Acheron

August 30, 9541 BC

"Why do they hate me so, Ryssa?"

I paused at my loom to look up at Acheron's timid approach. At age seven, he was an incredibly handsome boy. His golden hair gleamed in the room as if it had been touched by the gods who seemed to have abandoned him. "No one hates you, akribos."

But in my heart I knew the truth.

And so did he.

He came closer to me and I saw the red, angry handprint on his face. There were no tears in his swirling silver eyes. He'd grown so used to being hit that it no longer seemed to bother him.

At least nowhere other than in his heart.

"What happened?" I asked.

He looked away.

I left my loom and crossed the short distance to his side. Kneeling in front of him, I gently brushed the blond hair away from his swollen cheek. "Tell me."

"She hugged Styxx."

I knew without asking who she was. He'd been with our mother. I'd never understood how she could be so loving to me and Styxx and yet so cruel to Acheron. "And?"

"I wanted a hug, too."

Then I saw it. The telltale signs of a boy who wanted nothing more than his mother's love. The shallow trembling of his lips, the slight watering of his eyes.

"Why is it that I look exactly like Styxx and yet I'm u

I couldn't explain it to him, for I, unlike the others, had never seen the difference myself. How I wished Acheron knew the mother I did.

But they all called him a monster.

I saw only a little boy. A small child who wanted nothing more than to be accepted by a family that wanted to disown him. Why couldn't my parents look at him and see what a kind, gentle soul he was? Quiet and respectful, he never sought to harm anyone or anything. We played together and we laughed. Most of all, I held him while he cried.

I took his little hand into mine. A soft hand. A boy's hand. There was no malice in it. No murder.

Acheron had always been a tender child. While Styxx sought to whine and complain over every minor thing, to take my toys and those of any other child near him, Acheron had sought only to make peace. To comfort those around him.

He seemed older than a child of seven. There were times when he seemed even older than I.

His eyes were strange. Their silver, swirling color betrayed the birthright that linked him to the gods. But surely that should make him special not horrendous.

I offered him a smile that I hoped would ease some of his pain. "One day, Acheron, the world will know just what a special boy you are. The day will come when no one will fear you. You shall see."

I moved to hug him, but he pulled back. He was used to people hurting him and even though he knew I wouldn't, he was still reluctant to accept my comfort.

As I stood, the door to my sitting room opened. A large number of guards came inside.

Scared of the sight, I stepped back not knowing what they wanted. Acheron clenched his small fists in the skirt of my blue gown as he huddled behind my right leg.

My father and uncle walked through the men until they stood before me. The two of them were virtually identical in looks. They had the same blue eyes, the same wavy blond hair and fair skin. Though my uncle was three years younger than my father, one would never guess to look at them. They could easily pass as twins.

"I told you he would be with her," my father said to Uncle Estes. "He's corrupting her again."

"Don't worry," Estes said. "I shall take care of the matter. You'll never again have to worry about him."

"What do you mean?" I asked, terrified of their dire tone. Did they intend to kill Acheron?

"Never you mind," my father snapped at me. I'd never heard such a harsh tone from him before. It made my blood run cold.

He grabbed Acheron and shoved him toward my uncle.

Acheron looked panicked. He reached for me, but my uncle took him roughly by his arm and jerked him away.

"Ryssa!" Acheron called.

"No!" I shouted, trying to help him.

My father pulled me back and held me. "He is going to a better place."

"Where?"

"Atlantis."

I watched in horror as Acheron was taken away, screaming for me to save him.

Atlantis was a long way from here. Too far, and up until a very short time ago, we'd been at war with them. I'd heard nothing but terrible things about that place and everyone who lived there.

I looked up at my father, sobbing. "He'll be afraid."

"His kind are never afraid."

Acheron's screams and pleas denied those words.

My father might be a powerful king, but he was wrong. I knew the fear inside Acheron's heart.

And I knew the fear of my own.

Would I ever see my brother again?

November 3, 9532 BC

It had been nine years since I last saw my brother, Acheron. Nine years and not a day had gone by without my wondering what he was doing. How he was being treated.

Whenever Estes visited, I always took him aside and asked about Acheron.

"He's fine and healthy, Ryssa. I cherish him as an addition to my household. He has everything he requires. I shall be glad to tell him that you asked after his welfare."

Still, something inside me was never quite content with those words. I'd petitioned father repeatedly to send for Acheron. To at least bring him home for a holiday. As a prince, he should never have been sent away. Yet there he stayed in a country that was constantly on the brink of war with ours. Even though Estes was an ambassador, it didn't change the fact that if we went to war, Acheron, as a Greek Prince, would be killed.

And Father refused every request I made.

I'd been writing to Acheron for years and normally he wrote back religiously. His letters were always brief with only a handful of details, but even so I cherished every one.

So when a letter had come to me a few weeks ago, I'd thought nothing unusual about it.

Not until I read it.

Greetings most esteemed and exalted Princess Ryssa.

Forgive me for my forwardness. Forgive me my impertinence. I found one of your letters written to Acheron and have, at great peril to myself, decided to write to you. I ca

I'd told no one about the letter. It hadn't even been signed. For all I knew it was a hoax.

Yet I couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't, that Acheron needed me.

For days I debated about going until I could stand it no more.

Taking my personal guard Boraxis with me for protection, I snuck out of the palace and told my maids to tell my Father I was visiting my aunt in Athens. Boraxis thought I was a great fool for traveling all the way to Atlantis for a letter that the author hadn't even signed, but I didn't care.

If Acheron needed me, then I would be there.

However that courage faltered days later as I found myself outside my uncle's home in the capital city of Atlantis. The large gleaming red building was even more intimidating than our palace at Didymos. It was as if it had been designed for no other purpose than to inspire fear and awe. Of course, as our ambassador, it would benefit Estes to impress our enemies so.

Far more advanced than my Greek homeland, the island kingdom of Atlantis glistened and glowed. There was more activity from the people around me than I'd ever seen before. It was truly a bustling metropolis.

Swallowing the fear I felt, I looked at Boraxis. Taller than most men, with coarse black hair he wore braided down his back, he was large and burly. Lethal. And he was loyal to me to a fault, even though he was a servant. He'd been protecting me since I was a child and I knew I could rely on him.