I threw my head back and screamed silently, as if my voice had been torn from me. The blinding glow ignited my skin, lighting the whole building up like a beacon. And that light, it was the last thing I saw as the world around me was plunged into a darkness so deep, it felt as if I was being drowned in an abyss. As if I were weightless, my body not my own, and gravity was ripped from me.
That was until my scars started to glow in the darkness, and I managed to lift my hands long enough to see them. The symbols I had come to loathe now felt like a guiding light as the pain shimmered down to a manageable burn before disappearing altogether.
The light from my scars grew in intensity until finally the darkness faded entirely, and instead of showing me the world I knew, it showed me one I was trying to understand.
The vision. It was back, and this time I recognized Lazaros, Atlas’s brother, thanks to what I had seen in the basement Riley had kept me in. He looked so much like Atlas, it took my breath away at first. However, subtle differences between them werebecoming more obvious, such as their builds. Atlas was all bulky muscle and raw strength, whereas Lazaros had a more athletic frame built more for stealth and speed. The silent assassin in the night, as opposed to the roaring battle cry of death, stampeding its way toward the enemy.
A figure of a man who, in this moment, had exchanged practicality with finery as he sat on a magnificent throne. I didn’t know how I knew that he would have been just as comfortable slitting someone’s throat in the dead of night as he was issuing the order to have his subjects do it for him.
It had to be said that he looked as every bit as masterful and commanding as his brother did, and my heart skipped a beat. He looked magnificent and powerful, and honestly, I felt unworthy to be in his presence. If he looked this spectacular on the throne, what would Atlas look like? Well, he wouldn’t look this evil, for one. He wouldn’t have darkness swirling around him like a perpetual serpent circling its master. A visible shadowed aura that clung to his form as Lazaros did now.
The darkness seemed to be emitting from the figure standing next to him. A thicker and more solid mass meandered around the man who appeared to be the one pulling the strings here.
The mystery man’s hand hovered possessively over Lazaros’s shoulder, and I could see similarities in both of them, and in Atlas, too, which told me one thing…
This must have been their estranged brother.
Of course, I had no idea what Atlas’s and Lazaros’s parents looked like, but it was unmistakable, all three definitely shared a parent. But then I wondered, why was I the only one who saw the staggering resemblance? Why wouldn’t they have taken one look at the guy and known the truth within the depths of their soul, as I did? All it would take was one look at his dark hair, which matched Atlas's and Lazaros's, the cut of his jawline, and the shape of his eyes. Christ, they could have been triplets.
Honestly, the differences between them all were so slight. Like the fact that his skin was darker, more like Atlas’s. His muscular build was somewhere between the two, and was no doubt obtained through a far rougher upbringing than any palace would have provided.
I could have gotten lost in the sight of them, had movement in the corner of my eye not startled me. A moment's fright caused me to let out a breath of relief when I realized it wasn’t anything to be alarmed over. No Myth was about to attack me, and there was no threat of harm coming my way. Nothing like that. Instead, a villager was kneeling on the floor, looking frightened. I looked between him and Lazaros, finally taking in what was happening in front of me.
“…I beg you, Your Majesty. Before it’s too late.” The villager’s voice trembled as he knelt, fingers splayed across the stone floor. One inlayed with gold vines capturing blooms of red marble roses with deadly thorns. It was beautiful in its brutality.
As for Lazaros, he didn’t move. His eyes were fixed on the villager, yet strangely unfocused and unblinking. My eyes narrowed as I saw the tiniest of movements from the man standing, half swallowed by shadow, behind Lazaros. The hand still hovered there, but thin tendrils of the darkness were flowing out of his fingers and seeping through the fibers of Lazaros’s gold-threaded cloak. The man’s influence leaked into his pores, flowed through his veins, and made its way throughout his body.
But it was like no one else could see what I could. As if my scars allowed me to see the truth. To see past the lie. To witness the stark darkness seeping through his pale skin. It made me feel sick, like the obscurity was carrying his words to Lazaros’s mind, forcing his mouth to speak as his eyes still stared into the void of his own cage. Just like Riley, he was nothing but a puppet on his brother’s sick stage.
“There will be no assistance. Return to your village at once.”
His voice was flat but held the same demonic tone Riley’s had, like two voices overlapping, but I knew only one could be heard by the poor citizen. The sadness on the villager’s face crushed me, and I didn’t even know him. It was like those words had killed his family right in front of his eyes, like all hope was now lost.
“Your Majesty, please,” he begged. “My family, the other villagers, they will be ki…”
“Enough!” Lazaros snapped, cutting him off with a slice of his arm, swiping the air.
“Please. I beg of you!” The villager’s face was practically pressed against the stone, and my heart broke for him.
“The King has given you your answer. Now leave, or we will have no choice but to use force,” the man who controlled the darkness said firmly, as if he too was void of all emotion he had sucked out of his brother.
The villager staggered to his feet, shaking, backing away with a bow that looked more like he was about to collapse. He wasn’t just leaving without help, it was as though he was walking back to a death sentence. I was disgusted because I knew this was not how Atlas would rule his kingdom. And I had a feeling his younger brother wouldn’t have either, had he not been under someone else’s control.
I wanted to follow the villager and find out what had brought him before the king, but I had the feeling his story wasn’t the one I was here to see.
And I was right.
The throne room dimmed, colors draining like the vision was being pulled away from me, strand by strand. The threads were escaping quicker than I could hold onto them in my mind. So, I waited for the familiarity of the cell block to come back into focus, questioning what the point was because I still didn’t know his name. However, what I did have was a clearer understandingof what was being done to Atlas’s brother, Lazaros. How he wasn’t ruling anything.
He was a pawn, just like Riley.
The cell block teetered on the edge, ready to break into reality, but then a yell broke through that was undeniably Riley screaming, “No!” And with this bite of resistance, the cell block vanished again, the vision pulling me back into its enigmatic depths.
It was completely void of light, like the vision wasn’t quite ready so it had stuck me in a waiting room. This oblivion of darkness that at first had felt consuming. But just as quickly as I was put here, the next vision was clearing once more. Yet what struck me first was the sound, one that was unmistakable.
It was war.
In fact, just from the sound alone, I could tell it was a colossal conflict and dwarfed the battle I once experienced against the General and his army at the base. The sheer magnitude of the sound reverberated in my skull, the battlefield finally unfolding fully in front of me like a merciless nightmare.
