by Jared Stone
“Io?” he asked, laying his hands upon her and gently lifting up her head. As the hood of the white cloak fell back, he once again beheld the beautiful brown eyes of the woman with whom he had fallen in love centuries before.
“Io…,” Argus whispered as tears filled his eyes. “At last, I have found you….”
The priestess looked back at him with a terrified and confused look, completely absent of recognition. “Who?” she mumbled. “But….” Her eyes then grew large. “The fly! The fly! Get away! Get away!”
Io once again began flailing her arms through the air, battering Argus as if she was fending him off. He gripped onto her tighter.
“It is alright,” he reassured, trying to keep his hold on her. “I have killed it. The fly is no more.”
Io shook her head back and forth violently. “No!” she screamed. “No! No! Keeps returning! No killing! No rest! Always coming back!”
“Shhhhhh,” Argus hushed her, trying to calm her fears and pull her into a tight embrace. “There is no reason to fear any longer. I am….”
His reassurance was cut short as something buzzed past his shoulder and into the priestess’ chest. Io began shrieking and fell down to the ground once again as the fly continued its relentless assault.
“Get away!” she cried out. “Get away!”
Argus stumbled back in alarm. Quickly, he crawled over to where his sword lay and picked it up. Pushing himself up off the ground, he once again charged at the infernal insect and sliced it in two, midair.
“Die!” he cried out as its two parts fell to the ground. Once they had landed, he stomped on both of them, emitting a sickening crunch from beneath his boots and ensuring that the vile pest would not once again return. Kneeling back down, he resumed comforting the priestess.
“My love, my love,” he whispered, rocking her back and forth. “It is alright. It is gone now.”
Io continued to tremble, hunched over with her head tucked away near the ground. “Never gone…,” she muttered. “Always comes back.”
Argus was at a loss for what to do. He knew he had to get her out of there, but the priestess seemed to be in no state to simply get up and walk out with him. Believing that she would follow him if she learned to recognize him again, he reached down and pulled her head up. Looking into her eyes, he spoke to her softly.
“Io,” he said. “It is I. It is Argos.”
The priestess wore a look of bafflement, but certainly no acknowledgement of the life they had once built together.
“It is Argos,” he repeated again. “Do you remember me? Our temple? Our cottage? Our… our child?”
Looking down, Argus could see that the priestess was, of course, no longer pregnant. It pained him to think that, after nine hundred years apart, he had certainly missed his son’s life altogether. If the child had ever even existed at all. These thoughts silently haunted him, until he heard….
“Argos?”
Snapping out of his daze, Argus looked down at the priestess. Tears began to blur his vision.
“Io,” he whispered. “It is I.”
“Argos…,” Io said back, her brown eyes similarly filling with tears. “But… how? You… You are so different.”
It was only then that Argus realized, though his essence was the same, his body had changed many times since she had last laid eyes upon him.
“I shall explain in time,” he said, standing up and holding out his hand to her. “But, first, we must leave this place at once. We can go back to our homeland and….”
Bzzzzt!
The fly tore through the air with such intensity before colliding into the priestess that it knocked her upper body back to the ground. She immediately curled into the fetal position, as if by instinct, and began screeching once more.
“Argos!” she cried as the insect mercilessly bit into her exposed flesh.
Argus thrashed through the air wildly with his sword, missing twice before landing a critical blow. Both of the fly’s wings were chopped clean off, and he once again smashed the writhing body with his boot.
“I shall never be free of this torment!” Io wailed, her bleeding arms still held over her face.
Argus bent down and took her hand, trying to pull her up. “Come with me, immediately,” he instructed. “We shall escape this place and go somewhere it cannot find us.”
Io looked up at him with tears streaming down her face and yanked her hand from his grasp. “It shall always find me,” she insisted. “I have already run for hundreds of years. It always finds me.”
Argus didn’t know what to do or say. “I shall protect you,” he countered. “I promise. I shall stand by your side forever. No matter how many times it comes for you, I shall be waiting with my blade!”
Io shook her head. “It shall never stop,” she sobbed. “Never. Not until I am dead….”
She then looked up into Argus’ eyes. He saw on her face the exhaustion and hopelessness accumulated through her many centuries of torture. She suddenly grabbed hold of his hand once more.
“Please,” she begged him. “Please, Argos. End my suffering. You are the only one who may help me.”
Argus stared into her eager eyes in horror. “No!” he insisted, pulling his hand back. “There must be some other way.”
“There is no other way!” Io cried out, slumping back down to the ground. “Please…. If you love me, you shall release me from my suffering….”
Argus just stood there, paralyzed by a flood of inner turmoil.
“Please,” Io repeated again, locking her tear-flooded eyes with his once more. “Please, Argos.”
Argus dropped down to his knees in front of the woman. In his trembling hand, he held Gram by his side. Tears continued to stream down his face in a never-ending torrent.
“But…, I love you!” he sputtered out. “I have spent so long searching….”
Io nodded. “I know,” she whispered. “And now you have found me. And you have come to truly save me….”
Argus put his hand on the back of her head and pulled her into a kiss. He stayed like that for as long as he could, savoring the last opportunity he would ever have to hold her, until he heard the familiar buzzing filling the air behind his head. Finally pulling himself away, he could barely see the priestess through his tears.
“I love you,” he choked out.
“I love you, too,” she whispered.
* * *
Argus stumbled out of the subterranean chamber and into the scorching inferno of the light of day. As if caught in a nightmare, he scanned the blurry distance and saw nothing; only barren dunes stretched out before him as far as his drenched eyes could see. His companions had already left him, and he stood all alone, marooned upon this endless yellow sea.
With no destination in mind beyond putting as much distance as he could between himself and the horrors he had just witnessed in the cavern, Argus stumbled forward through the sand.
He journeyed on like this for what must have been many hours, so caught up in his own mind that he did not recognize the need for shelter or water. Or, more accurately, he did not care enough to notice. As the sun began to descend in the sky, Argus found that he could not continue on any longer, and he collapsed to the ground.
Argus lay there on his side, with one cheek in the sand. He did not care to live any longer. His sole purpose for continued existence had now vanished, like someone had snuffed out the flame which had carried him on between life and death for so many hundreds of years. He closed his eyes and prepared himself to fade from this horrible world. He prayed, to whomever would listen, that the cruel cycles of birth and death would finally cease and leave him at peace. But, deep down, he knew he was never meant for such good fortune.
Argus barely had enough consciousness left to notice the set of shadows which descended upon him in the long evening light. He sensed that other beings had arrived by his side, but he barely comprehended what it was they were saying to each other in Latin.
“Wha
t is this?” asked one of the men, looking down at Argus. “Some lost soul come to die alone in the desert? Tell me, is he alive?”
The other man bent down to examine Argus, holding his fingers just under his nostrils. “Yes, he is still breathing,” the man confirmed. “Though it is faint.”
“Well, you’d best haul him on board, then,” the first man advised, motioning with his whip over at a crudely constructed cage of iron and wood. “He looks like he is a strong one. Ini-herit is sure to pay a handsome sum for such a fighter back in Rome….”
8 - Entrance
Friday, January 23rd
Blake shifted gears and pulled up in front of Lucian’s parents’ house. As the car jostled over the uneven pavement between the road and the driveway, Gus swayed back and forth on top of Lucian’s lap in the passenger seat, and Lucian had to grab hold of him to prevent his little head from banging against the dashboard and door like a pinball. Once the car had come to a stop, Lucian crawled out with Gus still in his arms and turned to Blake.
“Thanks so much for driving us,” he said, closing the door behind him. “I didn’t think it was fair to have my parents come all the way to campus just to get Gus, especially so early in the morning, when they’re agreeing to watch him for the whole weekend.”
Blake shrugged. “No problem, man,” he reassured his roommate. “It’s not like I’ve got much else better to do....”
Lucian thought that that was a good point. The only thing he had seen Blake do over the past couple of months – outside of aiding him in his fight against evil and fending off their numerous attackers – was watch movies on his laptop and lounge about in the dorm room. He hoped things might be different now, though, as Blake's classes began to ramp up with assignments and tests.
Lucian couldn't help but stand there that morning with a giant smile plastered across his face, feeling both exhausted and totally giddy after his fantastic night with Sam. He glanced down at the prayer beads he now had wrapped around his wrist: a comforting reminder that Sam would still be with him through his upcoming journey into the unknown. Blake, on the other hand, seemed anything but excited. He had stayed silent for most of the drive with a permanent look of frustration and disappointment on his face.
“Thankfully, we'll only have to leave him here for a couple of days, and then we’ll be back to get him again on Monday,” Lucian stated as the two boys walked up to the front door.
Assuming we survive…, Lucian reminded himself in his head. He thought it best to keep in mind that their return from this trip was anything but certain.
Lucian opened the screen door and rang the doorbell. Within a minute, Mrs. Aarden had arrived to greet them with a delighted squeal.
“Ooooooo! Welcome home again!” she exclaimed, pulling Lucian into a hug which threatened to crush Gus between them with the force of her affection. “I love seeing you twice in such a short time!”
Lucian chuckled briefly and stepped back as his mother released him. “Mom, this is Blake,” he then said, motioning over to his roommate beside him.
“Nice to meet you,” Blake said, raising his hand in a sort of half-wave.
“Blake, so good to finally meet you!” Mrs. Aarden said, pulling Blake into a hug as well. “Lucian has told me so many good things about you!”
Blake stood awkwardly with his arms to his sides as Mrs. Aarden greeted him. Once she was finished, she stepped back and held her hands up to Gus’ face, smushing his soft, pliable puppy cheeks between her palms.
“And here’s my adorable little grandpuppy!” she said, using her index finger on either hand to scratch behind Gus’ ears. “We are going to have so much fun this weekend! Yes we are! Yes we are!”
Despite the assault on his face, Gus excitedly wagged his tail. He was always one to appreciate the extra attention.
“Thanks again for taking Gus this weekend, mom,” Lucian said. “There’s no way I could take him on this school trip to Pennsylvania, and there’s no one at school who can watch him for us, either.”
Mrs. Aarden glanced up at her son with a look of confusion. “What did you call him?” she asked.
Lucian’s stomach did a somersault. Oh, crap! How am I supposed to recover from this one?
“Ummm, Tus!” the boy exclaimed a little too loudly. “We call him ‘Tus,’ You know…, short for ‘Titus.’”
Mrs. Aarden furrowed her brow. “Oh, I see,” she said skeptically.
“Yeah!” Lucian continued, “And you can call him Tus too, if you want! He really likes that!” As per usual, he found himself digging an even deeper hole as he attempted to skirt around the truth.
“Uh, I think I’ll just continue to call him Titus…,” she said. “That seems like a more fitting name.”
“Well, suit yourself!” Lucian said with a nervous laugh. He glanced over at Blake, who smiled politely but clearly wasn’t finding the same level of nervous amusement in the situation.
"It's just so strange to me that one of your classes is taking a field trip to Pennsylvania on such short notice!” Mrs. Aarden then stated thoughtfully. “Back when I was in school, we never took any trips like that. But, of course, the world is much different now than it was back then….”
“Yeah, it was pretty surprising!” Lucian chuckled. “But, I guess Pennsylvania has a pretty rich history, and my History of the Americas class has to go there to see some of the sites now.”
“Hmmm, alright, then. Well, would you boys like to come in for a bit before you leave?” Mrs. Aarden then offered, gesturing into the house. “I can make you a little something for breakfast, if you want.”
Lucian pulled out his phone and checked the time. For as much as he wanted to stay and eat a home-cooked meal, it was getting uncomfortably close to the time of their flight.
“Sorry, mom,” he said somberly, “but I think we’d better get moving. We have to meet our professor at the airport and go through security and all that stuff. We really can’t be late.”
“Oh, yes, that’s fine!” Mrs. Aarden assured her son, clearly disappointed but sympathetic as well. “I wouldn’t want you to miss your flight!”
Lucian leaned in and gave his mom a final hug. He lingered a bit, thinking of how it very well might be his last time seeing her, then stepped back before too long so she wouldn’t be worried that something was wrong with him. He then scratched Gus on the top of his head.
“You be good,” Lucian commanded with a smile. Gus panted back in agreement. With this, Lucian turned and walked toward the car.
“Nice to meet you,” Blake said with another raise of his hand. He turned and followed Lucian back down to the driveway before another hug could entrap him.
“Bye!” Mrs. Aarden called out behind them with a wave above her head. “Have a safe trip!”
* * *
The plane which carried Lucian, Blake, and Schuntz touched down in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania in the early afternoon. Grabbing their carry-on bags, the three travelers went and rented a car from the kiosk outside the airport. Once on the road, Lucian took the opportunity to finally ask Schuntz more about where they were going.
“So, what exactly is in this town, anyway?” Lucian inquired from the passenger seat as Schuntz drove. “And where will this ‘key’ be?”
Schuntz sighed. “There is a legend about this town which claims that it contains within it a portal into the realms of Hell,” he said, pausing as if considering whether he should say any more. “It is there that we will supposedly find this key spoken of in the texts I have studied.”
Blake leaned forward from the backseat of the car, wearing on his face the same bewildered expression which Lucian now wore on his own. “Huh!?” Blake said.
“Yes, Mr. Valenti,” Schuntz stated very seriously. “We will indeed be venturing into Hell Realms, if we are able to locate this portal.”
Lucian was certain he was not fully comprehending what the professor was saying. “But…, but what do you mean by ‘Hell Realm?’” he asked.
Blake fervently shook his head. “No, man, there’s no way,” he said. “Don’t tell me you brought us all the way out here to go after some fairytale about Hell. Hell doesn’t even exist. It’s just something used to scare people into not acting like jerks.”
Schuntz remained staring at the road ahead of them. “No, Mr. Valenti; I am afraid Hell Realms are all too real,” he asserted. “They exist as planes of reality adjacent to – but separate from – this world in which we live. They are what some individuals might call ‘alternate universes.’ Under normal circumstances, these realms are so separated from our own that we have little knowledge of, or interaction with, them. However, at certain times and locations, the barriers between the two planes weaken and falter, and it is through these that one may pass between the two: the so-called portals.”
Though Lucian, by this point, had generally given up doubting that anything was possible, the professor’s theory seemed too outlandish to be true. “And, so, what? God made these Hell Realms to punish sinners and all that for eternity?” he inquired skeptically.
“No, Mr. Aarden,” Schuntz responded in a huff, as if exhausted by the mere mention of such a thing. “Hell Realms were not created by a malicious, vindictive God; rather, they are the natural constructions of the beings which occupy them. As you no doubt have already experienced, the spiritual energies of life coupled with the guiding forces of cognition can be extremely powerful. Powerful enough to even create and destroy what we experience as reality. In cases where one or more beings are spiritually tormented enough, their very defilements are able to generate these torturous realms of existence, driven by desire, anger, and ignorance.”