CHAPTER 108: ARCHON

Charon sat down on the cold onyx, his back pressing against the wall. The chill seeped through his robe, but he barely noticed. His mind was still trying to piece together everything Achlys had said.

Two demi-gods, bound to him. One by choice, one by accident.

One was content to wait. One was ready to strangle him.

’Just the kind of situation you want to find yourself in.’

He focused on Achlys, who had stopped pacing and now stood near the altar, her indistinct outline framed by the pale glow of the mist. She wasn’t looking at him, if she had eyes, but he could tell she was aware of every movement he made.

’It’s like I’m being stalked.’

Tired of waiting, the visions having sapped his patience despite how much the Warden wanted him to retain it, he finally spoke.

"You haven’t told me what happens next."

Achlys tilted her head just slightly, as though determining how much to give away.

"What I expect is for you to stop stumbling into the affairs of beings far older and far stronger than yourself. You are a leaf in a storm, boy. Learn to cling to something before you are torn apart."

He raised an eyebrow.

"That’s not an answer."

She approached and stood over him, his head barely reaching her hips.

"If you were not so blatantly poorly educated, I would assume you were plotting to become the Archon of Death. Although you possess the poor critical thinking skills required for such an undertaking, you lack any hint of knowledge."

The word she used, Archon, resonated with Charon. He hadn’t heard it used before, yet it tugged at the memory of his conversation with the High Elders.

"What’s an Archon?"

Achlys laughed, a mirthless sound that felt cold.

"Of course, you would wonder what that is. Your frail mind reaches for what it can not comprehend. It is a decidedly human trait."

Charon glowered up at her.

’Where is the demi-god who eagerly fought for her last worshipper? Who was ready to risk her life to defend the realm? Wherever she is, someone tell me how to exchange this version for that one.’

"You said that being my summon means you have to obey me. I want you to explain what an Archon is."

The mists around her seemed to shift, like a great unseen hand was stirring them. Achlys remained still, though her form flickered at the edges, as if the effort to answer was more taxing than she cared to admit.

"An Archon... is the chosen champion of a god. They inherit great powers and are said to be the physical manifestation of a god’s power. In times long gone, it was the Archons who would fight in their gods’ stead, winning them victory and concessions from the others."

The corner of Charon’s lip turned up.

"That’s it? I kind of assumed something like that was already out there. That’s basically what a powerful mage is, but a little higher."

It seemed simple, annoyingly so.

’Of course the gods would pick their favorite to be the best. They grant us our elements, after all, why can’t they show some favor and boost people even more?’

It was exactly what humans would do. The Human Empire was built on hierarchies that operated much the same way.

’It wouldn’t surprise me if the empire based them on how the gods did things.’

Achlys’ hands curled into fists, the mists around her growing thicker.

She leaned over him, a series of spears growing around them, their points aimed towards Charon.

"If you command me to go against my will again, I shall end you, child. I wished you no harm upon your entry here, and yet you have proven yourself unworthy of this power."

Charon’s first instinct was shock, followed by wry amusement, the answer to this problem being very obvious.

"I order that you never do anything that could harm me, whether directly or indirectly."

She froze, her form tightening. The spears began to slowly approach his skin, stopping just out of reach.

’Did I overplay my hand?’

He quickly began to second-guess himself, unsure if he had made the right kind of gamble. He knew he was only working with information she had provided, so it was incredibly foolish to trust it.

However, it was hard to see an alternative.

’Fortune favors the bold...’

With that thought, he jerked his uninjured arm unwards, the nearest spear poised to sink deep into his skin. He closed his eyes and prepared for the sting, but it never came.

Turning to look where the weapons once were, only a fresh layer of mist existed.

Achlys spoke down at him with hatred.

"Curse you, boy."

Charon stood and stepped closer to her, forcing her to backpeddle away.

"Curse me? You are treating me like I chose this! You are threatening me, making demands, and withholding information that I need to figure this stuff out!"

He grew more energetic as his fury spurred on a wave of adrenaline.

"I just witnessed your brother butcher villages that were supposedly your own followers, only to then watch him do it again, and again, and again! Once that was finished, I had to endure you fighting him yourself!"

He continued to approach her, spittle flying from his mouth as he shouted.

"I watched you lose, which was heartbreaking after everything else I had seen, and was then sent back here, only to find out you are now chained to my soul and hate me for it!"

Achlys’ form rippled, the edges of her mist flaring with some emotion he couldn’t name.

"You think I wished for this? You think I would chain myself to a mortal so weak he bleeds himself in petty squabbles?"

Her voice cut through the cold air like a blade, every syllable meant to wound.

"You are a tether dragging me into the soil. You are the weight that keeps my hands from striking my enemies. I had sought to spend the next few centuries in an attempt to understand my failures, but instead I am leashed to a child!"

Charon’s fists clenched.

"Then stop treating me like I’m the reason this is happening! I didn’t summon you on purpose. I didn’t drag you into this. I was trying to cross the Dead Lands, which aren’t even supposed to be here, to accomplish a mission with my friends.

Her silence was sharp, dangerous, ending only when Charon realized that, in truth, he had caused this.

He might not have meant to, but he had bled on the crown’s jewel, unintentionally causing the two of them to be bound together for the rest of his life.

It was also due to his bleeding that he saw the visions, which absolved Achlys of that as well.

He awkwardly scratched the back of his head as he sighed.

"Look, I’m sorry this is happening, but it is. If you are bound to me, and I am bound to you, then we need to work together to make this as pleasant an experience as possible. I don’t want you to suffer."

She didn’t respond for a moment, letting his fears mount before she sighed as well.

"Very well, mortal. It has been nearly a millennium since I last found myself in the employ of a human. He did not survive long, being torn apart by an emissary of Fire. I pray you find greater luck."

Charon wasn’t sure if what she said was a compliment, especially if it involved being torn apart, but he was happy for reduced hostilities.

"That’s good enough for me."

Looking around, he tried to find something to steer the conversation in a better direction, unable to locate anything until he looked down at the Warden and remembered that his summon had abilities.

’If he had his own powers, then surely she must as well? Like all those spears she has been summoning!’

"Well, since you are going to be with me, why don’t you share what you can do? We will be fighting together, after all, so it’s best we can do that effectively."

With the war against the Claytons, Charon assumed that battle would find them sooner rather than later.

Achlys tilted her head.

"It was my understanding humanity had invented the means to discover such powers on its own long ago. Has your species regressed in that time?"

Charon opened his mouth to reply before stopping, a frown slowly growing as he recalled he had such an item on hand, implanted somewhere in his neck.

’That... is a much better option.’