Dante sat and watched the lava splash restlessly against the bank of the Acheron. The ever-flowing river was full of souls, the cleaned and diluted essences of that which were once people like himself. It was a harrowing thought. His current role allowed ample room for that. Charon sat silently on the vessel glaring at nothing. The ancient ones were a terrifying breed. Once people themselves, it was hard to imagine how much humanity each retained, just like the souls. It did no good to ponder on it for too long. Dante was not an ancient one, but his expedition through the other realms had granted him the rights to keep his body and serve as an eternal record-keeper. In the limited sense that humanity understood the concept, he was immortal now.
His attention quickly diverted as a sound behind him jerked his head backwards. Charon didn't flinch. Dante looked on in awe as the elevator descended. They weren't exactly swamped with visitors down here. Cerberus took care of that small matter. He glanced back at Charon who nodded. That was a cue for Dante to do the asking. He gave a weary sigh. He didn't like doing this, he just didn't look or act the part. The figure stepped forth into the fiery cavern. It was a tall and foreboding looking man carrying a sword. Dante swallowed nervously. Immortality, as humanity understood it, wasn't quite secure enough.
The figure lowered his hood and glared at Dante. The eyes caught his attention immediately. They were dark blue but they contained a depth never before seen in mortals. This was a very powerful man. They burned with a certain energy. The man himself had long black hair, parted down the middle and tied back in a firm knot. He had a beard that outmatched Dante's own. Smiling, the man stepped forth as Dante challenged him awkwardly.
"Halt! Who goes there?"
The figure just smiled menacingly. Dante looked back at Charon for support. None was going to be had. The ferrymaster wasn't what you'd call much of a conversationalist.
"I uhh...you must pass over precisely one obol and no argument to be had. In exchange you shall have voyage to the realm of the damned."
The figure stood silently as Dante mentally gave up. This wasn't going to go easily.
"I don't have payment old man. My payment is my sword."
He held it aloft threateningly.
"It was payment enough for the monks up there. They soon decided it was sensible to let me go. Especially when you consider the fact it's imbued with my own magic. A power which could certainly cause harm even to the likes of you. So what do you say? Do I still need a wretched obol?"
Dante stepped back fearfully as he shunted himself right into another figure. Charon was standing there silently. Dante let out a pathetic yelp as he dived back and hid in the ferry. Charon reached down and lifted a hideous looking blade. The man grinned, this was more like it. He leapt back and swung his blade forth in a brutal arc which was matched by Charon. Silently, Charon matched every swing that followed. The two moved back and forth across the banks of the Acheron as Dante looked on in awe. With another brutal swing, the hooded man jumped back and raised his left hand. A blue energy formed in the air around it as a darkness enveloped everything. Suddenly, a thick bolt of electricity surged from the glowing hand. Charon raised his sword and caught the brunt of the energy, which grounded itself around him.
The battle raged for quite some time, with the man showing signs of weakness. He in no way had the power to match an ancient one. He sat down pitifully as Charon raised his blade to the man's neck. The figure closed his eyes and focused before quickly thrusting his arm outwards. It sent a blast of energy careening into the Acheron itself. The energy disrupted something as the lava swirled unsteadily. Strange blue wisps leapt in all directions. He'd disrupted the flow of souls. Charon moved swiftly to the bank and swung his sword into the river. The disruption settled, as the hooded figure swung his own sword. With a horrifying snap, Charon's head detached from his body and the headless form teetered unsteadily forth, crashing with an almighty splash into the river.
The lava bubbled over the headless form as a horrifying shrieking noise filled the air. His arms swung upwards, looking for some kind of purchase as the blue wisps that were once mortals, swarmed over it and sought to submerge it completely. And suddenly all was silent. There was no more struggling. Charon was gone.
"Care to join him?" the figure asked Dante who was still glaring into the lava with a look of terror.
"Fair enough. You may take passage. But mark my words, you shall get not much further in any case."
The hooded figure climbed aboard the ferry as Dante took up position as the ferryman rather awkwardly.
"Minos doesn't frighten me. It's been far too long since we crossed paths anyway."
The journey was tumultuous but the hooded figure kept his resolve quite well. Finally the ferry docked on the black shore. Strange shapes weaved their way through the red air, shapes that belonged to inhuman forms. This didn't phase the onlooker in the slightest, who stood tall amidst the barrage on his senses, even as the curdling screeching boomed out. Dante couldn't stand it personally. And finally, the large figure stormed out, wielding a huge sword. It was a heavy-set knight, enormous in stature and seemingly consuming the very room it stepped forth into.
"Well met, fat king. Did you get to choose that form? If it's supposed to be intimidating, I have to say the effect is wasted one me completely."
Minos snarled.
"A MISERABLE LITTLE JESTER WASHED UP ON MY FAIR SHORE. NEEDLESS TO SAY, YOUR JOURNEY ENDS HERE WILLIS. SO WITH IT GOES YOUR LIFE. I HAVE WAITED A VERY LONG TIME TO CARRY OUT YOUR SENTENCE."
Willis lifted his own blade.
"Why the booming voice? It doesn't become you Minos. You were always good at shouting without thinking through the course of actions so it fits I suppose."
"AND YOU WERE ALWAYS GOOD AT RUNNING. THIS TIME YOU WON'T ESCAPE THOUGH."
Willis was nonplussed by the threat completely as he swung forth with his blade calmly. Minos matched it without a pause.
"I REMEMBER KNOSSOS LIKE IT WAS ONLY YESTERDAY. THROUGH HISTORY, THRONGS OF HEROES HAVE BEEN REQUIRED TO TAKE DOWN GREAT EVILS. AND YET, THESEUS WAS ENOUGH FOR YOUR PUNY REGIME. JUST ONE MAN. HOW PITIFUL."
Willis snarled. Mention of Theseus was like nails on a chalkboard. That name did things to him. He remembered Knossos too. He'd been forced into exile thanks to that damn sword. But soon it would be his and he could complete his master plan. Soon he would have Pandora. And then it would all be different. He dived to avoid a swing from the blade of Minos.
"TELL ME WILLIS, WHY DO YOU RETURN NOW AFTER SO MANY EONS HIDING LIKE A RAT? YOU'VE COME FOR THE SWORD HAVEN'T YOU? ALL THESE YEARS IN MEDITATION AND TRAINING, AND THAT ONE BLADE STILL COMMANDS MORE POWER THAN YOUR ENTIRE FORM? PATHETIC."
Willis dashed forth and struck hard against the sword of Minos. He was fuming now. His emotions were his weakness.
"It will all be undone, fat king. My only regret is you won't have a memory in which to know how I bested you. What I wouldn't give to find some way to gloat."
"THE FUNNY THING IS WILLIS, HE CALLED ME BY THE SAME NAME. THAT'S HOW IT IS ISN'T IT? AN ETERNITY SPENT LAMENTING THE LIFE OF ANOTHER. AND YET WITH EVERY FIBRE OF YOUR BEING, YOU WANT HIS LIFE. IT'S NOT JUST HIS SWORD IS IT? YOU WANT TO BE HIM. HE HAD THE POWER, THE PRESTIGE AND EVERYTHING YOU COULD NEVER QUITE MUSTER. HE BESTED YOU AND THE ONLY THING YOU CAN DO IS STILL HIS RIDICULOUS INSULTS. HE EVEN HAD MY DAUGHTER'S HAND. FACE IT WILLIS, YOU WILL ALWAYS BE AN INFERIOR MAN. IN EVERY LIFETIME."
Willis let out an anguished cry as he dove forth with frantic swings of his sword. Minos matched each furious swipe but stumbled a little under the pressure. Finally the blade came swinging forth and Minos stepped aside, driving his own sword deep into Willis' back.
"THIS ENDS YOU, PUNY CONJURER."
Willis gurgled as he felt his life-force ebb away. It was over. The world was turning to darkness and the shapes around him were diving forth to consume him. He felt them grasp onto him. The terror was suddenly very real as his world was sapped away. His memories were fading, his mind was struggling to hold on. But he held strong. He couldn't lose this. It wasn't over...it wouldn't be over.
Minos looked down pitifully and hoisted his tail before smashing it down on the fading form of Willis. That was the end. He was condemned to a circle...but he could fight it. He would fight it. Finally Minos kicked his recumbent form hard and sent him careening into the lava of the Acheron. Everything was consumed and it was all over. Darkness reigned supreme. But he had something left. Revenge would come.
Willis stood gazing out of the turret in the Labyrinth. The world below was reddened and barren. The landscape was nothing but dust and chaos. Perfection. In this world darkness reigned supreme. It was a better world in his opinion. It was more honest.
He looked back momentarily at the frozen statue in the centre of the room. Minos stood glistening in solid ice, clutching up in a burning rage forevermore. Well, at least for a little while longer. Willis allowed himself a moment to grin. The butcher was more about the gloating than he was, but that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy it.
"If only you could see this fat king. Revenge is so lacking without any suffering."
He glanced back out onto the wilderness. Black shapes roamed about in the horror below. All was finally good with the world.
I can feel them.
One is coming.
The darkness grows.
Let me out.
Who was I?
He will be mine.
I have waited too long to let this one slip.
No, I want him.
Who am I?
Let me go back.
I can feel him.
He's right there.
It will all be different if I can just go back.
He is mine.
No, he is mine. The rest of you don't have enough humanity left.
I can be human again.
I will take him.
I can feel him right there.
Let me be free.
I'm sorry for all that I did.
Let me fade to nothing.
He is right there.
I am taking him.
No, I will take him.
No.
Heat scorched his flesh as he breathed slowly and carefully as if breathing were a completely new experience. In a sense, it was. Far too long without a body and having humanity slowly drained from your essence can have that effect. But the most prominent thing of all was the heat. To feel again, to be able to experience the scorch. That was incredible. The mind was resisting but he would win out. Who was he? Willis. He had once been called that name. He'd been down here for far too long. But unlike the others he shared eternity with, he had managed to hold on. He still had memories...of a sort. And now that he had a brain in which to process them, they suddenly became more clear.
Images whirled through his head. A younger self with ambitions and plans. Theseus...a bitter memory. And Knossos with the Labyrinth. He remembered...he remembered his death. He remembered Minos standing there. Then the images faded. The mind was fighting back. He was an invader and it wanted him gone. The mind of the one he'd taken was screaming in a blinding fury but he held on tight. Then came more images...less familiar ones.
An image of a dark metal place. It was cold and grim but the memories were not unpleasant. At least, the holder of the memories found them pleasant. To all sane minds these would be sickening images. Blood. The taste and the smell of blood. He watched as a man fell to the ground into a puddle with blood pouring out of his chest. He watched as another person was smashed against a cold metal door. And then again as somebody was held above a chasm with his own hand. His hand flung forth and threw the person over the edge with a certain joy as the screams filled the air.
And another who was stood on an elevator, looking on with a brown cowl. The man's name was...Willis? No. No that wasn't his true name. This one had been reading about the past and had discovered Willis in a history book. History? How long had he been down here? Willis tried hard to focus but the mind resisted more. He'd entered the mind of a psychopath and it was nothing but fury, venom, rage and bloodlust. All of these things combined put up a tremendous fight but Willis had come too far to relinquish control right here. He moved quickly and soon his essence was flooding over that of the butcher. The butcher's rage did not subside, but Willis was able to divert it, push it away. Coupled with the rage he felt at his own memories of Minos and Theseus...Willis felt empowered.
And then came vision. A bright red and blinding light. All light is blinding if experienced for the first time. It was like he'd just arisen from the womb. Reborn into this world with a purpose and a destiny. The images and the memories and the rage of the butcher overpowered him as he realised he couldn't breathe. With a deliberate plunge he moved his essence more. It absorbed the subconscious as well as the conscious. He was nearly whole...and he breathed.
On the out-breath, Willis collapsed to the floor. He looked down at the red ground and felt the heat scorch his flesh. What a wonderful feeling. He turned his head...where was this? Inferno? But how had the fool gotten past Minos? He searched but the butcher was resisting all attempts at divulging his memories. No matter. He would come to embrace the presence of Willis soon enough. He would feel a power greater than any he may ever have known. Willis smiled. It was good to be alive, albeit fleeting if he remained in Inferno. He could feel the hunger of the other souls around him. They wanted to vie for control but Willis had waited too long.
He pulled himself to his feet as he heard clanking footsteps in the fiery distance. Minos? Where was he? With a mighty push he overpowered the butcher's resistance and a memory flashed into the back of the mind. He had only just passed through the gate...which meant...
Willis couldn't use his magic inside the gates. It would have made things much less complicated if he could but the ancient ones kept those forces at bay. The gates were very secure. Only a darker and ancient magic could work down here...the one he'd originally come to claim. Did he have time to retrieve the blade? Probably not. Minos was emerging. He looked on at Willis with a pause as a gigantic armoured hand reached for a sword. The world turned to slow motion as Willis looked on. He couldn't fall back now...he'd come too far.
With a mighty surge of the butcher's energy, Willis dashed forth. Minos swung the blade but just missed him, giving chase as Willis ran. There were the gates...but he needed to get through them and the ferry was nowhere to be seen. There was nothing else for it, after all, his own body was destroyed. What could happen? With a leap, he bounded into the Acheron. He felt the essences within overpower him as he screamed out but he only needed to focus...and go a little further. He waded forth beyond the seal of the gates as Minos stood back, waiting to strike. Then he focused with all he had. And the world changed.
Willis breathed deeply as he clattered to the floor. He could gather his surroundings soon enough. The world span back into focus and Willis was able to sit up and glance around. He was far above the pool which absorbed the newly deceased, the Chamber of Souls. Willis stood upright and moved over towards the edge, glancing upwards as he did. A series of metallic tracks crossed over the ceiling. That was...new. He turned to see a metal door behind him. Also new. This needed an explanation.
He fought against the essence of the butcher who was weakening by the second and he dove into another pool of memories. There was one of him standing above a mine shaft and pressing something...this caused a mighty explosion. He experienced another memory of entering into the chambers with a hatchet held high. And then came the old memories with the bloodlust. But a single word was predominant throughout. Labyrinth.
He had turned the chambers into a death-trap. This was...most interesting. Could he use this? It was hard to focus right now. He needed something more tangible. The butcher's memories were winning out and he was relinquishing control. It was time to relive a memory of his own. Something present that he could see and feel. Something from his past. Willis focused once more. This would be easier now. The world changed again.
Wills stumbled to the floor once more. He had a way to go yet. He stood up carefully and took in his surroundings. There was the feel of cold air on his face. The outside? What a glorious sensation. He was at the bottom of a deep tunnel. He turned his head to look at a hatch with an eye emblazoned across the front. Just outside the caverns? This would probably take a while. Willis focused once more. He'd manage it sooner or later.
Willis looked over the cliff. It had taken a while but he was finally here, the ruins of Knossos. Beneath him people milled around in the daylight. They were digging...searching for things. Machines and mechanical devices were clawing their way through the earth as a deep chasm gave way where more people scurried around. And inside the cavern, there it was. The Labyrinth. Still intact after all these years and somehow mostly unchanged. It was deeper underground though, and these fools were digging it up.
Willis moved down to the side of the dig site curiously.
"Can I help you?" Said the voice of a young man inquisitively.
Willis stared down at the site. Probably not, he was here to help himself.
"The history of this place just...fascinates me. All these ruins. What did it used to be?"
The man smiled. History was where he shined and it was a delight to find another who shared his love of architecture.
"These are the remains of the Labyrinth. The legend goes that this Labyrinth was built by Daedalus and used by King Minos who would send young men to take on the challenge. The ultimate challenge was of course the Minotaur, a viscous beast. But one was able to overcome the challenge and destroy the Minotaur. His name was Theseus, and his courage and bravery overcame the dangers within. He was a hero. Or so the legend says. A lot of it is just storytelling but it's incredible that after all these years we have discovered there truly was a Labyrinth."
Willis scoffed at the notion.
"It was because of his sword..." He muttered.
"Excuse me?" Said the man with a puzzled expression.
Willis shook his head. "Nothing..." he said. His eyes were distant.
The man held out his hand. "Well it's a pleasure to meet somebody with a keen interest in the history of this place. My name is Klaus. I'd love to show you around the site."
Willis looked at Klaus and paused. He shook his hand carefully. "My name is Curtis." He said with caution. "However, I'm afraid I have some errands to run. Maybe we can catch up again soon."
Klaus nodded with a smile. That would be great. When he turned to head back into the site, Willis moved out of view and focused once more. Perhaps it was still intact. He concentrated and the world changed. He was home.
Willis stood upright and glanced around him. This was his old chamber and it was almost untouched. Some of the walls had weathered a little bit but still...everything was how he had left it. He stepped forth to a desk where a dusty book lay open. He hadn't finished writing...he'd been rudely interrupted. Since that time he couldn't return. The place had been heavily protected. Willis flipped through the pages of his journal and read calmly. This was aiding the memory process a lot. Most of the memories were not pleasant.
He snapped it shut with a resounding thud as he walked over to a chest by the wall. He reached down to open it and looked inside. His hand paused as it hovered over the silver dagger. A skull was on the handle and the initials "DV" were etched in. He touched it carefully and felt a dark presence flood over him. Jumping back and dropping the dagger back into the chest, Willis breathed out carefully. There was a spirit still inside. He paused for a moment before taking another look inside. A shimmering cape lay there. Lifting the cape cautiously, he glanced at the fabric. Good as new. An image of Pegasus was emblazoned on the back.
Willis held the cape aloft and thought carefully. He would return here, this was his true home. But in the meantime there was something else that required his attention. He felt the butcher stir as he smiled.
"Don't worry. We're going to play with your Labyrinth first. Why don't you settle down and enjoy the show? I think you will quite like it."
"...Predict that storms will approach from the North. It'll be cold out so wrap up warm.
We're taking you back in time now for a classic from the middle of the swinging sixties.
"
Father Jonas turned down the radio absent-mindedly and walked across to the front of the church. Stepping outside into the cold and rainy morning, he paused at the sight of the young woman in front of him. She was wrapped up quite warm, but there was something off about her attire. It was very vibrant. In spite of himself, he couldn't take his eyes from her. And every moment he stared his heart filled with a sudden sadness.
She was stood in the graveyard staring deeply at something on the ground. A small stone statue of a teddy bear. Flowers and wreaths were strewn out in front of it. Father Jonas coughed a little nervously to try and attract her attention but she ignored him and continued to stare. Her face was filled with sorrow, although much of it was covered by a veil. The monument was reason enough for sadness but the priest had never felt quite so emotional.
"The fates are cruel, are they not? One so young...with so much life left to live. What became of this child, father?"
Father Jonas stared at the teddy bear statue. As he did he felt a strange sensation in the air. It was almost as if he could hear the creaking of something on the wind...and the laughter of a child. He shook his head and rested his palm against his face. The weather was probably just affecting him. This place could play tricks on your mind after a while.
"Her name..." He trailed off as he coughed to clear the welling sadness within. "Her name was Melissa. She was only five years old when it happened. Her father took a gun to her and her mother. He was very disturbed..."
The woman continued to stare. She looked over and made eye contact which almost caused Jonas to stumble over backwards. There was no colouration to her eyes. They were pitch black. Staring into them was like looking into the heart of oblivion. He gawped before remembering himself and tried to divert his attention awkwardly.
"What became of him?"
Father Jonas nodded over to an uneven patch of ground in the distance. Weeds were overflowing on its surface.
"We buried him right there. He couldn't bear the guilt of what happened and ended it all. He was once a valuable member of the community I'm told. No love lost for him since though. I'm not from around here so I'm a little fuzzy on the finer details you see..."
He turned back as a hand was placed on his shoulder. It felt like the icy grip of death. Father Jonas was visibly quivering now.
"This place? Does it have an underground? Basements? Supplies? Is it very secure?"
Jonas shook his head. There was the old military base nearby but...
"There's a place we can possibly go to...but...why would we need that...particularly?"
The woman's stare became frantic as she looked up at the hilltops where the woods began. She clutched at her head as if something was stabbing at it. She let out a scream as she tried to regain her composure.
"You...you must....you must get as many as you can from the village. You must go to a safe place. It must be very safe. You must...do this! There is absolutely no time!"
She said frantically as she shook the priest. He cowered and just stared on. She crouched to the ground once more, as if her body was writhing in agony.
"I...I take my leave...I have no choice....but this....this you must do..."
With that she turned and ran. Her motion was a blur. Father Jonas had never seen anything like it in all his days. He slowly stood himself upright and dusted himself down. Did he just imagine the entire thing? He hadn't eaten today and on an empty stomach the winds could do some frightful...
His train of thought stopped as the ground beneath him shook. The entire village was rocked by a tremendous seismic force. Villagers emerged from their houses and establishments and began to look around. What was happening? Amidst the throng of puzzled villagers, a child pointed excitedly up to the hilltops where the woods began. The ground was caving in beneath and the trees were falling over.
Father Jonas looked on as a choir of screams filled his ears. People were dashing in all directions. What could it all mean? Suddenly, without any warning at all, the ground erupted. An enormous cascade of fire burst forth from below and shot upwards into the sky. The stormy clouds darkened as ash and fire began to rain down. A fireball crashed into the local cinema as scores of people milled out screaming. Father Jonas looked on as he shook himself out of it. He had to do something didn't he? He rapidly began dashing to villagers in a bid to direct them to safety. Maybe they should go to the army base.
Suddenly the fire ceased erupting as the trees burned in the distance. And not a moment later, shadow exploded from the ground in its stead. An enormous column blasted up towards the sky. It was darkness incarnate, not just in look but in feel. There was a coldness to it. Father Jonas knew it was evil, he could feel it. He spotted something out of the corner of his eye as he dashed and dived to the ground. Pushing the child who first noticed the fire out of the way, another fireball just skimmed past the two of them.
As Jonas looked up the sky was filled with dark shapes. They were separating from the column of dark now and moving over towards the village. Something was flying at them, something hideous. It screeched horribly as it made a dive towards the two figures. Jonas hurried towards a nearby building, just avoiding a talon from the...thing...hitting him. He breathed deeply as he tried to take in the chaos all around. What did he do? He was no good with this sort of stuff. Father Roth would have known how to handle it. But Father Roth was dead. And it was up to him now.
Father Jonas sat in the darkness and stirred a bowl of porridge miserably. It had been three weeks since the sky had gone dark. They'd made it to the base but...what could be done about the problem out there. The woman opposite smiled kindly at him.
"Thank you for all you did for us father. Please take some more. You need to keep your strength up."
She offered him her bowl as he looked on awkwardly. Next to her the child he'd rescued smiled and waved happily. Father Jonas shook his head with a smile and walked over the the officer discussing something with two others.
"...warheads are set to launch."
Father Jonas coughed as the officer looked over.
"Excuse me but...what's happening? Any updates from the outside?"
The officer looked over at his colleagues before walking with the priest along the corridor.
"The UN meeting is over. The decision is pretty unanimous. It's no secret anymore. Here."
He flipped the television onto a news station. The reporters were underground just like everybody else who valued their life. Even the UN had met underground.
"...nuclear missiles set to launch. The UN has declared that this state of emergency cannot be dealt with by any measure less extreme. It's the only way to fully combat the threat. All civilians are ordered to find a nearby shelter as preparations to expand the underground network are well underway."
Father Jonas jumped back in horror.
"Nuclear missiles?!" He yelled. There were murmurs behind him. Perhaps that was too loud?
The officer just shook his head. "It's out of our hands. How else are we gonna stop those....things?"
Father Jonas fell to the ground as the intensity of the situation hit home. Overhead, far above ground, sirens blared out and the ground rumbled once more.
The young woman stood staring over the cliffside as a missile careened through the air. It rapidly approached the shadow-covered ground before striking. There was a horrible chorus of shrieks as the sky turned white. Many colours flashed through the spectrum as noises blared in and above the level of normal human hearing. Anybody standing in the midst of it would be deafened nontheless, but it was a moot point considering.
The woman stood there, her posture and attire completely unhindered by the explosion which was crawling, uprooting trees, earth and all in its path. Black shapes flapped away around her as they were blasted away into oblivion. It wouldn't be enough. She knew. It would just make the world a more horrible place than it had already become.
After what would seem like an eternity in the mortal world, the air cleared. Smoke and debris flew around in all directions. The landscape was scorched and barren. Still though, black shapes clustered, trying to fill the gaps left behind by others. It had made some impact but it was not going to be enough. It never would be. She looked upwards at the red sky, now obscured by dark clouds and shadow. Dust settled over the scorched world that remained. So that was it for humanity?
She knew that...She knew...
She went cold as the blade pierced her abdomen. Looking down, quivering, she saw the tip of it protrude. Only one blade held such a power. Her form was filled with sorrow, but that was nothing unusual. There was more of a finality to this though.
"Tell me." Came a voice from behind.
"How is it that a seer did not notice me coming? It's somewhat of a mystery, you must agree. One which I don't think you're going to have time to explain unfortunately."
She turned her head slowly to look on at the hooded figure. His face was different, as was his voice, but she knew instantly who it was.
"Did you really think you could evade me, Cassandra? I have grown more powerful than ever you could conceive. Not that you ever held any true power over me."
Cassandra looked on mournfully at the decaying and fiery ruin below.
"I have foreseen your end Willis. The fates...they are decided."
She turned to stare deep into his eyes. He didn't flinch.
"They are....coming....and they will.......win...."
Willis snarled at her as he focused and blasted a cold energy forth into the sword. The icy air encased Cassandra's body as she slowly turned to ice. Her cold form stood in the fiery air, defying the very laws of nature.
"I'm afraid that time is up." Said Willis bluntly.
He looked over at the decaying ruin with a smile as he licked his lips.
A red wind blew over the wilderness as Willis looked on at his fortress. It was magnificent. He'd built around the remains of the Labyrinth. It was rather fitting, all things considered. It stood proud and tall in the valley at Knossos. From the center protruded a large tower where he had placed his chamber and the most important thing of all. The sky was scorched from the bombs that had rained down upon the area, but his fortress still stood tall. He knew what they would try and he'd planned accordingly for it. Now was hardly the time to let the little rats win. He was far too close to the end here.
A pang of something fired away in his subconscious. Willis snarled at the voice inside. His mind housed two distinct personalities but they had by and large settled now. He had won over the mind of the butcher. Resistance had always been futile. Still though, he got the occasional thought or threat from within. He was able to shrug it off nonetheless. He grinned up at the colossal sight above him as he approached the fortified entrance. Behind him, some foot-soldiers dragged the frozen form of Cassandra into the Labyrinth.
Willis glanced around furtively as he stood in the main hallway. Up above, a balcony looked down onto the ground. Some of his men were watching him without speaking.
"What is it?" He snapped. "I'm incredibly busy".
The shades looked at one another wearily.
"My lord...it seems that our base might not be as secure as we maybe once thought."
Willis' sickening grin faded as he levitated from the ground, landing firmly on the balcony. The shades backed away nervously.
"And why might I ask does it seem that way?" Said Willis, staring dead on. Some of the shades didn't maintain particularly human shapes, but this one had most of the trimmings. He stood on two legs and had two arms, which was a start. And he trembled. It was good that they still felt fear.
Willis marched along a corridor and opened the door to the room furiously. A human was sprawled unconscious across the floor. Behind him stood a frozen figure, bent double and with a look of terror on its face. It was Daedalus, the creator of the Labyrinth which formed the base of the fortress. Willis snarled and span at one of the shades, blasting it with a sharp jet of flame. The shade screeched out horribly before melting into dust.
Willis turned to the other two cowering shades and pointed at the sprawled figure.
"You idiots. What the hell did you bring him in here for?"
They glanced at one another before one finally spoke.
"My lord...it seemed like the most secure place."
Willis picked the shade up by what may once have been a neck.
"You are to bring nobody anywhere near these rooms."
Glancing back at the second figure, Willis blasted forth another jet of flame, melting it with a second horrifying scream.
"Just to make my point clear. Now go. I will deal with this."
The shade fled hurriedly along the corridor as Willis sealed the door and stood over the fallen human. He was wearing some kind of military uniform. A scout maybe? Come to find weaknesses in the fortress structure? The worrying part was that he'd managed to get through at all. There was a leak somewhere. It was very frustrating. Willis lifted the figure over his shoulder and focused silently. The world shifted around him into the shape of his chamber.
General Bear saluted as Willis entered. He had gotten quite used to the teleportation thing. It was jarring at first but it was best not to worry about it. Willis nodded at his general as he lay the figure down on the ground.
"You are to torture him and find out everything he knows. We have to identif..."
Willis grimaced as something shot up inside his head. It was a cold, strangling sensation. He gasped for air and smacked his palm against his forehead repeatedly. Opening his eyes once more, he looked on at the puzzled general.
"Sir?" Said Bear with some confusion.
Willis glanced down at the figure as something inside refused to let go. His eyes burned red. He looked down at his desk and grabbed something hastily. Screaming out in a rage, he swung it through the air in a brutal arc. The fallen human's bloody head rolled across the floor as Willis crouched down, clutching a bloody hatchet.
"D...didn't we want to tor-" Bear began.
"He wouldn't tell us anything anyway." Willis finished, a touch of doubt in his voice. Whatever. It was by and large irrelevant.
He pressed a button at the base of his desk and a large doorway opened behind him. Willis marched up a spiral stone staircase to the top of the tower. Stepping out onto the rooftop, icy winds blasted away at him. This entire area was flanked by a barrier of magic. He was careful. He knew there were forces around that would try to get it back. But it was his now.
Continue your work. It won't be long now. Soon I will give you whatever you desire. Soon it will all be undone.
Willis marched over to the glowing box which was hovering a small distance from the ground. He held his arms aloft and sent a stream of burning bright light from his hands. The light was white but it occasionally flickered in other hues. Willis concentrated as the box stood firmly. Every now and then, a tiny purple spark would flicker down across its surface.
You are getting closer. The power is within your grasp.
"I'm not sure how many more nukes our forces can take and I can't have human spies infiltrating this place. I'm going to call a meeting with their leaders. We will leave them be in their little holes and in turn, they will leave me be. I can't keep having my work interrupted."
And no more room for stupid mistakes, he thought silently to himself. He stopped what he was doing momentarily to change position slightly before firing a more narrow beam of energy into the box. It still didn't budge but more sparks flew. They were black this time. Suddenly Willis stopped. Bear was stood there silently. He was a pretty loyal man, but Willis knew when somebody was struggling to say something. He was a master of psychology.
"Anything else to report, General?"
Bear glanced down and spoke slowly.
"There was a problem earlier...on one of our patrols."
Willis stared back at him with a sigh.
"I'm busy. Speak." He demanded.
Bear shrugged and shook his head.
"I don't really know what it means! I just know that...that squadron 237 went out to patrol the docks earlier and nobody came back."
Willis looked down at the floor before turning back to his work. He fired another blast of energy into the box.
"And nobody thought to go and investigate? Have they been captured? I'm getting pretty sick of you idiots getting captured."
"I don't know what it means..." Bear mumbled in the distance. "Maybe you ought to go see..."
Willis snarled before stopping. He turned and marched over to Bear who stood firm.
"This better be good. Make sure nobody comes near the tower." He snapped out before closing his eyes and vanishing in a blink of light.
When he was gone, Bear walked over to the box quietly.
Come and take what is yours Bear. Undo everything. Save your family. It is yours to take.
Bear reached out with his hand cautiously before finally stopping and snapping back. He'd watched somebody touch it once and the thought overpowered whatever voices were in his head. He turned and fled down the stairs. This place gave him the creeps.
The world shifted around Willis as he stood on the docks. That was more of a description than a fact. The nuclear strikes had decimated everything. This was where Knossos bay had stood once. What a power Crete had been. He paced along the shore looking down at the purple water with a pensive expression. Not capture...and something he had to see for himself? He couldn't begin to imagine.
Willis turned and walked into the dusty wilderness. There were no signs of any life out here but he could detect the trails his squadron had left. They hadn't been hit by another nuke, Bear would've just up and reported that. The sniveling fool was hiding something much more sinister and disturbing.
Suddenly, Willis paused. A red dust storm completely obscured visibility everywhere and the skies were filled with a grey mist that made it very hard to track things. Willis was good though. He had honed his abilities too much over the years. And something was seriously amiss here.
He bent down to the ground and examined the tracks carefully. Something had been following the squadron, and it wasn't human soldiers. In fact, it wasn't human at all.
Willis marched along through the dusty air and stopped in his tracks. Dark shapes filled the horizon. It was squadron 237, or at least whatever remained of them. Willis dashed quickly along the murky ground. His cowl flapped around in all directions as he finally crouched by one of the shapes. It was torn completely in two, a bloody mess across the dusty ground.
He looked up sharply at the rest of the carcasses. Each of them had been ripped to pieces. Limbs and other appendages lay scattered across the ground. Red dust was beginning to form on their remains. He stood upright, not taking his eyes off the gruesome sight.
Shaking his head, Willis focused intensely. As he did, he heard a sound. It was very faint and very distant, but it was all too familiar. This....might be a problem.
He vanished into the air with a flash of light as the dust moved to fill the void where he had once stood.
The voice drifted gently into the night. It had a serene quality to it that crept under the skin. The voice was welcoming and soothing. Trusting the voice felt like the natural choice, because everything about the voice made you want to trust it. There was something down in the subconscious level screaming out. A primal fear of danger that the voice soothed. No need to listen to that. Everything would heal.
Only I can make it go away. You have suffered so much pain. Wouldn't it be better if that pain had never happened? Wouldn't the world be so much better. I can make it better. I can make you better.
He drifted towards the voice. In the misty night the dark forests overhead sang out to him. They sang a melodic and haunting chorus that filled his mind and soul with wonder. As he drifted in the air, uplifted by the gentle harmony, the world glistened. It carried him upwards to the source. The voice got louder.
You are so close. Just reach out and take it. It is yours.
It hovered there, glowing brightly. A faint purple hue surrounded the world. Happy memories flooded back, only to be replaced by a sorrow and sadness. The happy memories wouldn't linger, but he wanted them to. He reached out to grab them but they evaporated. Maybe the voice was right. He trusted the voice.
And yet in the beauty of the night, in the wonder of the moment, in all the harmony that surrounded his existence, there was the dread. It was small and subtle but it never went away. Something was not right. His hand reached out to touch the glowing source of the voice. The box invited him inside and he reached for it.
But he stopped.
Suddenly the world rumbled. He jerked his head frantically in all directions to see what was causing the shaking. The voices turned into a howling chorus of screams. Shielding his ears, he looked on as the trees withered, turning to ash. The ground below, once fertile and serene turned into a scorched desert. The purple hues all turned red. And the source of the voice...
All that stood in its place was a swirling portal. It was sucking all of the matter into it. The beauty was being torn away from the world, raked from its surface by the source. He screamed as he felt himself falling. The Earth opened up and all that lay below was fire. The flames burned bright red and erupted. The flames engulfed him.
And he woke up in a sweat.
Mikhail lay still. The dreams had been getting worse lately, but this one shook him to his core. He finally mustered some strength and stood upright. He walked over and flicked a switch on the wall, blinking reflexively when the bright light careened into his vision. He would never get used to this. The white bulb was glaring out of the cement wall. It was the only type of light that even existed anymore.
Mikhail reached into his closet, just a sliding panel on the sterile, grey walls. As he reached for something to wear he paused, staring at the uniform longingly. The medals still adorned its surface. He sighed and closed the door, looking at his reflection in the mirror as he did. He was getting old. How long had it been now? Time moved slowly in the caverns.
He marched across the steel floor, dimly lit by the failing bulbs above. Drab, pale looking people milled around him in all directions. Why did they still pretend there was purpose? Maybe it was all there was to keep you from going under. Mikhail was too far gone for that.
He sat down in the dank bar. The barman handed him a bottle and he took his leave to a booth in the corner. Somebody had covered the wall in obscene graffiti here. At least some things never changed. Mikhail drank, waiting to slip into oblivion.
"Now there's a man who carries the weight of the world."
Mikhail turned to face the source of the voice. A man was sat in another booth. He was wearing a shirt and tie. He was smiling calmly.
Mikhail didn't utter a word. There was no reason to be happy anymore. It had been ten years since the dawn of darkness. Why were people so content with settling in? Nobody wanted to face reality. When the world turned to darkness, humanity struck. They struck with fire. They rained down upon the once beautiful Earth with all they could muster. They did this because freedom mattered. The world may burn, but at least we would be free to watch the flames.
Everything was in place. Mikhail was looking forward to the strike. They had finally found a weakness in the fortress walls and they would go in and destroy the darkness at its core. Mikhail believed in honour and justice, but the world believed in money. War was only profitable amongst fellow humans. Fighting Willis cost money. So when Willis came out and offered a deal, they perked up. And thus a treaty was signed. All it meant was staying below ground, and since we'd scorched the Earth anyway, what did it matter? There was no daylight in the wilderness. Only darkness. Living in a sterile artificial bubble placated everybody.
But not Mikhail. He was there on the day his orders came to stand down. The operation was cancelled. They were set to raid on the dawn. Mikhail argued until he was blue in the face. He rarely questioned an order, but this was nonsense. So when the dawn came, he took a squadron out onto the wilderness and they marched. He watched with delight as his men stormed past the shades, taking them on with ease. But the delight quickly faded when gunfire rained down. It didn't come from the enemy, it came from home.
He had no choice but to surrender. When your own people turn against you, what is left? War is complicated enough when you know who your enemies are. The not knowing made everything so much more dangerous. Mikhail believed that they could have taken the fortress that day, but it was prevented. Whatever perks had been offered by Willis were obviously too great. The sorceror could conjur up wealth and power after all. That mattered far more than freedom.
Mikhail had a room and enough money to get by. Many didn't in the caverns, some would call him lucky. But it was still all just a cage and they were trapped.
The suited man stood up and joined Mikhail in the booth after he refused to engage in conversation.
"Not interested in small talk General? Not surprising really. I hear tell that you don't do much these days but drink and sleep. Quite a fall from grace wouldn't you say?"
Mikhail glared suspiciously at the suited man.
"Who are you? How do you know who I am?"
"I know because I made it my business to know. And as a businessman, I like to make things my business. You can call me Gabriel." The man offered his hand as Mikhail spat disgustedly.
"If it weren't for businessmen we would be up there fighting for our freedom. Instead we rot beneath the ground. We're as good as dead."
Gabriel took his hand away and poured himself a drink. He sipped it slowly and thoughtfully before speaking.
"The truth is, Mikhail, that you could be right on that count. I've heard reports of the skies turning purple around the fortress. Word does get back from the surface occasionally. Not all of us are content with staying in our cages."
Mikhail glared into nothing. "And yet here you are, right back inside."
This was going to be difficult. The general was far gone. He needed to try a different approach.
"Did you really think on that day you could have taken it? Was your squadron enough? And under your command, you would stop at nothing?"
Mikhail drank. "Death or freedom. There were no other intentions. But I was not prepared to die at the hand of my own former comrades. They don't get the pleasure."
Gabriel paced the floor silently and turned to face the general.
"I have a lot of money, Mikhail. Money and resources. The world may have burned, but some of us managed to keep going. It's hard to scrape a living down here but I do quite well for myself. Not as well as I once hoped mind you. Maybe you can help me with that one."
"If I were to provide you with the necessary resources, could you lead a squadron once more?"
Mikhail shrugged, staring into his glass.
"Maybe. You want me to try another heroic raid? It's hopeless. I don't have the clearance needed to get to where I need to be. And I don't have an army. Who will do the fighting? The military won't move on this one and I doubt you can pay them off more than they already have been."
He paused.
"Besides, what's in it for you?"
Gabriel stared up at the wall in silence before finally speaking.
"Sometimes I dream of walking on fertile soil once again. Sometimes I dream of a world where I can live the life of a free man. Just like yourself."
"It may surprise you to learn this Mikhail, but you are not alone. I make it my business to know people and what they want. That's how I became successful. And I enjoy my success but that hinges on freedom and there being a world to be successful in. I knew you would be here today and my research concluded you were the best man to lead an operation like this."
He turned to look at the table before speaking once again.
"Of course you'd need to sober up a bit. Tell me, what do you see when you walk these corridors? The gaunt, miserable faces of people who have nothing? I see much more. I see hopes, dreams and aspirations. And I see despair because none of that can ever be reached. Nothing drives people more than the hope that they might just make it."
Mikhail nodded. They were inspiring words but he didn't fully understand what he was meant to do.
"You talk as if it's so simple. It's a dangerous thing you're proposing. You want to raid a heavily fortified base that has been ruled off-limits by the military. What you're proposing is basically treason. There would be no coming back."
Gabriel smiled.
"Death or freedom. Exactly as you say. Those are the stakes. I personally have more belief left in humanity than you do. I can get you as much equipment as you need, and I can get you clearance to wherever you need to go. I have a lot of contacts and I can rally support in underground circuits. Word will spread, and the people will come. When they do, I just want you to be there. Lead them into battle. Death or freedom."
Mikhail smiled and began laughing. It was ridiculous but he had nothing left worth living for. Besides he was drunk. It sounded like a tremendous idea if only for the absurdity of it.
"If you can arrange a meeting in Knossos hall, that's where I need to be. The passage is sealed now but it's above there, in the ruins of the old palace."
Gabriel nodded.
"Rather fitting I believe. Legends tell that a great bunch of heroes once met on that very spot and moved out on a mission not dissimilar to this one. Maybe history is set to repeat."
None of it matters...
The voice rang out in Mikhail's head as he clutched it suddenly. He needed to sober up. This was getting worse and worse now.
"Find me some modern heroes and bring them to the hall. If they still exist and are still out there, I will lead them. I do not believe that history will repeat, but I have nothing to lose. Death or freedom. There are no other choices."
Gabriel paused in the entrance of the bar and turned around with a smile.
Cassandra sat silently on the pew, staring intently at the stained glass window in front of her. It was shifting slightly but the effect was fleeting. Almost like one of those illusions where an object appeared to be two different shapes at the same time. In one moment it was the scene from Inferno, and in another it changed entirely. The new scene depicted a wasteland with a tower looming over it. A purple light was ascending from the top of the tower and flowing far over the wasteland. At the top of it all was Pandora...waiting.
She observed the scene calmly for a while longer as the door of Sanctuary opened up behind her. A young man in a suit walked across the floor silently and sat on the seat next to her, observing the stained glass window curiously for a time before speaking.
"It never stops amazing me how it changes. I can't help but feel you're cheating though, getting it all from that."
Cassandra looked nonplussed. In fact she looked sorrowful. This was her default and permanent expression.
"There are many windows, Gabriel. And it takes more than just the perceiving eye to discern what they're truly describing. This new scene is consistent with the others. It seems that time is almost up."
Gabriel stared. He couldn't discern much of anything from the scene. It seemed to change slightly when you tilted your head this way but it was true, nothing jumped right to attention. Except for the decorated box at the top of it all. That definitely dragged you in.
I will make your dreams come true...
He'd long since developed a firm resistance to the voice, but it still managed to unsettle him.
"Is it all so set in stone? Things could change in the Labyrinth still. I like to be an optimist. I always have been."
Cassandra shook her head and turned, her mournful expression driving into Gabriel's being and filling his strong mind with negativity and misery.
"Evander is falling under. He cannot withstand the pressure. The wizard chose his mark perfectly."
Gabriel sighed and paced the floor.
"And it's not our place to intervene, to change what is already in motion? You talk as if everything is just playing out on a predetermined pattern. That being the case, Cassandra, why do we meet like this? If all is inevitable, what exactly is the purpose?"
In business he believed in certainties. But he was sure that it all came down to his own involvement. He didn't like to think he wasn't in control.
"Nothing is inevitable. Humanity possesses the important and essential characteristic of free will. They have the ability to choose. And in almost every circumstance a choice is presented. Each choice one mortal takes, opens up a batch of other options. Everything leads to a different path."
She paused.
"But sometimes paths cross. This occurs very often in fact. And when paths cross and two people's own choice-making processes become intertwined then it...confuses matters. It makes outcomes less up to the individual choices and makes more destinations an inevitability. Thus we can siphon the intertwining choices away and determine the likeliest path. The butcher had a choice. Evander will have a choice. Roth will have a choice. And your people...Gabriel...each of them will have a choice. Several before this is all done."
Gabriel nodded. This was more in his field of understanding. Pre-determination left him feeling empty but probable outcomes were his specialty. He felt very confident and uplifted.
"Just one more issue I feel needs to be raised. Why the wait? Why do we not gather the team prior to the nuclear strikes that may or may not happen?" He felt the slightly doubtful tone to his last few words and immediately regretted it, but Cassandra didn't seem to notice. Or more accurately, care.
"Because of hope. Do you know that all the human legends of Pandora speak of hope being the final essence unleashed from the box? You may wonder why a box that contains evil would also contain something that humanity desires so freely. The truth is that hope is the greatest of all the evils. It pushes them to work harder and longer, to keep on going against the odds. Most of them won't make it, so hope will claim many of them."
"And yet it will lead them to triumph also. Can it be described as evil if it also provides them with the strength to overcome the odds? Evil is a difficult concept because it is only ever so loosely defined in the mortal world, and everybody's perception of evil differs. Nobody has a unified concept. But hope, hope is unified. Hope exists for all humans, no matter where their allegiances lie or where their paths take them."
"So hope has no allegiance. Hope is driving Evander and Willis as we speak. Hope will drive him to open the box. And hope is what you will come to rely on when you gather your people, Gabriel. Right now any kind of attack will fall short because hope only arrives for people at the darkest of times and times are not yet dark enough. But there will come a time when they need it, and you will provide it. Sadly, in providing it you unleash the evil in its full capacity as most of them will fall."
Cassandra stood up and walked towards the door as Gabriel followed. They had to clear the area in case one of the groups came by here. Willis couldn't see into here and he was far too occupied to notice their meeting. She didn't want to be around if he obtained the sword.
"Does the voice speak to you, Gabriel? The voice of Pandora? It speaks to me. The voice is not the box. A box cannot speak or communicate, it is a mere container. That voice is hope incarnate, communicating directly. Do not underestimate it."
