Acheron

Crying out, he wanted to jump again. Unfortunately, he couldn't even stand. He was so dizzy. So ill…

What had they done to him now?

Apollymi paced the small courtyard in Kalosis, waiting for Xiamara's return.

"Where's the Simi's matera?"

She turned slightly to see Xiamara's youngest child in the doorway. Named for her mother, Xiamara, Simi-which was Charonte for baby-was almost three thousand years old and yet she looked no older than a four-year-old human child. Unlike humans and gods, Charonte demons were very slow to mature.

Apollymi knelt down and held her arms out for Simi. "She's not back yet, sweeting. Soon."

Simi pouted before she ran to her and threw her arms around Apollymi's neck. She put one small thumb into her mouth and buried her other hand deep in Apollymi's hair.

Apollymi closed her eyes as she hugged the small demon. How she wished she could have held her own son like this. Just once. Instead, she'd contented herself with lavishing her love on Xiamara's simi while she waited for her son to grow old enough to free her.

Simi laid her head on Apollymi's shoulder while Apollymi sang to her. "Why is akra sad?"

"I'm not sad, Simi. I'm anxious."

"Is anxious like when the Simi eats too much and her stomach hurts?"

Apollymi smiled and kissed the top of her head. "Not exactly. It's when you can't wait for something to happen."

"Ooo like when the Simi is hungry and she's waiting on her matera to feed her."

"Something like that."

Apollymi felt a movement in the air. She looked to the shadows to see the outline of Xiamara's body. For a full minute, she couldn't move as she waited for her best friend to join her.

But there was a hesitancy to Xiamara that made her heart stop. "What is it?"

Xiamara held her hands out for Simi who gratefully went to her mother. The demon held her daughter as tears fell down her cheeks.

Apollymi felt her own eyes mist as fear gripped her. "Xi? Tell me."

She clenched her eyes closed while she continued to rock her daughter. "I don't know how to tell you, akra."

The more she hesitated, the more fraught with worry Apollymi was. "Is he not well? I'm still a prisoner here so I know he lives."

"He lives."

"Does he not… love me?"

Xiamara shook her head before she set Simi down. "Go find your sister, Simi. I need to speak with akra alone."

Sucking her thumb, Simi skipped away from them.

When Xiamara faced her, Apollymi felt the blood drain from her cheeks. "What aren't you telling me?"

Xiamara sniffed back her tears before she placed her hand on Apollymi's shoulder and transferred the images Apostolos had given her. Disbelief and horror racked her as Apollymi saw what had been done to her child.

Those emotions gave way to a fury so profound, all she could do was scream. The sound of it echoed through the Palace of the Dead all of the way up to Katoteros where the rest of the gods made their home.

All activity stopped as the other Atlantean gods heard the sound of utmost heartache.

One by one, they turned to face Archon whose features blanched.

"Is she free?" Epithymia, the goddess of desire, asked.

Archon shook his head. "She'd be here already if she were free. No. Something else has happened. For now, we're safe." At least he hoped so…

Apollymi staggered away from Xiamara as image after image branded itself into her mind. What the humans had done to her son…

"I will kill them all," she growled through clenched teeth. "Everyone who laid a hand to him will die in flames, begging for my mercy and I will have none for them. None!" She looked up at Xiamara. "And Archon will know the full weight of my wrath. There is nothing inside me for him now."

Xiamara tucked her black wings around herself. "But Apostolos refuses to accept what's his. He refuses me."

"Go to him anyway, Xi. Comfort him and help him understand what he has to do. Tell him that when he comes to me all will be made right."

"I will try, akra."

Acheron lay in the darkness of his room, trying to breathe as he shook from the pain of his overwhelmed senses. Suddenly, he heard a soft, gentle voice in his head that drowned it all out. It was truly the most beautiful sound he'd ever known.

His breathing eased along with the fading pain.

"I am with you now, Apostolos."

"Who are you?"

"That is the voice of your mother."

He squinted in the dark to see the demon kneeling beside him. He curled into a ball, away from her. "I have no mother. She cast me aside when I was born."

"Ni, akri," the demon said softly. "I was the one who took you from your mother's arms while she wept in fear for you. Your mother, Apollymi, hid you in the human realm to protect you from the gods who wanted you dead. I swear to you on my life. Neither of us ever meant for you to be harmed. You were supposed to be raised as a prince. Pampered. Beloved. None of this should have happened to you."

He found that impossible to believe. "I don't understand. Why do the gods want me dead?"

"It was prophesied that you would be the end of the Atlantean gods. But you have to understand how much your mother loves you. She risked her life and defied the other gods to save you and keep you hidden until you were old enough to use your powers to fight them. Even now she sits imprisoned, wanting you to come to her. Free her, Apostolos and she will make right every wrong ever done to you."

"Make it right how?"

"She will destroy everyone who ever harmed you." The demon stroked his hair like the mother she described. "You are the most loved of any child ever born. Every day I have sat with your mother while she wept for your loss and ached to have you with her. Come home with me, Apostolos. Meet your mother."

He wanted to. And yet… "How do I know I can trust you?"

"Why would I lie?"

Everyone lied, especially to him. "For any number of reasons."

Xiamara. They come. Leave him quickly!

The demon shrank back from his bed. "The gods can't find me with you or they'll know who and where you are. Listen to your mother's voice and I'll return as soon as I can. Stay hidden, precious one." She vanished instantly.

Acheron lay alone, listening to the voices that tangled inside him. He heard laughter and tears, curses and screams.

Until his mother's voice soothed him again. He focused on that single tone and closed his eyes as it drove away all the other voices that made his head throb.

Had the demon been telling the truth? Dare he believe for one moment that he was the beloved son of anyone?

Surely it was preposterous.

He cupped the necklace in his hand and studied it. Some kind of stone, it appeared milky and iridescent. Then he glanced to where his slave's mark had been branded into his palm.

It was gone now without a single trace. How could this be?

I'm a god who was a slave…

Not just any slave. The lowest of all.

Acheron covered his eyes with his hand as shame overwhelmed him. And as he lay there, images tore through him… he saw the past, the present and the future through the experiences of thousands of people. He could hear their hopes and fears. Hear the very essence of the universe.

For the first time, he saw those who had it worse than he did. Those who seemed to have it better. The screams of mothers who'd lost their children. Children who had no parents. Beggars and kings…

Now he understood what Artemis had meant when she said she paid no attention to the human world. It was overwhelming. Horrifying. All these people who needed help and as he imagined helping them, he saw numerous outcomes play out in his mind.

But the one thing he couldn't see was his own life.

Or Ryssa's.

Not even Artemis. Why? It made no sense. As if any of this could possibly make sense. Acheron laughed at the absurdity of it all.