“I speak the truth,” Jonas said. “If you do not believe me, then go ahead, ask the Altimias yourself. I’m sure you’ll like every moment you spend with that man.”
Kager frowned and sat down, defeated. “I never heard of the Altimias personally visiting anyone.”
“This is . . . what about my wedding!” Veronica cried as she leapt from her seat and stormed out of the house. Jonas held back his smile of relief. He couldn’t imagine his life wasted with such a selfish woman.
“You should go after her,” Kager suggested. Jonas saw through his attempt to keep the proposal active. This is why he couldn’t stand the sight of him: almost like any typical rich man, he only cared about himself and his wealth.
“It is better this way,” Jonas said as he picked up his and Veronica’s empty place. He was surprised that she ate all the food. In fact, he felt surprised that she even touched it in the first place. The typical spoiled rich child wouldn’t have so much as glanced at commoner food. He looked over at Kager’s half-eaten plate and noted that he couldn’t be saved.
“This whole thing makes no sense,” Nathan said. “What good is it for you to leave? What good would it do to blindly search for some way to stop this supposed calamity? Why not just stay, boy?”
“No,” Jonas said. “To be honest, I understand little of what’s happening, but I am contracted to something far greater than I could ever comprehend. If the Altimias, the man who sees the future, is trying to save us all, then let’s not defy his efforts. He keeps to himself a lot, even hides underneath that cloak, but if someone like him is reaching out to us in this manner, then something unimaginable approaches. I hate to find out what it is the hard way.” Jonas felt satisfaction from the disappointed looks of Kager and his father. This would mark the last time either of them tried to control his future.
That night, Jonas reexamined his new sword. If it wanted to imprison him in zero space, it probably would’ve done so by now. Jonas didn’t feel as nervous as before around it. He felt confident that the sword training he had received since childhood qualified him to wield such a magnificent blade. He wished he could travel to where his teacher lived and show him such a blade. He knew his teacher would first scold him for treating it like a mere object, then be impressed by it anyway.
He sheathed the sword. Tomorrow, he must leave everything and everyone he loved behind, but if it meant saving their lives, then it was more than worth it. If he didn’t, he’d be disgracing everything his teacher had taught him, including nobility. His training was originally to be a knight . . .
Chapter 5
Abaddon stared at himself in front of a mirror. He was handsome but just a shadow of his former self due to the curse bestowed upon him. He desperately wanted to break it, to regain his full power and unleash vengeance upon those that cursed him. Abaddon punched the mirror, shattering it, leaving a small hole in the wall where it hung.
“How long must I wait?” he said to the attendant that stood by his room’s door. “I used to be feared as the entity of death, but now look at me: relying on others, no immortality, little power left.”
“Sire, please rely on us. We all know you; we’ve remained faithful to you because we know what happened. I am certain the forces you sent will retrieve that sword. Once you get it, tear away that curse, and your presence will immediately be known. They cursed you out of fear and cowardliness.”
Abaddon sighed, his rage calmed. “Indeed they have,” he said as he walked over to his throne. It was a warm summer day, but he knew the thought of the curse would ruin it for him. He needed to speed things up. “I want you to send Aaron and his men to the lines to retrieve the sword.”
“You’re sending an elite?” the attendant said, surprised. “Will you kill the guard?”
“No,” Abaddon said. “I know each of my elites have very important jobs which I’ve already bestowed upon them, but I no longer have the patience to rely on the guard. Ever since Zeus killed Hades, I sensed motivation falling away from them. It’s risky to put my best out there before the real fights begin, but I’m out of choices.”
The attendant nodded. “Your judgment is always on spot, sire, though Aaron is a bit hot headed. Maybe someone as level minded as Prudus—”
“Does it matter?” Abaddon interrupted, his intense gaze seeming to burn through his attendant. “Do not forget Aaron proved himself to be of my elites. Rowdy or not, his power shall speed of the recovery of the sword and ultimately contribute to the reawakening of my soul. Now go!”
Abaddon turned away as his attendant hurried out of the door. If Abaddon had just a little more power, he’d search for the sword himself. In his current state, all he could do was wait and rely on his guard. But soon he’d have his power back. Then, as the angel of death, he’d destroy his replacement and kill those that cursed him, who sleep soundly at night.
Chapter 6
The rays which eluded the sun struck Jonas’s morning sleeping face. He awoke and checked on his parents, both still asleep. Being careful not to wake them, he grabbed a large, wheeled wood bucket and pushed it all the way to the river. After filling it up with water, he took it home. He poured most of the water into the tub of the latrine but set a small amount aside. Afterward, he added wood to a furnace below the tub. He grabbed two small pieces of wood, rubbed them together fast until they sparked into a small flame, and tossed it into the furnace, lighting the rest of the wood. He double-checked filters below it, large metal piping that ran outside, and made sure the window next to the tub was open.
He grabbed a mini brush and a plastic tube of special oil, bought from the village’s medicine man, then took all of the items outside. He squeezed the powerful oil onto the brush and proceeded to cleanse his mouth, especially his teeth and tongue. Eventually, the taste of the oil grew too strong as it produced suds. Jonas quickly washed his mouth out with the remaining water. He washed the brush and hurried back inside.
After his bath, Jonas put out the fire and drained the bath water. That water bled from a second pipe to a pond several meters away from the village. After washing the bucket and tub with soap powder, Jonas packed a small bag with clothing, a canteen of water, and other small items. He tied a small sack of silver and gold coins to his belt, strapped his sword sheath to his side, and hurried outside.
***
The magnificent sight of the waterfall set Jonas’s mind at peace. He inhaled the summer morning air as he remembered the Altimias’s instructions of entering Olympus, “Step through the waterfall.”
Jonas couldn’t believe how simple they were. If these instructions were from anyone else, Jonas would mentally label that person mad.
He looked toward his left and gasped as he noticed a rare creature staring at him. It resembled a puppy with snow-white fur, a beaver-like tail, and big, innocent eyes. At least normally the eyes of this harmless creature were innocent. Jonas knew all about the sactos, even desired one as a pet. This is why he gulped as he saw for the first time in its eyes, madness.
The sactos growled, foam oozing from the corners of its mouth, razor-sharp fangs smiling at the face of Jonas. He had spotted this creature three times in his life. Each time, it scurried about, enjoying its carefree life.
The creature took slow steps, one shuffled after another, toward Jonas, the volume of its growl rising. He stepped backed, nervous. He knew the secret of the sactos, one which he hoped to take with him to the grave. If discovered by another, Jonas assumed the corrupt would hunt and attempt to use them as weapons. The sactos, no bigger than a puppy, housed the strength of ten men. Jonas knew that if they weren’t harmless, he would not be alive to see this day.
Jonas noticed within his peripheral vision two ravens hovering above, staring at him. The second he made any movement, the ravens vanished. Jonas had no time to think about them as the sactos leapt in his direction. He sidestepped its attack while simultaneously deciding how to elude the situation at hand. The sactos unexpectedly about-faced and tackled Jonas to the ground, p
inning him. He dropped his sword. He strained as hard as possible, holding back the head on the sactos, which bared its razor-sharp teeth. Slowly its head moved in closer, overpowering Jonas.
“Get off me! This can’t be happening,” he wheezed. “Am I going to die before I begin?” Please, God, don’t let me die without pursuing my destiny. As he felt the scorching breath of the sactos slap across, a tingling sensation covered his entire body. Then electricity. A lot of it, shielding his body, from head to toe, buzzing like a storm of over-excited wasps. The sactos screeched in agony as it leapt off Jonas. He quickly stood up, picked up his sword, and examined the growling sactos. Despite the shock, it still refused to back down. What could it be, driving it so far? Just as Jonas thought killing it was the only way to bring it down, he noticed something he hadn’t before sticking out of its neck: a black rose. He couldn’t comprehend how it had appeared, but he hoped that removing the rose might calm the sactos. Sactos were immune to diseases. If removing the rose didn’t stop it, nothing could.
Jonas burst into a sprint toward the forest. The sactos wildly chased after him, barking. Jonas suddenly stopped, took a stance, preparing to strike, and waited. As expected, it still charged him, its mindset unaware of anything outside of a moving meal. As soon as it was close enough, Jonas swung his sword at a perfect angle with nearly supernatural speed, slicing off the rose. That made the sactos stop.
He watched firsthand as the demeanor of the sactos shifted from hostile to innocent. It whined and then hopped into Jonas’s arms.
“It’s okay,” he said as he petted the sactos. It whined again, softer, licked Jonas’s face, then hopped to the ground. The sactos gazed at Jonas one last time before it scurried off into the forest.
Jonas sighed in relief as he sheathed his sword. He wanted to investigate the black rose, but not a trace of it remained, so he headed back to the waterfall.
“Please don’t go!” someone shouted as he proceeded.
He turned around, surprised to see who had called after him. He couldn’t believe it: Veronica.
“And what could Kager’s little princess want with a commoner like me?” Jonas’s tone signaled a depth of unwelcome.
“I didn’t mean anything I said,” Veronica cried, her eyes overflowing with tears. “I-I expressed the opposite of how I feel—so stupid—every time . . . I felt horrible about the act . . . Please don’t leave . . . I’m really sorry . . . sorry . . .” She continued to cry. Jonas’s heart hardened. A part of him felt a little sorry for her, but the rest of him had no sympathy. He didn’t consider any consoling. He recalled the previous morning when he returned to the village, the same tears. They were for him? She really did want to hug him, yet endorsed the act instead. He recalled the finished food at the dinner: most rich would not eat common meals, yet she finished it without a single complaint.
Who was she really? The spoiled daughter of a rich man or someone actually decent? At this point, it didn’t matter. Jonas would not turn back.
“Veronica, listen,” he said softly. “I can’t go back. Because of this destiny, I may never get the chance to know the real you. Forget about me.” Before Veronica could plead, Jonas stepped into the silent waterfall.
PART ONE
Chapter 7
King Zeus stared impatiently at his council, anxious to receive their opinions. In the olden days, he’d get a faster reply or else the slow fools would answer to his iron fist. He’d gotten soft. And old. Zeus glanced at every corner of his throne room, pleased with its perfect condition even after a thousand years. A golden chandelier swayed several feet above their heads, each corner lit up by his own moldable lightning. He admired the finely crafted, gold-plated windows, built by giants. He gazed at the red carpet leading to his throne, flooring which notified him of any liars. Had it not been for the Carpet of Truth, he’d probably be dead.
Zeus stared out the window, admiring the clouds below. It reminded him that the palace floated a mile above land. The candidates to inherit his will and power were to arrive this day. The castle would finally touch land after five hundred years of flying.
He sighed at the thought of denying his own children the right to take the throne. Athena, his daughter, as sweet and kind as she was, couldn’t control her emotions or inner power. After an accident with a certain someone, Zeus had no choice but to strip away her place in line and seal half of her power.
Ares, his son, was simply foolish and sometimes ill-tempered. Zeus could not trust the fate of his kingdom to him. Instead, he put his son in charge of his armies in order to keep him distracted. Battle suited him anyway, and Zeus mostly found himself pleased with his son’s results.
Aphrodite, his other daughter, was simply out of the question. He forced back the thought of her banishment, her insolence . . . her disgrace.
Finally, after what felt like hours, his appointed head of the council spoke. “Your Greatness, we all agree that the campaign is an interesting idea but . . .” he paused.
“Go on,” Zeus said, raising an eyebrow, arms folded.
“My lord, it is too risky. We understand that you asked the Sacred Selection to bring together the challengers, but most of them are still just strangers. What if the Sacred Selection drafts a banished one?”
“Are you doubting the Sacred Selection? When has the Sacred Selection ever let us down?”
“Never, but . . .”
“Besides,” Zeus continued, “traitors are everywhere. Had it not been for the carpet, every one of you would be suspects.” He turned from his council. “I can’t remain paranoid. If I don’t settle down into retirement soon, my aged body will no longer be able to handle the lightning of Pila.” He faced his council again. “This aging curse is forcing me to make this hasty decision.”
The council head nodded. “Are you sure about passing over your children? They may be the safest way to keep the kingdom running.”
“I have no choice,” Zeus said as he walked over to a nearby window. “The White Witch of the Twelve has shown me a tiny glimpse of a nasty future if either of them take the throne. Let us not forget their problems too.”
“Alright, sire, if it is your decision, we support it. For now, we will watch over the challengers with Pila.” The council head turned to the others. “I will peer into the eyes of the Sacred Selection and glance at those who have accepted the invitation.” He closed his eyes. A white, fiery glow briefly outlined him. A minute later, his eyes snapped open. “This is bad.”
“What did you see?” Zeus said.
“A human! A human among the selection!” he yelled. Zeus burst into laughter, harder than he ever had.
“This is no laughing matter, sire,” the council head said. “The Sacred Selection makes a jest!”
Zeus finally calmed. “Jonas Ariel was not just invited by Sacred Selection. In fact, his section was special . . .”
“How do you know of this?”
“That, I cannot reveal,” Zeus said. “But, I welcome him.”
“But, sire, isn’t this dangerous? Discrimination will be the least of his worries. It’s like throwing an innocent man into a lion’s den.”
“I wouldn’t look down on him if I were you. He contains quite the amount of surprises.”
Chapter 8
The moment only lasted ten seconds. Ten seconds of extremely bright light, strong wind, and a falling sensation. Jonas shut his eyes to avoid being blinded. When the wind stopped, he opened eyes. The world felt different. No, the world was different. Jonas’s mouth went agape as he glanced around.
Ahead, he saw hundreds, maybe thousands, of people, dressed in many different colors, entering and exiting a city gate. He nervously turned around, but to his relief, the silent waterfall still stood. He could go home if this whole thing turned out to be false.
“Are you lost, boy?” someone said. Jonas spun to see a man dressed in blue robes, with matching shoes.
“I’m looking for King Zeus,” Jonas said with confidence in his voice, thou
gh nervous. The man gave him a skeptical look before speaking.
“For what cause? You may not live near this region
and . . . there’s something strange about you. Nevertheless, you should have enough brains to know that getting an audience from the king is no walk in the park.”
Jonas remembered the words of the dark voice, “You, who have been selected by the sword, must go to Olympus, compete for King Zeus’s power.”
“I’m part of a competition prepared by King Zeus,” Jonas said, unsure if the man would actually buy such a story.
The man blinked and laughed. “You? A commoner that’s a candidate for the king’s throne? Do you expect me to believe such nonsense?”
“Look, if you don’t want to help me, that’s fine,” Jonas said, annoyed. He stormed into the city, uncaring if he’d get help from the locals or not. He’d just have to find the palace on his own. He hadn’t come all the way to this place just to get stuck.
Jonas felt incredulous at the sight of the city. It was only moments ago that he stood in front of a waterfall located in the middle of a forest. Now people pushed him left to right as they hurried about through this maze of buildings, people, and carts. Many seemed strange to him. Some wore clothing from every color of the rainbow, some people had painted faces, and others wore piercings or dressed according to their occupations. Shop owners shouted for customers, builders erected statues, and entertainers played instruments or juggled flames.
The noises of the city overwhelmed Jonas. He fought through many crowds until finally reaching a deserted park. The sounds subsided back into the main streets. Jonas sat on a bench and sighed in relief as a cool, early-afternoon breeze whipped across his face. He had to think of something. At this rate, finding his destination could take an eternity. Hunger begin to settle within his desires. His empty stomach growled like a wild dog hunting its prey. Where could he buy food? Jonas shivered at the thought of fighting the crowds again just to find someone to sell him food. He had a small sack of silver and gold, hopefully enough to last him for what he hoped was a short trip.
Fragment Page 2