebus’ eye twitched. Above them, a low growl emanated. Erebus did not even have to look up to know what it was. Not even the line of drool coming from the ceiling made him flinch; albeit he wrinkled his nose at the uneasy sensation.

“When are you going to put your pet on a leash, Quincy?”

“Do not address Zyki in that manner,” Quincy raised his chin, clicking his tongue against his cheek. “Leave.”

A scuttling sound of claws against metal rattled the ceiling and the fourth figure in the room finally showed themselves. Zyki Cronos had been the Rebellion’s Archive Keeper and had originally been a prisoner in one of Erebus Dionysus’ early laboratories. They had been the breaking point of Erebus’ experiment, a vessel to carry Sytry’s host in and give birth to. If Erebus had it his way, he would have killed them afterwards.

“Go…” Zyki growled.

Everything Zyki Cronos had been two years ago was all but gone. Erebus had reshaped them and saved them from death after Merine delivered them half-dead at Erebus’ feet. Whatever serum Erebus had conducted left Zyki hunched over, taller, and closer to a pure Allawo by genetically removing the human DNA from their genes. Almost everything humane had been wiped clean, other than their devotion to Quincy.

“You heard them, father.” Quincy waved. “Leave us.”

Riyo woke with a gurgled gasp. Air filled their lungs as they sat up. Beads of sweat ran down their cheeks. They struggled to breath, panicked and aching from the ghostly sensation running across their back. Once they had calmed, fatigue washed over and they slumped back against the wet ground as rain splashed their face.

“Sytry’s host,” Anima called, standing nearby beneath the leafy coverage of a tree. “I have sealed your God away for the time being.”

“Psykhe…?” Riyo wheezed. The effort to open their eyes and look up at the woman was a challenge. To keep them open was near impossible. “Oh, no, sorry. You’ve changed your name, haven’t you?”

Anima’s jaw tightened. “I have changed nothing. I have always been Anima Eros.”

“Come on, we both know that’s a load of Shema crap. You’re not that stupid, Psykhe. You and I used to be partners after Helios and I-“ Riyo sat up, eyes turning white and cheeks flaring. Their voice deepened with a growl. “Where’s Helios?!”

“The Faeman?” Anima clicked her tongue. “No doubt in Remiel’s hold. You showed a weakness he will use to lure you to him, Sytry’s host. Be wary of your choices.”

“Screw that.” Riyo grumbled, struggling to stand. Mud and grass stuck to their body and they growled, brushing the earth away from their exposed skin. They hated Sytry’s choice in fashion. “I’m going to save Helios. Are you coming, or what?”

“Surely you have a better plan than just walking into Emvolo while your only power is sealed away?”

“I’m not an idiot, Trezla.” Riyo grimaced. “We go this way, towards the northwest. There’s a hut by Minoas’ wall. Hermes and the others are waiting for me.”

“Others?” Anima pushed off the tree and bent her knees, picking up Sytry’s trident from the muddy ground. “How many of you are going to ambush the God of Wrath? And you say you’re not an idiot, Sytry’s host… I think you need to recalculate.”

Riyo whirled on their heel and snatched the trident from Anima. “My name is Riyo. Not ’Sytry’s host,’ not ‘Icarus’ and sure as hell not ‘Ri.’ You don’t have the privilege to call me that.”

“Very well, Riyo.” Anima bowed her head. “Lead the way.”