You truly are the Son of Sithares. The Thearans did not even require the suggestion from me; they could see it in you as I did.
Atillus grinned. "I am honoured, my lord," he said.
You have been searching for a new name. Would you like to know what my Son was called?
"Yes, my lord."
The whispered name brought a shiver up Atillus' spine. It felt right.
Photios
Photios sat by a camp fire, sharing stories with a small group while they ate. Almost a week had passed since they left their leader working at the ancient forge and travelled back to the Great Hall. They spent the time leading those new to Theara on tours through the city, showing them every secret passage and every useful building. There was an underground well which still brought up clean, cool water, and an ancient storehouse with a surprising amount of well-preserved grain and dried foods. It couldn't have survived thousands of years; it was likely placed there by temporarily settled tribes like Photios'. There was also a seemingly endless population of Deathclaws, and while hunting them was risky, when caught unaware they were relatively easy to kill. Getting one alone was the difficult part; they tended to nest in knotted, twisting swarms that filled up entire rooms in the abandoned city. They found that waiting on the roof of a nearby building was the best way to catch one. The lizards occasionally left the comfort of their nest to forage for food either alone or in groups of two or three.
They were eating one of the unlucky Deathclaws killed that day and laughing at an ancient joke about a five legged Thearan Lion when their leader walked into the Great Hall. He carried a brutal-looking bladed weapon, attached to a long linked chain wrapped around his body.
He looked different. His skin was dark, his muscles more pronounced, and where before he had the dull brown eyes and beard of an Omati, his eyes shone the brightest gold Photios ever saw, and his beard was an almost blinding white against his dark skin.
The entire hall was silent within seconds. He turned his gaze over every warrior in the vast room, letting each of them feel his intense eyes on them in turn. Then he spoke, and his deep voice carried through the entire camp.
"I know many of you have been wondering about my name. My past is dead to me, and I know Thearans respect this. I have spoken with Sithares, and the God of Fire has granted me a new name."
There were gasps and whispers exchanged at every campfire. Photios stared intently at the Warleader, his heart hammering. He didn't know much about Sithares, and in fact never believed in the God until the Warleader showed them Fire Magic. He didn't know if anyone in history had been renamed by a God, but it sounded like a rare and incredibly important event to him. He felt blessed, sitting at a camp fire in the tribe of someone who could speak directly to Sithares.
The Warleader was standing silently, waiting for the whispers to die down naturally. He didn't rush them. A part of Photios thought maybe he enjoyed the fact that every warrior in the room was talking about him as though he were a legend, like one of the great Thearans from the Age of Heroes. But he tried to silence that thought as quickly as he could in case the Son of Sithares could read his mind. He gave no indication of having heard Photios' thoughts, however, and instead kept talking.
"Not many of you have heard the legend of the Son of Sithares, the Demon right hand of the God of Fire. He was immortal, and wielded almost as much power as Sithares itself. His name was lost to time, but Sithares has bestowed it onto me so I may revive the legend and become his true son, reborn."
He looked at them all, and in their silence, and the flickering glow of the nearby camp fires, he seemed to grow even larger.
"I am Kerberos!"
Athanasius
Athan watched as Kerberos' army stormed the gates of Omatus and disappeared behind the great stone walls. He had listened to Aella address their tribe. She’d made Kerberos sound like a despicable, evil being. His heart broke as he saw the hatred in her eyes. He knew what Kerberos was doing was wrong, that it shouldn't happen; but he was only doing it to serve Sithares. Following the orders of God didn't make someone evil, did it? He knew in his heart Kerberos wasn't attacking Omatus for pleasure or personal gain. He just needed to speak to him again, show him he'd survived Mara. If he could speak to Kerberos again, maybe he could make Aella and her tribe see he wasn't evil.
When they caught up to Kerberos’ army, Athan felt trapped.
"Push! Kill them! We must reach Kerberos!" Aella screamed. Athan was behind her, separated by a few rows of warriors. He hung back a little, not wanting to fight. He was ashamed, but shame couldn't force him to do what he thought was wrong. So he watched the battle, waiting for the moment he might be able to slip through or around the army and reach Kerberos. He could just see Aella's bright white hair as she turned to the side, distracted.
Without warning, an explosion tore into the clashing tribes, toppling a nearby building and sending every warrior flying. Athan thudded into a wall behind him and smashed to the ground. There were a few moments of silence. For a brief, terrifying second, Athan heard the roaring of fire, and thought he had died again. But when he opened his eyes, Omatus was still there. He recited the healing prayer Kerberos taught him. He wasn't a particularly powerful Fire Mage, but with concentration he could heal basic wounds. It worked, and he stood, his dizziness and bruises gone.
Kerberos and a small group of his army were much further along, but the rest of his army stayed behind to continue the battle. He ran down a side street, hoping he could stop this before too many more Thearans died. Every passing second felt heavy; another second one of his brothers or sisters could be killed while he tried to catch up. He needed to reach Kerberos.
Athan ran as fast as he could. He was catching up, but Kerberos' tribe moved quickly. As he reached the bridge, they were almost halfway across it. He couldn't see Kerberos. He closed the distance as they ran through the Noble District. When he reached the massive doors of the royal palace, they were still open and gently swinging. There was no one to stop him entering. He realised distantly that there were no signs of struggle; no dead bodies.
He ran up flights of stairs, trying to keep his bearings. He heard footsteps ahead of him and was glad; without them he would surely be lost. The royal palace was unbelievably huge. Athan had never seen a building even half the size of it. Eventually, he heard the boom and crash of another massive door opening, followed by shouting. He finally caught up, reaching the doorway that Kerberos and his men just breached. There were about two dozen Omati nobles inside, looking terrified, as well as a large group of the royal guard, and Kerberos' small group of warriors.
Athan slipped into the room quietly, completely unnoticed; one of the nobles was talking loudly. All focus was on him as he addressed Kerberos.
"-savages, all of you," the man shouted, "and though I commend your efforts in getting this far, you don't stand a chance against the royal guard!"
"You mean the royal guard made up of slaves and hired mercenaries... sourced almost exclusively from Thearan tribes?"
Kerberos' voice was low and menacing, but it still carried through the entire throne room. Athan edged his way around the back of the room, keeping his eye on the Thearans near him. So far he remained unnoticed, but he didn't want to take any chances. He needn't have worried; a shuffling sound followed by the drawing of weapons filled the room, and by the time Athan glanced towards Kerberos, he saw the entire royal guard with their weapons drawn... and pointing at the King of Omatus.
The King stared at his guards, shocked and furious, opening and closing his mouth without making a sound. Were it not for the imminent threat of death in the room, the King's reaction would have been humorous. He finally found his voice again, and screamed at the royal guard.
"Traitors! How dare you turn on your King!"
"They have not turned, Alliphis," Kerberos said quietly, "they are loyal to the one true King of Omatus. They serve Atillus Argyris, first born son of Thorinos Argyris, heir to the Omati throne."
The King looked intently at Kerberos, the shock still evident on his face. Mingling with the shock was a look of dawning recognition.
"Atillus?"
Athan couldn't see his expression, but he heard the satisfaction in Kerberos' voice as he gave the order to the royal guard.
"Kill them all."
The royal guard made short work of the King and nobles present. The King managed to kill one guard and injure another before being killed; he was the only one of them with a sword. He would have killed more, Athan was sure, if Kerberos hadn't taken it upon himself to throw a fireball at the Omati royalty. Instead of exploding, the fireball simply melted into a sheet of flames, enveloping Alliphis and slowly burning him alive.
Kerberos turned as the rest of the Omati were slaughtered, and Athan caught the satisfied smile on his face before the expression turned to shock as their eyes met.
"Athan!" He shouted, and Athan's fears melted as Kerberos' face broke into a relieved smile. They rushed to each other and embraced. He pulled back from Athan and held his shoulders, looking him up and down.
"I thought you died. I looked for your body before we left for the city, but I could not find you."
Tears sprung to Athan's eyes. He wiped them away quickly. Kerberos did care. He knew it. Kerberos put his arm over Athan's shoulder and guided them out to the massive balcony overlooking the commoners side of the city.
"I did die," he said softly, "but I woke a short while later. How long, I don't know, but everyone was gone and Mara was burned to the ground."
"What was it like?" His eyes were wide, lit with a bright intensity that almost resembled madness. "When you died, what was it like?"
Athan blinked, shaking his head. "It was torture. It drove me insane. I was only able to remember who I am because Aella helped-"
"Aella?" Kerberos' hand tightened on his shoulder like the jaws of a lion, and Athan winced in pain.
"Athan, do you know what she is?" Athan shook his head, terrified. "She is a traitor. She planned to take half my tribe and disappear. She defied my rule, and tried to overthrow me. She has been made one of the most powerful Fire Mages in Thearan history, and all because of my devotion to Sithares; and what does she do with that power? She goes against me."
Kerberos' grip hadn't let up. Tears were welling up in his eyes from the pain.
"If I am to be King," he continued, "I can not let such defiance go. As much as I want to let her go, she must face the consequences of her actions."
As he spoke, he guided Athan to the railing at the edge of the balcony. He saw the great city before them, and from up here there were no signs of battle. The city looked beautiful.
"Why, Kerberos?"
"Ruling a city is different to ruling a warrior tribe, Athan. Omatus does not tolerate challenges for the crown, and I will not tolerate them either-"
"No." Kerberos stopped talking, shocked. Athan had never interrupted him before.
"Why do you want Omatus? Why have you traded the souls of your army for this black stone? Do our lives mean so little to you? My life?"
Kerberos stared into Athan's eyes, and the sheer, impenetrable cold he found there froze his heart.
"Omatus is mine by birth. I am Atillus Argyris, heir to the throne. I will not let anyone take this from me; not my father, my brother, or Aella. You have no idea how long I have waited for this, Athanasius. How hard I have worked."
"But you had the largest army of Thearans since the Age of Heroes at your command! Why rule some stone city full of weak civilians?"
Kerberos' eyes narrowed. His jaw clenched. He sighed harshly, let go of Athan's shoulder, and looked out over the city.
"I knew you would not understand." He pointed, and Athan's eyes followed his outstretched arm to the bridge. A lone warrior was crossing it towards the palace, an army marching to meet them.
"I want you by my side, Athan, I truly do. But if you can not stand with me after I do what must be done, then you have no place here."
A horrible sinking feeling pulled at Athan's stomach, and he suddenly understood what was about to happen. Already knowing the answer and wishing desperately it wasn't true, he asked anyway.
"Who is that?"
"You know who it is. The traitor." Athan turned to him suddenly.
"Please, Kerberos. Don’t do this.”
There was a sadness in the giant warrior's voice as he turned to Athan.
“Athan, you need to look at the situation from a higher perspective. You need to understand what I’m doing is the right thing. I want you by my side.”
He paused then, and a tear fell from his eye as he stared into Athan’s eyes.
“I love you, Athan. I want you to stay with me.”
Athan looked down at the tiny, lonely figure of Aella marching to her death. He looked back at Kerberos, or Atillus, or whoever he was.
“Please, just let us go! We’ll leave this city, you can have it! Just please, let us live!"
"Us..." he mused. "You have made the wrong choice. I am sorry, Athan."
Athan's heart sank. He watched, numb, as Kerberos drew his blade. It was shining, white and magnificent in the sunlight. He stared into Kerberos' eyes, pleading beyond words. That same implacable cold gaze stared back. The tear he’d shed was dry, and Athan realised far too late that he had never been anything more than a tool for Kerberos to use and discard. He wept, and when the memory of death flashed into his mind, he screamed.
"Please! Not again! I can't go back to those fires! Kerberos, please, no!"
But the blade swept forward, and a cold, sharp pain exploded in his chest. The cold spread through his body, and his mind became a blank white field. Cold turned to heat, and the low murmuring of fire began. The murmuring turned to roaring, and flames overtook the endless white, and just before he disappeared into that eternal fire completely, he felt his body rushing through the air as if he was flying. He screamed, and couldn't hear it, and screamed even louder. The rushing of the wind and the sense of flying seemed to increase, building and building until-
Aella
Omatus was a massive city, separated into two sections. Each section fell on either side of the Alpheus, and each was surrounded by a gigantic stone wall. Spanning the river between the two halves of the city was the largest bridge Aella had ever seen. This close to the ocean, the Alpheus was at its widest point. Now, standing at the northern edge of the bridge, the royal palace still didn't look any closer.
She started across the bridge. As she walked, she glanced up at the throne room balcony and saw two figures. One of them was clearly Kerberos; his figure was unmistakable. The other was less clear, but the longer she stared and the closer she walked, the more certain she became. The second figure was Athanasius. They seemed to be talking. She knew Athan would be unable to confront Kerberos; if they were talking alone, he was most likely already loyal to Kerberos again.
As she crossed the bridge, she could see the two figures moving slightly; not a fight, but perhaps an argument. Then Kerberos raised his hand and pointed straight at her.
She was so shocked that she stopped walking. This could only be bad; if he knew she was on her way, at best it meant she couldn't hope to take him by surprise. At worst it meant that he already had a plan to deal with her.
As she stared at the two figures on the balcony, she saw Kerberos draw his sword. It was shining brightly, even from this distance. He plunged it into Athan's chest, and Aella felt an icy dagger of fear, pain and shock rip through her heart as the Soul Blade ripped through Athan's. She screamed, and as her hatred for Kerberos reached new heights, she watched him push Athanasius' body over the balcony railing. She kept screaming as his body plummeted towards the stone floor below. She didn't see him land, and was dimly thankful for the buildings obscuring her view of the bottom half of the palace. She didn't think she could survive witnessing Athan's body hitting the smooth stone floor.
She was still screaming, tears making her vision swim as if she was dr
owning, when a shout pierced her grief.
"Aella!" It was Nomiki. Aella rubbed the tears out of her eyes. The warrior stood on the bridge less than ten metres from her. Behind Kerberos’ favourite fanatic was an army. They covered the entire span of the massive bridge. There were thousands of them. She noticed that the group behind Nomiki was made up of not only Thearan warriors, but members of the Omati Royal Guard as well. How could they already be loyal to the man who invaded their city and slaughtered so many of their people?
Her mind was reeling, her heart broken, and her spirit all but gone. She stood still, almost halfway over the bridge, with an unfamiliar sword in her hand. There was no possible way she could win this fight. She was utterly lost.
Suddenly, from a deep chamber in her mind, an old memory she'd nearly forgotten arose and enveloped her. She was a little girl again, sitting with her mother in their tent:
“There is no shame in being cautious, Aella. And there is no shame in hiding your power from those who would do you harm for it. That doesn't make you a coward. All the bravest Thearan heroes knew that sometimes fighting would achieve nothing. They knew sometimes even they would lose and that it was more important to live to fight another day. They knew that they had to choose their battles."
"- cannot win. We can fight you, or you can surrender to us." Nomiki was talking the entire time Aella relived her memory.
Gods and Heroes- Rise of Fire Page 28