Paramythi III: Prometheus

In the time Sytry had spent roaming earth one hundred years ago, he had come across many faces and learnt many names.

There had been Kratos, a Faeman commander for an army which had been sold to Sytry upon his awakening. Eunomia, the very first Sylvannix who chose not to eat the flesh of humans and attempt to live in harmony with them and Arke, a Feral whom Sytry had loved unconditionally until her identity had been revealed.

All unique and extraordinary in their own ways, but there had been one which caught Sytry’s attention; a Lady Minerva Anima Eros, the very first Blessed Magick Wielder within Galaxis.

Fighting alongside a woman who wore the same mask as Minerva made Sytry want to laugh. His concentration never faltered, even as Remiel pulled the ground up from under their feet and rained stone and mud across the terrain. He was being merciful and Sytry knew it.

Anima had ignored the way Sytry kept looking at her, forcing her attention to remain on Remiel as he created columns out of Theia’s ruin around them. She whirled on her heel, pressing her back against the nearest makeshift column to avoid a handful of knives being thrown in her direction.

“I would have never imagined a reunion with you would be like this, Sytry.” Remiel’s croaky voice rattled the ground. His coal eyes rolled, searching the havoc for his opponent. “You’re not hiding from me, are you?”

Sytry had perched upon one of the columns, hovering above Remiel’s left shoulder. His eyes watched the God of Wrath walk, nose wrinkling as bony limbs wobbled with every step; as if he was ready to crumble into a heap of flesh and bone any second. Remiel had a bad habit of letting his host go to waste, it made Sytry sick.

“I was hoping there would never be a reunion after what you did to me.” Shouting from the columns above, Sytry opened his wings and smiled as Remiel’s head turned, neck clicking. “Have you come to take me back to the heavens above?”

“I’m thinking about it.” A flash of darkness erupted and Remiel flew from the ground, leaving black mist in his shadow. He floated, level with Sytry above the earth and held the Prince’s gaze with something akin to fondness. “Or we could reside here together, reclaim this land which belongs to us.”

“It does not belong to us, fool.” Sytry sneered, twirling his trident. He jabbed the sharp blades to Remiel’s neck, keeping him at bay. “It belongs to these mortal souls who walk the earth day by day. Your own kingdom lays in ruin after your return, your people fear you, God of Wrath. You don’t deserve a kingdom to rule.”

“But I suppose you do, yes? Since the souls of this world love you so much, emotionally and physically,” unfazed by the trident at his neck, Remiel reached a tentative hand out to drag his thick nails across Sytry’s cheek. “…this host does you no justice, Sytry. Perhaps we should return to the skies above. We can unite there, forever.”

Sytry moved to the right, diving off the column as Remiel enclosed his hand and warped the space around them, crushing the column under the weight of his gravitational pull. Cursing loudly, Remiel turned and sent knife after knife to rain across the ground as Sytry ducked away behind another column, darting to the next and the next until he was sheltered among the ruin.

“Why must you prolong your inevitable end?” Remiel growly, raising the terrain.

Anima pushed off from her hiding place and threw Atlas into the air, chipping Remiel’s horn. She summoned her staff back to her palm, gaining the God’s attention to buy Sytry time. It was an unspoken team effort as Remiel dropped his hold upon the terrain and flew for Anima.

Sytry had rolled, cursing as the vibration of the ground threw him off-balance and he tumbled, halting at the entrance to Theia’s village. The quake rattled his senses, temporarily knocking him out to the point Riyo could take over and they breathed, inhaling the air of debris and chaos until they choked and coughed it back up.

“Ri…? That you?” The soft whispers of Helios carried on the wind until he appeared, crawling over to where Riyo lay. He was muddy and shivering, full of tears and a frowning smile. “Oh, my… Ri. I’ve missed you so much.”

Riyo shifted, untangling their hands from Sytry’s trident. “Missed you, too.” They mumbled, tracing their thumb along the stubbly angle of Helios’ strong jaw. “You look good with a beard.”

“Thanks, you look…” Helios paused, trailing his eyes along Riyo’s body where too much skin showed and golden wings lay beneath them. “You look great. I mean, a little scruffy, but I like it.”

“Shut up.” Riyo snickered. They pulled themselves up to sit, shifting their wings until an audible ‘pop’ came from each one. They slung an arm across Helios’ shoulder, palm stretched across his back. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come find you sooner.”

“Hey, don’t apologise.” Helios’ voice lowered as he shuffled closer, resting a hand upon Riyo’s thigh as their foreheads met. “You’re here now.”

A moment such as this should have lasted longer than a handful of seconds. If not for the unstoppable clash of ruin and stone behind them, they may have collected themselves and disappeared from this crazy tale. But Anima could only hold off Remiel for so long and the God was becoming furious with the way Helios touched Sytry’s host so fondly.

Inky darkness flew, conjured in a ball heading straight for the pair. It was reflected by Sytry’s trident and Helios yelped, shuffling back as he peered into the eyes of milky white and a callous smile. Sytry laughed, playfully perking his lips and making kissing noises. Helios’ face turned red.

“Sorry, handsome.” Sytry rolled his eyes and stood up, reflecting another blow from Remiel. “You will reunite with them another day.”

“Why did you have to possess Ri?” Helios said through uneven breaths. “Why did it have to be them?”

“We didn't have a choice.”

Remiel appeared from the engulfing darkness, snarling and choking on his own tongue. His knives were deflected by Sytry’s trident, sending the blades flying as Sytry took defence, advancing on him to the point Remiel began stepping back to avoid the deflection of his own weapon.

“Prince of Moons!”

Sytry and Remiel paused, turning their heads up to find Anima kneeling upon one of the columns above. Her staff was glowing orange, emanating blades of red and yellow to pulsate along the golden shaft. She jumped, sending Atlas down upon Sytry’s back.

A shrill scream filled Theia’s ruins, rattling the bones of all those surrounding the area. Flames burst from Sytry’s wings. The Prince’s eyes and mouth shone with a white glow and his scream became distorted, almost demonic.

Theia went up in flames and distilled almost immediately. There was no evidence of fire and ash; in fact, there was no evidence of Sytry or Anima. The duo had disappeared with the smoke on the wind, leaving only golden feathers behind.

“No…” Remiel knelt against the ground, columns and terrain falling in heaps behind him. His bony hands rummaged through the pile of feathers, as if Sytry would miraculously appear in his search. “No!”

Heavy growls of frustration and panting labours of breath filled the air for a solid five minutes before Remiel gave up, leaning back onto his knees. A hiss escaped his blue lips when a droplet of rain struck his cheek. His horns shifted, rolling his veil down over his eyes to protect him from the weather as he stood, joints clicking when he whirled to where Helios was crawling away.

Remiel walked, following the struggling Faeman slowly. Once he reached him, he pressed the heel of his foot against Helios’ shoulders and pushed him into the mud, leaning forward to loop his arm around the discarded chain at Helios’ neck.

“Come, Faeman,” Remiel growled, pulling Helios along the ground once again. “I have a use for you now.”