Styxx, who was now in Acheron's infant body, struggled to breathe through his newborn lungs. He had finally taken a deep, clear breath when he heard a cry of alarm.
"Zeus have mercy, the eldest is malformed, Majesties."
His mother looked up, her brow creased by worry. "How so?"
The midwife carried him over to his mother, who held the second-born babe to her breast.
Scared, the baby wanted comfort away from the fear he sensed and the unfamiliar loud noises. He reached for the brother who had shared the womb with him. If he could just touch his brother, all would be right. He knew it.
Instead, his mother pulled his brother away, out of his sight and reach. "It cannot be," his mother sobbed. "He is blind."
"Not blind, Majesty," the eldest wise woman said as she stepped forward, through the crowd. Her white robes were heavily embroidered with gold threads, and she wore an ornate gold wreath over her faded gray hair. "He was sent to you by the gods."
Xerxes narrowed his eyes angrily at the queen. "You were unfaithful?"
"Nay, never."
"Then how is it he came from your loins? All of us here witnessed it."
The room as a whole looked to the wise woman who stared blankly at the tiny, helpless baby that cried out for someone to hold him and offer him solace. Warmth.
"He will be a destroyer, this child," she said, her ancient voice loud and ringing so that all could hear her proclamation. "His touch will bring death to many. Not even the gods themselves will be safe from his wrath."
"Then kill him now." Xerxes ordered his guard to draw his sword and slay the baby.
"Nay!" The wise woman halted the guard before he could carry out the king's will. "Kill this infant and your son dies as well, Majesty. Their life forces are combined. 'Tis the will of the gods that you should raise him to manhood."
The baby sobbed, not understanding the fear he sensed from those around him. All he wanted was to be held as his brother was. For someone to cuddle him and tell him that all would be fine.
Xerxes was emphatic. "I will not raise a monster."
"You have no choice." The wise woman took the baby from the midwife who'd delivered him and offered it to the queen. "He was born of your body, Majesty. He is your son."
The baby squalled even louder, reaching again for his mother. She cringed away from him, clutching her second-born even tighter than before. "I will not suckle it. I will not touch it. Get it away from my sight."
The wise woman walked the child to his father. "And what of you, Majesty? Will you not acknowledge him?"
"Never. That child is no son of mine."
The wise woman took a deep breath and presented the infant to the room. Her grip was loose, with no love or compassion evident in her touch.
"Then he will be called Acheron for the river of woe. Like the river of the Underworld, his journey shall be dark, long, and enduring. He will be able to give life and to take it. He will walk through his life alone and abandoned-ever seeking kindness and ever finding cruelty."
The wise woman looked down at the infant in her hands and uttered the simple truth that would haunt both twins for the rest of their existence. "May the gods have mercy on you, little one. No one else ever will."
December 1, 2007
Acheron stopped at a doorway that was covered with an iridescent slime. It shimmered like a rainbow oil slick in the dim light. To his surprise, there was no sound coming from inside. No movement. It was as if the occupant was dead.
But unlike the others who lived in Tartarus, this particular person couldn't die.
At least not until Ash did, and since he was a god ...
He used his powers to open the door without touching it.
It was completely black inside the small, dingy room. Horrifying images of his human past slammed into him at the sight. Long-buried emotions ripped at him with daggers of pain that lacerated his heart.
Acheron wanted to run from this place.
He knew he couldn't.
Grinding his teeth, Ash forced himself to take the six steps that separated him from the man who was curled into a ball in one corner. An identical replica of himself, the man had long blond hair that was gnarled from the time he'd spent here and hadn't brushed it or bathed.
But then Ash never willingly wore his hair blond. It was a wretched reminder of a time in his past that he was desperate to forget.
Dressed in rags and his face covered with a long, matted beard, the man on the floor wasn't moving. He clenched his eyes shut like a child who thought that if he made no sound, no moves, the nightmare would end.
Ash had lived a long time in just such a state, and like the man before him, he had prayed for death repeatedly. But unlike his prayers that had gone unanswered, he was here to release Styxx from his prison.
"Styxx," he said, his low tone echoing off the walls.
His brother didn't react.
Ash knelt down and did something that had disgusted Styxx when they had been human brothers in Greece. He touched his brother's shoulder.
"Styxx?" he tried again.
Styxx screamed as Ash broke through the brutal memories of horror that Mnimi had given to Styxx as punishment for trying to kill him. It was a punishment Ash had never agreed with. No one needed the memories of his human past. Not even him.
He could hear Styxx's thoughts as they left Ash's past and returned slowly to Styxx's control.
Knowing his brother would be disgusted by him, Ash let go and stepped back.
As humans, he and Styxx had never been close. Styxx had hated him with an unreasoning logic. For his own part, he had purposefully aggravated that hatred.
Ash's human rationale had been that if his family was going to hate him anyway, then he would give them all good cause for it. He'd gone out of his way to repulse them. Out of his way to antagonize his brother and father.
Only their sister had ever given him kindness.
And in the end, Ash had betrayed her and not been there to protect her when she'd died....
* * *
Styxx struggled to breathe as he became aware of the fact that he wasn't Acheron.
I am Styxx of Didymos. Heir to ...
No, he wasn't the rightful heir to anything. Acheron had been. He and his father had stolen that from Acheron.
They had taken everything from him.
Everything.
For the first time in eleven thousand years Styxx understood that reality. In spite of what his father had convinced him, they had greatly wronged Acheron.
Mnimi had been right. The world as Prince Styxx had seen it had been whitewashed by lies and by hatred.
The world of Acheron had been entirely different. It had been steeped in loneliness and pain, and decorated with terror. It was a world he'd never dreamed existed. Sheltered and protected all his life, Styxx had never known a single insult. Never known hunger or suffering.
But Acheron had ...
His body shook uncontrollably as Styxx looked around the dark, cold room. He had seen such a place in Acheron's memories.
A place they had gleefully left Acheron in to face alone. Only this place was cleaner. Less frightening.
And he was a lot older than Acheron had been.
Styxx covered his eyes and wept as the agony of that tore through him anew. He knew Acheron's thoughts. Felt Acheron's emotions. His hopelessness. His despair. He heard Acheron's screams for death. His silent pleas for mercy-silent because to voice them only made his situation worse.
They echoed and taunted him from the past.
How many times had he hurt his own brother? Guilt gnawed at him, making him sick from it.
"I'll take them away from you."