The Forbidden

Sol grabbed his black skull-designed iPhone from the oakwood beside desk and speed-dialed his best friend Nicco, hopefully to get some answers to this freak show. "Well, I know one person who would know... Nicco?" He perked, hearing the deeper voice on the other line. "...Yeah. I'm here with Erik, uhm.... some weird shit just happened. Can we come over?"

Erik sat on the bed and turned the cold ancient gold around in his palm, the strange, worn engravings sparking some unhampered curiosity in his mind. How in the name of hell could something like this just appear, in their bed, underneath his body?

How strange.

"Are you going alone?" Erik asked, watching his lover throw on a thick blue, wool sweater and some long black coat. He mimicked the actions and stubbornly switched off the desk lamp, "Because that's not what I plan."
Ignoring Sol's big, annoyed cerulean eyes and walking past him, Erik grabbed the car keys from the table and waited for the latter to join him in the living room. He threw the handle in a black plastic bag and ties the ends closed, wanting anxiously to know what information would come from their History teacher friend, Nicco.

The sun filtered through the tree that loomed over his head, shedding its light upon Zarcanith. He slowly but surely regained the energy to stand. Planting a hand on the palm tree's bark, he hauled himself off of the ground, specks of sand sprinkled his dark cloak and his hair was ruffled. He left the shelter of the palm tree and made his way towards the ocean, his boots sinking within the golden sand.

Where was he? What was he doing here? All he could recall was fighting for the dagger, the dagger broke and he was suddenly enveloped into a blinding light. Strands of prismatic light scattered disappearing before his very eyes. Wait... those were the parts of the dagger! Now, he needed to retrieve the dagger parts in this unknown world. A scowl began to etch his features as he ran a sweaty hand through his dark hair.

After that... he ended up here. A growl reverberated deep within his throat. What had happened to the dagger?! His eyes narrowed into slits. If only he had not given Artemis the chance to join him and slaughtered her immediately... he would have the dagger in his hands and he would be completing the ritual.

His pace ceased to a halt as his narrowed gaze fixated upon the ocean. The waves softly crashed against the rocky beach, their curling fingers brushing each stone with a gentle caress as the wind ushered them gently towards the shore. The sun shone off the rippling water, its golden light warped in the twisted, glass waves.

Snow covered the streets and sidewalks, not an inch of the gray or black material able to be seen. It must have come to around seven inches now, and the sky was dark and clouded with the contemporary storm. A frigid wind blew through the barren streets, void of any soul or being.

Sol was careful as he gingerly spun the wheel of the car, slowly turning the vehicle at a corner. Distress painted his comely features, as the windshield wipers nearly failed to keep up with a constant onslaught of white. The whole ordeal bothered the Irish man greatly; he wasn't even sure if this was real. Were they dealing with tawdry paranormal happenings, or is the fantasy Sol has spent his life writing about suddenly becoming a reality?

In the passenger seat, Erik held onto the small plastic bag mistrustfully, skeptical of the situation he and his boyfriend were facing. If it really had just appeared in their bedroom, what for?

This could've been a dream.

Erik sighed, wishing that everything so far would be some screwed up vision, and that they were still in their warm bedroom, cuddled into each other and snoring. He was snapped out of his hopeful thoughts when a sudden halt of the car jerked his body forwards. "Shit! What the hell?!" He asked, looking over at Sol who had crushed his booted foot onto the brakes. Sol only stared ahead at the road and made no attempt to respond, so Erik followed his frozen gaze.

In the bright, shining luminescence of the car headlights, lay a stiff body in the road, how it got there being unknown. Sol looked over at his boyfriend, cerulean eyes being the catastrophic sizes of tea saucers. "Babe... is that... a woman..?

Artemis was floating in nothingness, felt one step closer to death.

Death. For as long as it existed; people have been wondering what it was like—but more importantly: how to avoid it. The prospect of knowing what was ahead was utterly terrifying. Every soul, had a sense of security. And when that is taken away, the cause of destruction was immediately identified as a threat. Death is total oblivion to people, that would be the eventual part of their lives.

Artemis has given up. She had given up fighting against the cold. She could no longer feel her own body and the winds has pushed her down, the snows has kept her from maneuvering forward. She could feel death looming over her piteous figure.

She has failed the future of Nuxvar, her people…

And now Zarcanith will take over Nuxvar—it will fall into complete chaos and destruction. Into complete darkness.

"We have to take her in!" Erik shouted to his lover over the loud, whistling winds. This winter storm wouldn't let up, at all. A strong gust of frigid air blew into the taller man's face, nearly knocking back his furry hood. This whole situation seemed surreal.

Sol barely heard Erik's words over the gale, even though he's sure he wouldn't have apprehended anyways. His blue eyes were stuck to the woman lying on the streets, her odd torn clothing, and the bedraggled black hair that fell haphazardly over her pale, lifeless face. After Erik had scooped her limp body off the icy ground, Sol ran to the car and opened the back door, watching his lover tuck her safely onto the warm back seats.

They circled back to the front of the vehicle and hurriedly got back in, before their bodies could suffer any more of the storm's harrowing repercussions.

Once inside, Sol sighed. With either fatigue or confusion, he wasn't sure.
Erik reached out a gloved hand and rubbed the back of his neck reassuringly, hoping to give the other man some comfort. They both needed it. Sol appreciated it and with a warm smile, pulled Erik in by his puffy coat to steal a soft kiss. "Let's bring this woman to safety... I wonder why she's dressed like that, in the middle of a fucking storm,"

Curious, Erik looked back at the mysterious female and raised an eyebrow, rubbing his temples in an attempt to mollify the headache ebbing there. "We'll get answers when we arrive back at the house.. Nicco will let us hear no end to this."

Zarcanith’s sharp eyes casted upon a ship sailing through the ocean. It was a rather large ship with multi-colored cargo lining the cargo’s hold. The ship was about ten thousand tonnes of metal and Zarcanith could hear the noisy vibrating engine that rattles everything on that ship. Life boats were enwrapped in chains on one side of the boat and waves were relentlessly slapping and teasing the ship, puffs of grey smoke drifts lazily from a large funnel, dissipating into the air.

A devious smirk graced his lips as his eyes locked onto the cargo ship. That would be the perfect transport of getting wherever he’d like. His thoughtful gaze watched the ship glide slowly through the waters… how would he get their attention? His visionaries tore away from the ship and trailed to his hand. Magic. Does his magic even work here?

Zarcanith begins to channel energy and he begins to feel electricity pulsing through his veins that his brain set to control his magic felt like fire rippling through his skin. Soon, a red light radiates from his palm, illuminating the area around him. He kept channeling electricity to his palm, now… he just has to wait.

Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock... went the grandfather clock.

Erik sat back on the slate colored couch boredly, a hand propping up his chin. Gray, tired eyes traveled to his quiet lover, who sat just on the next cushion looking just as tired. Black streaked pink hair that had been neatly brushed earlier that morning fell over his face, obscuring that entire side. Erik couldn't help but think of how beautiful the other was right now, with his small nose still pink from the frigid outside.
Ascending from his thoughts, Erik sighed, looking back at the unconscious figure on the couch opposite to theirs. How the hell did they even get to this situation? Well, no use in complaining, the poor woman seemed just on the brink of death, had they not found her.

After wrapping himself in a thick, substantial quilt, Sol settled on the couch next to his boyfriend and cuddled into the latter's side, craving as much physical contact as possible. The way things were looking, they would need a bit of explanation... not only for the peculiar gold handle they uncovered earlier, but also for this strange soul before them now.

"She looks like she's thawing," Sol whispered up at Erik, looking into those sultry gray eyes.

His smirk seemed to grow when the ship pivoted and sailed towards him; as if drawn to the red light. Zarcanith’s channels began to cease when the cargo ship drew closer and closer and then completely died out when the ship docked at the shore. The cargo ship was massive; almost ten times larger than Zarcanith. He caught sight of people crowding around the deck and at once, he wiped the smirk off of his face and replaced his expression with a solemn look.

One of the people decked on the ship caught the sight of Zarcanith. He presumed him to be the captain of this ship. The man looked like he was in his forties, dark hair with flecks of white here and there, a shaggy beard, and vivid dark eyes. He planted his hands on the railings, gazing onto Zarcanith’s form.

“You there! Were you the one who lit the light?!”

Zarcanith turned his attention to the lad and nodded, his expression grave. “Yes… I was sailing a boat until a storm struck. I was pushed against this island. After I saw the cargo ship, I immediately lit a flare hoping to catch your attention.” The man nodded, but his eyes trailed to Zarcanith’s attire, suspicion glinting within his dark orbs. “And… where did you come from, lad?”

Zarcanith was losing his patience. He channeled energy to his eyes, making them glow. He stared straight at the man’s visionaries. "Bring me into your ship. Now."

The man’s suspicious expression wiped off of his face and his eyes has dulled. He turned to his crew. “Lower the platform onto shore!” His crew members obeyed. A platform came all the way to Zarcanith’s feet, allowing him onto the ship. The captain blinked and his eyes returned to its vividness.

The captain turned to his crew. “We’re going to get this lad to land. He has been stranded on this island, and he wants to be brought home.” He turned back to Zarcanith, beckoning him to the boat. Zarcanith gladly entered, a smile plastered onto his face.

“The name’s William. Nice to meet you.”

“Zarcanith. Likewise.”

Gray eyes watched the shorter man bend his back forward and look the mysterious female over; probably to catch the signs of any life in her.

Sol sighed, wanting badly to wake up from this dream now. "Well, she's alive, obviously," He began, looking up to catch Erik's clouded eyes in his. They were both tired and doubtful of the predicament this woman now faced; judging how she now lay unconscious on their couch for nearly an hour.

"...maybe she was hit by a car?" Erik finally asked to break that uneasy silence in the atmosphere. Blue eyes flickered over to him and then back down at the figure nearby. He hovered closer to the woman and slowly parted the quilt after gently turning her over, as to inspect her body. Her strange clothing seemed tattered and her fingers still an apprehensive pale blue, but other than that nothing seemed wrong. She was warm and apparently sound sleep, the only thing left was to wake up.

Sol shrugged and covered her back up with the quilt, propping a hand on his cocked hip. "I don't know... there are no signs of that. It seems like she literally just trudged around in the cold until passing out in the street." Running a hand through his long black and pink hair, Sol looked back at Erik who had his eyes closed. The poor man was obviously trying to keep his sinking head up, but the sleep threatened to get the best of him. Literally.

Smiling like a child who's seen candy, Sol crept up to Erik's slumping form and watched his boyfriend fight with the lulling sleep. "Erik...." He muttered, softly, mellow eyes sweeping over the latter's body.

Erik opened his eyes and looked up to see the breathtaking sight of his lover. He gasped and sat back, rubbing his weary eyes and forehead in exhaustion. "Ugh... Hey, baby...." After a while of Sol just standing there and looking at him expectantly, Erik got the idea of what he might have wanted and smiled weakly.

"Fine... come over here,"

When Erik finally got the message Sol smiled and tread to the couch, laying down on its soft cushions and propping his head up on his lover's thigh. "Now, get some rest. I'll keep watch," He told Erik after planting a genial kiss on the said man's lips.

Zarcanith was taken to one of the cabins below him, with one of William’s crew member accompanying him. He was given a plate of seafood; consisting of shrimp, clams, and a small lobster. A fork, spoon, and a knife was laid out, but he did not touch his food. The captain’s crew member—Marcos—was sitting on a stool right across Zarcanith.

“How long have you been at sea?”

“A few weeks.”

“Where did you come from?”

“Neverland,” sarcasm laced with his voice.

“Where did you plan to go?”
“Penisvannia,” he deadpanned. He was observing a poster called ‘Pennsylvania,’ and he was showered relentlessly with questions. He was beginning to get rather annoyed with this man. His chin was propped up on his palm, and he twirled the metal fork around his slender fingers before glancing up at Marcos’ long neck.

“How long have you been stranded?”

“A few days.”

Marcos narrowed his eyes. “A few days? But why don’t you look hung—”

Suddenly, Zarcanith plunged the fork into his throat, piercing through his fragile pale skin. It left the boy in gurgles and his brown orbs widened in dismay. Blood cascaded past his lips and the wound, staining his shirt. Marcos fell to his knees, his whole body trembling with fear and shock.

The corners of his lips twitched upwards as a white light exploded from his palm. The light took the shape of a spear, blades on each side, and the illumination disappeared. In his hands were a long steel pole and on each end was a crescent-shaped Damascus blade—reputed to be tough, resistant to shattering, and capable of being honed to a sharp, resilient edge. It is able to break skin, even with minimum pressure. Its serrations were wave-like, sliding in smoothly and doing maximum damage on the way out. And each time he would strike to and fro, would leave trails of blue light. It would not stand a chance against mere guns nor kitchen knives.

He towered over Marcos’ piteous figure, and he stared up in fear. Tears danced along his eyes and he opened his mouth—perhaps to beg and scream—but his gurgles drowned out his words. The crazed look in Zarcanith’s eyes grew as he swung his blade in full force, connecting with the boy’s neck.

The next thing he knew was Marcos’ head rolling along the floor and his headless body falling to the ground.

The lights, if any brighter, would have blinded him. But he honestly could have cared less. Aiden’s increasingly shrill vocals went so high that all of the band members stopped playing their assigned instruments. The constant beat of the drums were stopped after a sudden hit of the cymbals, which left a reverberating crash sweeping through the entire stadium.

Erik let his arms drop to his sides and left the strings of his guitar untouched after a frill pluck, as they all stared ahead at their frontman. As it concluded, the crowd which had been silent erupted into a deafening frenzy of applause and cheering, some time after Aiden’s amazing note.

It was as if time stopped for those few seconds, the high pitch still ringing in all of their ears long after it ceased. Aiden turned slowly, and with a huge grin on his face trailed over to his band mates. They flashed him small grins laced with praise, as the notes began to pick up again. Aiden headbanged near Erik as he let the guitar strings flow through his fingers like water, each and every thrum matching a constant tempo.

Sporting an ecstatic, beaming smile, Aiden trailed back to the front of the stage and clicked the microphone to the stand while basking in his own music high. Looking back at Erik, Alex, and Jacob, he closed his green eyes and began to wave an arm to and fro, whereas the crowd shortly began to mimic his very actions.

Erik gradually tapped his way over to Jacob who played the bass guitar with a steady cadence, bobbing his head to the intoxicating rhythm of music. It was all so vivid, that night in Bamborough… and as Aiden again set out to the task of belting out astonishing vocals, inspiriting hoots emerged from the crowd once more.

**

It was warm, laying in his arms.

Sol questioned this hopelessly pondered inquiry for the millionth time and with some effort, heaved himself up after rolling onto his stomach. Warm blue irises eyed a sleeping Erik hard, to watch for and catch any signs of lucidity. He wouldn’t want to wake his lover, and especially not now… but there was a more habitual hunger growing at the pit of Sol’s stomach, and he could tell just by the noises it began to make.

“Wow,” He muttered, gently swinging his pajama-clad legs over the side of the couch.

It took Sol longer than he thought to break the gaze from his lover, the latter sometimes wondering what he did to deserve such an exemplary man in his life. It always dawned on Sol like some sort of epiphany, that judging from how terrible a state of shambles their lives were in before they found one another, it might as well had been… meant to happen. Erik often joked about fate, but sometimes neither man could help but dwell on such trivial things.

Sighing, Sol pulled himself to his feet and subtly took a brisk glance towards the woman they picked up earlier, who definitely came to look a lot better over the few hours. Her originally icy, pale skin gained mutual color once more, and most of her clothes has dried. He had actually wanted to try and wake her up, but decided against it and preferred to let her come to consciousness on her own terms.

Hm… It still rose so many questions to his mind, though. Why did it look like this female was coming from some costume party, and how did she end up in the cold, icy road, during the middle of a raging snowstorm? ...maybe she had been mugged? Raped? Her clothes were terribly tattered, but despite its scarcity in quantity they were incredibly reinforced materials. What rapist could tear through that with bare hands?

Being ripped from his thoughts by another loud grumble deep within his persistent stomach, Sol gave in to the otherworldly pleads and creeped inside the kitchen, wincing as cold tile came in contact with bare feet. He gave himself some time to adjust to it before tiptoeing to the fridge, the need of a small snack to crave his late night hunger already flashing red lights in his head.
Opening the door, the first thing Sol honed in on was the jug of dairy milk.

“Okay…” He whispered, turning around with a hand on his hip only to see a readied box of Fruit Loops sitting on the kitchen table.

Perfect.

Zarcanith stared at Marcos’ lifeless corpse that sprawled out against the metal floors. Blood pooled around his decapitated neck and the headless body. His eyes traversed on the weapon that he held. It felt light and comfortable on his hands; like it was meant for him. He could not remember the last time he had held his weapon—since his followers had been doing the dirty work for him. A pleased sigh escaped his lips as he gazed upon the sin he had committed.

He froze when he heard footsteps that echoed off the halls inside of the cargo ship, announcing their arrival to all in a several hundred meter radius. A smile adorned his face as he stared at the door. He wanted whoever to see his beautiful masterpiece before he sends them to their demise.

“Uh… Marcos? You in there? I’m comin’ in,” a gruff voice reverberated outside of the door. The door knob turned and the man outside pushed the door open. He briefly met Zarcanith’s gaze before trailing down to Marcos’ corpse.

“What the fuck?!” He gasped, tripping over his own feet and his bum connected with the ground. He crawled away backwards, staring fearfully at the corpse. “Wha—? WHAT THE HELL?!” His eyes trailed to the large spear. Zarcanith smirked, obviously enjoying the man’s reaction. He literally feeds off of fear. Zarcanith took a step towards the man, chuckling.

“No! N-no… This isn’t real…”

The man had his gaze nailed into Zarcanith, all limbs immobilized. He rose that giant spear, ready to penetrate his body and devoid him of any life. Zarcanith brought down the spear with full force, leaving a trail of blue illumination. Time has seemed to slow down, the man had realized if he doesn’t move, he will die. All mobility returned to his body and he rolled out of the way. The spear connected with the ground, fracturing the ground. He breathed hard, backing away from the deadly weapon. His back hit the wall as he squeezed himself into the wall.

Zarcanith’s eyes flashed with surprise; he hadn’t expected the man to maneuver out of the way, escaping his weapon. A quiet laugh left his lips as he gazed at the man. He knew the human would be easy to kill…

…But he wanted to play with his prey.

Erik had been pleasantly snoring when his dream was disrupted with a gentle fondling of his shoulder.

“...hm..?” He hummed, opening a glazed gray eye to see his lover hovering over him. There was a familiar smell in the air, smelling of some fruit aroma that Erik has encountered before. Of course, aside from the intoxicatingly sweet smell of vanilla that usually came with Sol. The delicious fragrance followed his man all the time, so much that Erik began to wonder if that was in fact his natural scent.

Sol was tapping Erik’s shoulder as placid as he could, hoping to spoon feed his lover like a baby until he could pass out on the couch again. After all, Sol hadn’t done much but sit his perfect ass at the home office and type up a couple of chapters to a newest literature... all day.

“We should eat,” He said with a light smile, holding the cold bowl of cereal in his palms as he watched Erik sit up. “The woman's still needs to wake up.” After Erik was once again sitting upright, Sol plopped himself down next to him and set the food in his lap.

Damn, how long have they been out? Both men took a considerably long nap and the woman from earlier was still fast asleep. Well, it all depended on how bad the cold had actually set in… and with those clothes, who could blame her?

As his eyes trailed to what was emitting that tasty smell, the taller man’s auburn eyebrow cocked at a sharp angle. “Fruit loops?” Erik asked with some crooked, curious smile, looking into the bowl full of multicolored rings. He remembered seeing a half-empty box sitting at the kitchen counter for an extent of time after grocery shopping, but didn’t actually think his lover would think of it at two in the morning.

Sol looked up at Erik briefly before taking the metal spoon between his slender fingers and sticking a spoonful in the said man’s mouth. “Yes, Fruit Loops. How does being 14 again feel?” He teased, filling his own mouth with tasty cereal.

They sat there and talked about each other’s days, taking this sparse moment as their own. All week, neither man had much time for talking or even a proper cuddle, even sex staying out of the picture for a while. Sol was up all night, plotting, typing, and endlessly seeking whimsical writing ingenuity; whereas Erik would come home after a hard evening of rocking out or signing autographs for hours on his tired legs and crash upstairs. By the time Sol had enough work done at his Mac laptop; he, too, was tired enough to fall asleep right into a coffin.

Sticking the last full spoonful in his mouth, Erik set the nearly empty bowl back on the coffee table, propping his chin in his palms as he watched Sol speak visually and audibly. He loved the cute little theatrics the other was always doing with speaking, moving his hands and widening those adorable baby blue eyes to get points across. "Hmm." Erik hummed in acknowledgment to Sol's last words, taking a sip of his sparkling water. "My day was fine. Aiden did really well at the show... The crowd went fucking crazy."

"Oh?" Sol said, leaning forward until he could feel his lover's warm breath against his lips.

"Then I'm glad the band is working out. You came a long way for this." Sweeping some of Erik's disheveled, reddish brown mane out of beautiful gray eyes, Sol let him close the small distance and claim his lips in a feverish kiss.

Zarcanith watched the male press himself against the bulkhead; he had no way of escaping Zarcanith’s wrath. He was cornered, all frantic and his frightened orbs darting around… searching for any means of absconding the situation.

Silence stretched on over the two men and the definite potent as the man alleviates the fear and panic coiling around his entity. Zarcanith couldn’t help but release a chuckle when he stared down at the man’s piteous figure; he loved it when their visionaries were filled with fear and anxiousness, and that sinking feeling of despair when they realized that they could not escape their demise.

Zarcanith inched closer to the man; one step at a time. And the man’s eyes widens within every step Zarcanith takes, and compressing himself further against the wall. “S-stay away from me..!” The man could barely vocalize his words, drowning into whimpers. Zarcanith felt his smile widen at his pathetic words as he raised his spear. A scream left the man’s throat when the spear was thrusted upon the man’s stomach. The man screamed, his trachea beginning to flow with blood. Zarcanith retracted the spear, only to jab it into the man’s stomach. Again and again. Blood sprayed over his boots and his cargo pants, staining them in blood. The man’s agonized screams gave out to strangled gurgles and his dark eyes had begun to dull and all life faded away from them. His body fell limp and Zarcanith recoiled his spear, dismissing it from plunging into the man. He liked this masterpiece than the decapitated male. The whole room had a metallic smell and overflowed with blood. He turned his attention towards the door—it was time to leave.


Artemis’ eyes flashes open, only to be blinded by light. Her hands fly to her eyes and a whimper left her parched lips. Where was she? Is she dead…? The last thing she remembered was letting the darkness overcome her… She forced her eyes to reopen and her blurred sight limited her vision. She blinked a few times, her blurriness dissolving into sharpened focus. Her eyes furrowed and her eyes trailed around the particular room she was held in. She was laying on a couch with multiple layers of blankets that kept her warm. Her wandering eyes tore away from her figure and to the couch opposite to her…

Sol grabbed Erik’s strong thighs as if for dear life while the latter continued to ravage the velvety insides of his mouth, finding he might need some much obliged leverage soon.

When the air began to slowly drain from his own lungs, Erik let go of Sol’s thin lips and instead nibbled at the exposed neck surrendered so perfectly to him, leaving small love bites on the warm flesh. He relished the little noises that the other was making, pleading moans which would normally get him rock hard, but he was just too tired for any sex right now. At the moment, Erik would settle for a heated make-out session; groping and groaning like a horny teenager.

“Fuck… fucking mark me,” Sol demanded in a breathless, needy voice that he knew drove Erik crazy. He screwed his eyes shut as the latter’s curious hands snuck under his t-shirt and wandered up and down his chest, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Good thing he was too exhausted to actually want a quickie, or they would’ve been naked a long time ago…

Aside from those not so innocent thoughts, Sol was actually beginning to notice Erik’s hickeys hastily disappearing and felt glad to be marked again. As weird as it seemed, it made him feel full. Wherever he went, it reminded him of the love that constantly followed his being, an intimacy that would never die… as cheesy as that sounded.
Lost in his muses, Sol grasped Erik’s shoulders tighter, sure that the bruises left there would be blue as fuck… and that’s when he let other senses pick up.

As the hot breath on his neck and soft sounds Erik had been making became background elements, Sol felt a strange feeling.  

It was difficult, but eventually he looked to the side at the opposite couch... and his azure eyes noticed the woman’s viridescent irises clear as day; watching them so uncannily that his black eyebrows slowly raised with fraught. How long had she been watching them like that, all quiet and not attempting to alert them to her presence?

Erik was moving his way up, just below Sol’s earlobe when the man suddenly stiffened in his arms. Did he bite too hard? An oblivion of questions popped into Erik’s head left and right as he pulled his lips away from the other man’s thoroughly marked neck, only to see Sol’s eyes weren’t meeting his. “Babe?” Following the direction of the blue eyes, he noticed what his lover couldn’t break a solid stare from…

...the stranger has awaken.


MEANWHILE, IN NUXVAR…


“What do you mean he hasn’t been here in days? He is always here!” Xaryus questioned with the angriest eyes he could sport, pleased when the blacksmith’s tougher defense began to capitulate. He wasn’t sure if it was his painfully unconvincing expression or the elongated rapier strapped to his side doing that, though.

Darthius shrugged half-heartedly, slowly circling a wooden rack of finely sharpened sabers, all glinting with their own unique charisma. He noticed that for a moment Xaryus wanted to pick one up and inspect their sheer blades but the other held off his own urges; getting information on that maniacal brother of his was obviously more important at the moment.

“If I knew I would tell you,” Darthius swore, holding his worn hands up in a silent surrender. “But I don’t. That man is τρελός-”

“Hey, you seal your lips this instance,” Xaryus threatened with a flaming glare that widened his umber irises, unsheathing a glistening rapier and holding it to Darthius’ mouth in a hostile manner. He wouldn’t take kindly to those who insulted his kin, no matter how mad.

“Zarcanith’s mental state is not of your business, old man… and if you were to lie to me on behalf of any of the truths you’ve claimed to say today… you will pay with your life. Understood?”

There was a complete and utter silence that fell over the two men, noises of the town being drowned out by anxiety and some thick disquietude that crowded the air.

Wide-eyed, Darthius nodded his understanding and released a strained breath when Xaryus sheathed his thin sword and stormed away, as fast as he came. Its sharp sound erupted goosebumps on Darthius’ arms, leaving him frozen for a couple seconds more.
Damn, The Nuxavrian soldiers were never this rude before the fall of King Bethelemus. He was a blacksmith for the sake of the Gods, not an old man, or some lowlife peasant that could be spoken to and kicked around like shit. ανοησία! It would not work.

Casting a dirty glance in the direction of the young militant, Darthius threw some curly salt-and-pepper hair behind his ear and retreat to the warm insides of his tent.

When the two men broke their snogging and turned their gaze towards Artemis; A premonitory chill traced its icy way down her backbone when she met the most expressive eyes, expelling the exhaustion from her mind. They were the color of a clear blue sky through a broken prison wall; the color of a perfect raindrop on a blue aster; the color of river hurrying to join the great ocean. Artemis tore her eyes away from the male and met another pair of visionaries. Grey eyes like polished gun metal, the grey of the ocean an instant before dawn’s first rays strike the waters. Those eyes were embedded on Artemis’ form; ensnaring her from a moment in a net of intrigue.

A silence embedded itself over the exchange; shrouding the atmosphere in a subtle awkwardness. The grandfather clock ticked on and time dragged on interminably. Artemis was still trying to comprehend what was happening.

Her parched lips parted and these words left her lips; shattering the forbearance of speech:
“…I am not in the Underworld, am I…”

Eric stared for a couple moments more, his gray eyes flickering with uncertainty. He released the firm grip on his lover so they could stand up.

“So… you’re awake,” Erik said with a dubious tone, sparing a glance up at Sol only too see that infinite blue sky looking back at him. They stopped at her form on their suede couch, somewhat apprehensive towards the woman but at the same time curious of this anomalous situation. Erik had nothing against a little inexplicability in his life, but this was just entirely on another level. And he hadn’t forgotten about the handle, either; it stuck to the back of his mind like an unpleasant piece of gum.

When Sol heard of her comment on the Underworld, his perplexed thoughts were blown out of the water. Was this woman mentally unstable? Sol noticed the clothing she had been wearing and thought strange of it; but now his rational guesses were being questioned.

“Underworld?” He blurted out stupidly, shooting a glimpse at his lover who seemed just as dumbfounded. “What… do you mean?” They stood there, looking down at her and waiting for an explanation. It was needed all too badly.


…


“Gods damn it!”

Xaryus forcefully slammed the wooden door to his home as an angry growl of frustration erupt from his throat. It echoed off the walls, fueling a rage within the man that soon bubbled into a dangerous pot of rage. “Damn Belemia to hell…” He cursed, throwing his head back and closing his umber eyes in a fit. Xaryus stood there as stiff as a pole for some time, trying to control his madly beating heart. He was getting worked up, he knew it; but this situation was just too much to take in calmly.

Whipping around to face the door, Xaryus fixed his long gray cloak into place and grabbed his rapier once more, sealing it in the sheath strapped to his baggy linen pants, which were a pale green in color. Stepping outside, he felt the cool air tickle along his exposed torso, running a shudder through his entire body. Was this an omen from the Gods? Quickly looking into the clear beryl sky, Xaryus raised his arms up in praise;

“Great Zeus; ‘O mighty Gods of Olympus! You send your icy winds to this kingdom, Belemia… for my opposition to the will of the Gods is not to fracture the natural course of events… please, though my brother has sinned in your eyes watch over his rancorous spirit! For I pray he sins in vain. And now watch over me, as I venture to the great house of miracles, where I will conduct my own journey in the valley of despair...!"

Watering the roots of his sacred olive tree with the best white grape wine of his pantry, Xaryus prayed against his offering before embarking on an credulous hike downtown.

Emily frantically ran to the room where the cargo was held, her heavy but fraught steps echoing in her ears, lacing with the sound of her heart slamming against her chest. Her boyfriend, Matthew followed closely at her heels.

Ever since the captain let Zarcanith in, she had been wary of the man. When Marcos volunteered to escort him to one of the quarters below, she kept persisting that he shouldn’t but he insisted, curious to know what the man had gone through. When she heard Marcos’ scream that alerted the whole crew, she took action and went into hiding. She refused to die.

She traversed through the halls, turning a sharp left. There, she saw the door that led to the cargo holds. She grabbed Matthew’s hand and tugged when he stiffened, his gaze casted over his shoulder.

His voice was hushed, “Emily, I heard something…”

“Come on! We have to hide—I bet that Zarcanith guy is up to something! I am not planning to die today!”

“But—”

She angrily wrenched his frozen form and dragged him into the room after pulling the door open. As they entered the room; various crates cluttered the room ranging from metal receptacles to plastic containers, the room was illuminated by dull fluorescent lights, lighting their ways.

Emily’s blood ran cold when she heard the tympanic rhythm of boots beating against the metal grounds; whoever it was, did not bother to muffle its steps as if it wanted to announce itself. Her heart resumed its race, pounding against her chest as if it wanted to hammer itself out. “Matthew! Matthew!” Her urgent but hushed voice carried itself to Matthew’s ears and he turned his attention towards Emily. “H-he’s coming! We have to hide…!”

Matthew’s eyes widened in alert as his frantic eyes searched for a place to hide. As for Emily, she was already climbing in a crate, her small figure allowed her to slip into a wooden crate almost easily. Matthew panicked when he heard the footsteps outside of the door come closer and closer. He quickly wove around the crates and containers, heading towards Emily. “Emily…!”

He attempted to squeeze into the crate with Emily but she shoved him out. “What the hell are you doing?! Go find your own hiding place! It’s too tight here!” She snapped, anger propelling towards him. If she dies because of him—

Suddenly, she heard the door creaking open and silence fell heavily upon the room. Her eyes widened when she realized that Matthew had not found a hiding place…

“W-what the hell… Stay the hell away from me!” She heard panic lacing Matthew’s voice as a hollow steps connected with the floor, inching closer and closer. She heard Matthew tripping, falling to his side with a whimper.

“What are you…”

“What are you doing?!”

“No! No! Stay the fuck away from me!”

Emily squeezed her eyes shut when she discerned a blade cut cleanly through flesh; a spatter; following by a scream. Emily clamped a hand against her mouth, capturing her breath within her trachea. She heard Matthew’s screams of agony and despair die down to gurgling as if blood has filled his throat and he is vocals gave out to gurgles. She heard his body crashed to the ground and the footsteps descending out of the room.

But she dared not breathe.

***

Artemis blinked confusingly as she propped her body up with one elbow, wincing at the great purple welts that will only deepen over time. Against her skin they are grotesque but she was lucky to have anything serious during the fight with Zarcanith. She tilted her head up, meeting their apprehensive gazes laced with curiosity. She ignored the confusion on their faces when she mentioned the Underworld.

“Where am I…?”

“Free of charge? Are you lucid, Palaemon?” Xaryus watched the aged magician shuffle around his makeshift tent, expressive eyes wide with hesitance. For what he had been asking, it costed a fortune. “I request a glimpse into my very destiny... This is surely the work of a mastermind! And you wish for nothing in return?” He stared, astonished at the fairly old man that smiled back at him while shaking a cylinder of liquids.

“I can see it in your heart that you are unsure, Xaryus…” Palaemon began with a hard, raspy voice, vigorously churning the contents of his pot before pouring what had been within the cylinder inside. “And for this I will grant you reassurance. This is but a starting block to your adventure, but alas, a beginning all the same.”

The wise suggestion rang in Xaryus’ mind as if it were the words of a prophecy, something only an oracle could conjure upon her tongue. With a deep, satisfied sigh, he stood there awaiting the work of the magician to be completed.

“...and if I lose my drive?” Xaryus finally asked after a long moment of silence, closely watching Palaemon’s skilled hands create various concoctions. There were many questions he had; including exactly what journey he would have to overcome.

And Zarcanith, oh, the shame… his elder brother had bought revile upon Xaryus’ head after nearly killing his friends in a fit of rage… leaving them black and blue for their mothers to see! How cruel he had been on that day; distant and avoidant, never willing to as much as apologize for embarrassing his closest relative.

But what had Xaryus expected? After the murder of their father, Zarcanith never as much as consumed dinner with his family. Awake early in the mornings and returning home late at nights, Xaryus even at his young age somehow figured none of it would end right. He felt helpless, watching the other withdraw from all love in his life… but there was nothing he could do.

“And it is complete!”

Xaryus was broken from his somber thoughts, focusing his umber irises back on the small old man which had the pot gripped in his wrinkled hands. Xaryus uncrossed his arms and pushed off of the wall he had been leaning on, stepping forward. “Complete? This brew?” He questioned, looking into the kettle. It was a swirl of grays and oranges, strange hues which were not usually mixed in a pot.

But before he could even begin to wonder, Palaemon suddenly hurled the liquids at the opposite side of the gold and green striped tent, splattering it across the surface. Xaryus stood there, curious, waiting for what the magician would do next.

Palaemon chanted ancient prayers in Greek; Xaryus nodding his agreement through the praise. And when Palaemon turned around and smiled, he knew the process had been nearly over.

“... What is it?” Xaryus asked with squinted eyes, analyzing the picture brought before him by the concoction. A large structure it seemed; square and illuminated with fine yellow lights. The walls were not built with sanded woods… What was this mockery?

How could this image possibly be an insight on his destiny?

Ready to turn and confront this tricky Palaemon in a rage, Xaryus suddenly felt palms on his back; pushing him closer to the image. In a panic, he widened his eyes; careless footing being lost. The short combat boots were not enough to break his fall; and when Xaryus’ hurling body came in contact with the strange image, he felt his vision becoming shrouded by a darkness, despite the fact that he had been in sunlight nearly seconds ago.

Wind whistled in Xaryus’ ears, soon becoming unbearable. There was no ground beneath his feet, it had been lost in stupefaction. Where was he? A feeling of bewilderment spread within his mind, especially now when everything around him seemed to disappear into thin air...



***



Erik put a hand on his cocked hip and looked towards Sol when his lover began to explain to the woman. She was either really confused, or that cold took a heavy toll on her head.

“You’re at our house.” Sol gestured with his dainty hands, not wanting to perplex their guest any further. “I’m Sol, and this is Erik. We found you on the road in the middle of a snowstorm… are you alright?”

“...and what is your name?” Erik added subtly, scratching at his beard stubble.

Artemis propelled her attention towards Sol, “yes… I am fine. My name is Artemis.”

The room held two couches that were opposite to each other were inlaid with a fine grey leather blanketed with suede cloth; patterns embroidered so delicately. The couch was soft to the touch and comfortable. Against the wall was a vintage grandfather clock. It was alive. It had a ticking heartbeat, and the mechanical gears breathed and vibrated as they slid against each other with a metallic click, chiming with a chorus of bells and dramatic enumeration of each hour of the day. The floor is hardwood, completely devoid of any litter or dust. There was a door off to the side that led to another room and a stairway that led upstairs. At the center, a black rectangle, mirror-like screen attached to the wall—she did not know what the particular object was. Two rectangle objects was on the front of the screen, with many buttons along with hand-held controller things with many buttons as well.

How strange.

Artemis blinked, she had collapsed... and these two men had found her… her green opalescent visionaries focused onto the two males. These men must want an explanation… after all, they had found her in a middle of a blizzard—she glanced down at her tattered and worn clothing—with these clothes.
She parted her lips briefly before closing them. Would they really believe her…? She doubted it but, they do deserve an explanation… and a thank you.

“Thank you—Thank you for saving me,” her head dipped in respect and her eyes closed briefly before opening them, “if you had not found me, I would have died… I suppose you would like an explanation?”

Xaryus felt like he was falling back first into oblivion. The wind which wouldn’t cease to create a foul noise in his hearing became louder the longer he fell. Slightly turning his vision over his shoulder, Xaryus gasped in awe; he was getting closer to that strange structure which he saw in Palaemon’s tent. As a matter of fact, catapulting straight towards it! In a fit of trepidation, Xaryus wiggled his arms and legs best he could but the speed at which he had been falling wouldn’t allow him much movement. Blast it!

“By the GODS!” Xaryus screamed in horror, closing his eyes as he waited for the impact.


***


Sol played with the longer side of his hair, looking down at Artemis with a growing fondness. She didn’t seem mad, at all; quite the opposite. And the way that she dipped her head in a strange form of respect had Sol wondering what part of New York she came from.
“No problem…” He replied with relief thick in his voice, black painted fingernails shining against the heavy lighting of their home.

Erik nodded at her thanks, but still had been skeptical of this whole ordeal. Until this Artemis woman would explain to them her story, he wouldn’t stop thinking these crazy thoughts. “Well hell yes, of course we’d like an explanation.” It was still amazing to him how Artemis didn’t suffer any acute hypothermia, with her fingers and face being as cold as the sidewalk when they bought her in. There were a lot of things about her that seemed off.

She opened her mouth and was ready provide them with some answers when a loud crack sounded. Wood cascaded down on all three of them, large chips that apparently was coming from their roof. Erik looked up frantically, only to briefly see a body falling down and landing directly besides him.

Two loud grunts were heard; the higher pitched one obviously being… SOL?!

With wide eyes, Erik slowly looked down at where his lover had just been standing, perceiving a man sprawled out on top of him, seemingly conscious. “What the… what the fuck is this?!” He bent down and rolled the stranger off of his lover, who was in a nearly unconscious daze. Silently praying that nothing hit Sol’s precious head, Erik helped the latter up and dusted him off, helping him sit on the couch.

“Just stay here baby…” Erik cooed, inspecting the black and pink hair before turning his attention to their latest complication.

Artemis’ form was forgotten on the couch as Erik stepped over the rubble of their roof in distraught, his large gray eyes flickering up towards the ceiling. Goddamn. The hole was huge, and small pieces of wood still sprinkled from it. Eventually snow found its way through and relentlessly began to create a small pile on the floor. A cold draft navigated its way inside as well; but thank goodness their expensive central heating kept a majority of it outside.

When he finally reached the brunette male, Erik squat down in front of him and stared, more strange clothing filling his eyes. A long cardigan which had been derived from a soft gray fabric; shirtless garb which only sprang more confusion to his mind, baggy linen pants which were a soft green in color, and short black combat boots. Everything about this clothing seemed different… but very similar to Artemis’. Holy shit.


***


It took him awhile to realize he was crashing through a roof, but when Xaryus could actually comprehend what was happening he found himself on the ground of what appeared as a large home. Perhap it belonged to the grandmaster? Too stunned from his predicament and the searing pain in his side, Xaryus let himself be rolled off of what seemed like another person and lay there, dumbfounded… blinking his eyes to remove the blur. Lights filled his vision and the arm which he laid on began to throb painfully… with a fall like that, how could it not?

Bare footsteps against the hardwood slightly reverberated into Xaryus’ body, and then a man was leaning over him, inspecting his form. Xaryus sat up with quick movements which caused the man near him to stumble backwards and stared at each and every person within his vicinity, umber irises dilated in fear and confusion.

Corpses littered around by Zarcanith’s feet, the sickening smell of metal and flesh blanketing the air in a choking aroma. Their throats have been cut, their stomachs slashed open as they lay like butchered animals in a waste of blood. One corpse had hung from the railing of the deck, his mouth open, the head almost cleft from the body.

Zarcanith’s eyes were pinned in the severed vessels, sticking like corrugate pipes through the clotted blood. And another corpse was propped, ungainly as a ragdoll, against a far wall. His head had drooped forward and over his chest was a mat of blood that had spread like a bib. He gazed at the mess he had made and a smile graced his joyful figure. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed genocide until now.

He maneuvered around the few dozens of corpses and halted after the captain’s mutilated body. A crazed chuckle left his lips; he was pretty sure that he had killed everyone on the cargo ship. Exulting of the murders he had committed, he treaded across the metal grounds towards the headquarters.
Pulling open the door, he found that it was empty. Walking over to the heavy metals that held various buttons and levers, two large monitor screens were at each side and windows lined the walls, allowing the visual of the seas before him.

He gave the controls a disdainful look, before planting his hands firmly onto the metal slabs. There, he channeled an abundance of energy into the metal, spreading throughout the ship. He felt part of his energy being sapped away, making him stagger, but regained his composure. And for a brief second, the ship was enveloped in a strange but dim illumination before disappearing. And in a matter of moments, Zarcanith gained control of the ship.


***


Artemis’ gaze locked onto the figure that came crashing through the room. A familiar face; a face that she had known for a long time. It was the man who she had a great fondness for, who she respected. He was her archenemy’s brother. Xaryus. But her shock was quickly replaced with anger when he carelessly just crashed through the roof, alarming the two males.

She quickly shot up from her place, her eyes pinned onto Xaryus. His eyes were wide in fear and confusion and Artemis decided to acknowledge the male.

“Xaryus! Τι στο όνομα των Θεών κάνεις εδώ?! Είσαι τρελός?! Μπορείτε φοβάται τους ανθρώπους ήμισυ έως το θάνατο! Είμαστε σε μια άγνωστη διάσταση, ότι δεν ξέρουμε τίποτα για σας και αποφάσισε να βαλς από την οροφή?!” Artemis began to scold the brunette in Greek, foreign to Sol’s and Erik’s ears.

(Translation: What in Gods' name are you doing here?! Are you mad?! You scared the humans half to death! We are in an unknown dimension, that we know NOTHING about and you decided to waltz in through the roof?!)

Erik inched away from the two people who now began to lightly argue, although Artemis was doing most of the talking. The man who apparently was named Xaryus frowned heavily upon Artemis’ scolding, which hadn’t even been in fucking English.

“This is a really bad nightmare…” Sol quietly mumbled from his place on the couch, still wincing in pain from nearly being crushed into the floor.

Hearing his lover’s acknowledgment to the situation, Erik stepped over the mess of wood once more and back to his lover, standing in front of him. “Are you alright?” He asked, soothingly rubbing his thumbs into Sol’s shoulders. They talked for a minute or so and then turned their attention back to their two guests, who had stopped bickering. The Xaryus man stood on his two legs and brushed himself off, scratching his head at another onslaught from the woman.

“Αλλά... Πραγματικά δεν σήμανα να συντριβή μέσω τους στέγη... ήταν αυτό πονηρός μάγος! Αυτός εξαπάτησής μου!”

(Translation: But... I really didn't mean to crash through their roof... it was this sly magician! He tricked me!)

Sol’s face lit up like a bulb appeared above his head and he looked back up at his lover like he had won the lottery. “They’re speaking the native language of Greece… and quite fluently.” Blue eyes continued to stare at Erik, hoping he would catch on to what he meant.

“Speaking Greek… chitons…” Erik looked at Sol in his realization, slate eyes widening in disbelief. He bent over and whispered into Sol’s ear, “Ancient Greece? Are you shitting me?”

Sol nodded quickly, his eyes just as wide. Either they were really in a stupidly ridiculous dream, or…

He quietly watched Xaryus stand as if nothing had happened, brushing off those strange green pants. They looked like a combination of slacks and pajamas. “How the fuck are you not limping across the living room right now?” Sol suddenly asked with a sliver of rage in his rising voice. He noticed Erik place a hand firmly on his hip, probably to calm him down but he could have cared less at the moment.

“And why the hell are you crashing through our roof? Where did you come from?!” Sol huffed, his face reddening. He looked towards Artemis with livid blue eyes. “And you. Why the fuck are you dressed like this? Why are either of you dressed like that? What is that strapped to your waist?” Sol pointed out the thin rapier that sit sheathed on Xaryus’ figure.

Erik noticed Sol’s rising tone and gently squeezed his hip, trying to pacify his raging temper. It was an enervating situation but yelling wasn’t going to get them anywhere. “Babe…” He began slowly, looking over at Artemis and Xaryus subtly. “...calm it…”

“Don’t tell me to calm the hell down, Erik,” Sol retorted sharply, pulling his hip out of the latter’s reach. He walked forwards and closer to their guests, icy cerulean eyes flashing with barely any tolerance. “Now, someone better explain and right fucking now,” He hissed, both hands on his hips in an irritated manner.

The hair on the back of Artemis’ bristled at Sol’s sudden outburst, but her features betrayed no emotions as her iridescent green orbs gazed back at cerulean ones.

“I-I sincerely apologize for your roof…” Her eyes averted before trailing to back his face. She released a sigh that she was encasing within her trachea. “You… May not believe me. And I won’t blame you if you don’t.

“I—we,” she casts a glance towards Xaryus, “are not from your world. It all started when an archenemy of mine—Zarcanith—found me in Nuxvar, demanding for the dagger. The dagger possess great power, I could not allow him to get his hands around the dagger. We fought for the dagger—however, it broke and it created some portal that led me… to your dimension.”

Artemis expression grew grave as her eyes fell upon the ground. “And before I knew it, I woke up here… I-I understand if you want us to leave.” A weary but crestfallen expression filled her eyes as her arms fell limply to her sides.

Sporting a good enough pokerface, Xaryus stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets and subtly looked at Artemis when she began to explain her story. He, too had been hearing this for the first time and discovering information of his elder brother's whereabouts sprang anxiety to his heart. Artemis and Zarcanith? Fighting? After all these long years of separation? His full lips parted as if to say something but he quickly closed them when Sol’s agitated blue gaze flickered over at him.

Damn it, why did he have to be a fool and visit Palaemon? That tricky little snake. A wizard! Gah, why would he trust a wizard? Daft, vacuous Xaryus. He scolded himself some more before looking over at the other man, Erik was his name? Gray eyes were shifting between each person, though behind his emotionless irises Erik had obviously been lost in thought…


***


Without so much as blinking, Sol stared off into the distance for a couple moments after hearing Artemis’ explanation. She seemed to be sure of what her details suggested; but how in the name of hell could he believe something like this? Different worlds and dimensions? Fighting over some sacred dagger that teleports people? And what type of name was Zarcanith?

Sol would’ve laughed if she wasn’t so serious about it.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Artemis,” He deadpanned, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “I won’t push you two out into a damned blizzard… but come on!” Sol threw his arms up. “Can you two at least tell me something I’ll begin to believe? I love Star Wars and all but that explanation really is absurd.”

Erik was sitting on the couch, his chin propped up into his palm. He didn’t even know what to feel about this situation. Good thing Sol was handling it, or he would’ve said something inappropriate. “... I’m going to get a beer,” He announced after the room went quiet, standing up and trailing to their kitchen. Maybe some alcohol would loosen the tight gears in his mind and allow these thoughts to process better.

“How exactly would we lie about something so absurd?” Xaryus questioned as he quoted Sol's words, already thinking on how he would react to a fine display of magic.