Chapter Forty-Six: Shadows of Terra Mythica

  “Hades had Chosen before. Many, in fact. They were all led by one man—this man, Errikos.”

  Jace watched as the army approached.

  Errikos, now an old man with silver in his hair but steel in his gaze, opened the door to his humble cabin, leaning against the door frame for support. His movements were deliberate, his eyes sharp. The leader of the approaching army, a tall figure in opulent armor, sneered at the sight of Errikos’ simple home.

  “Old man, we require shelter and provisions. Your cabin will suffice,” the leader declared, his voice dripping with arrogance and authority, echoing through the forest as if he owned it.

  Errikos, a mischievous glint in his eye, regarded the intruders with a bemused expression. “I believe we have room for some of your men, and food enough for maybe four. But I’m afraid we were not prepared to serve two dozen.”

  The leader’s eyes narrowed, and he stepped forward with a menacing air. “We will be taking what we need, old man. Step aside.” He moved to push past Errikos but found himself halted by an unexpected, unyielding force.

  Errikos leaned casually against the doorway, his smile never wavering. “This cabin? It is far too quaint, with rooms far too small to fit an ego such as yours. Best you move along.”

  The captain’s face reddened with anger, his hand instinctively moving towards his sword. “Do you know who I am? I am Captain Theros, representative of the King!”

  Errikos shrugged, inspecting his fingernails with a bored expression. “The King, you say? How is old Graybeard these days? Still as constipated as ever? I told him, more prunes, fewer biscuits, but does he listen?”

  Theros’ eyes blazed with fury. “You insolent wretch! I will teach you respect!”

  Errikos yawned, stretching as if waking from a nap. “Respect, you say? I’m always open to new experiences. Honey,” he called back into the cabin, “this fine gentleman wants to show me respect.”

  “I said, I’ll teach you…”

  Just then, Errikos’ wife emerged from the cabin, her sharp eyes taking in the scene. “Oh, darling, shouldn’t you invite our guests in? It’s not every evening we host such... distinguished visitors,” she said.

  Errikos grinned. “Of course, my love. But you know how you despise cleaning up after a brawl. Who am I kidding?” he placed a friendly hand on Theros’ shoulder, “I do all the cleaning. She’s just terrible at it.”

  “What are you blabbering on about? And get your filthy hands off me.” The captain’s face turned a deep, livid magenta. “Step aside, you...”

  “Guilty as charged, I’m afraid,” she said, nodding with a mischievous smile. “I really am no good at cleaning at all. But, if they insist on staying, I suppose we could give them a proper welcome.”

  With her approval, Errikos turned to face Theros and his men. “Alright then, gentlemen. I was going to let you off easy, but you heard the missus.”

  The soldiers surged forward, but Errikos remained unfazed, a statue of calm amidst the storm. As they closed in, his eyes darkened, and his silhouette seemed to ripple and twist around him. With a flick of his wrist, tendrils of inky black energy lashed out, sending the first wave of soldiers sprawling.

  The fight erupted into a whirlwind of chaos. Despite his age, Errikos moved with deadly grace, gliding through his attackers like a shade. Dark power crackled around him, repelling and disarming his foes with a mere gesture.

  Theros, seeing his men falter, charged at Errikos, his sword gleaming menacingly in the dim light. Errikos sidestepped, a smirk playing on his lips. “Is that the best you’ve got, Captain? I’ve seen children swing sticks with more finesse.”

  Their clash was fierce, Errikos dodging and parrying with an almost playful ease. But the weight of numbers began to tell. Even as he fought them off, his breath grew ragged, and a gash on his arm bled freely before the skin knit itself back together.

  Amidst the chaos, an archer took aim at Errikos, his arrow flying true. But in a cruel twist, it struck Errikos’ wife. She fell with a soft cry, her hand reaching out towards him. Yet, oddly, she didn’t seem to mind. A wicked smile crept over her face.

  If Jace was honest, he wasn’t sure if the older couple was cuter or just more terrifying in their age.

  But then, the scene began to blur, like an old, worn-out record. The edges of reality frayed, and everything grew foggy, the outcome lost to the encroaching haze.

  Jace strained to catch fragments of their words, but they slipped away, whispers tangled in the memories of trees, grass, and spring. Persephone’s voice, heavy with countless seasons, came gravely.

  “Even nature can forget. My trees and leaves of Spring may hold memories of the past, but they sometimes fade and distort.”

  As the scene cleared and the memories sharpened, the evening had grown late and much had changed. Errikos crouched on the floor, cradling a lifeless body - his wife. His sobs were soft, but each one seemed to tear through the silence like a knife.

  The flippant amusement that once lit his face was now replaced by a mask of grief and haunting emptiness. Small flames flickered nearby, casting shadows that danced like spectral hands. The soldiers had vanished, leaving no trace behind. Time blurred, moments lost in the haze. The cabin smoldered, and with a sudden, deafening crash, an explosion of fire consumed the cottage, transforming it into a blazing inferno.

  A guttural roar erupted from Errikos as he clutched her still body to his chest. Rage and sorrow intertwined, igniting a dark power within him. His voice echoed with a terrifying resonance, shaking the very air. Dusk coalesced around him, the temperature plummeting, as if the world itself mourned with him.

  The cabin, once a symbol of their peaceful life, now stood as a grim monument to the wrath of an old man pushed beyond his limits. On his knees, Errikos leaned over his wife’s body, his shoulders shaking with sobs. He screamed, the words muffled and distorted by his agony. He screamed again, the words heavy with despair. Whatever he was saying was lost to time.

  Jace wanted to rush in, to help, but they were mere figments in a memory. Persephone snapped her fingers, and the world shifted to another Spring.

  The world flashed forward, plunging into darkness. It was night, and a hooded figure stood, waves of dark fire undulating around a still form, robes billowing in the wind. The moon barely pierced through the thick clouds, casting an eerie, silvery light.

  Jace leaned in as Persephone spoke, each word a thread in the dark fabric of the past.

  “He lost something that day,” Persephone whispered, her voice a shadow in the night. “His sanity fractured. And he turned on Hades and all that life stands for.”

  “Hades saw in Errikos a kindred spirit, someone to share the burdens of the underworld. But there was something special about Errikos - he was nearly immortal by our world’s standards because he was one of the first Travelers.”

  “How is that possible?” Jason puzzled over the notion. “You said it was nearly eight hundred years ago.”

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Faces of darkness, of evil, of monsters and ghouls and undead flashed before him in a terrifying montage. Each one was more grotesque and horrifying than the last. Their eyes glowed with malevolence, their forms twisted and contorted in ways that defied nature. They loomed in the darkness, a parade of nightmares brought to life.

  Persephone’s voice carried on, soft yet piercing. “Errikos wandered through time, collecting the dark, the forsaken, and the forgotten. He became a beacon for the wretched, a magnet for the lost souls of the underworld.”

  The images grew more intense -more vivid. Jace could almost feel the cold breath of the undead, hear the whisper of ancient curses, and smell the decay and rot that clung to these twisted beings.

  “And in his madness, his true powers twisted,” Persephone continued. “A distorted power born of despair and darkness, a power that Hades himself could not control.”

  The scene shifted, the hooded figure raising a hand, dark flames erupting from his fingertips. Errikos’ face, twisted with a haunting emptiness, was illuminated by the fire’s glow.

  Persephone’s voice faded into a chilling silence, leaving Jace with the weight of a history steeped in shadow and sorrow.

  And then, with a whisper of wind and a blink, Jace was back in the garden alcove, Persephone standing before him as he opened his eyes.

  The gears in his mind turned, piecing together the puzzle. Terra Mythica’s time dilation—forty-two years there for every year on Earth—meant that eight hundred years in that world equated to just twenty back home. That was right around the time Terra Mythica hit the market, the same time when John Rearden vanished.

  A chill traced a serpentine path up Jace’s neck. Could it be? Was Errikos truly John Rearden? Was the Dark One the architect of this entire grim affair? It seemed impossible. When the Dark One had spoken to him, his voice had dripped with venom for John Rearden.

  Jace wasn’t sure what to make of it all.

  Her voice softened, layered with sorrow and old regrets. “At first, he was a paragon of virtue, his dedication earning him the reverence of mortals and gods alike. But death has a way of twisting even the purest of hearts. He became known as the Dark One, forsaking all light.”

  “His greatness was rivaled only by his ambition. In time, he grew restless -discontented with his role. The power he commanded in the Underworld began to consume him, hollowing him out. He rallied the other Chosen, whispering promises of greater power and unshackled freedom, and led them in rebellion against Hades.”

  “The Dark One wields a Word akin to yours, but while you find light and purpose, he hungers for power and dominion. His Soul Affinity is a cruel weapon, used not to liberate or guide, but to stifle and crush. He breathes a twisted half-life into the dead, marshaling hordes of the damned. Souls, trapped in their rotting vessels, claw at their prison of decayed flesh, driven to madness by their unfulfilled need for release. Errikos thrives on this torment, using dark rites to possess, to extinguish existing souls, and usurp the bodies of both Citizens and Travelers. He is an eternal night, stretching out to smother all light and hope.”

  Jason’s eyes widened, disbelief warring with dread. “How is that possible? How can he possess a Traveler?”

  Her response came with a heavy sigh, burdened by ancient sorrow. “I have not often seen this directly, but I know of ways. The Traveler is pushed into a corner of their mind, while their darker feelings are pulled forward. At first, he doesn’t directly control them, but urges them, playing on their fears and failures. And then slowly, over time, the darkness inside them grows as they give more and more power to him, the shadow in their mind.”

  Persephone’s tone grew darker, the twilight creeping into her words. “When Errikos betrayed us, the rebellion was a nightmare, unspeakable horrors almost realized. The Underworld descended into chaos, souls adrift like lost echoes, and the fragile balance of life and death teetered on the edge of oblivion. He wasn’t alone; many turned on us, for power or greed, or misplaced spite. Hades, wounded by the treachery of those he held dear, fought back with a desperation that bordered on madness.”

  Jace glimpsed the torment in Persephone’s eyes, a fleeting echo of the ghosts she carried within. “Hades triumphed, but victory came at a steep price. He banished the Dark One, casting him out beyond our reach. Since that day, Hades has never chosen another.”

  “Why not imprison him in the Underworld, like he did with… others?” Jace asked, the weight of his question dawning too late. A tempest flared in her gaze, swiftly stilled.

  “There are truths you have yet to understand, Chosen. Imprisoning him would have been futile. The closer he is to the Underworld, the stronger he grows.”

  Persephone’s gaze softened, her words now tinged with a fragile hope. “Hades’ power is immense, far greater than most can comprehend. Even the greatest of gods will one day pass through the Eternal Passage and be tended to by him. This is partly why his brothers harbor such enmity for him, their jealousy cloaked in disdain. Hades sees in you a potential for balance, a chance to rectify the mistakes of the past.”

  Her eyes brimmed with a feeling of profound sorrow. “Hades is not as indifferent as he appears. Once, he had a kind heart, but centuries of ruling over souls have turned it to stone. He selects those who show potential for goodness, hoping they will restore balance to his domain. Yet, many succumb to their own darkness and desires.”

  A shiver coiled through Jace. “The first Chosen tried to usurp Hades’ throne,” he said, more a statement than a query.

  Persephone nodded. “To bring balance. You have been chosen by Hades to tread both the path of the Underworld and the path of power. Whether you use your strength for good or succumb to temptation like those before you is up to you.”

  “But what does all of this have to do with Travelers and death?” Jace pressed.

  “The reason for the war, why the Dark One sided with the void, and how he fell so far... There is a cost to all things, even death. It is believed he paid that price, a burden so immense it shattered him.”

  “He was driven insane from respawn?” Jace thought of Thistle’s uncle.

  “And he’s still out there? Inflicting his twisted dreams on everyone here? That means... Thistle was right. Excelsior is covering this up. Maybe they cut off the logout because they didn’t want people to find out. Or...”

  “Shhhh, child,” Persephone whispered. “There will be time enough for theories later. But Excelsior could no more cause this than they could extinguish the moon.”

  She nodded slowly; her gaze piercing into Jason’s soul. Her voice, barely more than a whisper, echoed through the chamber with an ethereal resonance. “Now, Jason Rolander, you have asked me your third and final question. And, as promised, I will answer a question you have not yet dared to ask.”

  The unspoken question nagged at his heart, a specter lurking in the recesses of his mind. He could feel its weight. A terrible curiosity mingled with dread, threatening to unravel him.

  She leaned closer, her breath a mere sigh against the stillness. Her lips parted, and a single word fell, laden with inevitability. “Yes.”

  “What is the question?”

  “The answer that you seek is… yes.” Her eyes, deep and knowing, seemed to see through him. “I will not utter the question, for it is not mine to ask. When you are ready, you will speak it. You know it even now, though you may not admit it to yourself.”

  Her words wrapped around him, binding him in their web.

  “But enough of questions and answers,” she said, her voice rising with a newfound levity. “You’ve asked far more than your share. If I were one of my relatives, I might make a fuss about that. But I like you, Chosen. And it is time for you to go.”

  The room shimmered and blurred, reality-bending at the edges. Her words carried the weight of an unspoken promise reverberating through the space. Jace knew this moment would linger in his mind—a turning point in his journey, a crossroads where fate and destiny intertwined. For what end, he couldn’t yet fathom.

  He turned, dazed, toward the entrance of the alcove. “Oh, and Jason,” she called after him, her voice soft yet firm, “it’s important to fight, gain EXP, and rank up for what’s to come. But don’t forget the little things. When combined just right, mixed just so, they create something much greater.”

  Jace paused, half-turning. “Are all gods fond of cryptic clues?”

  She laughed, the sound like wind chimes in a summer breeze. “A hazard of the job, I’m afraid. Now go.” Her tone shifted suddenly, urgency threading through her words as if she heard something far off. “Go.”

  An invisible force propelled him out of the alcove. The walls closed in; the alcove vanishing seamlessly into the stone. Disoriented, he stumbled, but quickly regained his footing. The cavernous halls twisted and turned, and Jace’s heart raced. Pik glowed beside him, guiding him through the path.

  Several minutes later, they emerged at the dock, where the ferryman waited in silent anticipation, his boat a dark silhouette against the shimmering water.

  As Jace headed back to the land of the living, the ethereal landscape around him shimmered with hues of twilight. He took a moment, raising his hand to inspect the White Raven ring more closely, noticing something new. A series of inscriptions along the inside band glowing softly, forming a faint, repeating pattern. A prompt appeared.

  Inspection Success

  Familiar: The White Raven

  Bond: Rank One

  This familiar has been drained over countless ages since the loss of its last master. To fully reawaken, it needs its mana replenished. Would you like to set an automatic draw on your mana? 10% of your mana will be unavailable until the recovery is complete.

  Mana Replenished: 0 out of 7,850,350

  Accept | Reject

  The number was staggering. Yet, Jace felt that the choice was clear. Without hesitation, he focused his intent and selected [Accept]. Instantly, the ring vibrated softly, a gentle hum that resonated through his hand, an expression of gratitude.

  The raven’s wings unfurled with a graceful shift, poised to take flight from the ring, before adjusting and settling back down, motionless once more.