Paramythi III: Prometheus

When a God loves, he loves with all his heart. When a God hates, he hates with all his love.

Sytry had pounced, leaving pebbles to rattle upon the ground in his wake. The earth shook under his strength as golden wings opened and he flew. His trident was gripped in tight palms. He swiped, sending the trio of blades in an uppercut against Remiel’s face.

Remiel had flanked to the side. He was faster, quick enough to move without recognition against the naked eye. He backhanded the trident away and grabbed Sytry’s wrist. He pulled him close, lips parting to show off the rows of uneven teeth and dry tongue as he snapped.

Sytry slapped Remiel’s cheek, sharp enough to push the skin against his veil and draw blood. Sytry remained unscathed and bent his knees, pressing the soles of his feet against Remiel’s stomach. He inwardly cringed at the feeling of bone and muscle, so thin against him as he pushed back, forcing enough strength into his kick to send Remiel soaring into the columns of the Colosseum.

Sytry’s wings expanded; holding him high in the air. “Please don’t hold back. I have a lot of pent up anger right now.” He twirled his trident against his fingers, cascading blood in a wide circle. “I surely shan’t be going easy on you.”

Remiel sprouted from the dust and debris, veil withdrawn to show his coal eyes. He did not speak but screamed. A heavy roar rattling his tired throat as Sytry held up his trident, shielding his chest.

Remiel’s abrupt weight was enough to push Sytry back in the air; not enough to knock him off balance, but enough to shove the shaft of his trident against his forehead and momentarily daze him. Remiel hissed, pressing against the trident between them – mere inches from Sytry’s mouth.

Sytry tasted metal and shook his head. He spat the gob of blood in Remiel’s face and scrunched his nose when the God licked away whatever droplet he could. His elbows locked, turning his trident like a clock-hand and Remiel was knocked to the right. Laughing, Sytry jumped on the God’s back and leapt into the air.

Remiel came crashing to the ground, leaving a detailed indent of his body in the dust after he stood back up. His eyes moved quickly, narrowly missing the horrified looks of Helios and Psykhe nearby. Once his gaze set upon Sytry hovering above, his chest expanded. As he took in a deep breath, the columns surrounding the higher floors cracked and caved. His hands made circular motions, twirling each column around Sytry like a cage.

As chaos swarmed the area, the helpless occupants on the ground began disappearing – led away by the blurred figures of a Feral, a Faeman and an Allawo. Helios’ pathetic cries would have caught anyone else’s attention. But not Remiel’s.

Cursing, Sytry felt the air become uneven against the circling columns. His wings beat in the wrong direction and he swooped to the right, forcing his shoulder out to miss his antler from being snapped off his head by the ferocious décor. His shoulder paid the price with a loud snap and he lost sensation in his arm almost immediately.

Holding his trident out with his good arm, Sytry’s eyes turned gold and he sliced a horizontal line through the sky, pivoting in the air with a ferocity that slashed the bodies of each column until Remiel’s spell broke and they fell, slowly coming down to the ground in heaps of stone and marble.

“Try harder!” Sytry screamed, snapping his arm back into its socket.

Remiel was unamused. He pounced on the columns as they came crashing down, raising him higher into the sky with enough leeway to catapult and collide with Sytry in a heap of flailing limbs and animalistic cries on behalf of the Prince of Moons.

“We will return to the skies together!” Remiel growled, placing a clawed hand across Sytry’s face. “This earth cannot keep us caged!”

The glow of Sytry’s eyes seeped through the gaps in Remiel’s fingers and he screamed, driving the God away with a flurry of golden feathers and a slash of his trident; narrowly landing a gash across Remiel’s chest. The blood which poured across his skeletal chest was thick and riddled with clots. His host was dying and Sytry had half a mind to put both Remiel and Elias Kara out of their misery for good.

“You never could open your eyes, could you?” Sytry sneered. His voice was layered, a thousand melodious tones chiming together at once. His cheeks were flared with veins – not black, but golden. They ran down his neck, across his shoulders and down his arms. “If heaven wanted us so badly, we would have gone home a long time ago. Do you not remember? How you and the other eleven Gods were cast down to this barren world to create this land? Do you not remember creating Emvolo of your own imagination?”

“This is a cage!” Remiel cried. His veil fell back over his eyes and encased his whole face like armour. It ran across his shoulders and chest, filling his fresh wound. It hardened like a cocoon, shielding him as he pulled rubble from the Colosseum and tossed them towards Sytry. “You don’t understand! You weren’t there!”

Sytry turned, missing the first heap of rubble. “I wasn’t, but I watched from the Moons. I watched you mould Emvolo; watched you cry so hard you created the ocean!” Pulling himself upward, he landed upon the next wave of attack and darted along its stonework, dragging his trident behind him. “But you were cold and so were your people. You couldn’t even grant them a good life worth living because you were so self-absorbed!”

Remiel held up his arms, crossing his wrists across his face in an ‘X’ as Sytry’s trident came down, slashing across the encased black mass coating his arms. The trident audibly clanged, parts of its golden blade snapping off.

Sytry tucked in his stomach and bent, swooping beneath Remiel and tossed him over his head. His trident was battered, and his arms tensed; reminding him of his host’s mortality. If Riyo was getting tired, Elias was surely at his end.

“I am not self-absorbed,” Remiel’s voice had turned soft. As he floated over Sytry, the streams of golden light above crowned his face. “But I am a God, unlike you.”

Sytry felt his heart jump into his throat. He twisted, thrusting his trident up as Remiel flattened – arms stretched to encase his bony fingers around Sytry’s throat. The trident narrowly plunged against Remiel’s waist, slicing the pale flesh like a peach. His clotted blood was quick to patch the wound; but its aroma did not leave. A sickly stench of rotten fleshed filled Sytry’s nose as he inhaled, struggling against Remiel’s grip.

Remiel’s arms locked, flipping Sytry above him and flew to the sky. Sytry did not go willingly, their clawed nails ran across Remiel’s armour-encased forearms, splitting their nails and chipping pieces of black against Remiel’s open mouth. Had anyone been looking towards the Colosseum, they would have seen Remiel’s silhouette strangling Sytry under the breaking heavens.

Golden wings spread; halting their ascension any further. As the rays of sunlight fell across Sytry, his hand moved to clasp a strong fist around the right horn coiled around Remiel’s head. A hollow scream echoed, ringing in the ears of all around them. Remiel’s shouts could have been heard from the border of Minoas; stretching across the sea and beyond as Sytry snapped his horn off, peeling half the veil from his face.

His scream morphed into Elias Kara’s. High and shrill before turning back into a demonic shriek as Remiel tossed Sytry into the air. His armour faded, shrivelling like paper on fire. Its ashes stuck to the exposed side of his face, shielding the tender skin that had not felt air in the last two years.

It was Sytry’s turn to wear the crown of golden streaks of light. It shone past the white shine of his hair as he raised his trident, arms bent against his head. He came down on Remiel, aiming the hilt of his trident towards the God of Wrath’s murky eyes.

“When I loved you, I loved with all my power.” Remiel murmured, baring his teeth. His hands flew out, fingers embedded against the fleshy parts of Sytry’s shoulders as the Prince’s trident left nothing more than a thick line across his cheek. The collision rippled the air. “For you, I would have turned my kingdom up from the ground. But you continue to love no-one else but yourself.”

Sytry’s shriek was panic. “Let go!”

Remiel persisted, digging his fingers against the spiral tattoo embedded against Sytry’s host’s shoulder. His fingers dipped beneath the flesh, tearing away muscle and bone. Sytry’s screams were fleeting. Remiel’s mercy was forgotten. Blood poured in slopes against the dusty ground until silence was granted with a spine-shuddering sucking sound, followed by the entire left arm of Riyo Midas being removed at the socket of their shoulder.

Sytry’s jaw turned slack, tongue rolling out. Their eyes turned to stone. The golden veins streaking their cheeks linked around their lips and eyelids; turning solid. With one kick from Remiel, spinning in the air to whack the Prince in the stomach, Sytry went flying into the circling seats surrounding the arena.

Remiel floated solemnly, head crooked and eyes tired. He took on his solidary state, like the default he morphed into when sitting upon his throne. He froze, unmoving in the centre of the Colosseum as the heavens began to close once again. The skies rolled with dark clouds.

Emvolo was shroud in darkness yet again.

Riyo lay under the debris of the Colosseum benches. The impact from Remiel’s shove had sent them into a trench, masked with rubble and marble. Their eyes were hazy, body numb. Sytry had truly taken a toll on their body this time.

When they finally moved, it had been their back to come alive first. A whimper left bloody lips and Riyo turned on their right side, stretching the bent wings out from beneath their body. The bones beneath golden feathers snapped and clicked as they came to life.

The second thing they realised was their arm – or lack thereof. It was a moment of shock as Riyo stared at their shoulder; barely able to make out the lines of their spiralled tattoo. The edges of its dark Magick had shrivelled, turning white against their dark skin. Their stump was bloody and charred, unlikely to bleed even after they moved to stand on their feet.

“Guess you win,” Sytry’s lilting voice echoed.

Riyo turned, facing the Prince of Moons slouched against the balcony overseeing the arena below. This was his real form; a ghostly silhouette of horror encased in hip-long white hair. Hollow eyes, empty cheeks and needle teeth filled his face when he turned. His wings were burnt to a crisp and the spiral tattoo on his shoulder ran along his left arm, ending with the extension of five-inch long claws tapping against a golden-veined hip.

“You’re free to face Remiel alone,” Sytry cooed, propping his elbow against the balcony. “Free from the burden of being my host.”

Riyo licked their lips. “The tattoo was really your source of power?” They murmured, solemnly clasping the empty space to their left. Their stomach sunk. “Super original.”

Sytry snorted. “It was Erebus’ way to summon me easier. By having a Magic wielder curse you, the ‘ideal’ host, it was only a matter of time before your trauma was strong enough to allow me to pass through. Now that portal has been destroyed and this will be our last moments.”

“Well, I guess I should say thanks?” Riyo’s voice was quiet. As they moved, their golden wings dragged and they held out their only arm, hand extended. “You weren’t as bad as the history books made you out to be.”

“Really?” Sytry chuckled, taking Riyo’s offered hand. Their ghost shimmered and they pulled them closer, shoving the entire length of their spare arm through Riyo’s stomach. “Then I guess I should try harder, hm? I would hate for my followers to think I’ve gone soft.”

Riyo froze, shaking against Sytry’s body. They were pulled closer, hushed as Sytry ran his clawed fingers through their scruffy hair. Blood dribbled down their cheek, pooling against Sytry’s shoulder. They could not breath without choking. Their vision was hazy, their balance feigned. As they slipped the ground, Sytry supported them and knelt down with them.

“Oh, bless.” Sytry hummed. He ran his bloody hand across Riyo’s cheek, slapping the bruised skin. “Come on, stay focused~! It would so sad for you to pass out before you hear what I had to say.”

Riyo could not fight as Sytry pulled them closer, brushing his lips against the shell of their ear. His hot breath should have made Riyo gag, shudder or hiss. Shock was their greatest enemy as Sytry rocked them back and forth like a child, scratching the base of their neck to soothe them.

“Should we ever reunite, you will do well not to grant yourself, my host, with a child, understood?”

Riyo pounced, sinking through Sytry’s ghost and colliding with the low wall. Their fury pulled them to their feet, and they snapped, gnashing razor-sharp teeth together as they whirled to face their foe. Sytry was gone now, if he was ever there at all.

Clutching their throbbing stomach, Riyo found no wound. There was no blood, no gaping hole. It left them shaking even as they turned back to the arena and watched Remiel hang lonely in the sky. Sytry was gone, but Elias Kara was still caged.

Riyo hopped the wall, shoving their might against Remiel. There was no thought or decisions to mull. It was pure instinct.

It sent them hurdling through columns, sustaining only so much damage before Riyo tore away. They continued to be a terrible flier and forced their practice into beating their golden wings to carry them skyward, across the Colosseum border and towards the ocean, leading Remiel high above the sky and through the rolling clouds.

Remiel growled, taking chase. The clouds were pulled back by his talon hands, clearing the way to catch hold of Riyo’s wing and pull. He tore golden feathers, ripping the cartilage and brittle bones of their left wing.

Riyo’s back arched. They felt the remaining tether of their energy leave them; struggling to keep momentum but found their balance impaired. Their remaining wing fluttered, heavy and weak in the winding winds as Remiel pulled himself up to consume Riyo with his finishing blow.

Merine Trezla hovered on Tentrail’s cliffs. It took one gun. A single bullet. It was enough to stop Remiel. The shot went straight through his back, protruding through his chest and sending the God of Wrath away from his host at long last. Elias Kara screamed, mouth gaping open as Remiel’s misty embodiment of inky shadow escaped every orifice.

Riyo swallowed their pain and swooped low, encircling their arm around Elias as they both went crashing to the sea.