The Panagea Tales Box Set

by McKenzie Austin

  Just as Avigail was about to capitalize on her newfound courage, movement caught her eyes. When she turned, a gasp flew from her lungs. He was standing so close. Perhaps ten feet away, at most. How had she not noticed his approach?

  Rayen came off as non-threatening when he appeared before her. Avigail surveyed the man’s appearance. The same peculiar clothes. The same curious, albeit vacant expression. Nothing about him changed, other than his proximity to her.

  Avigail felt her muscles tense. Itreus did not want her to engage with Rayen, that much she knew. But he stood so close. His stare was relentless. The woman ran her tongue across her dried lips and swallowed. She couldn’t simply ignore him. Not when he stood so near. “You ... startled me,” she said, tucking strands of hair behind her ear.

  Rayen stared. He said nothing.

  Feeling a rise of unease, Avigail glanced over her shoulder at the families. They took no notice of her. Already gambling on the betrayal of Itreus by speaking to Rayen, Avigail distanced herself from the shrubs, away from the others. “I ... was just about to head back to Itreus,” she announced, thumbing in the direction behind her. “Did you want to come? He’s ... helping you with something, isn’t he? He didn’t really elaborate when I asked.”

  Rayen’s eyes followed her. Save for one blink, he made no other acknowledgments.

  A branch snapped somewhere in the forest. Avigail thought it was from her foot as she took another step backward, but it must have come from an unseen animal. Rayen’s silence invited a disturbing sentiment. The woman tilted her head. “Are you all right? Are you with them?” she asked, pointing toward the humans who dwelled in the forest.

  No response.

  Avigail inhaled. As eerie as Rayen came off, the thought of abandoning him in the forest did not sit well with her. “It’s okay ...” She held out a hand. An offering. “You can come with me. I don’t know how Itreus can help you while he keeps you at arm’s reach, but ... you don’t have to be alone out here, you know.”

  Rayen’s gaze fell to her hand. Not even his chest moved.

  “It’s okay, Rayen—”

  His gaze fastened on her face when she spoke his name. His eyes widened. Confusion flooded them. Terror.

  Avigail stepped back, shocked by his sudden movement. “It’s okay, I didn’t mean anything by it—”

  A hand settled onto her shoulder. The hair on Avigail’s neck stood on end as she whipped around, too startled to shriek. When Itreus filled her vision, her panic managed to subside. “Gods!” she breathed, clutching her chest. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

  “Leave him be,” Itreus instructed, his voice calm and steady.

  “I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but you can’t just leave him here. I think he’s in—” Avigail paused when she turned around to face Rayen. He was gone. “—trouble ...”

  “He is.” Itreus leaned on his walking stick, a somber expression staking claim on his face. “But there is nothing you can do for him.”

  Avigail’s lip curled up, unappreciative of Itreus’ announcement that she could offer no help. “Does he belong to the families here? Is he a god? Is that how he keeps disappearing like that?” She tried desperately to understand, turning to look out into the distance that separated her from the people once more.

  Itreus shifted away from her. He began to walk in the opposite direction. “He does not. He is not.”

  Witnessing his departure, Avigail spun. Hesitation followed. She saw her opportunity to introduce herself to the people fading, but guilt rose in her chest. She blatantly defied Itreus’ request that she not speak to Rayen, yet he did not appear to harbor any anger. Guided by guilt, Avigail tore herself away from her chance to speak with the people at the encampment and followed after the god. “Will he be okay?” she asked, coming up beside him.

  Keeping a steady pace, Itreus carried on. “I hope.”

  The god knew more than he told her. Of that, she was certain. A nagging curiosity prodded at Avigail. She didn’t know how Itreus could claim to help Rayen when he hardly acknowledged him. She didn’t know how he could claim to help her, given that they had failed to find any indication Revi remained in Northwestern.

  Avigail frowned, her thoughts drifting back to the people. To their activities. “They were praying back there,” she said, her voice falling low.

  Itreus nodded. “I know.”

  Rising above her guilt was a burning inquisitiveness. Avigail struggled to make sense of it all. Her disappointment with Itreus’ actions only emphasized her frustration. She shook her head, unwilling and unable to let the thought go. “Why do they do it? Why would they pray to the gods, since they’re the ones who destroyed their homes? Does it actually help, Itreus? I ...” Her words fell away and she stopped walking. “I’m sorry, but ... I feel like it hasn’t really helped me.”

  The god halted. He was slow to face her. “I am sorry you feel that way.”

  Avigail threw her arms out, exasperated. “It doesn’t look like it’s helped Rayen, either. Does it help anyone? I just ... I need to know.” She thought back to her initial trek to Northwestern. When she first left, to find Revi. Her brows drew over her eyes at the memories. “I heard so many people say no good could come from the gods.”

  Itreus stepped up to her. He gazed down at the woman, his hair blowing around him. “Do you think I’m good?” he asked.

  Wrinkling her nose at the unexpected inquiry, Avigail raised her eyes. “I ... think it’s good that you’re trying to help me. Yeah.” She shrugged, rubbing her arm. A small surge of regret nipped at her for her outburst earlier. “Yes. You’re good, Itreus.”

  The god settled into his spot. “What is ‘good’?”

  Avigail arched a brow. She stared up at him uncomfortably. “You know ... good.”

  “Would you say,” Itreus asked, his tone even, “that you are good?”

  Her eyes blinked in surprise. “Um ...” Avigail battled a short internal debate, but after a moment, she shrugged, releasing a troubled sound. “Yeah. I’m good.”

  “That time that you stole the freeze-dried food product from the vendor, while your mother was in the marketplace shopping ...” Itreus tilted his head. “Was that good?”

  Avigail winced. She had forgotten all about that moment. She was desperate then. A hungry, starving child. The laws meant little to a rumbling stomach. How Itreus knew of her past failings, she did not know, but she tried to proclaim her innocence. “No, but—”

  “The time your little sister was stretching your last nerve,” Itreus interrupted, “and you lost your temper to such a degree, you experienced a short, sadistic thrill in holding your hand over her young nose and mouth until she clawed at your arm in panic. Was that good?”

  The guilt grew stronger. Broader. Avigail laid a hand over her stomach. “No, it wasn’t, but—”

  “The time you—”

  “All right!” Avigail threw up her hands, her eyes stinging with the threat of oncoming tears. “You’ve made your point. Yes. I made mistakes, okay? Who hasn’t? Those were glimpses in time. A small series of bad moments, surrounded by mostly good ones. That doesn’t make me a bad person.”

  “Your father,” Itreus said, relaxing into his position as his voice softened, “is he a bad person?”

  Her heart felt as though it shrank. A sudden onset of nausea swept through her. Avigail turned away. She remembered the good times. The mostly good moments, with the subsequent stabbing of bad ones ripping little holes in her idealistic childhood. Revi tried his best. He wanted to be a good father. He failed to meet her standards. Still, he had tried. “No,” Avigail replied, closing her eyes. “He’s not.”

  “Good. Bad.” Itreus lifted his chin, staring passed the thin veins of branches and into the open sky. “They are but temporary stages we all dip our souls into, one time or another.”

  Avigail forced her eyes open. Her gaze crawled up Itreus’ flowing clothing until she found his face. “Then, what’s th
e end game?” She frowned, recalling all the moments her parents goaded her to be a ‘better person’. To make good, sound decisions. “If everyone is both good, and bad ... what’s the reward? What’s the motivation for living a good life?”

  “Living is its own reward.” Itreus listened as the shrill chirping of a nearby bird met his ears. “But it also brings its punishments. Your father made a mistake, for which he is suffering the consequences. I do think he succeeds more at punishing himself than any cosmic dose of karma would. Not even the Underworld could damage that man as much as his own ego.” The god glanced down, finding Avigail’s attention. “How much more do you want him to suffer, Avigail?”

  She couldn’t withstand the weight of his stare. Avigail’s eyes fell to the leaves at her feet. She bit her bottom lip, dry as it was. “I ... I don’t.”

  “I didn’t think so,” Itreus said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Because you are a good person.”

  It was as if his touch shattered the dam inside her. Avigail’s lips quivered, trembling in the wake of her crushing heartache. Her chest felt hollow. Her throat squeezed. When she lurched forward to release the first shudder of sobs, her shoulders caved in. What Revi Houton did was cruel. Selfish. A monstrous moment that she knew he regretted from the moment she first laid eyes on him, but she did not wish to abandon her anger. Not then. It was her driving force for over ten years. Her anger made her strong. Letting it go ... it felt as though she would have been more vulnerable than she was when Revi had first left.

  Avigail lifted her wrist, wiping her tears away. She was no saint. She had acted cruelly toward him. Bad decisions only bred more bad decisions. Avigail grew tired of hauling the hatred around. It was heavy. It was cumbersome. It was lonely.

  With free-flowing liquid still seeping from her eyes, she sniffled, raising her glossy gaze to her companion. “I wish I could tell him I forgive him, Itreus ...” Her words came out choked and tight.

  The god nodded. He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze before he removed his hand. “I think you’re ready to.”

  Avigail blinked away another onset of tears. When she opened her eyes, her standing point in Bricklemore, outside the encampment, was gone. She spun wildly in her new environment, unsure of what had happened. No longer swarmed by trees, the pair stood in a clearing, divided by a flowing river. “What is this?” she asked, panicked. She turned to Itreus, confusion consuming her.

  The god gestured toward the river wordlessly.

  Following his signal, Avigail’s eyes landed on him. Kneeling near the embankment, using his hands for a cup to pull water from the stream. He had aged. Graying facial hair swarmed his face, unkempt and soiled by many restless nights sleeping on a forest floor. Even in his ravaged state, he was unmistakable.

  “Dad!” Avigail bolted for him, leaping over tall grasses to clear the distance that separated them. She felt alive for the first time since she had left Southeastern. It felt like a small eternity to close the gap, but when she reached him, she wasted no time trying to throw her arms around him.

  A strange sensation filled her when she felt no physical touch. Her body swept through his, and she nearly stumbled coming out the other side of his frame.

  Panicked, Avigail turned, watching as Revi wiped dripping water from his chin. He did not acknowledge her. He did not even turn to look in her direction.

  “What is this?” she demanded, watching as Itreus took slow, measured steps toward them. “What’s happening?” Her tone adopted anger. Had he tricked her? Who would allow such horrid deceit?

  Itreus stood beside Revi. The Houton man did not acknowledge the god, either. “I do apologize that you had to find out this way, Avigail. I brought you here because you are finally ready ... to say your goodbyes.”

  Her brows furrowed together. She shook her head. Avigail felt the tears returning, but she squashed them down. “What are you talking about, Itreus?”

  The god sighed. He gripped his walking stick tighter, pulling it closer to his body. “I am afraid ... you did not survive your entry into Northwestern last year.”

  “What? No.” Her eyes narrowed. She tried to reach out once more to touch Revi. “Dad!” The woman struggled, unable to grip his clothes. “Dad, it’s me! It’s Avi!”

  “He cannot see you, Avigail. He cannot hear you.” Itreus wore his apology on his face. “You were overcome by a band of possessed mortals shortly after your arrival. You are no longer among the living.”

  “That’s ...” Avigail stopped. Her head flooded with every moment that passed between her entry into Northwestern. It hadn’t been a year, as Itreus said. It had only been ... a month, perhaps? Her nose wrinkled as her eyes darted around, trying to make sense of things.

  “Do not feel embarrassed. It is not uncommon,” Itreus explained, “to be unaware of death. Particularly when it happens so suddenly.”

  Avigail swallowed. She shook her head. “I’m not dead. You’re mistaken.”

  A soft sound escaped Itreus’ mouth. “Did you never wonder why you have no fresh memories of sleeping? Of eating? Drinking?” His head tilted as he mused on the earlier events of the day. “I thought, perhaps when you lied to me about needing to use the bathroom, you might have made the connection that you have neither urinated nor defecated in almost a year.”

  His words struck a chord. She did not want them to make sense. In the pit of concern growing inside her, however, Avigail knew he spoke the truth. “I ... I can’t believe it ...”

  “It is all right. The energy of the human mind ... living or deceased ...” Itreus shrugged. “It often allows one the luxury of understanding only what makes us most comfortable.”

  Avigail glanced at Revi. He looked exhausted. Depressed. He wore his fatigue like a brand, emblazoned into all parts of his flesh. He had lost a lot of weight. How long had he searched, she wondered? The entirety of the year? It pained her to look at him. Avigail closed her eyes. “You’re not really the God of the Lost, are you?”

  Itreus blinked. He stretched his wings out at his sides and mulled over her question. “I am. More so, the God of Lost Souls. I ... am not like the others. I was not made by men. I have just ... always been.”

  Forcing her eyes open once more, Avigail stole another glimpse of Revi. She wanted to reach out and touch him. Her hand hovered above his arm, but she pulled her fingers back, knowing she was unable. “Why?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Why did you bring me here?”

  “Because,” Itreus folded his wings neatly behind him, “it is never too late ... for a soul to find peace.”

  Avigail swallowed her sadness. The emptiness inside her, at not being able to touch Revi, was filled somewhat by the joy of seeing him again. Even if he could not see her. She hoped he knew she loved him. That she forgave him.

  A strange peace filtered through her. A sensation unfamiliar to the young Houton woman in life, as well as death. She turned to Itreus, feeling a new invitation of calm. “What happens now?” she asked.

  “Now, you must make a decision.” Itreus pressed his walking stick deeper into the ground as he adjusted his posture, standing taller. “Do you wish to go to the afterlife humans made for themselves? Or ... do you wish to go to the one that has always been?”

  The woman stole another glimpse of Revi before she turned back to her companion. “I ... I don’t know. If everyone goes to the one men made for themselves, wouldn’t the other one ... the original one ... be lonely?”

  Itreus shrugged a single shoulder. “That is for you to discover. Or not. The decision is yours.”

  Her eyes fell to the stream. She spied her father’s reflection. And a distinct absence of her own. Against the war of emotions that flooded her, Avigail clung to that feeling of peace and smiled. “All right,” she said. “I’m ready. But I need to know ...” She gazed at her father once again. He looked like half of the man she remembered, malnourished and beaten down by physical and emotional turmoil. “What happens to him? He can’t stay here forever. This
place will kill him.”

  Sensing her decision, Itreus nodded. “He will return to where he belongs when he receives word of Kazuaki Hidataka’s death. But he will look for your face in every young woman he sees for the rest of his life.”

  Avigail’s face whipped back to Itreus, a brow raising on her face. “Kazuaki is dead?”

  “Not yet.” Itreus glanced at Revi as he started to walk away, continuing his journey to find the daughter he never would. “But, soon.”

  Avigail watched her father trudge through the shallow river and tall grass on the other side. She mouthed the words ‘I love you’ and bid him an unseen wave. Curling her fingers back into her palm, she turned back to face Itreus. “I’m ready ...”

  The god extended his hand. “Come.”

  She accepted. It was the first thing she remembered touching in a long time that held any heat to it. Itreus pulled her into his chest as Avigail wrapped her arms around his waist to embrace him. Stretching his large wings around her, Itreus engulfed the woman in his feathers. When he spread them back out from his sides, she was gone.

  “Good luck, Miss Houton,” Itreus whispered to the wind. He turned, pausing when he spied a familiar face in the tall grasses. The god blinked, watching as Rayen stared unceremoniously from behind the high, taupe blades. “Hello again, old friend.”

  Rayen gawked. He did not move.

  A slow smile formed on Itreus’ face. “Fear not, Rayen. I have not forgotten you. She just ... needed my help.” With Avigail laid to rest, Itreus was back to where he started. “Should it take another several centuries, I will find a way to bring you peace, as well.”

  Rayen looked like a statue against the movement of the wind-blown grass. He continued to watch Itreus with a barren curiosity.

  Itreus returned to walking, knowing Rayen would follow. He always did. Like a moth to a flame, the lost soul stuck to him, gripping the last shred of humanity his wits allowed him to. Hundreds of years had passed since Ameyar bartered with Rayen’s sister, and took her to the Underworld in his place. Hundreds of years after she turned herself into a glowing ball of light in the depths of mankind’s underworld, failing to guide her brother to any afterlife at all.