M'gios. My son. He'd waited his entire life for someone to claim him. But as much as he wanted his mother, he wouldn't end the world for it.
Suddenly a cold wind whipped around him, tearing at his clothes and hair, yet not hurting him. The world around him faded as he found himself on unfamiliar ground. His mother's image flickered by his side. "This is Katoteros. Your birthright."
He frowned at the pile of rubble. "It's in ruins."
She cast a sheepish look toward him. "I was a little upset when I came here."
A little?
"Close your eyes, Apostolos."
Trusting her completely, he did.
"Breathe in."
He took a deep breath and then he felt his mother inside him. Her powers merged with his and in the blink of an eye, the ruins reunited to form a beautiful palace of gold and black marble. His mother's presence pulled out of him.
"Welcome home, palatimos." Precious one.
The doors opened and as Acheron passed through them, his clothing changed. His hair grew long and black and a flowing robe fanned out behind him as he walked over the white marble floor. He paused at the sign of the sun that was pierced by three bolts of lightning.
His mother slowed as she noted him studying it. "The golden sun is my symbol and it represents the day. The silver of the lightning bolts is for the night. The bolt to the left is for me and the past, and the one on the right is your father and the future. Yours is the bolt in the middle that unites and binds the three of us together and stands for the present. That is the sign of the Talimosin and represents your dominion of the past, the present and the future."
He frowned at the Atlantean word. "The Harbinger?"
She nodded. "You, Apostolos. You are the Talimosin. The final fate of all. Your words are law and your wrath absolute. Be careful as you speak for whatever you will, even in carelessness, will determine the fate of the person you're speaking to. It's a burden I would never have wished upon you. And it's one I hate those bitches for. But I can't undo what they've given you. No one can."
"What exactly are my powers?"
"I don't know. I took them from you and never looked at them for fear of exposing you to the others. I only know what Archon's daughters cursed you to. But you will learn your powers in time. I only wish you'd come to me so that I could help you until you grow stronger."
"Matera-"
"I know." She held her hand up. "I respect you for being the man you are and I'm proud of you. However, should you change your mind, you know where I am."
He smiled at her.
"In the meantime, this is all yours."
Acheron looked around at the statues and somehow he knew who each and every one of them were. As he approached the set of gold doors, he saw the image of his mother to the left and Archon to the right.
The doors opened and there he saw the remains of the gods where his mother had attacked them. They were frozen in the horror of their last moments.
His mother didn't show the tiniest bit of remorse for what she'd done to them. "If the sight of them bothers you, there is a room below the throne room where you can store them. While I'm locked in Kalosis, my powers won't let me put them there, but you shouldn't have that problem."
Closing his eyes, he wished the statues gone. In an instant, they were. He had no desire to see the images of people who'd wanted him dead.
His mother smiled approvingly. "You should have the ability to come and go from the human realm to this one at will. You'll find that Katoteros is a large place with areas unexplored. The mountain-tops are windy . . . and it's on the northernmost point that you can hear the sound of your grandmother, the North Wind. Zenobi will whisper to you and succor you in my absence. Any time you need to be comforted, go there and let her hold you."
"Thank you, Matera."
"I will go now and give you time to adjust. If you need me, call and I will appear."
He inclined his head to her as she faded away and left him alone in this unfamiliar place.
It was so strange to be here and it would take some getting used to. Closing his eyes, he could see the gods as they'd been. Hear their voices echoing in the faintest of whispers. And when he opened them, they were all gone and he heard nothing.
As he moved around the room, he realized he wore some kind of leather leggings.
Pants.
How very odd to know the names of everything and everyone without even trying. Whatever information he needed was there instantly.
Crossing the room, he approached the single black and gold throne . . . Archon's. An image of Acheron's dead body in it appeared in his mind. And in the next, Acheron was sitting in it, looking out on the gleaming, empty room. Though ornate and gilded, it was sterile.
There was no life to the palace. No comfort here.
He stood, and as he did so a large staff appeared by his side. Over seven feet in length, it held his emblem in gold and silver on the top. Atlantean words were inscribed down the smooth wood.
By this, the Talimosin will be known. He will fight for himself and for others. Be strong.
Be strong. He clenched his teeth as Xiamara's words whispered through his mind. Gripping the staff tightly, he teleported himself to the top of the northernmost mountain. The sun was just beginning to set as the winds whipped his formesta out behind him. He gripped his staff tight, looking back over his shoulder to see where the palace stood below.
Then he heard it.
Apostolos . . . feel my strength. It will be yours when you need it.
He smiled sinisterly as he felt his grandmother's caress against his skin. Closing his eyes, he took comfort and strength.
When he opened his eyes, he could tell they glowed red now. His vision saw so much more than it had as a human. He felt the pulse of the universe in his veins. Felt the power of the primal source and for the first time realized his place in the cosmos.
I am the god, Apostolos. I am death, destruction and suffering. And I will be the one who brings forth Telikos-the end of the world.
That was if he could ever figure out how to use his powers. Acheron laughed at the truth of it.
Turning, he headed down the mountain and back to the throne room in Archon's palace. No, it was his now. Sadness hung deep inside him as he realized that though he had his grandmother and mother with him in spirit, he was still alone in the world.
Completely alone.
He froze as he heard something moving behind his throne. It was a soft scurrying sound . . . like a large rodent. Frowning, he tele-ported toward it, prepared to kill whatever dared defile his new home.
What he found there stunned him completely.
It was a small demon with marbled red and white skin and long black hair. Small red horns poked through the tangles of her curls as she looked up at him with red eyes that were rimmed in orange.
"Are you my akri?" she asked in a childish lilt.
"I'm no one's akri."
"Oh . . ." She looked about. "But akra sent me here. She said my akri would be waiting. The Simi is confused. I lost my mama and now the Simi needs her akri." She sat down and started crying.
Acheron laid down the staff to pick the toddler up. "Don't cry. It'll be all right. We'll find your mother."
She shook her head. "Akra said the Simi's mama is dead. Them evil Greek people killed the Simi's mama. Now the Simi needs her akri to love her."
Acheron rocked her gently in his arms as his mother's shade appeared before him.
Simi stopped crying. "Akra, he says the Simi's akri isn't here."
His mother smiled at them. "He is your akri, Simi."
Acheron scowled at her declaration. "What?"
"Her mother was your protector, Xiamara. Like you, Simi is all alone in the world with no one to care for her. She needs you, Apostolos."
He looked down at those large eyes that swallowed the demon's small round face. Blinking, she stared up at him with the same trust and innocence as Apollodorus. And he was lost to that loving gaze that didn't judge or condemn him.
"Bond with him, Simi, protect my son as your mother protected me."
The thought of tying someone to him, terrified Acheron. He didn't want anyone enslaved to him. "I don't want a demon."
"Would you cast her out alone in the world?"
"No."
"Then she's yours."