The Panagea Tales Box Set

by McKenzie Austin

  Careful to avoid the fresh injury lining his torso, Bermuda kept a breath of air between them. The feel of his jaw resting against the side of her head did much to ignite her senses.

  She followed his movements, still managing to trip over his feet as he guided her. Bermuda was not a woman prone to being led, but, if any individual existed that she would allow to lead her, it was Kazuaki Hidataka.

  The music enveloped them. He pulled her closer, damning the consequences as her chest and stomach pressed into his wound. It was worth it. It felt good to touch her, despite the unwelcoming knowledge it brought with it. Along with the delight that her proximity presented, it made it even more obvious that her body continued to deteriorate. Kazuaki pinched his eye shut as he guided her along.

  Bermuda’s weakness wasn’t the only thing making itself more prevalent. The voices in his head—the prayers—they, too, had grown noticeably weaker in the hours since they arrived in Northwestern.

  Kazuaki wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

  Just as the two got comfortable in their inability to dance cohesively, a knock at the door disbanded their fun.

  Bermuda’s brows pulled together, and she looked toward the source of the sound. “They never waste an opportunity to ruin a good thing, do they?”

  Kazuaki smirked, planting a fast kiss on the side of her head before he pulled away and limped toward the door. Perhaps Revi had returned early. What a boon that would be.

  The hope of his comrade’s reunion with his daughter disbanded. Nicholai filled his vision, standing on the other side. A narrowed gaze followed suit as soon as Kazuaki recognized the look of frazzled nerves on the former Time Father’s face.

  “Nico …” Kazuaki leaned into the door, hoping it would assist in holding him up. “What is it?”

  Swallowing, the man struggled to find the right words. He thumbed behind him and shrugged. “Uh … someone to see you on the main deck, Kazuaki.”

  Strange. The captain bristled. “Who?”

  Nicholai lifted his metal hand, rubbing the back of his neck. He appeared to search for an appropriate reply but came up empty handed. “In this particular instance, I really think you ought to come see for yourself.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “You could spare us all the wonder and just tell me,” Kazuaki muttered, sliding his arms into the sleeves of his long jacket. He readjusted the high collar, trailing after Nicholai through the snaking corridor. Bermuda lagged at his side to help his battered body along.

  Pausing to flank Kazuaki when he realized he moved too quickly, Nicholai grabbed the captain’s arm in a show of support. He felt the bulk of Kazuaki’s weight lean into him, likely out of a desire not to burden Bermuda with it. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin,” the former Time Father replied as they stopped before the door to the main deck.

  The look on the man’s face was hard to read. Kazuaki narrowed his eye, trying to assess it further. It was something between a combination of bewilderment and surprise. At least no fear sat on the surface. It irked him to admit he was in no condition to battle. Nicholai’s absence of fright eased Kazuaki’s nerves enough for him to limp out of the door his comrade held open.

  Stepping onto the main deck, familiar faces flooded the trio’s vision. Revi—something must have called him back from his search. Beside him was Granite. Penn. Rennington. Brack. Revi. Elowyn. It was not unpredictable to see them amongst the airship’s supply crates and oil lanterns.

  Beyond them, a sea of others stood, some more familiar than others.

  Kazuaki did not have to know all of them by name to know what they were.

  Gods and goddesses filled the ship. Some humanoid in their appearance, with faultless exteriors and varying expressions. Others wore different looks. Bodies made of rock, or metal, or flames, or water. Some with jagged horns bulging from the sides of their heads. Some with wings. Others without.

  They were innumerable. For as many as there were that stood on the deck, more waited on the ground that the vessel could not hold.

  Nicholai stole a glimpse of Kazuaki’s face to gauge his reaction. He saw instant skepticism. Turning, he gazed outward at those who occupied the surface. Woven between the members of the crew, he spied several other recognizable faces.

  Naphine stood tall at the front. Her porcelain skin seemed to glow amongst the other beings who surrounded her.

  Dimjir. Nicholai’s breath caught in his throat. The last time he saw the God of Mercy, he was begging for his assistance in the woodlands with Umbriel.

  Kekona presented herself as well. She was not difficult to spot. The goddess did not venture far from Granite’s side. She willingly stood in his shadow, a content look on her face, as she fussed over his injuries.

  Nicholai’s heart skipped when he spotted Epifet. His mind told him that she’d be here; of course she would. It seemed every living god and goddess in Panagea filled the small space in Northwestern. When she caught his eyes, a warm smile spread over her lips. It was as if she held no animosity at all.

  After hesitantly removing himself from the injured captain’s side, Nicholai took slow steps toward her. He fiddled with the hem of his vest, pardoning himself, as he squeezed through other gods and goddesses to come up before her. A sheepish smile tugged at one half of his mouth. He removed his hat and held it against his chest. “I … believe I owe you an apology,” he whispered. “I needed time. To process everything.”

  “Sweet child.” Epifet reached out, cupping his cheek with her perfect mocha hand. “You owe me nothing. I am just happy to see you again.”

  Several feet away, Granite shifted his focus to Kekona. She stopped fretting over his injuries long enough to stare at one particular deity who stood on the center of the deck. The being who pulled her focus was an incredible one, indeed. A wide, commanding wingspan granted him a much broader space than the others. Granite coughed into his hand in the hopes of regaining Kekona’s attention. “I’ve been debating on how to thank you over the last two days … for taking care of Havidite.”

  Kekona’s eyes widened at the sound of his voice. Her pupils shrank, and she turned to him with an almost feline excitement. “I can smell your gratitude from here,” she whispered, her cheeks blossoming with a wide grin. “I love it.”

  All right. An odd statement. Granite blinked, drawing his shoulders back. He rolled along with Kekona’s eccentricities by offering her a small smile.

  Kazuaki glanced back and forth between his crew and what deities he could see. Whatever serenity Granite and Nicholai seemed to experience, the captain did not share it. Were they here because of Havidite’s death? Olnos’ death? How many more cyclical acts of vengeance would he find himself wrapped up in? “What’s going on?” Kazuaki muttered, already regretting the act of leaving Olnos’ pilfered sword and armor back in his room. It wasn’t as if he could lift it, but his hand begged for the security it offered. His ribs and chest, on the other hand …

  When would these feckin’ supernatural wounds heal?

  The commanding god on the deck’s center spread his wings. The gray feathers were enough to make the others step back, granting him even more room than he previously had. “At ease, Mr. Hidataka.” Golden hair floated around his shoulders, tossed by the breeze when he held up his hands in a gesture of peace. “This is a meeting of the deities, not an act of war. Since you still haven’t mastered communicating on the omnipotent channel, I have instructed the gods and goddesses who remain in Panagea to come to you.”

  Kazuaki’s chin rose. His jaw tightened. Something about this god’s aura was different than the others. He seemed almost … timeless. “Who the feck are you?”

  Folding his wings neatly behind him, the being laid a hand over his chest. “I am Itreus. He who handles the souls of Panagea. Archaic times would refer to me, perhaps, as Death. I prefer to think of myself as the God of Lost Souls.”

  Death? The embodiment of constant ending life? Kazuaki’s eye narrowed. He didn
’t seem like the type he wanted on his ship—but the captain could not deny the absence of aggression. “A meeting?” He tried to disband the obvious pain that rattled through his bones when he took a defiant step forward. “What kind of meeting?”

  Itreus gestured outward, to encompass the deities who stood on deck, as well as those who stood on the ground. Though it was Kazuaki who asked, his booming voice seemed to address every present idol. “The Unnamed requested we all occupy the same space, regardless of the time one has served as a Panagean deity.”

  Elowyn and Rennington wore looks of confusion, while the rest of the crew exchanged knowing glances with one another. The Unnamed. They remembered It well. A long time had passed since they sought It in the forest, under the influence of Umbriel’s spirit mushrooms. Kazuaki scoffed at the memory. He held no high opinion of the Unnamed. How could he? He was among the many who never made it to Its location.

  “The Unnamed, aye?” Brack arched a brow, tapping the side of his cheek. “Hard to imagine that beastie demanding any such thing." He stretched his arms over his head. “It wasn’t so keen on helping when Umbriel and I found It in the in-between.”

  Itreus turned to face Brack, his expression unreadable. “The Unnamed is many things. The most of which all that It is, is fair.”

  “Pray tell,” Kazuaki muttered, trudging through another painful step forward, “why does It want a reunion of all the gods and goddesses of Panagea? I thought It didn’t dabble in the affairs of Its own creations, let alone Its creations’ creations.”

  Itreus adopted a look of diplomacy and steeled his jaw. “Forty-eight hours have passed since the deaths of Havidite and Olnos.”

  Were his instincts correct? Was that was this was about? Kazuaki instinctively reached back to draw a weapon, but his hand hovered over his hip, knowing there was nothing he could reach for that would defend him against a mountain of deities. Instead, his aggressive honesty bubbled over. “I regret nothing.”

  The frown that crossed Itreus’ features spoke of his dismissal toward Kazuaki’s behavior. “I am not asking for your regret. I am only here to illuminate that, in the short period in which they lost their lives, the Unnamed and I felt a tangible shift in Panagea. It knows that the Chronometers' powers are being returned to the land.”

  A muscle twitched in Kazuaki’s jaw. “Unless the statement following that one is It has decided to rid Panagea of the remaining two Chronometers Itself, I’m not interested in hearing the rest.”

  Unaffected, Itreus continued. “The Unnamed has watched humanity voluntarily lay enormous power to rest. It has graciously granted the gods and goddesses of Panagea an opportunity for rest, as well.”

  Intrigue sparked in the eyes of the gods and goddesses across the airship deck. Whispers slithered through the crowds, pouring down the vessel’s sides like a waterfall. They flowed outward, carried further through the lips of those on the ground.

  Palpable excitement rose. Nicholai glimpsed Epifet to gauge her reaction. He discerned nothing from her features.

  Kazuaki felt Bermuda’s hand grasp the back of his arm. She looked up at him with confusion. It matched his own. “What exactly does all that mean?” the captain asked, flicking a discerning gaze toward the god on the center of the deck.

  Itreus held up his hands to silence the growing murmurs. When his effort was rewarded with silence, he turned to Kazuaki. “I am saying It has absorbed mankind’s willingness to work for their achievements, absent of magic or supernatural supremacy. It has heard humanity’s calling to test the limits of their abilities. They are relinquishing the power of the Chronometers. Because of this, the Unnamed will relinquish the deities from their suffering and give them a place of their own.” The God of Lost Souls looked morose but relieved. “The deities of this place have all made a fierce return, but as you have all seen civilizations rise and fall, you must know that history is bound to repeat itself.”

  A skeptical gaze remained fixated on Itreus as Kazuaki took in a breath. He said nothing.

  Taking the opportunity to elaborate, Itreus gazed out at the gathering before him. “Fifty, one hundred, two hundred years from now, mankind will rise beyond their need for gods again and forget every one of you all over. You will claw your way to a second return, perhaps. I do not know. The Unnamed has seen this endless, promised cycle. It has chosen to put a neutral end to it all.”

  Still uncertain of what Itreus was offering, Kazuaki grappled with his response. What did he intend to do? Send them away? Seal them somewhere, forever? No. He would not walk willingly into any such place. “You intend to send us to a prison and label it a sanctuary?”

  A soft chuckle fell from Itreus’ mouth. “A prison? No, Mr. Hidataka.” He held up two fingers, as graceful and elegant as he was. “There are two afterlives: the one that mankind imagined and made for themselves … and the one that the Unnamed had made for the whole of the world, long before men and women were even considerations in Its mind. I have been tasked with taking souls to both. Humanity imagined their afterlife as a place that only human souls can go. Out of fairness, the Unnamed has gifted you all the option of going to Its afterlife, to stay, rather than wait here in Panagea, wondering when you will fall from their memories again.” Turning outward to the other deities, Itreus folded his hands in front of him. “I encourage you all to think long and hard about your decision. You will be met with glorious, eternal freedom upon entrance to the Unnamed’s afterlife. You would no longer need prayers to sustain you. Everything your spirit could imagine will be yours. The only thing you will not be rewarded with, however, is an opportunity to return to Panagea.”

  Kazuaki felt Bermuda’s grip on him tighten. He did not need to look at her, nor hear her speak, to know that fear channeled into that grip. That she—a human—was destined for one afterlife … and Kazuaki—a god—was destined for another.

  As if he knew her thoughts, Itreus turned to the quartermaster. A somber look lingered on his face. “I see a question in your eyes, young lady.”

  Bermuda stared at Itreus, searching for the right words. Death was too close a subject for the deteriorating woman. She knew she’d feel its touch soon. As uncomfortable as it was to acknowledge, he was right. She did have questions. “What if I want to choose a different afterlife?” she asked. “What if a god wants to choose the afterlife meant for the humans?”

  Absorbing her silent grief, Itreus’ expression dimmed. “I gave that choice to a soul once. The Unnamed deemed I was never to do it again. That it did not set a standard of equality for those who had already entered an afterlife absent of choices. Mankind must stay true to the eternal paradise they have created … and the gods will stay true to the Unnamed’s.”

  Growing frustrated with the confession, Kazuaki shook his head. “Why would the Unnamed do that?” he barked, unable to abandon his disbelief. “Why now?”

  Serenity invaded Itreus’ face. He shifted once more to look at Kazuaki. “It is a clean break, Mr. Hidataka. Now that men and women are voluntarily surrendering their shortcuts to greatness, they have only just begun to open the doors to what they can achieve. The Unnamed wishes to see what they do with it. You maintain your free will, as well. You can choose to enter Its afterlife … or stay here. Please know that it is mankind who has placed their limits on their afterlife. Gods simply cannot go where they were never imagined to be.”

  Sliding a comforting hand to rest over Bermuda’s, Kazuaki squared his shoulders. “I’ve hunted for a peaceful afterlife for hundreds of years … but I have no desire to go blindly walking into one with another god.” His expression turned sour as he looked Itreus in the eyes. “It didn’t work out very well for me last time.”

  A flash of recognition danced across Itreus’ bold features. “Ah, yes. Mimir.” He nodded, understanding. “Whenever you choose to walk into the afterlife is the choice of every god or goddess here. The Unnamed will never take that away. Enter now and avoid the pain of being forgotten … or enter later, when you wish.�
�� Looking back to the whole of the crowd, Itreus straightened his posture. Though his tone remained steady, his voice projected. “I will know when you all wish to be escorted and whenever that moment arrives … I will be there.”

  Once again, the collection of whispers and murmurs coursed through the area. Nicholai spied Epifet’s face, searching for a reaction.

  Though Granite questioned his actions, he simultaneously tried to assess Kekona’s.

  While the humans sought answers in the respective goddess’s expressions, the remaining deities stared at Itreus with waiting, tired eyes.

  The God of Lost Souls lifted his chin. “This meeting is adjourned. Gods and goddesses of Panagea … I will await your chosen departure.”

  Several deities rushed toward him, already eager to enter the Unnamed’s afterlife: a land of unparalleled beauty and peace. The reemergence back into Panagea had not been what they thought it would be; rather than the loving embrace of humanity that they knew hundreds of years before, genuine appreciation had to be forced. They were tired. Tired of punishing the people they once adored. Tired of tricking men and women into praying to them. Tired of their expectations not being met. Tired of chasing a dream that died out many lifetimes ago.

  Eternal rest, free of the pain brought by absent prayer, sounded like paradise.

  “I’m ready,” a god said, coming up to stand before Itreus.

  With a nod, Itreus expanded his wings. He paused, feeling the weight of a familiar aura behind him. The god grappled with his next move, his face twisting into an indecipherable countenance. “One moment, please.” With slow, measured movement, Itreus pivoted on his heels. He cast his gaze over to land on Revi Houton.

  Eager to wade through the horde that had grown and return to searching for Avigail, Revi shifted back and forth from one foot to the other. The only reason he had returned was due to catching sight of all the deities flooding toward the airship. He thought there might have been trouble—turned out, it was just an irritating delay.