Paramythi III: Prometheus

Merine had been adamant to carry out Kane’s execution despite his own injuries.

The Rebellion captain was dragged up from his single cell and hauled out to the surface where the awaiting gallows swung against the wind. Merine had requested a rebuild since the previous gallows in the church had turned to rot over the years.

The new construction was situated in the centre of the city, between the Grand Hall and the Bank; allowing plenty of space for the public to witness each and every execution carried out. Merine planned to have Kane’s men come up and be hung soon after the fall of their great captain. The aching wound across his chest was utterly dismissed in the thrill of the moment as Kane was pulled up the creaking steps.

The crowds flocked in numbers. Faces from Tentrail had been allowed access to witness this pointing turn in history. Their grubby faces peered over the heads of overdressed nobles who cursed the Rebellion and spat at Kane’s feet whilst the masked executioner placed the thick rope around the man’s neck.

Merine was standing high above the crowd, nestled in the balcony situated just across from the gallows. Beside him stood Deimos, face still fresh with bruises. His wrists were no longer shackled, and he watched Kane with a blank face, no emotion. Not even a bat of his eyes.

“Kane Ruskin,” Merine’s voice carried along the wind; shaking the crowd into a wave of hushed mumbles and whispers. “The date of your execution has been long overdue. You outran the hourglass of your time here before the Gods decided your luck had run out. Now you stand before Capitol, at the mercy of I, your new Governor, Merine Trezla. Do you have anything to say in your last moments?”

Kane’s eyes carried across the faces of disgust and fear staring up at him. Each face held their own assumption, each face would not meet his eyes. He was sure even a handful of those familiar nobles were shocked to find him standing here, living the last moments of his life. For no-one would have foreseen an ending like this. No-one would have expected Kane Ruskin to have ever delivered his final speech; especially in the ruins of a kingdom he had tried so hard to save.

“I was not a peaceful child. The world would not allow peaceful children to live a good life. A lifestyle of anger was all I knew because it was all I could see, stretching as far as I could reach, as far as I could read, travel, dream…” Kane’s voice was tired.

Every word was a struggle against the croak in his throat, the way his eyes were lidded. He looked ready to fall against the wooden structure beneath his feet and had to lean against the grip on his elbow by the tall executioner by his side – who was listening just as intently as the crowd around them.

“But I grew up and pulled the veil from my own eyes. I began to speak what others would only think. I did things others had only dreamt of doing. I tried to create a world where faces were just faces. Where everyone was equal, where everyone could live without the fear of being torn apart, abducted by their families, or watching their loved ones die. If wishing for such a reality is truly evil, then I guess I do deserve to die.”

Tentrail’s citizens had begun to shed their tears. Others had covered their mouths to quieten their cries while the remainder had begun to pray; Capitol and Tentrail, no matter their origin, everyone had tears in their eyes. It baffled Merine, sending a frustrated flush of red upon his cheeks. Sweat riddled his forehead and Deimos noticed the man’s thinning patience.

“While most of you were carrying out acts of cruelty, I was witnessing sublime kindness among Sylvannix and Faeman, Allawo and Feral. While you were setting your Prowlers to kill sons and daughters of Galaxis, I was rewriting history for the better. But the Gods’ patience grew thin, neither me or you people could have changed the hand of Wrath himself. Should I have changed your small minds sooner, perhaps we would not be standing here in the ruin of Emvolo. But I was a fool to think I could change your minds. Because you only ever heard your own voices, you cower in the shadows of your leaders and turn a blind eye to the injustice around you.

“I may have rebelled against your laws, but I am not guilty. You destroyed our Base, you left my men without a home. You abducted my people, tortured the Avolaki I loved! I showed them all what it meant to live, to love! But you have given them nothing but a short life full of solitude! I see you all for what you truly are! But I do not fear death, because I know I did everything I could for the good of everyone, even you! And this is my reward? So be it.”

Merine balled his fists. “Hang him!”

The crowd turned into an uproar of opposing cries and comments. Some pleaded for the execution to be stopped, others cheered for the end. Tears and sweat were thrown into the swarm of people as they fought each other to the gallows just as the executioner raised his hand to pull the lever.

Kane exhaled, offered a silent prayer of forgiveness to the Gods above and closed his eyes. The crowd went silent as Kane dropped through the gallows. They turned silent not for the anticipation of Kane’s neck snapping, but because of the executioner whirling on the rope and cutting Kane free.

The executioner pulled his mask off and bowed in Merine’s direction. “You’re welcome for the show, your Governess.” Damon hissed through clenched teeth. “Now, can ya point me in the direction of Erebus Dionysus. I got a bone to pick with ’im.”

“Curse you!” Atop the balcony, Merine’s face turned red. The vein above his brow was visible as he lost sight of Kane ducking into the crowd. His hand struck out, swatting Deimos across the cheek, sharp enough to draw blood.

Deimos met the contact in order to duck and take the gun from Merine’s holster. “You’re not my Governor,” he spat, hopping the balcony whilst sending warning shoots at Merine’s feet. “You will never be Emvolo’s Governor.”

Pythias met Deimos below and handed him an elixir for his wounds. “Nice going, boss!” She cheered. “You and Kane really got Merine good!”

“It didn’t go quite as well as Kane planned.” Deimos muttered, popping the cork from the elixir’s vial. He swigged the thick liquid down and winced as his cheek and nose fixed itself, refreshing his blanched skin. “Come on, I need to find my pets.”

“You got it, boss.” Pythias grinned, raising her machine guns to shoot down the oncoming Capitol bodyguards. “Who would have thought shooting Capitol could be so much fun!”

From across the plaza, Kane was shoving his way through the crowd. Most allowed him to pass and covered him from the lesser pleasant groups of people, reaching with their greedy hands that attempted to tear him apart from where he stood.

Reaching the edge of the violent horde, he was met with none other than Maxa Kara standing in full gear, mask adorning her mouth and choppy blue hair strewn across her face. She moved without sound, cutting through the binds around Kane’s arms and shoving a gun against his chest.

“The Junior R will cover you while you head for the Colosseum,” Maxa said. “Save your own, I’ll save mine.”

Remiel cared not for what Merine did to Kane Ruskin. The leader of some dead Rebellion meant nothing to him; as all mortals meant nothing to him. He found some of Merine’s antics to be amusing and enjoyed seeing the man fail from time to time – other than that, he cared not.

All he cared for was finding the Faeman that he had taken in. Helios Artemis was the only weakness to lure Sytry’s host to Emvolo. Remiel was adamant on using him for this cause, prepared to get rid of the Faeman once his deed was done. Yet he had not felt Sytry’s presence since their fight in Theia. He had not felt anything since then.

Riot and havoc was brewing on his doorstep, yet Remiel dismissed it. He spared just one look outside his window before moving through the shadows, merging with the inky darkness until he reached the Grand Hall. He knew Helios was there and felt the urge to locate him before he could be swept up in the chaos outside.

Remiel had hoped Sytry would have shown during the celebration party Merine held, but no such feelings arouse. It seemed the demi-god had disappeared from earth altogether, leaving Remiel feeling hollow as he crept up the stairs and pushed the doors open on every turn and corner.

When he finally found Helios, the hollow feeling in his chest was replaced with fury.

Helios lay across Sytry’s host, pressing his chest against their chest. Glitter and gold were scattered across the mattress, leaving Helios’ back bare with long jiggered scars exposed for all to see. He was content as he slept, nuzzling against Riyo’s neck when he threatened to stir awake.

Riyo was just as deep in slumber, to the point their so-called daily façade was no longer visible. Scars and black veins ran along their dark skin, one arm draped across Helios’ back and white hair matted across their forehead. They lay on their back, half their body totally exposed with their leg sticking out from the duvet to keep Helios warm.

Remiel was unsure how long he had stared. When his focus returned, his fingernails dug into the frame of the door and when he pried his fingers away, a black mist coiled at his wrist, forging a knife into the palm of his shaking hand. He could live with the thought of sending Sytry back to the sky. The Faeman’s blood would mean nothing once it was spilt across the sheets.

His reflection stopped him. The shimmering image of his host, Elias Kara, was shouting through the mirrors lining the wall above the fireplace across the window. Everything he said was inaudible. At first. The wider Elias’ mouth became, the sooner his voice was heard. It was a shrill scream, loud enough to rattle the mirrors and windows. Loud enough to wake Riyo.

“Riyo, run!” Elias screamed.

Riyo did not wait. They sat up hastily, coiling their arms around Helios as instinct took over. The spiralled tattoo on their shoulder glowed and golden wings sprouted, wrenching a blood-curdling scream to leave their lips as they threw themselves at the window, Helios and the thin sheet wrapped around them as they flew to safety.

Remiel’s growls could start an earthquake. His coal eyes shifted from the broken window and over to the mirror where Elias stood, tired and breathless. They held one another’s gaze, Elias visibly wincing when Remiel threw his fist against the mantelpiece.

“I do not need a vessel to reign this kingdom,” Remiel whispered. “For I made this world and can walk among it in my true form without you keeping me at my limits. You cannot keep me here, Elias Kara. No matter how hard you try.”

Riyo was no better at flying them they had been the night they left Minoas. The ride was bumpy and Helios’ startled cries and clinging did not help; especially with the weight shift as they soared across the riots in the plaza and out to the open streets.

“Oh, my Gods!” Helios shrieked, gripping Riyo’s shoulders. “I’m flying-! We’re flying, Ri! Naked in Capitol!”

Riyo grit their teeth, swerving as their freshly resurrected wings seized at the gripping cold. They nearly hit a lamppost as they turned the corner of a crumpled building and ducked their head, shielding Helios with the sheet before they bounced off the hard street and came to a stop with a burning grind against the front of an abandoned car.

Helios groaned, rolling onto his back. “Oh, Gods… this was not how I expected this morning to go.” He whined, pressing his hands against his face. His make-up was smeared, his hair was a mess. He was covered in more bite marks than he cared to think about without blushing. But he could not mull over the reoccurring memories from the night before. He sat up, chest heaving. “Ri!”

Riyo propped themselves onto their elbows, peering down at the indented bonnet they had landed on. “M’fine,” they grunted, sliding off the car. They practically crawled across the street to meet Helios and inspected his face and arms for damage. “I heard Elias. He’s still in there, holding Remiel back.”

“Man, I kinda wish he held back earlier when we all meet up in Theia.” Helios laughed awkwardly, sneaking a quick kiss from Riyo when their face moved closer. “I’m okay, don’t worry.”

Riyo’s lips quirked. It was a weak excuse for a smile, but their expression was quick to change. Eyes turning white and cheeks turning black. They crawled over Helios, defending him as someone strode out of the building they had landed in front of.

Helios peered over Riyo’s shoulder. “Oh, hey, Xerxes.” He gave a slow wave, clutching Riyo’s shoulder with his free hand and hurriedly pulled the Allawo back against his lap to hide them under the sheet. “Sorry, uh… we’ll be going.”

Xerxes said nothing. He strode out further, making the visible outlines of his hands above his head come into view. His face was stern, jaw tight, and when he turned, Kaira stepped out with a gun to the small of Xerxes’ back.

“Hey, guys.” Kaira pulled a grin. “All hell’s breaking loose, get in.”

Helios laughed. “Can you, like, throw us some clothes first.”

Riyo struggled against Helios’ strong arms, growling lowly. “Yeah, stop looking at him.” They sneered, wrapping their arms around Helios’ head and pulling him against their chest. “He’s mine.”

“I thought you were Sytry,” Xerxes scoffed. “Not Remiel.”

Kaira responded to the comment with more pressure against his back and the sound of her gun cocking. “Don’t be funny.”

“Oh, Xerxes,” Helios stood, draping the sheet across his shoulders while Riyo stood in front, enclosing the sheet across themselves. “Sorry about your car. Ri kinda… landed on it.”