Paramythi III: Prometheus

Merine killed the engine to his car and stepped out. He sighed, readjusting his waistcoat after locking up. Today had been trivial and tedious, yet he wished to end it on a beneficial note in his favour. Particularly in his God’s favour.

“I come baring news, Milord.” His voice echoed around the stark room, disturbing birds nestled above the beams which had once held the floors above together. His jaw tensed when no response came. “It regards the Prince of Moons, Milord.”

At long last, Remiel’s eyes shifted. His cheek continued to lean against his balled fist, elbow still dug into the armrest he pressed against. When his lips parted, lines of black ooze coated his mouth and he exhaled, causing wisps of black smoke to waft around his face before dispelling around his horns.

“What of Sytry?” A throat so dry could only whisper. The croaks which rattled each syllable could have shook the windows, nonetheless. “Have you found him for me?”

Merine bowed. “I have not found him, per se. I merely come with the knowledge of someone who might know where Sytry and his host have fled.” Remiel said nothing, Merine continued. “There is a Faeman by the name of Helios Artemis. He and Sytry’s host were somewhat of an item before your return. If anyone has a clue on where to find the Prince, it should be him.”

Remiel’s lips quivered. “Have you spoken to him? This Faeman?”

“He is reluctant to give me any kind of information. Whenever I have visited, he plays the part of the fool, claiming to know nothing.”

“Have you tried torture?”

Merine raised his brows. The words had left Remiel so easily, as if it was only factual.

“I believe the Faeman’s tolerance for torture will be of no use for us. I was thinking that, perhaps if you were eager, you might be able to speak with him?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Well, Milord, as good at lying as Helios Artemis is, he has also been cursed with a soft soul. Seeing you might just spark the truths we have been so eager to uncover.”

Remiel’s lips turned into a thin line. A moment’s silence cast itself across the room, leaving Merine with the assumption Remiel had returned to his enclosed stasis when he finally stood, prying himself from his throne with audible ’pops’ and ’creaks’ from his bones. He looked delicate, as if one gust of wind would be enough to tip him over.

“I thank you for your time and effort in locating Sytry for me, Mister Trezla,” as Remiel stepped closer, that delicacy faded. His coal eyes were soon encased by the swirling horns around his head, covering the top half of his face where only his nose and mouth were visible; similar to a veil. “You may leave me now. Return home to your wife and do what you will with that ‘Kane Ruskin’ you constantly speak of. I do not care what you conduct so long as you leave Sytry to me.”

Merine bowed his head for the last time. “Thank you, Milord.”

Helios shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. He hated wearing the scratchy dress-shirt and leggings Leto had been so adamant on dressing him in. It was a stark appearance; black and white. Yet Leto had managed to complete the look of exotic by giving him golden bracelets and earrings. Blue eyeliner rimmed his eyes and a glossy rose colour had been painted on his lips.

When he had asked what the special occasion was, Leto hushed him and requested Xerxes to unlock the shock collar from around Helios’ neck. It felt like freedom, like he could actually breathe again. He refused to go anywhere until he had scrubbed the patchy skin around his neck at least ten times. Leto gave him a golden choker to replace the collar and he felt trapped all over again.

Helios had been tense ever since. He was reluctant to even step over the Theatre’s threshold at first, aware of the mechanical legs he walked on. They would never let him leave the perimeter. Until today.

“Seriously, though, Xerxes. I don’t wanna be that guy…” Helios sighed, climbing into the back of Xerxes’ car. The vehicle had no roof and Helios was grateful for that when the engine started, and the wind brushed through his face. “But where are we going, man?”

Xerxes mimicked the sigh. “Leto received a letter this afternoon upon her return. You have an audience who wishes to see you, an invitation to dinner, apparently.”

Helios leant back, swinging an arm over the side of the car. “I dunno if I’m really hungry? Like, don’t get me wrong, this has been great, but I don’t like the feeling I’m getting. Plus, you’re being way too secretive and I don’t like it when you’re secretive. Makes me feel like a kid again, y’know?”

Xerxes said nothing. His focus was on the road, manoeuvring through the city’s wreckage. He let Helios babble throughout the rest of the ride there and pulled up at his destination, killing the engine with a swift flick of his wrist. When he turned to look back at Helios, he noticed the distant look in his colourful eyes.

Helios was staring. He could not take his eyes off the man standing at the top of the marble staircase, awaiting his ascension up the red carpet and into the remains of the Bank. Tears may have pooled around the rim of his eyes, yet they did not fall. He was emotional and numb. Speechless and filled with questions. Not even the droplets of rain falling from the sky could break his gaze.

“Remiel wishes to dine with you, Helios.” Xerxes spoke softly, reaching out to nudge the man. “I shall wait out here until you have finished.”

“Yeah, cool, man…” Helios mumbled, climbing out of the car with slow motions.

The metallic clicks of his legs filled his ears as he began walking up. He could not take his eyes off Elias’ body, could not dismiss the way bony limbs hung lifelessly and pale skin rippled with sickness. He felt his stomach turn as he got closer. Elias had grown. Certainly not in weight, but in height. Helios would have commented something joyous if the circumstances were not as grim as the horns encasing Elias’ face.

“Come,” the voice which left Elias’ lips did not belong to him. It was a sorrowful reminder that Elias Kara was gone. This was Remiel, the God of Wrath, and he wished to dine with Helios. “I hate the rain.”

Helios moved slowly, dragging himself past the Bank’s threshold and into shelter. He supposed shelter was the wrong word, considering half the building was in ruin. Part of the roof had been blown off, along with whatever floor plan there might have been once upon a time. Droplets of water cascaded down upon Helios’ shoulder, running a shudder down his spine.

“Faeman,” Remiel turned his head. His jaw clicked when he moved. “This way.”

Helios swallowed the tension in his throat and followed, stepping over the debris and moving out of the cold. He followed Remiel into another room, one lit with black candles. It was drier and warmer, thanks to the crackling fire wedged into a dip in the wall; a place Remiel had jammed his fist as opposed to blowing the whole roof open two years ago. There was very little furniture other than the long dining table accompanied by two chairs.

Remiel took the head of the table, gesturing for Helios to take the one across him. Magick swirled around them, laying the table with a white cloth and plates of food and wine to feed from. Everything was somehow dull, no matter the appeal and Helios had to clutch his stomach when he sat to save the ache brewing in his gut.

They sat in silence as the wine poured itself. Remiel took the first sip, revealing his coal eyes when the veil adorning his face rolled back against his horns, morphing them to elongate and coil at the crown of his head. If Elias was in there, he was tired.

“Tell me about yourself, Helios Artemis.”

“Me?” Helios clamped his hands together from under the table. His eyes refused to look any further than the jut of Remiel’s bony shoulder. “Well, I come from a small village in the fields to the North, a little place called Theia. Actually, before that I lived in Miss Leto’s trade, and before that I was an entertainer at the House of Lords.”

Remiel’s eyes never left Helios’ face. He said nothing and took another sip from his drink.

Helios felt his heart hammer against his chest. “I… I used to herd Shema when I lived in Theia. I was pretty good at fishing, too. I tried to make bread once, but that didn’t work out.” He laughed. Loud. “I left home after my seventeenth birthday and here I am, nearly four years later.”

Remiel lowered his glass. “You seem to have left quite a significant chunk of your life out of that description.”

“Have I?” Helios smiled, nervous. “I guess I did the odd one or two things when I was like eighteen, but that’s so in the past, right?”

Remiel did not hold the same ounce of amusement as Helios. “I suppose the name ‘Sytry’ doesn’t ring a bell?” He challenged, snapping his fingers for more wine.

Helios filled the silence by taking a heavy gulp from his own glass. The red liquid went down easy and Helios refused to lower the cup until it was empty. He felt his lips shake, droplets of liquor trickling down his chin. He shakily swiped the mess away, cursing himself when his white sleeve stained with red. Leto would not be happy.

“I know you were well acquainted with Sytry’s host, Artemis.”

Helios felt his stomach turn again. His head went dizzy.

“The two of you were close, I hear.”

“Ri was my best friend.” Helios blurted. It was such an obvious lie. His best friend was sitting in this room, right across from him. Yet he was a hundred miles away. “We were assigned as partners once, but then we got new partners. We just… hung out a lot.”

“Where did you last see them?”

Helios tapped his finger against the table. He swallowed. “I dunno.”

Remiel narrowed his eyes.

Helios held his tongue.

“Perhaps you would like to visit your home village, hm?” Remiel stood from the table. His horns morphed, veiling his eyes once again. “It should stir the odd memory or two, wouldn’t you agree?”

Helios shielded his eyes, protecting himself before the world turned black.

The Trezla estate was, needless to say, huge. It peaked past Emvolo’s border, just northwest of Capitol, and was filled with earthy gardens, lakes and a large mansion built into its centre. The driveway was long, decorated with pine trees either side past the ivory gates which swung at the sight of Merine’s car rolling up.

Merine had been informed of his little sister’s inheritance and had laughed. The idea that Psykhe could maintain a mansion and gardens this size was truly comical. She had always been a reckless child and had never taken on the responsibilities of what it meant to be a true Trezla! Merine supposed it was her downfall, in the end.

Darting up the staircase, Merine strode into his home. His coat was taken by a quiet servant and his hands were quickly filled with a glass of whiskey and a cigar. He did not even need to open his mouth. This was his home and he was the lord. Remiel may have the rights to Emvolo, but no-one had more right to this estate than Merine Trezla.

“Dearest,” stepping into the library, Merine was faced with his wife conversing with another woman, “I’m home.”

His wife stood from her seat and held an arm out to the woman she had been speaking to. Tessa, a Rebel. “Merine! I had no idea you would be home so soon!”

Merine took a swig from his whiskey, flexing a finger towards Tessa. “Why is there a Tipotan in my house, Nino?”

“Apologies, sir.” Tessa stood, collecting the papers she had scattered around the coffee table by the fireplace. “I’ll leave you and your wife alone. Don’t mind me.”

Merine’s arm shot out, grabbing Tessa by the elbow in her attempt to flee. He settled his drink down and pulled his cigar from his lips, blowing the smoke over Tessa’s grubby face. His nose wrinkled and he turned to Nino.

“Is this one of your sister’s merry men?” Merine laughed. “Oh, my dearest, you really slipped up here, didn’t you?”

Nino’s face turned red. “Please, Merine! Don’t hurt her!”

“Silence!” Merine’s fingers snapped, causing gravity to crash down upon Tessa; pining her to the floor. “Thanks to your screw-up, I just might be able to find Kane Ruskin.”

Tessa screamed, unable to fight against the Magick which sent her through the room. Door after door was opened by Merine’s control until she was tucked away in the heart of the mansion, trapped with no way of escape. Her distant cries and screams could be heard, muffled in the distance when Merine turned to Nino.

Nino smiled. “How was my portrayal?” She hummed, bending her knees to sit upon her armchair by the fire. “Seeing you so frustrated over Kane Ruskin was making me sad.”

Merine chuckled. “I do apologise, my dear.” He waltzed over, pressing a kiss to Nino’s cheek. “Would you like me to buy you something to make up for my behaviour? Or perhaps I could take you hunting?”

Nino laughed, throwing her arms around Merine’s shoulders. “Just find Kane Ruskin for me, so he can pay for what he did to my family.”