"Go to him anyway, Xi. Comfort him and help him understand what he has to do. Tell him that when he comes to me all will be made right."
"I will try, akra."
Acheron lay in the darkness of his room, trying to breathe as he shook from the pain of his overwhelmed senses. Suddenly, he heard a soft, gentle voice in his head that drowned it all out. It was truly the most beautiful sound he'd ever known.
His breathing eased along with the fading pain.
"I am with you now, Apostolos."
"Who are you?"
"That is the voice of your mother."
He squinted in the dark to see the demon kneeling beside him. He curled into a ball, away from her. "I have no mother. She cast me aside when I was born."
"Ni, akri," the demon said softly. "I was the one who took you from your mother's arms while she wept in fear for you. Your mother, Apollymi, hid you in the human realm to protect you from the gods who wanted you dead. I swear to you on my life. Neither of us ever meant for you to be harmed. You were supposed to be raised as a prince. Pampered. Beloved. None of this should have happened to you."
He found that impossible to believe. "I don't understand. Why do the gods want me dead?"
"It was prophesied that you would be the end of the Atlantean gods. But you have to understand how much your mother loves you. She risked her life and defied the other gods to save you and keep you hidden until you were old enough to use your powers to fight them. Even now she sits imprisoned, wanting you to come to her. Free her, Apostolos and she will make right every wrong ever done to you."
"Make it right how?"
"She will destroy everyone who ever harmed you." The demon stroked his hair like the mother she described. "You are the most loved of any child ever born. Every day I have sat with your mother while she wept for your loss and ached to have you with her. Come home with me, Apostolos. Meet your mother."
He wanted to. And yet . . . "How do I know I can trust you?"
"Why would I lie?"
Everyone lied, especially to him. "For any number of reasons."
Xiamara. They come. Leave him quickly!
The demon shrank back from his bed. "The gods can't find me with you or they'll know who and where you are. Listen to your mother's voice and I'll return as soon as I can. Stay hidden, precious one." She vanished instantly.
Acheron lay alone, listening to the voices that tangled inside him. He heard laughter and tears, curses and screams.
Until his mother's voice soothed him again. He focused on that single tone and closed his eyes as it drove away all the other voices that made his head throb.
Had the demon been telling the truth? Dare he believe for one moment that he was the beloved son of anyone?
Surely it was preposterous.
He cupped the necklace in his hand and studied it. Some kind of stone, it appeared milky and iridescent. Then he glanced to where his slave's mark had been branded into his palm.
It was gone now without a single trace. How could this be?
I'm a god who was a slave . . .
Not just any slave. The lowest of all.
Acheron covered his eyes with his hand as shame overwhelmed him. And as he lay there, images tore through him . . . he saw the past, the present and the future through the experiences of thousands of people. He could hear their hopes and fears. Hear the very essence of the universe.
For the first time, he saw those who had it worse than he did. Those who seemed to have it better. The screams of mothers who'd lost their children. Children who had no parents. Beggars and kings . . .
Now he understood what Artemis had meant when she said she paid no attention to the human world. It was overwhelming. Horrifying. All these people who needed help and as he imagined helping them, he saw numerous outcomes play out in his mind.
But the one thing he couldn't see was his own life.
Or Ryssa's.
Not even Artemis. Why? It made no sense. As if any of this could possibly make sense. Acheron laughed at the absurdity of it all.
Opening his eyes, he realized that he was no longer on the ground. He was hovering over it. He gasped, then fell back to the floor. Pain shot through him as his skin again marbled to blue. His fingernails turned black and grew long . . .
Something wasn't right. His body was now alien to him. He stared at the marbled skin, trying to understand why it would be such a color.
How could he hide this from his family? Do you want to? A sadistic laugh went through him as he imagined the look on his "father's" face as he told him who and what he was.
"I'm a god."
Not half, but full-blooded. One with a bounty on his head, with an entire pantheon out to kill him. It was ridiculous. It defied belief, yet here he was . . . blue.
Acheron tried to get up, but a wave of dizziness sent him back to his knees. He looked at his bed, wishing he could make it to it. The next thing he knew, he was under the covers.
His eyes widened as the full implication of what he was hit him. He was a god with the same powers as Artemis.
Or maybe not. How did god powers work?
"Acheron?"
He tensed at the sound of Ryssa's voice in the room with him. Glancing down, he saw that his skin was again normal and he was grateful that the blanket covered him completely. "Yes?"
"Are you ill?"
Technically no. He wasn't even drunk anymore. "I'm just resting."
He felt her sit beside him on the bed and tug at the blanket. "Will you look at me?"
Terrified of what might happen while she sat there, he uncovered his head.
She smiled. "I haven't seen you all day and wanted to give you this." She held a small box out to him.
Her gift made his throat tight. "Thank you." Returning her smile, he opened it to find a small medallion on a bracelet. It was the symbol of a sun with three lightning bolts piercing it. He frowned at the emblem that seemed eerily familiar.
"I know it's strange, but I saw it in the market and it made me think of you. The jeweler said it was a symbol of strength."
"It's Atlantean." The sun design was that of Apollymi . . . his mother.
I've made him sad. Why did I pick this one? Oh no . . .
He heard Ryssa's thoughts in his head.
"It's beautiful. Thank you."
She reached for it. "I can-"
He covered her hand with his. "I love it, Ryssa."
He's only saying that. I'm so sorry, Acheron. I didn't mean to pick out something Atlantean. How could I have been so stupid?
It was so disconcerting to hear her thoughts so clearly while she held a false smile in place.
"If you're sure . . ."
He nodded. "I'm sure. Thank you," he repeated.
I'm such a fool. Here I tried to make sure he had at least one gift and I've ruined it with my stupidity.
The sincere love he felt in those words brought tears to his eyes. His sister really did love him . . . more than he'd ever guessed.
He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. "You mean everything to me, Ryssa. You know that, don't you?"
"I love you, Acheron." And I wish I could make this day as special as it should be for you. It's not fair that you're here alone.
"Ryssa!" Her father's shout was enough to make Acheron glare at the door.
Ryssa frowned at him. Dear gods, what's wrong with his eyes?
Acheron averted his gaze, scared of what they might look like now. His body was still normal, but what of his eyes?
His door slammed opened to reveal her father. "What are you doing here? It's time to toast your brother."
She stood up and lifted her chin. "I was giving my brother his gift."
"Don't you dare be impertinent. Your presence is required. Now."
"Go, Ryssa," Acheron breathed. "Your father wants you."
You godless whore.
Acheron laughed at the king's thoughts. If the man only knew . . .
The last word anyone could use to describe him was godless. He had gods coming for him out of the woodwork.
The king didn't move as Ryssa stepped past him. He stood in the doorway, glaring his anger at Acheron. "So you've finally given up calling me your father?"
Acheron shrugged. "Believe me, I know you're not my father. And I'm sure your son is waiting below to hear your most precious ode to him."