Chapter 13 Seth’s Past
Seth’s Past
Twenty years ago. . .
My sword flew from my hands and landed in the dirt. I hit the ground with it and found another’s blade pressed to my throat.
“Shame,” Commander Aeacus said. “You almost had me that time.”
The slightest smile twisted his lips. I’d yet to win any of our duels.
Retracting his blade, Aeacus offered me a hand, and I took it. Dusting myself off, I retrieved my sword and sheathed it back on my belt.
Aeacus removed his vulture helm and straightened out his neat black locks. “Lucky for you,” he said, tucking his helm under his arm, “I don’t intend to enter the tournament.”
“Ha.” I wiped the sweat from my brow. “Everyone would quit if you did.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Aeacus chided, smiling. He knew damn well he was the best knight in the country. Spinning his blade, he returned it to its sheath. “Your father wanted to see you once we finished.”
Those words never heralded anything good. Grimacing, I watched my mentor cross the training yard. “What for?”
“I don’t know,” Aeacus admitted. “But you shouldn’t keep him waiting.”
Nodding, I scuffed the dirt from my boots and pulled a cloak around my shoulders. Laying a hand on the door, I hesitated before entering the palace. Onyx walls enclosed me in their shadow, and a blood-red rug trailed the length of the hall. Braziers burned beside every pillar.
A shadow darted out from beside one and fell into step with me. I glanced down at the woman, her pale face illuminated by the dancing flames.
Eris touched her taut bun and knitted her hands at her waist. “Did you win?”
“I never do,” I drawled, looking away.
“Aw. It looked like you almost had him.” She chewed on her thumbnail and lowered her hand.
Something wet brushed my cheek, like mist from a waterfall. My hand came away with a faint smear of blood.
A wound from training, I supposed.
Eris watched me with expectant eyes. Scarlet eyes—like mine and my father’s.
I never knew what to make of my half-sister. Most of my siblings were strangers—Father had sold most of them, or tossed them in an orphanage. Eris spoke with sickeningly sweet words and gazed at me with wide eyes.
She trailed at my heels like a lost puppy and spoke with a timid voice. But around others, she had a cunning grin and sultry words.
“What are you looking at?” I asked.
“Nothing,” she said hurriedly. “Ah—” Toying with her sash, she glanced at the archway ahead. “Father wanted to see you. I shouldn’t intrude.”
“That’s probably for the best,” I agreed, offering her a curt nod before stepping through the arch.
My footsteps echoed as I ascended black stone stairs. The throne room was utterly silent. Reaching for the pommel of my sword, I stepped forward into the light.
Nobody was here. Father’s throne, an opulent seat of onyx stone carved with serpents and hooded with a great cobra head, lay empty. The braziers were dim and cold.
Even when Father was absent, a Hades Knight would patrol this room. Something was wrong.
Shadows clung to the walls between the pillars. A figure burst from their depths and flew straight toward me.
I hadn’t registered their features before a blade was singing toward my head. Drawing my sword, I barely managed to deflect the blow. The assassin’s blade slid down mine, throwing me off balance when its tip collided with my wrist.
Blood spurted from the gash, and I inhaled sharply. Staggering back, I heard a scream from down the hall.
Eris.
Whirling on my heel, I flew down the steps, the assassin hot on my tail. This time, I got a good look at my foe.
The braziers illuminated his every detail, or rather, his lack thereof. A solid shadow, shaped like a man, raised a darkened blade to bring down on Eris’ neck.
Swapping my sword to my other hand, I swung for the shadow’s side, but it danced away before I could strike. Blood streamed from Eris’ shoulder, and she clutched the wound tightly, eyes wide.
Hauling her up, I pressed her back against the pillar and stood protectively in front of her.
The strange assassins circled us.
“It’s him.” Eris’ voice shook. “He’s doing to you, w-what he did to me.”
“Who?” I asked.
A third shadow erupted from the floor, and then another. They almost appeared like assassins cloaked in the night itself.
What magic was this? Did it spring from a muse?
Where was everyone?
Glancing down, my eyes locked on the brazier burning beside me. Grabbing the edge of the iron pot, I threw the fire toward the assassins. Stinging flame licked my hand.
But it worked. The shadows recoiled from the cinders, giving us a chance to flee.
Grabbing Eris, I dragged her back toward the training yard—toward Aeacus.
We didn’t get very far.
Skeletal hands, dark scarlet like pools of blood, emerged from the tiles like ghosts from the ground. They wrapped around my legs, my arms, my neck. Eris yelped as she was dragged to the ground. I tried to grab her, but something twisted my ankle, and I fell with her.
The shadows multiplied until a veritable army surrounded us. Everywhere I looked, more skeletal hands appeared, promising death should we try to flee.
Black and crimson painted the hall in the colors of my house.
Realizing we were going to meet our ends here, I reached for Eris.
To comfort my sister as we died, if nothing else.
Steel rang as a shadow drew its blade and stood over Eris. It flipped the blade, tip facing down, and drove it through her back.
I raged against my bonds, trying to escape. Every time I snapped free of the blood-forged bones, another appeared to take its place.
The sword came down again. I flinched as Eris screamed.
A shadow loomed above me: my executioner.
My mind whirled as the blade rose above my head. What did Eris mean by ‘his doing’?
Gods, I had a terrible feeling I knew exactly who she spoke of.
The cursed name Haimyx had given me . . . I was only surprised it had taken this long for him to decide to kill me.
Every day, my Father proved he was divinity beyond our reach: his chthonic magic had no limits.
Closing my eyes, I gritted my teeth as the blade lanced through the back of my shoulder. They could’ve given me a painless, clean death.
But Haimyx wanted us to suffer.
Steel glinted above my head as the shadow prepared another strike.
“Stop!” A woman shrieked.
The shadows froze, blade mid-thrust. I felt the hands loosen around my limbs and tore free. Crawling to Eris, I pressed a hand to the nasty wound in her side.
Shimmering light broke up the shadows darkening the hall. The twilight veil covering the assassins fractured and they erupted into a shower of blood. Chthonic magic.
A woman ran toward us, her every step dispelling the magic sent to murder us.
Many in this country called themselves gods, but only she looked like one. Her white gown seemed to glow with radiance, and the feathered cape on her back spread like wings behind her. Ebony hair cascaded over her shoulders, crowned with a gold feathered circlet.
Ma’at threw herself down beside me and pressed her hands to Eris’ other wound—the second strike had torn through her thigh.
“It’s alright, Eris.” Ma’at’s strong voice rang through our heads. “A healer’s coming.”
Eris’ scarlet eyes flew open. She looked fondly at Ma’at before turning to me, gaze hot with fury.
I didn’t understand. Why would our father want her dead, too?
Pain lashed through my shoulder, and I doubled over, noticing the blood streaming down my tunic.
Mother’s golden eyes flicked over me with worry. “If you die from only that . . .”
I smiled at her. “Would you disown me?”
She tried to smile, but her lips wavered. Ripping a piece of her dress loose, she pressed it into my good hand. “Aeacus!” She screamed.
It wasn’t the general who emerged from the throne room, like a shadow from the night. Haimyx descended the steps, his crimson eyes pulsing.
“I told you not to interfere,.” he seethed, black cloak drifting behind him like a specter.
Ma’at glared at him, but remained silent. Reaching for my sword, I grabbed the pommel and shakily rose to my feet, intent on protecting them both.
I couldn’t defeat my father, but I wouldn’t submit to him without a fight.
Haimyx stood before me, a few inches taller. He looked me up and down, and he laughed. “My apologies. I thought you were soft. Evidently, it will take much more than this to break you.”
Break me? My grip on my blade wavered. “What?”
“I’m not here to kill you, boy,” Haimyx growled. With a mere flick of his wrist, he wrenched the sword from my hand. It clattered to the ground. “Thirty years, and this is all you can manage?” He said, voice dripping with scorn. “Perhaps it was my folly to think better of you.”
Suddenly, Eris’ words made sense.
Magic came from suffering. Most nobles tortured their children if they reached adulthood with naturally manifesting magic.
Haimyx had wanted to torture Eris to death and make me watch. But even now, I didn’t feel despair or torment.
I felt only hatred. At him. At myself.
Wincing, I fell to a knee. Eris’ face twisted in terror, and she crawled closer to Ma’at, staining her dress with blood.
“I told you,” Ma’at’s voice dripped with venom, “not to touch my son.”
“Set is our son,” Haimyx reminded her. His crimson eyes locked on me. Wrapping a hand around my throat, he yanked me back to my feet. His fingers dug into my skin until the breath fled my lungs. Dragging me away from my mother, he tossed me aside.
My back struck the tiles, and Haimyx knelt on my shoulder, pressing his knee into my wound. Yelping, I reached for my sword, but skeletal hands rose from the ground and restrained me.
Haimyx drew the blood from my shoulder into his palm and shaped it into a longsword. Pressing the razor-sharp edge to my throat, he leaned in.
“You have been naught but a disappointment,” he breathed. “If I must forge you into what you are meant to become, I will.”
Red and black spots danced across my vision. I could see the crimson blade moving, twisting to strike.
Would it be a death blow, this time?
“Get away from him!” Mother screamed.
The pain lifted from my shoulder, and a pleasant scent filled the air. Flowers. Lifting myself up on my elbow, I blinked to clear my sight.
Blue flowers broke through the tiles and grew in a lush meadow around me. A thick vine twisted around Father’s neck, yanking him away from me.
Thundering steps sounded behind me. I turned to see Aeacus, still pulling his helmet on, sprinting toward us. He froze mid-stride and gaped at the scene.
Oh, gods. This was Elpis magic, wasn’t it? Breathing in ragged gasps, I turned toward Ma’at. Her hand was still raised, extended toward Haimyx. A soft glow faded from around her fingertips.
No. She’d promised me she’d never reveal her secret.
“Aeacus,” Mother gasped. “Get Set to a healer. Now.”
Snarling, Haimyx ripped the vine around his neck in half. But he remained rooted to the spot, eyes glued to Ma’at.
His face fractured. All the world vanished save his queen.
I tried to rise, tried to reach for my mother. Everything blurred. Aeacus fell to my side, and I saw his dark eyes through his helm, softer than usual.
Someone flew past. The healer, I supposed. I saw a vague outline of a woman drop beside Eris. What remained of my vision was reserved for my mother.
This would be the last time I ever saw her in person. Upon the next, she would be far away, tied to a boat drifting down the Acheron.