Chapter 17:
-Lemnos, 4 Months Later-
Hephaestus heaved another large stone on his shoulder, the eighth one today. It was a massive chunk of rock, strong and sturdy. It had been sheared off the side of the mountain that towered on Lemnos' western coast. There were several of them really, but the rough terrain made it nigh inaccessible to travel to and fro with any marble.
Well, for normal humans that is.
It took a moment, but he settled it along his right arm, using his left to keep it steady as he moved. A path had been made through the woods that he was currently taking, the trip by foot normally taking a couple of hours to complete at his inhuman pace.
The ground shook slightly as he bounded through, jumping across the rocky plains. The blue circuit-like patterns on the boulder were the only reason it didn't crumble from the force of his movements.
The sun bathed his bare back as he travelled to the human village. There was a slight smile on his face, a sense of progress. Today, his meeting with Hecate was scheduled and he would be one step closer to figuring out a way to isolate Nemesis from her supporters. For the longest time, he had considered this a battle of arms, yet these last few months had educated him on the truth of his conflict with her.
It wasn't a contest of strength, but wit. Knowledge and deceit were his most effective weapons. He needed to ensure that he was able to prevent Nemesis from leaning on the supports she had, either willing or otherwise.
The cloth that was wrapped around his shoulders, acting as a sort of shroud when needed, was a constant reminder of his promise. He had come to realize that this may take years to resolve, but so it be it.
"CAW."
Ifrit fluttered through the sky as he bounded down the last of the rocky terrain. It was faster to go through the trees, but he had no desire to damage the trees within the forest. Instead, he took a path along the coast.
A number of spirits waved as he passed, some even resting on the boulder, giggling away.
The black chiton he wore hung around his waist, complementing his metallic legs rather well. It made him think of the few times that he had gone up to Olympus. He still smirked, remembering the way Aphrodite had commented on his "disheveled appearance". He found the scowl she carried quite adorable when he ignored all her fashion advice on how he should dress.
Still, it wasn't the strangest occurrence he had of recent months. Far from it. His chest still itched from last week, when he had last visited Apollo.
At a light jog, he must have seemed a rather comical sight, but none on this island would even think to laugh, instead they would have a different reaction.
These last few months have transformed Lemnos from a battlefield between two deities to a stable and plentiful home for many. A key resident was quick to keep pace with him, emerging from the forest.
"Still at it eh, Heph?"
"Kassandra," he stated easily, "how's Wis' rest?"
Kassandra chortled, "I still can't believe you named it that. It's good. The nymphs have really begun to make it a home for themselves. Enough of them are there that they're even starting to expand the space a little, though I might ask for you to come in and stabilize it again."
"Anytime, though I'll be leaving soon today."
"Ah, right. You know you're bringing me along, right?" she snarked.
"You sure the island can handle us both being gone?"
"Oh, relax," she muttered, eyeing the woods, "with your barrier up, the only thing we have to worry about are monsters, right?"
"In theory. Nothing is ever perfect."
Gods could not enter as they pleased, but Hephaestus refused to believe there wasn't some sort of loophole to that sort of thing. After all, he intruded on both Demeter and Hades.
"Don't tell the other gods that," she muttered.
They both shuddered for a moment, wondering how each deity would take it.
"Besides, Artemis would keep an eye out, right?"
To even utter her name was a sign of how Kassandra had come to view the Goddess of the Hunt. She had only visited twice before, once with her brother, but she was one to leave an impression.
"What, is the lord of the sun not good enough?" smiled Hephaestus.
Kassandra stared at him blankly.
"If he'd stop hitting on me, that would be great. Don't get me wrong, he's pretty, but a blonde centaur is just weird…and he's male."
Now that had been a day to remember, bringing a smile to Hephaestus' face. Watching Apollo fail to seduce Kassandra was a highlight of that particular evening, laughing away with both Artemis and Kassandra when he finally left.
"It was funny," said Hephaestus, "but having a joke at another's expense is rarely good."
"Oh, relax, not like he didn't get us back."
He grimaced slightly. He was still tasting that god awful tincture Apollo had made for him for supplements. It was awful.
Kassandra eyed the boulder he was carrying, rubbing her chin.
"This should be the last they need, right?"
"Should be," said Hepahestus, "though with the amount of people coming back, it's been rather difficult to house everyone properly. How's the population?"
"Stable," she said, shifting green energies across her arms as she weaved her hands in the air, "more people got off the island when Atlas invaded than we thought. Krios' family was just the first to be reunited. From what I can tell, it should be the last of the original residents today."
"Good," he sighed, "I can't tell how long I'll be gone for this time around. You've checked the farm fields, correct?"
"Yes, Heph, I've checked. Jeez, for someone who didn't want to get involved, you're in pretty deep now."
He kept silent, running forward a little faster, making her huff.
"Hey!"
Whatever she was going to say was cut short as he jumped from the coastline up to the hill above them.
"Get back here!"
He just kept running, as Kassandra had to go the long way. She'd catch up eventually, but this little game was too fun to pass up. He built up some more speed and smiled at the sight in front of him.
"He's back!"
The human village had expanded greatly. With most of their population returned, the village had prospered. With his help, they were able to achieve in months something no one else could compare to. Houses that were once just magically stuck together were now stone hovels, complete with a nice thatch roof. The paths between the homes were flattened and debris-free, for the most part. Homes of various sizes and styles were littered throughout. What had once been just several families had grown into a population of roughly eight hundred people.
The sight of Hephaestus brought a smile to many, though a good number remained weary.
Many humans nodded at him as he entered the village, the midday sun glaring at him as he paced through. Several children ran between his legs, gawking at the massive boulder and the strength it took to move.
"Careful," he stated firmly, "there's no need to be reckless."
His voice shook like gravel, and the kids dispersed. It wasn't the first time it had happened, probably won't be the last. He had made the mistake of adhering to one of Krios' silly demands and now the rest of the children had grown to badger him the same way. Yet, you'd rarely see a frown on Hephaestus' face in regards to that.
He neared the home of a woman who was currently weaving wool together, her thumbs aching at the manual labor. She was a portly woman, but her hands were skilled as they tightened the weave of what they were working on. Her home was unusual for what appeared to be a seamstress. It was a larger plot of land, surrounding a smaller home. She was working outside in the front of her building, focused. Still, she looked up and nodded at him. Behind her home was the stone mason, Hephaestus's goal for the boulder.
Turning past the bend of the home, Hephaestus smiled at the face that turned to him. He was a slightly older man with a bit of grey in his hair. He stood rather short, like his brother, which stood to reason. After all, the shaggy-haired man was the uncle of Krios, his rather unexpected young friend. The shaggy-haired man, complete with droopy eyes, smiled at his approach. He gestured to him to place the boulder along with the rest. There were stone blocks, all chiseled by hand. They were not perfect, nor uniform, but for the project the man was working on, they would do for now.
"It's good to see you, my Lord."
"Enough with that," Hephaestus muttered, "I told you already I don't need such a thing."
"Perhaps," muttered the man, "but you know that many don't believe you or want to, for that matter."
"I understand Legios, but I'm still uncomfortable."
Legios, the uncle of Krios. The man was a stone mason by trade, though the term did not exist in this period. He was currently working on stone walls for their little village. Though the human village could no longer be called small.
"Is everyone settling alright?" he asked.
Legios smiled, looking across the way. His wife, a hardy woman with stringy brown hair, turned back and smiled at Legios as she approached with a shroud for her husband. It was a thicker wool, having no place in the warmer weather they were experiencing.
"It's perfect, wife, thank you."
She beamed and in this close distance, Hephaestus was able to make out the small long long-healed scars that circled her mouth, tiny burns that pocked otherwise healthy skin. Yet, even after working as hard as she did for the shroud, she still went to a bucket, one filled with Terracotta tiles of various sizes and makes.
"Hard at work, I see." smiled Hephaestus.
"Oh yes, she's been wanting to get the roofs up for everyone's homes for a while now. We've been making do with wood planks, but she's a perfectionist."
She turned to him, scowling. She gestured with her mouth, as if to stick out her tongue. Unfortunately, there was none to stick out.
"Relax love, I'm only teasing. Still, thank you, my lord. Stone of this make would be difficult to get and bring back all the way here."
He bowed, his wife suddenly getting up to do the same. Hephaestus rubbed his face.
"Honestly, I do–"
He gave up, instead directing his question elsewhere.
"Do you need another stone?"
Legios snorted, eyeing the massive boulder with an exaggerated gaze.
"I think this should last me. Thanks again. Would have taken ages to get everything we needed originally."
"I was in the area regardless. Thank Kassandra for letting me know the walls fell again."
Legios began muttering about weak mud. Hephaestus was rather tempted to solve the problem outright, but he kept a hand back. Development should be earned, not given. Besides, he had already given Legios a few hints to begin with. He eyed the bucket that Legios and his wife Brecca, were using. It was filled with the smell of volcanic ash.
That had been a heap. The lava creature that had intruded on his home unfortunately, could not be reasoned with, intent on burning everything around it. When it was slain, it had left copious piles of volcanic ash.
The centerpiece of what would one day be called Roman concrete. From what Hephaestus could remember, Roman concrete was not solely a Roman creation, having been seen in Egypt, Asia, and yes, even Ancient Greece. Granted, it was far less common before the Roman era, but still.
It hadn't taken much for Hephaestus to make Krios a deal, that there was a "secret" within volcanic ash. He had meant for the boy to figure out pastes or other uses in exchange for a magic show. Instead, Krios had pawned it off to the smartest person he knew.
His uncle.
Thus, here they were. From what he could tell, the man was only missing lime, another key component in the ancient concrete. Just so happened that the latest stone he had brought was a massive chunk of limestone.
Time would tell if they would figure it out.
"This is sort of fun," thought Hephaestus, "watching others grow."
"Hephaestus!"
He turned, eyeing the gaggle of children that now followed Krios like a general. All ages and sizes looked up at him with gleaming eyes and countless questions. Ifrit, of course, was preening as she flew around before landing on his shoulder.
"Good day, Krios, I take it you're done helping your father and mother?"
He pouted, kicking a rock.
"Yea. Mom says thank you again for teaching her…uh…what was it?"
"Irrigation," he supplied.
"Yea that!"
That had come about on a rather specific problem of so many people coming to Lemnos. How to feed them. He still remembered how Krios' grandfather had come to him, begging for a way to feed his people.
The only solution was agriculture. Krios' mother proved to be a smart woman, having pieced together that sea water and river water were two very different things. Her only struggle was figuring out how to get water to move from one area to the next.
In truth, he only helped with the construction of the delivery system, the rest had been natural human ingenuity.
He looked down at the boy, smiling at his large smile.
"Hey, wanna play!" asked Krios, tossing him a ball.
"I'm a little old to play with you," smiled Hephaestus.
"Nu uh!" scowled Krios, "Kassandra told me you're like a baby compared to other Gods."
He heard the shocked sound from a mile off, turning to eye Kassandra. She had just gotten to the village, likely distracted by something again. Some villagers were chuckling at her as she hesitantly gave out some herbs that she traded for food.
She gave a small, awkward wave, a crooked smile on her face.
Krios' father was only slightly horrified at the sight, his poor wife having to hold the man up.
"You'd think he'd get used to this after four months," thought Hephaestus.
He turned back to the boy, his expectant gaze never wavering.
"She's not…entirely incorrect. Still, I believe this game is more fair for children your age than mine."
He compared their heights, smiling at the frown Krios shot his way. The boy had grown these last four months, but was still barely above his waist. Larger than the other children now, but not much compared to him.
"Besides, I'm a little too big to play with you."
"Boring," muttered Krios, "I just wanted to play."
"I know. Tell you what," said Hephaestus, "how about I–"
"Make fire!"
He blinked, laughing at the way a random snadel beened the kid in the head.
"Mom!"
"You will be polite or I will beat you into the ground, Krios!"
He shivered a bit, the girl beside him snickering. The youngest of the kids blinked up at him. He was a newer child, barely 6 or so.
"Where's pretty bird?"
"Oh no," muttered Hephaestus.
As if ignited by her own vanity, Ifrit screamed in the air at the mention of herself. She landed elegantly on his shoulder, puffing her chest out. She had even more varied design in her appearance now, the azure flames billowing softly with her larger tail feathers.
The children, obviously, clapped at the sight of a flaming chicken.
"CAW!"
PECK!
He cringed a bit, ignoring the sudden pain of Ifrit drilling her beak into his head.
"Alright, alright," he muttered.
He knelt in front of the children.
"The day isn't getting any younger, so best be off with you all. Me and Kassandra must prepare for our own responsibilities today."
Krios frowned.
"So you're really leaving."
"Not forever, but it is true that I'm not entirely certain when I'd be back."
A young girl came up, offering a large bowl. She was sweating a little bit, her small arms shaking at the weight. He lifted the bowl with one hand, eyeing it. The bowl was a crude carving made of wood, deep and large.
It was a good thing, sanitary-wise. Though most of them were not filled with ash. It smelled like burnt food for the most part, though it was large, filled with charred remains of wood, like it was scooped out of a fire pit.
"What is this little one?"
"An offering," she smiled, "my mom said that we burn offerings for the Gods back home. But you're here, so I'll just give it to you right now! You gods eat this stuff, right?"
He blinked, one of the adults coughed, trying to cover up a small laugh. The other one, a larger man, looked like he was about to cry laughing, holding it in.
"I…we gods do not eat ash, I'm afraid," laughed Hephaestus.
The poor girl frowned. He looked at Krios and decided to meet them all halfway. He put the bowl on the ground.
"What's your name?"
She blinked, tilting her head.
"My mom says my name is Adara."
Ah, right. Some people didn't name their children until after a few years. Odd to him, but irrelevant.
"What's your favorite color, Adara?"
Hephaestus put his hand into the bowl of ash, waiting for an answer. Suddenly, the air went quiet, though Hephaestus had yet to notice. Even Kassandra was wondering what he was up to.
She blinked, looking around. It was as if she hadn't decided what her favorite color was yet. She looked up at him, staring at his hair.
"I like red!"
He looked down at the ash, analyzing the component of the material that was in his hand. There was some miscellaneous material, but it was mostly graphite overall. He lifted a handful of ash, covering the handful with his other hand.
As it always did when focusing, his body suddenly alighted with cracks, his eyes glowing. Kassandra blinked, eyeing for the first time his fractured nature. She couldn't help but be in awe and worry at the sight. Krios thought it awesome, while the little girl blinked at the blue light that formed in his hands. When he opened it, a fist-sized gemstone remained. It was a crimson hue, glittering in the light, the same color as she had requested.
"Thank you, little one, for the offering."
She cooed at the sight. Precious gemstones like this currently hold little value in the same way they would in the modern era, Hephaestus found. Besides, rearranging the graphite and transmuting it into precious gemstones was a trick that EMIYA had picked up in his life with human magic. In theory, anyone could do this with the knowledge, power, and practice.
Yet, to the uneducated, it was a phenomenal feat.
To the educated, it was like watching the impossible made possible. Kassandra stared at the gemstone, making a mental note to talk to Hepahestus and make sure that he was well aware NOT to share this particular talent with anyone on Hecate's island.
The poor god would never be allowed to leave. Transmutation was a highly sought-after skill, one that countless witches attempted and almost always failed at. Even the successes were rather shoddy at best, resulting in far less material. Usually, the ratio for a successful transmutation ranged from 1:125. If one were trying to make gold, that was a rather horrid investment. Yet, her best friend just crapped out what looked like a Ruby from a fistful of ash.
"Krios, your color?"
"Oh look," she thought, "he's doing it again, just ignoring equivalent exchange."
Hecate would kill him if she ever discovered this, mainly because from what Kassandra could see…it was entirely human magic at play. Not a single ounce of divinity was relevant in this spellwork.
It was strange to Kassandra how it worked. It was like his human mana was used foremost, until such a time that divinity was required. Like an automatic transmission in a vehicle, shifting gears as conditions demanded.
She smiled though, enjoying the way he smiled away, gifting each of the children who came to him a colorful stone. He turned to the adults, still more than half the large bowl of ash remaining.
"Thank you for allowing the children to have some fun. Is there anyone else who would like one? It's rather easy to make."
She knew he meant it as a way to assure them that it was no problem. Yet, there was no way anyone here would take that as intended. One young woman approached, along with what she assumed was her partner.
"Could…is there a way to make one that is intertwined?"
It was a quiet whisper. Hephaestus blinking. He looked between them, smiling.
"I see, you mean to be together?"
Marriage as a concept was widespread at this time, though the various traditions and permissions required varied vastly from one region to another.
"We were meant to be married in the temple of Hera, when the lands connected, but…"
The poor woman's face fell.
"My father passed, getting us to the boat. My dowry and all that was between us fell as well and the priest wouldn't let us marry without..."
She looked away.
"The gods would not bless our union."
"That is–"
He wanted desperately to explain that the Gods had very little to do with the success or failures of marriage as a whole, but to be fair, he wasn't entirely certain himself. Still, they seemed worried enough about it.
"I see…you wish for a gemstone, to commemorate your joining?"
He nodded.
"The journey to Argos, as was our plan, is no longer possible. Still…she–"
"We," she interrupted, looking at him with narrowed eyes.
"Right," he chuckled lightly, "we cannot travel for another year…we are with our child."
She smiled ruefully, placing a hand on her stomach.
"I wanted to be married before…"
It was well known the risk that mothers carried in this era. It was a melancholic feeling, but he grew serious at the implication.
"What colors would you like?"
She blinked.
"Truly?"
"Truly," said Hephaestus, "After all, a marriage should be special, no?"
Yellow for the husband, blue for the wife. She was named Atrexa. He was named Harold. Both their names were engraved within the gemstone that he created. It was created into a perfect sphere, a swirl of topaz and sapphire that was impossible to make with current human technology.
He made sure to induce a sense of color to the rob overall, to make the names pop for the two of them.
He smiled, gifting the orb to the wife.
"May your lives together be long and happy. I don't know if such a blessing is worth anything, but you have mine at the very least."
They blinked.
"You said your marriage was overlooked by the Gods. Well, that can't be the case with me, correct?"
The young woman began to cry slightly, clutching the god forged stone in her hands.
"Thank you," she whispered, "we'll treasure it!"
He bowed to them, making every human uncomfortable.
"Consider it my own wedding gift to you all."
He gestured to the village around him.
"This place was built with all your efforts. This home you've all made for yourselves is something to be proud of. I am honoured I got to play a part both in this village and in this special moment of your lives. Consider this my thanks for the hospitality."
The sky shuddered a bit, making him look up. He had a feeling he knew what that was, but the way Kassandra trotted up beside him made it obvious.
"It's time to go," he muttered, "shame. I wanted to pack a bit more."
"You can conjure everything you need," snarked Kassandra.
"It's the principle of the matter."
"Of course it is."
The grateful couple backed away, the entire gaggle of people did. For Ifrit grew larger and larger than most had seen the bird grow, many of the current villagers had not been around when Ifrit protected the denizens from the ice storm.
She screamed to the world, surrounding Hephaestus and Kassandra with flames, before rocketing upwards into the sky. A single feather fell from her tail, fluttering in the wind.
Krios caught the feather, yelping at the heat as it fell from his fingers and into the ash bowl. It suddenly combusted, making Krios' uncle, who was carrying some broken pieces of limestone, jump.
Flat as the ground was, that didn't mean it was entirely smooth. Divots here or there were filled with rainwater. The stone plopped with nary a problem, just another annoyance to be had. The blue flames were sputtering as someone stupidly kicked the bowl over, in an attempt to sputter the flames with the wet ground.
Legios stared at the ash as it fluttered into the bundle of water. He watched as the ash absorbed the water, the stone just sitting idly by.
He turned, eyeing the incomplete wall further north of their village. It was a broken thing, the mud used with the stone having cracked under the weight, making the wall fall. His eyes widened, a thought, an idea. An idea that was ignited by the smoldering blue flames dancing in his eyes.
-Hecate's Island, a few moments later-
Traveling to Hecate's lands proved a far easier task than some would assume. Well, easy so long as you're invited. The island did not exist in a singular space, so much as it existed outside of it, isolated from the world around it. A safe haven for witches and sorceresses of all kinds, a haven of knowledge for the mystic arts.
As such, the shimmering skies that had beckoned Ifrit and her charges were the very gateway to this new place.
Much like the centaurs bent space, so too did Hecate's magic. Smothered by flames, there wasn't much to see, but when they landed, it was an entirely different story.
A rather annoying one.
"PHOENIX, GET IT!"
Ifrit squawked in shock, its body reducing in size as it hid behind Hephaestus. He glared at the trio of witches, their hands up, blinking at him.
"Don't."
His word rumbled with authority, the threat as explicit as it could be. It didn't help that his eyes glowed to further drive the message home. Kassandra scoffed, her face looming down on everyone there.
"Same old, same old," she sighed.
"Kassandra," muttered one.
Her arms were littered with strange symbols, a wolf pelt strewn across her shoulders. The other two were similar, but held different pelts.
"I am here for an audience with Hecate."
He stated it simply. Yet the three scoffed in front of him, raising a brow.
"Your audience is rejected," one said snobbily.
He blinked, looking at Kassandra, who was also quite stupefied. Thankfully, they weren't alone. The two women he thought were her cronies instead turned to her like she was an idiot.
"If he's here for Lady Hecate, then we cannot bar them, Lilana."
"What?"
"They're…you do realize he is a God!?"
The dark-haired girl snorted, raising her hand as if to cast a spell. She was suddenly morphed into a rabbit for her troubles as a familiar smoky tone echoed. The girl closest to her quickly grabbed the squeaking rabbit, bowing apologetically to him.
She moved seamlessly between her two apprentices, a familiar face greeting him.
"My apologies," she drawled, "I was left preoccupied a moment longer than anticipated. Forgive my more rash students. They are relatively new to the world of the divine and don't yet understand the workings of divine barriers."
Hephaestus looked to her for the first time in months, and even now, Hecate struck a defining figure. Dusky skin, glowing green eyes, and a chiton complete with a shawl and veil for her face. Her curvaceous figure was what he had come to see as the norm for Goddess overall, but the compact muscles were more of a rarity.
He bowed to her, making the apprentices beside her blink.
"Lady Hecate, thank you for accepting my request."
Hecate hummed, eyeing him critically.
"Well, when you offered what you did, what choice did I have? Come, best speak elsewhere."
She gestured for them to follow, even nodding for Kassandra as well. Ifrit however, did something that made Hecate's eyes almost bug out of her head. She screeched, retreating within Hephaestus to his inner world. Hecate openly gawked, her apprentices no better.
"...what?"
"Do you realize what you've done?"
"Evidently not," muttered Hephaestus.
Beside Hecate was a black dog, eyes that were just as green as her own. The breed was similar to a Doberman of all things, the quizzical look it had all the more alarming.
"Your...how does your body even…you're physical."
"...what?"
Hecate weaved a hand, and more runes than he could process blinked into existence. It seemed like they were trying to veer into something, but thankfully, he was not alone in his efforts to conceal his inner world.
"Don't even think about it," drawled a lazy voice.
Acheron, the river of misery and woe. She was an expert at twisting energies to obscure and deceive. It didn't take much for her to add her own efforts within his world, just in case.
"Your fractured nature surprises me more and more each time I see it, Lord Hephaestus. Seeing a familiar merge with their God is…unprecedented to say the least."
"I…see."
He didn't really get it, but he wasn't here for that. Nor did he care. He followed once she began walking more, taking in more of her home. The trees may have been dark and dreary, but the people he came across were far from it. Some were young, mastering magic at the most basic of levels. Some were nearing the end of their lives, old crones that reeked of ancient magic. There was no village or community from what he could see, no central school. If anything, most of the witches they walked past seemed to live in relative isolation. Connected, but distinct. Yet, there was no mistaking the open concept home of Hecate for anything but what it was.
There were several paths to enter this space, a small river bank to the side, a garden of impossible plants, and of course, to top it of, a massive cauldron bubbling with stereotypical green liquid.
"Welcome, young Olympian. To what do I owe you to…finish your work?"
Her tone was stone cold, yet the mirth couldn't escape her cheeks, veil or not. He crossed his arms, ignoring the wowed look on Kassandra's face as she sauntered around.
"I seek an audience with the one you call Circe. I seek a student she calls Nekrosa."
Hecate looked into her cauldron, a droll stare in her eyes.
"What of it? Is it that important to you?"
"It is, paramount even," he said.
"My answer is no."
Hecate gestured to all the witches who looked through the woods at them. He had not noticed them all drifting. Women of differing ages and body types, all glaring at him. Kassandra was visibly uncomfortable at the stares she had as well.
"These women are skilled in the mystic arts, reviled for no reason other than jealousy and fear. They do not come here to be hunted, they are here to be free, to practice and develop as they please."
"I do not seek to intrude on yours or anyone else's freedoms," stated Hephaestus. "I am here only to achieve answers and to ensure that justice is done for those who had suffered under my charge."
Regardless of whether it was actually his responsibility or not to keep them safe was irrelevant to his own personal belief. He liked Calliope's family, the way they smiled and cheered. The way they made his heart feel lighter, if only a tad. It was a feeling that he felt in the human village back in Lemnos, with Krios and his family, the nymphs, and even other humans from time to time.
They were his responsibility, especially in such a dangerous age. His voice echoed through the woods, gesturing to all.
"I do not seek to mindlessly persecute anyone here. Those that I had come to care for were victims of an orchestrated attack, one performed by seamless chimeras. Human flesh melded with that of monsters or beasts. They were ripped apart, their corpses left to her apprentice to fondle and so as he pleases."
Calm as his voice may have been, his body was not. The slow cracking as flames escaped his arms and chest was visible to all.
"Please, I only seek justice. Proper justice. If I must question her amidst her peers, then so be it, but I leave that choice for you."
Hecate narrowed her eyes.
"You expect me to believe you would let the matter lie?"
"Of course not," said Hephaestus, "but that is precisely why I am here. To do so properly and with respect. If I wanted her head on my spear, I would invoke an entirely different Goddess to assist me."
Hecate shivered a tad, feeling the presence of the moon. This was no accident. He knew Artemis and knew her well enough that he could invoke her. Yet, she was part of the moonlit cabal, a group of Goddesses that convened under Selene herself. There was simply no way she would help Hephaestus in the manner…but that didn't mean he had no options.
The face of Hermes filtered in Hecate's mind. While Artemis may have been a premier tracker, Hermes had a way of getting results in the most unexpected of ways.
"This truly happened?"
Hecate turned, eyeing her oldest apprentice. She was a master of rejuvenating magics, that very mastery present in a body that was nearing its third century of life. Granted, it was a life that would end soon, but she was a titan to all those who lived here with Hecate, her second in command. She was a short woman, age bringing her down from an already shortish height. She held a giant staff, easily twice her height, her body covered in tattoos and mystical armlets.
"Despoina, you should be resting," muttered one of the younger apprentices behind her, a shapely young woman with auburn hair.
Hephaestus turned to her, his eyes open and pleading.
"Yes. I seek no quarrel with your people."
The woman before him held her hair in braids, her wrinkled skin a testament to her wisdom and age. Her eyes, while slightly cloudy, held a weight to them that Hephaestus could only describe as old.
"Come before me, Godling. Let me see for myself. If what you say is true, you will not resist my magic."
He knelt in front of her. Despoina gestured for his arm and he freely offered it. She smirked, knowing how Gods usually were. Liars and tricksters. Even Hermes, sweet as he was, held secrets. They always assumed she wouldn't be able to read anything due to their divinity, which would be true if not for her lady's blessing filtering the ramifications of it.
Yet, as her hand fell upon his arm, she noted two things. The first, that his skin was near scalding to her old fingers. The second, that his life was terribly short.
The magic of Psychometry was rare. One of the few magics humans were capable of that freely entered the realm of the divine, albeit in a limited fashion.
She assumed the Godling, newly formed an Olympian he may have been, was at least a century old. He was barely above a quarter of that. Second, the second made her almost throw up. The flash of a blade, crimson blood, the painful feeling of your spine straightening itself. It took her considerable strength to remain connected.
Hecate however, was far more concerned. She saw the way her old friend's brow twisted, the sweat pouring off her brow. She thought Hephaestus had done something at first, but a sharp shaky breath snapped her from that.
"Despoina," whispered Hecate, "are you alright?"
Despoina turned her gaze upwards, eyeing the worried expression of the God before her. She sighed, turning to her apprentice and master.
"Summon Circe."
They all blinked.
"Truly?"
"What did you see?" demanded Hecate.
The sigils in her tattoos glowed, and Hecate knew all. The group was silent as Hecate stood. Much as Despoina was respected, none would ultimately move without Hecate's say-so.
"Get Circe."
One that was given.
Hephaestus turned to the older woman.
"Are you alright?"
She laughed, waving him off.
"Oh, I'm fine, young Olympian, merely getting old. I can see that you are a man of your word."
"I try to be," he muttered.
"Better than most who don't bother. Come, I will tell you how it is we decide justice amongst our people and you can tell me a bit about the outside world."
She turned to look up at him, smiling as he followed her.
"You can tell me why you're so damn big. Can't be polymorphism, what with you having a physical body."
The old lady hobbled over to a small rock, ignoring the pointed look that Hecate gave her. He patted the space beside her. He sat down, making sure to lean close so that he could hear her even as she spoke quietly.
"Despoina," muttered Hecate with a chuckle, "he is far too young for you."
Despoina shook her stick.
"Bah you! Let an old woman have her fun. Most wayward men get turned into pigs, let me stare at one for once."
Hephaestus blinked, turning to Kassandra. All he got for the trouble was a shrug. He sat beside her anyway, wondering how it was a goddess like Circe was taking so long.
"Ah, that," muttered Despoina, "Circe's a spoiled brat."
He blinked, eyeing the way the human gave no shits for her language. The old sorceress shrugged.
"It's the truth. Came to our lady for strength, was given it, now believes she knows the truth of the world and how it should be run."
"It can't be that bad?" chuckled Kassandra weakly.
"She wants to turn all men into animals."
"Oh."
"Permanently."
"OH."
"She's fond of–"
"Let me guess," drawled Hephaestus, "pigs?"
All he got for his comment was a cackle from the old woman.
"So she's dragging her feet," he said.
Despoina blinked, smiling up at him.
"I like that saying, I'll take it from you."
"By all means. So what is this process you were alluding to, Lady Despoina?"
She giggled a bit.
"Ooooh, a smooth talker are you?"
He smiled.
"Respect is earned and I can see that it has been earned many times over."
The way they all were ready to charge him, a god, revealed the depth of these people's affection. The old leader smiled, looking towards her Goddess, the one keeping a close eye on them. Perhaps to others she seemed aloof, preparing concoctions in her cauldron, but she knew better.
"Basically, you present your evidence and we as a people decide the repercussions."
He blinked.
"That's…your process?"
"Of course."
He looked around, staring at all the witches who were glaring at him.
"Then why bring me to the side here?"
She patted his cheek, a kind grandmotherly smile on her face.
"You're lucky you're a handsome boy."
Her hand then went to his chest.
"Seriously," she asked, "what do you eat? You're twice the size of the tallest man I've ever seen."
"I...uh…Kassandra!"
The woods chuckled away at his misfortune, but in his desperation, he saw it. A small peek beneath Hecate's veil. A delicate mouth, one whose lips were surrounded by inked symbols, spread slightly in a demure grin. It was devastating, making him pause for a minute. He turned back, eyeing the shit eating grin the old woman was throwing his way.
"What?"
"Nothing," she chuckled, "she's a little old for you," she whispered.
He rolled his eyes, not this again.
"I assure you, I'm no child."
She chuckled, "Yes, because that was the concern I was addressing."
Her jovial look never left, but a cold draft wavered through the open space around them. Circe entered, elegant as she was extravagant. Unlike most, Circe was adorned with many gold pieces. Magical as they were, it was rather gaudy to Hephaestus. Her black hair was braided and pooled around her right shoulder, a circlet around her head. Her chiton flowed an easy pink, flowing seamlessly around her shoulders and hips. It was a longer style than he was accustomed to seeing, not out of place in a palace. In her right hand was a wooden staff, one interlined with gold inlays and runic sequences. A powerful, if mundane, focus.
"I've been called Lady Hecate. To what do I…"
Circe stared at Hephaestus. At first, he thought he was recognized somehow, but it was a far simpler reason.
"What's a man doing here?" she demanded.
"He seeks your apprentice."
Circe looked away.
"I don't have one master, you've not deigned to assign me–"
The image of Nekrosa suddenly appeared, making Circe's lips sour.
"..."
"Ignore it all you like," scowled Hecate, "but I know that you've been training apprentices without consulting me. I've ignored it for now, to respect the rules of this home we've built, but one that has been harmed by her actions has come requesting information. You are to give it."
Hephaestus stood. He noted immediately that Circe was far from comfortable with his appearance. She shied away almost minutely as he stood across from her. He couldn't help but wonder what made her so afraid in the first place, but that's none of his business either way.
\What he needed to know was far more important.
"Out with it dog, I would hear your question and move on."
Hecate almost smited the girl for her arrogance, yet oddly enough, it was Despoina who spoke. All eyes turned to her with the way she was laughing.
"...what is it, Grandmaster?" muttered Circe.
You could hear the distaste for the title in her mouth, the way she had to look at this human as a superior.
"Just find it funny you have the means to be so rude to an Olympian."
Circe's face remained unchanged, a fact that Hephaestus actually respected her for, but he could see the way her lips twitched slightly, her eyes looking the other way. She did not know that.
"What of it?"
"I've come to ask some questions about Nekrosa. Do you know why she would assist a man named Deimos in his assault in a village belonging to the celestial mother?"
An alternative name for Leto. Circe shrugged, remaining uncooperative.
"I see," muttered Hephaestus, "so you're unaware, but knew about the man."
Circe stilled, glaring at him. It was too late for all of them however, as Hecate soon realized. It was at this moment that Hecate realized that for all his youth, Hephaestus wasn't a boy.
He was a man.
One that tricked all of them. After all, he had already analyzed the staff that Circe kept in her hands as a show of power.
"Is that all?" she demanded.
"Do you know if there is a Nekrosa who is currently a part of Hecate's coven, or any coven for that matter?"
Circe smirked.
"I can say with absolute certainty, there is not."
Hephaestus schooled his expression to one of disappointment.
"I see. A shame."
"I am done here," announced Crice snobbily. She popped into a shower of pink sparks, uncaring of the collateral that could have formed from her sparks hitting dry grass.
He turned to Hecate, noting the impressed expression on her face.
"You clever little bastard," she smirked.
Everyone was tense. The word bastard was a much greater insult in this period, an obvious jab. It felt childish to him. Ironically, this whole keeping himself held back was far easier when he didn't plan to do it from the start.
"Whatever do you mean?" he smirked.
He tilted his head, his crimson hair falling over his eyes. Hecate's own eyes narrowed, though a playful smirk could be felt even with the veil covering them. Hephaestus was not much of a conversationalist, but with experience and a human village to converse with, he found he was a quick learner.
His unexpected confidence proved a greater boon than he thought if the slight fluster he saw in her shoulders meant anything.
"You never intended to get any answers out of Circe directly."
They moved closer to one another.
"You acquiesced to my request," said Hephaestus, "unfortunately for me, Circe revealed nothing on her own violation. Our transaction is complete."
"You were hoping for her to simply divulge her transgressions, in front of me?" smiled Hecate, "quite a foolish hope, welp."
"Is it foolish if it is expected? As you say, I got my answers anyway."
Hecate narrowed her eyes, their noses almost touching. She had to levitate slightly to keep their eyes even with each other.
"Arrogance at its finest, expected of a man."
He smirked.
"Perhaps. Yet, I'd be more worried for the snake you've let wrap around your bosom than me. If you will excuse me, Lady Hecate, I have places to be. I do appreciate your cooperation today, I won't forget your assistance."
He backed away first, a bow at his retreat. Ifrit funneled out of his chest, flapping her wings. Everything about this situation made the old lady cackle, though the Azure phoenix did almost make her shit a brick at the sight. Even Hecate blinked at the flaming bird, noting the differences.
"So, young godling," she said, sauntering to him, "when should I expect your end of the deal?"
He looked at her, Kassandra hurriedly getting behind him.
"...I'll get to it, eventually. It will be built, though."
He leaned forward.
"Eventually."
Hecate blinked, rearing her face back with wide eyes.
"You, you dare?" she whispered.
She knew just from the feel of his aura that he was joking. Every fiber of her analytical mind was screaming that this was just a joke. Yet, this young godling suddenly having that, that smile, was just…infuriating?
"What sort of manners have you come to learn?" she scoffed, retreating to the comfortable role of elder.
"...I learned from the very best," said Hephaestus, "from a lovely matron that taught me quite the lesson some months back. Till next time."
A surge of azure flames surrounded him, and the lord of flames billowed into the sky above, disappearing from her domain. There was nothing she could do, no opening to force him to stay aside from severe force. Yet, her hand never raised, instead just staring at the spot he used to be. She blinked, wondering if what had happened was even real.
It could have been seconds, minutes, or even longer. Yet, she was shocked out of her reverie when a dull poke hit her in the leg. She looked down at her first genuine student. The usual air of respect and admiration was instead replaced with a smug smile and a leering look.
"Don't you start," she whispered, ignoring her.
Some of her younger students were giggling away.
"Shoo! Away with you all before I turn you into crows."
"SQUAK!"
"I will keep you that way longer, Amirante, I swear!"
"SQUAK!"
"Have you considered this is why you were polymorphed into a crow?"
"SQUAK!"
"How dare you?" whispered Hecate, glaring at the bird cackling near her cauldron, "I am not a spinster!"
The crow, student, whatever it was, cackled as it flew away. Leaving Hecate alone in her inner conflict.
-Hephaestus, currently unnamed Island.-
When Ifrit landed, he expected many things. The utter gobsmacked expression of Kassandra leaning down to stare him down was not one of them.
"Are you alright?"
"Are you!?" she whispered, "Do you even know who you were flirting with!?"
"That was not flirting."
"That was entirely nothing but flirting!? She is like a thousand years older than you!?"
He stared at her, a quizzical look.
"Wis is older than her."
Kassandra opened her mouth and then closed it.
"Shut up, that doesn't count."
"Of course not. Now, are you able to return home from here? I'm afraid this may turn violent if words fail."
"Isn't Nekrosa human?"
"She is, but her teacher is not. There's not a chance that she won't show up to protect her student, regardless of what I say or do. I'd rather you be safe at home before anything escalates."
He turned to Ifrit.
"Can you carry her back? I got it from here, old friend."
Ifrit squealed, wrapping Kassandra up as she flew away.
Hephaestus turned, the dense rocky region of this island a perfect hiding place. This had been his primary plan from the start. He knew that with Hecate's magic and whatever Circe knew, getting information out from the Goddess was going to be impossible from verbal communication alone. Still, as he had proven, he had other avenues for acquiring information, the key to which was structural analysis. EMIYA was restricted to blades being automatically registered into his reality marble, history and all. It took concentration, but he was able to do it. Hephaestus however, had far greater domains and power at his fingertips. It wasn't that difficult to sift through the memories during his flight and direct Ifrit.
Circe was smart, having used natural, albeit sped-up, means of transportation to commune with Nekrosa and her other students. A fact that ironically worked against her this time around, having given Hephaestus a direct path to whom he needed to see.
Granted, the memories were far from perfect. The process used to gather them was far from foolproof and had no way of his leafing through the memories of the objects at his leisure. He got what he got from it.
Yet, it was the only way he could conceive of that would ensure zero additional debts or promises from any god or goddess. Besides, even in a region like this, he technically had multiple ways to track his target. He knelt, placing his hand on the ground of the island.
Thankfully, he could sense no divine spirit or God here in any way. A boon really, one that allowed him to do this unimpeded.
With a burst of divine energy, Hephaestus began to analyze the very structure beneath his feet. Blue lines stretched out, bringing his thoughts even further than they would naturally go by eyesight alone. It took a few minutes, but he noticed a strange blank spot in the further mountain regions to the east of this island. He knew where he was going.
This was a completely uninhabited island, he needn't worry about any human lives getting involved. He dashed, putting every ounce of force into his legs; he scowled a bit, feeling the minute distance of each new crack in his legs. Already, he could feel his reality marble thrum within his chest.
It was calling to him, the urge to give absolutely everything to a project. His legs would be the first. After all, the weaving skills of Athena were something he had been dying to incorporate.
The actual weaving of threads was inconsequential, a knowledge he already had. The method of interweaving one's divinity with conscious control was another one entirely. Thanks to Athena, he had learned how, all without anyone realizing that he had gotten far more out of the deal between him and the Goddess of War than any realized.
It was all looking up. New legs, more information, getting ever closer to putting Nemesis in the jaw. It was precisely these positive emotions that made the steel within him rumble to life. It was like he crammed it all into a box. While it was much harder than it was a few months ago, the cold analytical feeling that EMIYA embodied was still within reach.
His eyes dulled slightly as he took a breath, launching himself in the air. The cool wind and the slow inhale helped center him, ensuring that he was at his best before he confronted anyone. His goals?
"Find Nekrosa," he thought, "ascertain the full depth of her partnership with Nemesis. Second, see if I can figure out the full network of allies that Nemesis has. It would be smart to start reducing said allies to as limited a number as I can."
Slow it may be, but if he was going to exact justice for Calliope and her family, he would realistically only have one shot. Unlike Skilros and the others, he planned to be more careful with his words. There was no telling what Nemesis might overhear now that he was closer than he had ever been.
Best to play this off as if he believed Nekrosa was the true enemy.
"CAW!"
His shoulders were wrapped in talons as Ifrit flew behind him, quickly barreling towards the crevice between two mountainous crags. Ifrit was able to enter, quickly finding the ledge about a few dozen meters in. She plucked a few feathers, cleaning herself properly for what was to come.
She was as much invested in this as he was. Much like the barrier from before, it shimmered slightly, a divine energy preventing anyone from entering. This time though, he recognized the energy. For a time, he had considered that this barrier was made by Nemesis, but Circe's distinct signature was littered throughout this cavern.
Either she was involved far more in Nemesis' plots than he thought, or these barriers had a different function. Before, he had to be careful. This time, he didn't care. He knew the rough structure of this place. She was no god. There was no way that she could escape rapidly enough for it to matter.
Which meant he conjured Rule Breaker. It was always the arrogant thoughts that led to sloppy executions. The rainbow dagger shuddered into existence, the tip of the blade finding the nexus of the barrier.
To his divine eyes, the yellowish barrier dispersed silently, as if it had never been there to begin with. He walked through, focusing every sense that he could. The walls further in were lined with a phosphorus material, lighting everything in a splash of green.
The further he went, the greater the stench of decayed flesh. He scowled, eyeing the strewn pieces of corpses left to rot.
He was at the entrance of whatever hellscape this was turning into, and his frown turned into full displeasure-filled with utter contempt. This entire cave system was strewn with holes in the walls, acting as makeshift storage for a variety of corpses. Most were human, with others filled with monster corpses.
Those, he admitted, were of some interest. It only took a second for his eyes to scan the runes that littered the walls, the ancient Greek symbols etched into his improved memory. It was the center of the room that proved the most disgusting. Rune circles spread across the room were littered with blood and crystallized mana shards; in the center lay a woman whose body was mostly pale, her hair a grey, tattered mess. Her eyes snapped to him, frantic and a putrid yellow. The strangest part was that she was on her back in the middle of the circle.
"A visitor?" she spewed.
She stood, symbols etched throughout her body. There were no tattoos, but instead carved into her very flesh. The awkward angles of some of the cuts show it was done by hand. She wore a cloth around her chest and lower half, but wore nothing else.
The circles that surrounded her carried one corpse for each, a series of 5 in a perfect star pattern.
He looked around, each corpse was human, with a monster's limb above them. He stared at her.
"I've come seeking answers about Deimos."
She blinked. One that turned to hatred.
"It was you who killed him," she whispered, "my beloved Deimos."
He readied himself, Ifrit cawing on his shoulders. She stared the firebird with a ravenous smirk.
"The feathers of a phoenix, oh you'll do just FINE!"
The human corpses shuddered as fleshy tendrils grew from the small wounds around their bodies. Some became hybids filled with insect-like traits. Other's more bestial. One was even a large bipedal wolf, a visible improvement in the unification process he had seen before.
It disgusted him that she had improved in any way.
"I say this only once," his voice rumbled, "stand down and surrender."
The five corpses lunged at him. The crazy necromancer, for what else could she be, grinned. Yet, the light of her eyes matched the corpses she so loved within a moment. Blades shimmered into existence.
"Trace on."
The beasts that had lunged at him turned to ash as the Phoenix randomly grew in size, engulfing them in flame. The fire surged around him like a circle, more blades forming above him as he held his arms out, like a prayer.
"Fire."
The swords fired into each of the circles that surrounded her. The blades punctured whatever defenses she had as well, one spearing her in the stomach with a curdling screech echoing from her mouth.
The blades detonated with explosive, fiery force, burning and crumbling the sigils she had painstakingly carved into the ground. It was a wonder the entire cavern didn't simply collapse, though Nekros made a mental note to move to a new location after this.
She scrambled to get up, waving her hand to summon a multitude of bone spikes from the ground. Her stomach sealed itself up, though there was no blood.
Hephaestus glared at her, knowing exactly what she was. EMIYA had dealt with an uncountable number of them. It wasn't exactly the same, but she shared a startling similarity to a dead apostle.
A walking corpse.
She didn't heal or reverse time. Instead, her flesh closed up, tightening with precise magical control. His body lurched forward. She stumbled as she turned, slamming into the chest of the very intruder she was trying to escape.
She felt a shiver crawl down her spine at the way those golden eyes drilled into her. They were unlike anything she had seen on a person before. She couldn't help herself, rubbing the space just under her left eye.
"You will answer every question I have," he growled.
He kneeled in front of her, gripping her wrist. He could feel the strength in them, shivering at the raw heat of his skin seeping into her. She was naturally cool to the touch, her body nothing but a strewn-together assembly of all the best parts she had come across in the corpses she collected.
"Pathetic God," muttered a voice, "of course you'd just barge into here."
He turned, facing Circe, who now aimed a hand at his face. He turned, eyeing the way she had suspended Ifrit into a weird stasis, his friend just hovering there motionless. He felt the force push against him into a wall.
Circe snorted, turning to Nekros.
"Hello, Nekros. I warned you what would happen when you got too zealous."
The corpse woman merely grinned.
"Lady Circe! Thank you. I wasn't expecting a visitor today, he ruined my conversion!"
"I can see that," she scowled, disgusted, "it's best to le–"
Circe was blown off her feet, directly into the next wall by a chunk of rock thrown at her. A completely mundane force that no divine wall could block. After all, most gods didn't throw normal rocks at each other.
She sputtered as she crawled herself out, glaring at the way Hephaestus simply stalked back to Nekros.
"How dare you!" yelled Circe, "This is none of your concern!"
She didn't know how he found them, but he was going to stop!
"You loathsome bug! The moment I–"
She hated the way her voice quelled as he locked eyes with her. He had seemed like a pushover to her when she first laid eyes on him. A do as told, godling. Yet, there was murder in his eyes.
He would kill her if need be, Hecate be damned. It wouldn't be permanent, but it would be annoying for a Goddess like her. She hated it, hated the way those eyes looked down at her, as if he had a reason to be so utterly contemptuous of her.
"This world belongs to us!" she yelled, "to those that possess the gift."
He blinked.
"I see."
Swords, countless swords, shimmered into the air. They twisted in the space above him, aiming directly at her. She blinked. This was not simply divine oomph. That was a cudgel, a brute force method that merely imitated the beauty of magic.
This…this was magic. Actual magic…in the hands of a man!?
"Sit down. This does not involve you…for now."
The blades fired, digging into her skin. The wounds healed instantly, the golden blood smeared on the metal only temporarily. Though one was different. It was a purple and black weapon. A wicked scythe, as she understood it. It had only nicked her arm, but the cut refused to heal. She stared at him.
"Just find it funny you have the means to be so rude to an Olympian."
She had thought that old crone was joking. The addition of Apollo and Artemis had been huge news. Yet, the idea that a pompous bastard would keep quiet about others "joining his family" as he put it was ridiculous. Yet, the proof was before her.
Hephaestus, the latest Olympian.
She cringed at the way mortality was intertwined with him, like he was some sort of human hybrid.
She charged forward, ignoring the cuts that remained on her body. He couldn't get Nekrosa, she needed her to bring them all to their rightful place!
Yet, her hopes were dashed as he knelt forward and clasped his hand around Nekrosa's throat. He turned to her and raised his hand. A torrent of hellish fire raced towards her, exploding inside this ghoulish place Nekrosa called home, or at least just to her.
She hated it, hated the way the words escaped, the desperation in it. Unbidden, her voice echoed her plea.
"Mistress Hecate!"
The flames were snuffed out, her voice heard by her…mistress. Circe detested how dependable her lady looked, staring at her muscular back as she stood before this young god.
"Hephaestus," she said simply.
"Lady Hecate. Give me a moment, I am busy with other matters."
"I can see that. I'll have to ask you to stop."
"On what grounds," he said, still staring at Nekrosa. The eyes of the corpse woman were steadily regaining their confidence.
"Pardon?" muttered Hecate.
It was confusing to her as well, for Circe was confident in jurisdiction here. Witches were under Hecate's domain.
"She is no apprentice of yours nor Circe's," said Hephaestus, "thus she is not yours to claim. She has done me a great wrong with her creations. I've come to exact the price for sick indulgences."
He turned, facing the two of them.
"That, that was just…"
Circe felt her throat dry as the words died in her throat. The question he asked…was he thinking that far ahead? How much did he know!?
She felt the heat slowly build and her skin pucker. It was unreal, the raw heat that exploded out from him, but that was a mere prelude. His presence filled the room, like countless blades whose tips were already pricking her skin, their edges on her neck. There was a weariness to him, an age that made no sense, and a coldness that went utterly against the very flames he could invoke.
Circe had been privy to Hestia's might only once, having seen Nemesis be brought low by it. She was stronger, her presence more suffocating, but her flames? Her flames were pathetic compared to this. Hers was welcoming, soothing.
His was destructive, as if rage took on a physical state and was ravaging the very air around it. As if the world assaulted its very presence and it was howling back at it. She felt her eyes widen slowly as his flames covered every space in the room. Hecate raised an eyebrow.
"This is rather new," she drawled lazily.
"This is not my home," said Hepahestus, "there is no life here. I do not have to worry about collateral damage."
"You act as if I were going to stop you."
"Weren't you?"
Hecate smirked.
"You know what I want. Give me that and you'll have no trouble."
The flames sputtered out, Ifrit breaking free of the bonds that Circe could no longer sustain with her shaky resolve. The way he smirked with those eyes, as if every word was an insult to her, the great Circe.
"I'll have it ready next week."
"Truly," muttered Hecate.
Circe stared at her mistress and the way she was acting so coy.
"What assurances could I possibly have that you will do so?"
"My word."
It echoed as sure as the sun was burning and the ground beneath her feet. Steady, strong. Circe shivered the way it twisted her gut. It wrenched even further at the way her supposed master laughed.
"I suppose that's all I can bind you to! Very well, consider this a gift for impressing me, young god…no, Hephaestus."
He nodded to her, turning to Nekros.
"Who hired you?"
Nekros' throat bulged.
"So it was her," he muttered.
"...he knows," thought Circe, "he knows!? How!?"
She couldn't pay attention to it anymore, whatever means he was using to gather information from her student.
"It had been perfect," thought Circe, "a simple job for that nutter Nemesis. Create a scenario that would push him against the Gods, push him back to Nemesis. She told me he was a young god, barely thirty years old! He shouldn't even be fully developed, much less…that!"
She eyed his larger frame, the serious face coupled with that demeanor. That was not the attitude of a young god well below their first century. If she had known that he was more like a developed God, then she wouldn't have allowed Nekros so much freedom in the task. She hadn't known about Deimos at the time, Nekros' little necrophiliac prodigy.
It was disgusting when she learned how…integrated the two were. The sick flesh lovers that they were. So many holes in Nekros' plot that it was no better than that cheese her other apprentice Bria adored.
"Damn you Nemesis," she thought, safe within the confines of her mind, "you overlooked too much with this!"
She turned to her master, cringing a bit at the fascinated look in her eye.
"Think," thought Circe, "think! What's a way–"
"I see," said Hecate, "so that's our time then. It was a pleasure, Hephaestus, until next time."
Circe's thoughts turned to ice, halting at the dismissive look of the woman who had effectively raised her.
"Come, Circe…we have much to discuss regarding your transgressions now that I have proof."
She closed her eyes, directing the now-hate-sparked orbs right at Hephaestus, the arrogant God, ignoring her completely as he tended to his friggen bird!
"I'll have my ven–"
Her words became forgotten in the wind, as Hephaestus continued inspecting Ifrit, not hearing a sound.
"Is anything else out of place?" he asked.
Ifrit shuffled, detesting the sluggish feeling she had. Nekrosa proved to be a far easier nut to crack, her eyes frantically looking for anything of her home that had survived. Her body language was so obvious that for a moment, he was concerned she was misleading him. Yet, there was no way that was possible. After all, he eyed her staff near the wall that Hecate and obscured from his view, strewn on the floor haphazardly.
That had sealed Nekrosa's fate.
"S-s-spare me," she hissed, "I haven't achieved–"
Her voice sputtered as Hephaestus took Kanshou and stabbed her in the heart, his hand still on her throat. He was disappointed about Circe overall, but wasn't overly concerned. There were only so many variables he could control and all that mattered was that he had more information than he did previously.
It was undeniable that Nemesis had orchestrated the hit on Calliope. Yet, the reason still eluded him. From the memories that he had gleaned from Nekrosa's staff, Nemesis seemed to be slighted by him somehow, as if he had done her some great wrong. What little conversations he could decipher from the staff became even more distorted whenever Nemesis' face or name became mentioned.
It wasn't that bad, considering that he already knew who it was that was obscured, but it was still annoying. More often than not, he only garnered pieces of a greater conversation, which wasn't good.
She wanted something from him, desperately. On that front, he could understand. Minor gods would likely demand their own symbols soon. Many wouldn't be able to withstand it, their own power fluctuating beyond their control. Yet, Nemesis was above such minor levels, even if she wasn't ranked as such by the so-called "major gods".
It was strange, seeing a being so ruled by their domains outright. This obsession with him, though…that was good information.
"I can use that against her," thought Hephaestus, "but…the how still eludes me."
Perhaps it was an idea he could bring up to Athena.
"...she would probably give me something convoluted."
She was smart, witty, and hyperintelligent. Emotions however eluded her outright. A genius of battlefield conditions, but the warfare of the heart, she was as stupid as the rest of 'em. Aphrodite might be someone interesting to get involved with, but…well, she would likely be the opposite problem. From what he gathered, she was more powerful than she let on, more mature and wise than she would seem, which made her a hassle to even think of making deals with.
The blood of Deimos and now Nekrosa had quelled the rabid urge to avenge the ones that killed Calliope and her family.
The blood of the corpse-obsessed duo stained the very shroud he wore around his shoulders; in many ways, he had achieved the goal. From what he gathered, Nemesis didn't care about the methods used to bring him to her side. The decision to attack and…desecrate the corpses of his friends was entirely the decision of Nekrosa and Deimos.
Whatever they were, they were dead.
"They're dead," he muttered, "never to hurt another."
He looked around, the charred rocks another ensemble amidst the broken corpses that were still here. He knew what he had to do.
-Ost: Kenshi Yonezu - Tsuki Wo Miteita / Moongazing-
He turned around, eyeing the bodies that were still unmarred from his fire. How many hours it took, it didn't matter. Each body was gathered, even the ashes for those that had been left to the elements and their initial flame. He closed his eyes, knowing Ifrit burned as he did. They had all been placed on a pyre, their bodies wrapped in silk that he had conjured. Golden drachmae over their eyes, just in case.
Every region had differing practices, but he knew that Chiron accepted payment in some form.
"My friend…let's give them peace."
He snapped his fingers, a strong flame billowing underneath the fire he had built above the crevice. He closed his eyes, wishing them safe passage. A part of him wanted to absorb the souls as he had done in the river Styx, but he could tell…that wouldn't be possible here. Styx had acted as a sort of go-between in her waters, a go-between that didn't exist here.
He needed to trust Thanatos, however much that mattered.
No, he decided to do something else. He gripped the red shroud that hung around his shoulders, dropping back into the crevice. Ifrit's wings brought him back to the entrance, with quiet steps that brought him back to Nekros' corpse. He stared at it, taking a deep breath.
"Persephone."
The words echoed, a chime to them.
"Hades."
The room darkened.
"I know not if this is possible...but please let them hear me."
He stared down at the cloth between his fingers, feeling his chest burn. Ifrit cooed, burning as he did, the dark room beginning to brighten.
"Let them know that their killers have been brought to justice…that…I'm sorry."
He felt tears flow down his face, thinking of Calliope…of the life that should have been for them. Of a child whose life had never even started. Nemesis would get her due, but at least for today, the killers were finally dead. As his eyes opened, his flames burned freely.
He let it out, letting the flame within flow as the tears from his eyes. Everything burned, every trace of this dark and pathetic magic burned in front of him. So great was the heat that even the rock around him began to melt, dripping onto his body and sinking him further. Ifrit screeched, her own flames joining his in an expressive dominance of azure crimson. A swirl of grief and relief both.
Of a job done, no matter how bitter it tasted.
So great was this heat that it detonated outwards, punching through the crevice entirely, swirling through the molten rock to meet the open starry sky. He opened his eyes, seeing the stars and the moon bathing its light on him.
The stone around him shimmered into a cascade of color. Alexandrite, Moonstone, and Labradorite all littered the walls, glimmering in the moonlight. The walls shimmered like the night sky itself, as if you could look into the stones and see the galaxies up close in all their wondrous hues, as if space were just right there, a step away.
The entire space had become an open pit, glittering with jewels. It was beautiful. It was peaceful. It was perfect.
In his left hand a chisel, in his right a hammer. It wasn't difficult to find a stone large enough to accommodate his task. Soon, he had carved a wondrous tombstone. It was large, housing the names of each member of Calliope's family. The image of Ifrit was carved into this stone monument, the wings wrapping around the message, as if attempting to protect that which had long since passed.
To a loving family that I failed to protect.
May whoever finds this place know your names.
Here lies the remembrance of loving mother Calliope,
of earnest son Adamantius and the loving Yena,
the adventurous Agnes,
And the child whose breath was taken, βιοτέχνης.
Know that you will never be forgotten.
May you have the peace that eluded you in this life, in the next.
"Goodbye," he whispered.
He heaved himself up, right to the edge of the newfound pit. He looked up, staring into the stars. He decided to sit and simply bask in them, this strange peace he had found in this moment.
Over the years, this site would become known to many, with differing names being even. To some, a sacred site. To others, a place of study. People all over gave it countless names, but there was never one that could be agreed on. Yet, none would deny the work that lay within it, nor the grief that it inspired.
It was a work of art that collided with the natural beauty of the world, a once-in-a-lifetime masterpiece. Yet, it told not a story of beauty or love, but of loss and regret. A beauty that invoked a grief across time, of a love that could never be or a love that was lost.
There was no signature, no style that could be traced. There wasn't even a speck of civilization on the island. All that could be found was the imprint of feet in front of the tomb, as if someone had stood there until their dying breath.
While the truth would remain a mystery, the tomb always remained relevant. After all, any attempts to remove the tomb for better viewing always ended in the worst of ways.
Usually, by flame.
-END-
Omake - A wonderful day (Present Day)
He cranked the wrench in his hand one more time, securing the bolt to the wheel of the bike he was working on. He chewed on his cigar, the taste of an old flame filtered in his mouth. The smoke escaped his open maw, highlighting the golden glow of his eyes. Hephaestus stepped back from the large Fatboy Harley, eyeing it for any missing detail. He was not alone here today, for a head of refined blonde hair peeked out from behind the bike, giving it an analytical eye.
The two were in the middle of a large garage, one that had been repurposed into a mechanic shop that was entirely too large for the three people who were in it. Right in the middle of it was a large mechanized platform, lifting the bike from the ground to waist height. Hephaestus took a drag of his cigar, the familiar smoke filling his lungs. His body cracked a bit, smoke expelling from the crevices of his body, a small trick he had learned in all his years.
"You know, Arthur," he muttered, "there were better ways to spend our days together than fixing up your uncle's bike. He destroys it so often he can afford to wait a day or two for us to do something else."
The young man across from him held a stern expression, his eyes a shocking blue and contrasted nicely with his fine blonde hair. He has delicate features with a broad body. Thin, yet purposeful. He stood at his full height, moving to Hephaestus' left.
"Nonsense," said Arthur, "time with you, Dad is well spent no matter what we're doing. Though I admit I'm a tad overdressed for this."
The young man wore a dark blue dress-shirt, complete with a suit vest and pants. It was completely out of place in a mechanist shop, yet there was not a single spill on his delicate clothes. He handed his father the drill he kept in his hands, the grime spilling away from his skin in moments.
A large door rumbled smoothly, showing that this was part of an apartment complex, situated beneath the living spaces. In this case, beneath another parking space. The two turned, both smiling at the newcomer.
"Well, sometimes it's nice to slow things down, take it easy for a bit. It may be a simple job for you, but for us, there's always something to learn."
The blonde smirked at the redhead who came in. In his hands was a case of beer, an easy-going smirk on his face. Unlike himself, the new arrival had a bed of wild hair, just as crimson as Hephaestus' own. His face carried a wilder look, especially with the way his hair draped over his eyes.
"Theros," greeted Arthur, "I believe I asked for water?"
"Is it so hard to call me by Colt?" smirked the larger of the two siblings, "besides, much as you may say otherwise, we both know you wanted beer."
The blonde rolled his eyes, taking the offered beer. Theros, though he preferred to go by Colt, cracked open what had to be his second one from the six back he had in his hands.
Hephaestus accepted the offered can, ignoring the face of the overly buff, bearded man who gave a thumbs-up on it.
THOR APPROVED!
He rolled his eyes. That idiot really would advertise this sort of thing.
"You're both here today. Honestly, I don't mind if you want to do something else aside from working with me down here."
The larger of his two sons shrugged.
"Doesn't mean I can't learn, right?"
"True," chuckled Hephaestus, "It's been a long time since we've been able to simply sit and spend time together. When's the last time you and Arthur were able to simply relax?"
Colt was a larger man than his brother. Sharing the same crimson hair as Hephaestus, his only difference was that his eyes were white gold in color. He had a cowboy hat on, complete with a checkered shirt and jeans to fit his ensemble.
"Dad…we were here last week. You make it sound like it's been ages since we've seen each other?"
Arthur sighed.
"There was also dinner before."
"Oh yeah," smirked Colt, "your mom was even there!"
"Mother was ecstatic to be here with the rest of the family. The courts have always been annoying this time of year."
Arthur glared to the left.
"Especially with that oaf trying to get back to the throne."
"Again?" muttered Colt, "didn't Dad drag his ass out and toss him into that iron mine?"
"He did. You'd think that would be enough, along with the other countless beatings, but alas, no. The fool continues on."
"You need to get out more," muttered Colt, "come hunting with me, Arthur, at least kill your stress a bit with things that won't come back…much."
Arthur watched Colt crack open another beer, chugging it down with abandon. He gave a disgusted curl of his lip, ignoring the way their father smiled and shook his head. He towered over both of them, a constant figure in their lives. It was both reassuring and aggravating after all these years that he still felt entirely dependent on this man. He wanted to help ease his burdens, as he had come to understand them. Still, days like this…they were nice.
"Today…is perfect," smiled Colt.
Hephaestus and Arthur stared at the man.
"What? What!?"
CRACK!
All three turned, eyeing the crack that spontaneously erupted not a few feet from them. Colt turned them, eyeing them.
"This ain't on me."
They ignored him, Hephaestus looming closer to the interdimensional space.
"A child of?" he muttered, "this makes no sense?"
Arthur glared at Colt still.
"Hey, this isn't my fault!"
Hephaestus turned to his sons.
"Stay here, boys, I'll be back."
The two sons of Hephaestus looked at each other and straight up laughed. Colt was boisterous and loud, while his brother quietly chuckled. Hephaestus also gave a rueful smirk.
"I knew that wasn't going to fly," he sighed with a smile.
"Not a chance. This is the excitement the day needed, right, Dad?"
"You know that's not what I meant," muttered Hephaestus.
Colt had a large bastard sword, a shimmering blade of silver forming in his hands, resting the blade on his shoulders. His brother wielded a more elegant weapon, a standard English longsword, one that he held in one hand like a cane. Shimmering into view was a pair of large pistols strapped to Colt's legs.
"Alright, let's head in, boys."
Hephaestus gripped the edges of the distortion, accepting the call of the spell that was singing to his blood. Whatever had called him and done so with rather ancient spell work, though the inscriptions of it were rather complex. He strained to open it for only a moment, before the rift became large and stable enough to pass through, he went shoulder first, gesturing for the boys to follow wherever it led.