Killing Olympia

He made me stagger through the dark, a chain of hardened flesh coiled around my throat and painfully binding my hands together. I couldn't see anything in front of me. My feet gave out more time than I could count, sending me to the ground hard enough to bruise my knees. I would stay there, shaking, barely able to pick myself up and keep walking—that's when the flesh around my throat would tighten, gagging me, forcing me to crawl and scrape my hands bloody and raw until I gathered the strength to stand back up again. I couldn't think. Not when my entire body ached. The fight had withered. The fire had dimmed. The cold bit my skin, cutting through my wounds and making me shiver. I kept going because I didn't have a choice. All I knew was that he was still there behind me.

His shoes snapped against the old stone, their echo so sharp it hurt. He hadn't spoken in…I don't know. Didn't know what time it was, where I was, or where he was even taking me. Lucian only made sure I didn't stop long enough to rest, to catch my breath and let my thoughts arrange themselves. I wheezed. I bled. I coughed and I collapsed again and again. And I don't really know why I kept going. Maybe it was my body on auto-pilot, maybe it was what mom had spoken about, that ambition, that drive, that had poured out of her and filled my bloodstream.

At the end of it all, it didn't really matter—it was the silence, how loud it was, that was getting to me, because I could hear my body complaining, whispering its agony every time my bones clicked and my muscles locked. Nobody was here, not even my powers. I tried and tried to make a spark, a tiny thing that would bloom in my hands and would push the cold that little bit further away. Nothing came. I could barely make my aching lungs expand, let alone creating tendrils of electricity so violent and furious they'd tear apart the darkness in seconds.

"I've never quite understood you," Lucian said quietly. I'd fallen again. Didn't even realize it. Half my face was pressed against the filthy sewer stone. Every breath was weak, withered, exhausted—he stood over me. I could smell my blood on the soles of his shoes. "Your father had so much…applause. So many accolades. In his day, superheroes were sought after. Award ceremonies. Money so grand it made me jealous." Silence. I shut my eyes. Get up, Ry, come on. I brought my hands closer to my body, my face to the floor, then pushed upward. I fell again. He remained quiet, watching, as I forced myself off the ground. "There was a reason for so many to do what they did. Their feats amazing. Their talents unimaginable. They hounded fame and glory, and they were rewarded." I got to my feet. Swayed. Fell against the side of the tunnel, digging my bloody fingernails into the stone. "And yet you receive nothing. Sure, people may love you in pockets, but overall?" Lucian got closer. Close enough for the icy air wrapped around him to sting. Hands in his pockets. Directly facing me. I looked through my hair, mouth hanging open as I breathed shakily. "Why?" he asked quietly. "You kill yourself for them, and yet you're alone in the dark."

I lowered my hands, keeping only one on the wall for balance. I looked at the floor, at my feet and the dirt clinging to them. My clothes were ruined. My hair was torn and my skin bleeding. I swallowed, looking upward.

And then kept walking, slowly, my soles sending shards of pain up my calves with every step.

Lucian followed, walking beside the monsters of flesh with their chains of skin hooked around my throat and wrists. If he spoke, I didn't hear it. If I fell, I only noticed when my mouth suddenly tasted of grit. I walked.

Just like how I didn't need a reason anymore for being who I was. If people liked me or hated me or in the slightest off chance even loved me, then that was just a bonus. I… My mind blanched. My temples pulsed. I shook my head, feeling like the entire subway was swaying and spinning. A chill crawled down my spine. The silence had gotten louder, worse—and there I was, lying on the floor, unmoving, eyes empty, blood trickling out of my mouth. I looked down at my hands, suddenly feeling light, airy, looser—no more agony, and it almost felt like I'd just dived into the ocean in winter. I breathed, filling my lungs, then ran my fingers through my hair. It felt oily. Loose. And all I could do was watch Lucian stand over my body, nudge me with his foot, then sigh through his nose and tell the creature with dozens of eyes and limbs and boils of flesh to pick me up and carry me the rest of the way forward.

They walked through me, leaving a white, smoky essense lingering in the air.

I tensed my jaw, now standing beside It, watching the devil carry my body into the dark.

"So," I said quietly. The flicker of static and shadows seemed to turn and look at me. "That's it?"

The end?

My body was in the same state when I had first met It. A body made of stars and scars that glowed with a soft white color. My hair was like black stardust, but the tunnel was still dark, the shadows whispering and watching as my body was dragged along the floor, as if they were starving, hungry, looking for something to satiate them. And all I can do is watch, I thought. It wouldn't matter if I spoke—the only thing that could hear me was the being beside me. The shadows and the dirt and the devil didn't react to the spacy echo my voice made amongst the dark.

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"You have persevered," It said, moving forward, sliding soundlessly through the air. For a moment, I didn't follow. I put one hand on my hip and the other massaged my eyes. Why am I still so tired? "Well, God Butcher?"

I looked up. It was waiting for me, churning the shadows around it into a dark, stewing, flickering mess. I walked beside It, watching my body get dragged along like a bag of broken limbs. I didn't speak. Neither of us did.

Finally, I whispered, "It's not meant to end here. You said it yourself, right? I've still got so much—"

"The universe and its many faces are…complex," It said. "There will never be an explanation which can satisfy the human mind. It's simply incomprehensible. An ant does not understand your infrastructure, your technology, your cultures and your societies—it understands its work, its purpose, and its goal. What is, has always been, and what has always been, will always be. One way or another, Rylee Addams, you will fail, you will die, you will live, and you will very rarely succeed. I have had this conversation with you many times. I seek your soul in each reality, and yet…" Lucian stopped walking, and we did, too. "And yet you evade me. You shift the balance of worlds beyond your own, always, all the time, no matter what, and how curious, don't you think? Why you, Ry'ee?"

"I don't know," I whispered, glancing at It. I opened my mouth to speak, but then my words caught in my throat, and I paused, letting the silence linger. I swallowed, then cleared my throat. "I guess I'm a sucker for it."

For life, for…I don't know, maybe I really do just love being who I am, because I wouldn't be anyone else in the entire world. Sure my life could've been different, maybe better, if I'd just been stronger, or faster, or maybe even someone else entirely. But then that wouldn't be me. I didn't break the bones I have, I didn't bleed all over this city from the Upper West, to the bay area, to the filthiest parts of Lower Olympus, just to hate myself. Maybe Em was right—I need to be kinder to myself, but I guess…I guess it doesn't matter. I've cheated death one too many times, and maybe this is it. From the moment I taught myself to fly, to the classes I missed, to the arguments with mom, and it all comes down to…this. Another body dead in the dark. Another body missing in Lower Olympus.

Lucian had reached a wall, something different from the tunnel and its weak stone. A soft pulsing golden light illuminated the dark, making the blood dripping out of my fleshy wounds more garrish, darker, meatier. I kept my mouth shut and stared at the symbol in front of Lucian. I thought I'd never see it in my life, because it's only ever been in my nightmares ever since I left Arkath. That's our family crest, I thought. Families of Power, that's what they called us. Soldiers who wrote their names into the stars and drove their bloodline's stake into the foundation of the Empire's bedrock. Five generations of my family, dad and Titan second only to my grandfather and Founders.

But how was it this far deep inside the city? How long have we been here?

It was a golden crest, one that came off the black steel wall it was embossed on. A shield with a Greek omega symbol split in two by a bolt of lightning, surrounded by runes in Old Arkathian I couldn't understand. In some ways, it almost looked Nordic, but just a little off, not right. I swallowed, folding my arms and rubbing my biceps. I wasn't cold. The dark just felt restless as the crest pulsed like it had its own heartbeat. Lucian moved aside, letting the creature of flesh force my palm against the symbol, smearing my blood on the metal, tainting the light.

The golden light vanished. Then an airy, slightly animated voice said, "Genetic match: 63%. Irregularities detected. Deficiency: homosapien. Viruses detected: Unknown Virus." Silence. The light came back on. Lucian tensed his jaw and glanced at my body. I waited, picking my skin, then: "Legacy: Rylee Adira Korr. Family of Power: House of Korr, Daughter of Thaddeus, Granddaughter of Great Conqueror Leona. Access Granted." The light brightened, the metal wall hissed, breaking into seams that silently decompressed, gushing air into the tunnel that blew dust and gravel and my body's hair into a wild mess. The monster of flesh turned itself into a garrish wall, protecting Lucian until the wall had separated, and a corridor illuminated by golden balls of light stretched out in front of him. If I could breathe, my breaths would've hitched in my throat. Is this dad's tomb?

He had this place down here the entire time when he was alive? How many people knew about it?

Did Lucian always know?

Lucifer walked into the corridor of light, my body dragged behind him, my blood glaringly reflective off the silver ceiling stretching above him. I swallowed and let my arms hang by my sides, standing in the light's corona just outside the tunnel, watching him get deeper and deeper inside Zeus' tomb. It was silent, loud with silence to the point it rang in my head. My stomach twisted when they vanished around a corner, the only evidence of anyone being there at all was my blood, the long, winding smear that oozed into the floor and slowly dried up.

The door shuddered, hissed, then slowly began closing, cutting off the light pouring into the tunnel. The darkness crawled that little bit closer, suffocating and tall and leering, reaching out to me with their long fingers.

My family's crest pulsed, a heartbeat of soft golden light.

"Shall we, Rylee?" It asked quietly.

I slowly led the way in.