Paramythi III: Prometheus

A God’s fury was never to be taken lightly. A deity could shape and form the ground beneath them, create children through sheer thought and raise life with a snap of their fingers. Just as easily as they could create, they could destroy; especially when angered.

Remiel had flown from the Grand Hall, casting a shadow across the plaza. The fighting and screaming below lowered as Remiel’s fury was recognised. Most of the crowd parted, disappearing into buildings and away from their God’s line of sight. Yet Remiel paid them no mind and cast his dark eyes across the city, narrowing on Tentrail where he forced a fist through the air and raised the grounds beyond Capitol’s border.

Tentrail became a wave of chaos, sprouting rooftops and stalls into the air. Whether he was searching for Sytry or raining chaos for the sake of meeting his own satisfactions, no-one would dare question. Everyone steered clear – or tried to. A handful of innocent lives would surely be buried beneath the rubble.

It had been fatal for those beneath the town below. The remainder of Junior R and the Rebellion being threatened with the ground above them being flattened until they were nothing more than crumbled pieces of flesh, wedged into the remains of Tentrail.

“The God of Wrath will rise again to pull the roots of his creations from beneath its rotting corpse and raise the souls of his children who were struck down in his absence.” Neriah murmured, hands clasped together as rubble began to shift, dust failing in heaps upon her shoulder. “The dead will walk beside their God and the apocalypse will commence.”

Tovi had been nearby, perched upon the armchair settled against the electrical heater whilst his phoenix curled upon his lap. “Is that true? The story, true?” His blind gaze turned towards Neriah’s chanting.

Neriah narrowly missed a chunk of debris, pivoting towards Tovi. “If Remiel is furious, he will call upon the dead, yes.”

“Include people like Karnya?”

A momentary silence. “Perhaps.”

Calix burst through the door, kicking it down as he pounced five feet across the ground and hunched in front of Neriah. In the last two years, he had grown immensely tall – coming up to nine feet. He struggled to move around the tunnels, ducking every way he turned and sitting whenever he could as oppose to standing.

“Lady Prophet, we gotta go!” Calix grit his razor-sharp teeth and reached out, knees bent. “Miss Maxa aborted HQ and went up to help Kane. We gotta join the fray or else we’re gonna get totally crushed!”

“Where is Ares?” Tovi craned his neck. The urgency in his voice left him to struggle in his chair, always eager to move but never able to do it. “Calix, he is safe?”

“Sure, sure,” Calix’s wide smile went unnoticed. “He’s leading everyone outta the manhole to the East. We’re all gonna end up near the Church. No way will the big bad God mess up his own house, right?”

Neriah laughed. “Time will only tell.” She dusted her dress and waltzed towards the exit, dust and debris rattling from above but never touching her as they fell to the gritty floors. “Come, I must begin my own mission.”

Calix turned to Tovi. “You got your own mission? What’s that?”

“If I tell you, it may not work.” Neriah paused. Her eyes glowed, her hair elevated, and she whirled back to Calix, pulling him back with whatever strength she could muster. “Look out!”

The shrill cry of Neriah’s voice startled the phoenix on Tovi’s lap. A heavy chunk of the ceiling fell, crushing the space Calix had been standing. Tovi was knocked out of his armchair and rolled, knocking his shoulder against the newly indented stone imbedded into the floor.

“Tovi!” Calix’s voice was muffled behind the stone wall. A heavy thud vibrated where he slammed his fists against it. “Tovi, are you okay?!”

“Yes,” Tovi’s arms were shaking, the force to push himself from the ground weighed heavy on his aching shoulders. “What happened?”

“The ceiling’s coming down!” Calix said. “It’s totally blocked you off from us.”

“Don’t wait for me.” Tovi ran his fingers across the ground, freezing when the soft exterior of feathers tickled his palms. He could have thrown up. He felt like he needed to throw up. “…I can’t get out.”

“Sure you can, we can just plough our way through! I mean, I’m a giant! Plus, I’m super strong—!” Calix shared a look with Neriah, who had reached out to lay a hand upon his pulsing bicep. The fins on his neck fluttered, ears drooping, and eyes turned wide. “No, wait. I can’t leave Ares’ brother like this!”

“We can do nothing for him, lest we get ourselves killed.” Neriah said.

“You are not leaving me, neither! Do not blame yourself.” Tovi snapped. “I am telling you to leave. So you can take care of my brother, understand?”

“Shit, man.” Calix punched the stone wall. His frustration was shown in his black eyes, his knees shook and Neriah’s hand was just enough to pry him out of the room as the ceiling came down. “I’m sorry, Tovi!”

Neriah led the young man through the tunnels, keeping her hand clasped around his arm as they turned and followed the long, winding path. Her eyes glowed whenever the ceiling threatened to fall in their way. She would stop, count the seconds in her head, and move again. They arrived at Ares’ side unscathed, albeit sorrowful.

“Where the heck is Tovi?” Ares shouted, jumping down from the crate he had been perched on. “Did you tell him? Is he gonna fly out with his phoenix?”

Neriah left the men and hiked up her skirt, allowing the Junior R troupes to haul her up to the crate and assist her up the ladders to safety. It had been two years since she felt the fresh air hit her face. She had expected to resurface on a day where the sun was shining and the wind was whirling around her head, fresh with the smell of sea and markets smoking meat.

Instead, the day was hell on earth. The grounds were being torn apart, the skies were black and gold. She could only smell death, dust, mud and fire. She could have choked, she could have been sick. Her hair whipped across her forehead and covered her eyes. She was hot, she was cold. Heaven was empty and all the Gods were here.

Ares’ heavy cries filtered the air. He was carried out of the manhole by Calix who held him with an intensity to stop him from bolting. The moment they had reached the surface, the ground caved in on itself, leaving a wave of dust to flow across the ground, forcing clothes and hair to flap against its ferocity.

Neriah had been the first to stand, watching Remiel’s fury come to a stand-still. She surveyed the remains of Tentrail with empty eyes. A future not even she had foreseen. It seemed all her powers had begun to run dry as her only source of Blessed Magick lay in the corpse floating across Capitol in the distance. A corpse who had raised many more corpses.

“What’s that smell?” A Junior R cried, swatting the air around their face. “It smells like compost!”

Neriah turned towards the wind. Her nose wrinkled at the heavy stench of death riding the breeze. She had heard the growls before she could find the source. Hunched figures peeked out from the rubble, shoving the broken woodwork and stones away from their so-called graves. Most of them looked like prowlers, accompanied by the hollow husks of Tentrail’s citizens.

Their necks were bent, as if their head was too heavy to hold upright. Their arms hung low and their jaws were slack. Wisps of shadow encased their foreheads; mimicking the veil and horns that adorned the God of Wrath. They all moved in one direction, heading towards Neriah and the group behind her.

“Remiel’s curse.” Neriah raised her chin towards the sky. “The Tears of Gods Above is the only thing that can stop it from spreading.”

“You mean rain?” A young boy from Junior R blurted. His name was Dyson and he always looked younger than he claimed, face full of mud and freckles. Neriah remembered Maxa handing him charge of Junior R in her absence. “Will they go away if it just rains?”

“Remiel detests the rain.” Neriah clasped her hands across her stomach, encasing her fears in the pit of her chest. “He is the youngest of all the Gods Above. The rain is a disguise for the Gods’ tears, disappointed with how their little brother destroyed himself in the name of love.”

Dyson’s eyes turned skyward. “Can you… pray for the rain?”

“I can no longer hear their voices. There are no Gods above.”

“You mean-“

“They’re all walking the earth.” Neriah inhaled lowly, forcing her knees to bend. She knelt in the destruction of Tentrail and lowered her head. “This is the Apocalypse.”

Gods or not, the dead continued making their way up the heap of debris and rubble. Some slipped and knocked their own limbs clean off. They groaned and wailed, black tears pouring from beneath their veils and down their cheeks, never ceasing their ascent.

A handful of Rebels and Junior R members raised their guns, taking shots at their opponents’ heads. The corpses snarled and toppled back before they got right back up again, bones snapping into place and bullets shedding from the folds of their skin.

“It’s over!” Ares growled, wriggling free from Calix’s embrace. He leapt into the air, purple and turquoise wings sprouting from his back. His eyes glowed yellow as he summoned the waves from across Tentrail’s cliff, casting the water across the debris. “How are we supposed to win?”

The corpses were not affected by the sea. It slowed them down, pushed a majority of them back into the centre of the town, but none stopped, and none were defeated.

Neriah could not offer a reply. No-one could. The ground began to rumble yet again, leaving the group to fall back as they embraced themselves for another wave of Remiel’s fury. It started with a seeping black mist, turning to the faint wisps of smoke as the earth began to burn beneath the corpses.

Some of the dead husks had stopped, watching the smoke escape the gaps at their feet and coil around their legs. No more than a second of curiosity was spent watching the smoke turn into crackling fire and the ground plummeted, creating a canyon for the corpses to fall into, heaped upon one another as fire spurted upward in their place.

A figure was encased in the ball of fire, spurting lumps of lava and coal as it formed into a black shape, rolling into a ball as the fire cooled. It was like an egg, floating above the centre of the newly-made canyon. The corpses were gone and a new threat had emerged.

“Shoot it!” Dyson ordered, raising his own gun.

Shots were fired; each bullet bouncing off the black egg’s exterior and fell into the canyon below. Its shell tightened, breaking itself to the point flames and smoke broke free. It shattered, sending shards of black glass to fly free as the figure hatched.

Feathered wings of fire flared. Shining eyes of yellow sparked, burning away the coal and ash from their body. A phoenix encased in the body of Toviah Thrax. He was no longer blind, no longer paraplegic; he was born anew.

Tovi cracked his knuckles and filled the pit of the canyon with lava. His Guardian powers followed, summoning strong winds to coal the surface over and trap the corpses inside. With his assault finished, he lowered himself to the ground and stood above the mould of dried lava.

“Tovi!” Ares flew forth, his glass wings flickering almost invisible to the naked eye. His arms stretched out and he practically picked up his brother from the ground, twirling in a circle. “Oh, my Gods! Oh, my Gods! What did you do? Why are you a phoenix? Are we phoenix, too? Am I gonna get reborn when I die?”

Tovi nearly laughed. “No. This is new.” His hands cupped his brother’s cheeks and he swiped away the tears running down Ares’ face. “I’ll tell you the tale of the Woman Who Caught Fire, after we save the world, of course.”

Calix jumped with glee. “Let’s go kick some zombie butt!”

Neriah wished she could smile. She wished she could do something. But her eyes could not leave the sky. A world above them, empty? The Gods were here, but where? She had questions which would not be answered. For once in her life, she was lost without the constant whispers in her head.

The bodyguards plastered against the Colosseum had turned nervous. Their eyes were wide, and their hands shook against the spears and guns they clutched.

Remiel’s host had been floating over Capitol for a few hours now, casting havoc across Tentrail. Everything had turned quiet in the last fifteen minutes, which only made their nerves stand higher. One or two guards had already fled, tossed their Emvolo crest to the grounds and cursed the God in the sky before ducking into the darkness. Needless to say, they did not get far before their curses were paid for in full.

It left one bodyguard, clutching her spear against her chest. She could feel sweat bead along her forehead and run down her chin. She was sure her heart was about to explode when a figure pounced on her, shoving her against the Colosseum wall with a gun to her throat.

“You’re gonna let me in with no alarm, or else I fire this gun and alert that God you’re so scared of.” Kane Ruskin grit his teeth, practically pressing his forehead against the guard’s. His blue eyes shone in the dark; furious and threatening. “This isn’t Capitol versus Rebellion now, got it?”

“Yes, yes!” The guard squealed, dropping her spear. She raised her shaking hand and knelt to the ground when Kane backed away. “Please, don’t hurt me. Please don’t. I’m so sorry, Ruskin. So sorry.”

Kane left the woman to grovel. He ducked through the Colosseum entrance and narrowed his eyes against the darkness of the ring. He could smell blood and dust and knew the whole area was filled with the ghosts of Allawo and Avolaki before the stadium lights blew up, casting an array of blinding light down upon the Rebellion captain.

“Kane Ruskin!” Leto Dionysus’ voice filled the speaker around him, filling his ears with a constant ring as the woman continued. “Welcome to the Colosseum. I was so hoping you would show!”

Kane raised his hand, cupping his brow against the gleaming lights. “You know what I’ve come for! Just hand them over and we’ll leave, you won’t ever hear or see us again!”

“Oh?” Leto’s laughter filled the air in all directions. “The great Kane Ruskin is ready to leave his merry men and run into the sunset with his true love? What a sour love story this turned out to be.”

“Coward!” Kane sneered, raising his gun in the air. “Come out of the shadows or meet my demands! I don’t want any more violence!”

“Too bad, O’ Great Kane.” As Leto cooed, the iron gates to Kane’s left rolled up, freeing the creature inside. “It’s about to get very, very violent.”

Kane whirled, gun raised. His hand seized, his fingers locked. There was no bone or muscle in his body that did not cave in at the sight of Twyla Tychi stumbling out into the open air. The speakers were shut off – Kane only noticed Leto’s voice had gone when the ringing in his ears had stopped.

Twyla’s chest was heavy, their movements even heavier. Their legs quaked beneath their weight and when they moved, blotches of thick black splattered against the ground, marking their footprints as they moved into the light.

Their wound was coming from their stomach. Twyla’s hand clutched the area with a balled fist, turning their knuckles white as they reached with their spare hand and raised their chin; exposing the heavy, black veins running across their face. It was animalistic, savage. Not the general appearance of an Avolaki in danger, but an Avolaki who was seeking a fight.

Kane was no fool. He could see the puncture wounds winding around Twyla’s neck, seeping with a faint, purple ooze that spluttered against the collar of their shirt when they craned their neck, lips parting.

No words came out, only a snarl and the motion of black lips pulling back to bare their razor-sharp teeth. The sounds of snarling growls and the cock of a gun filtered the air. Everything else went quiet.