CHAPTER 97: WARDEN AND ACHLYS

The return did not come from the altar, like he expected, but rather from the walls.

The onyx tiles shivered. A ripple moved through the cave like the stone itself was breathing, and thin veins of mist bled through the seams, gathering overhead in a slow spiral.

Charon stepped back from the altar, trying not to look at the crown and failing miserably.

’Do not touch the spooky crown. First rule of haunted caves. The second rule is also not to touch the spooky crown. I totally read that hero story at least four times!’

The swirl overhead sank, condensed, and took the shape he had followed through town. Only the edges were sharper now, a little more defined. What seemed to be long locks of hair fell down the creature’s back, like a woman’s.

When Achlys spoke, the air did not vibrate so much as it agreed.

"You brought the Warden of the Acheron."

Charon lifted the chains on his chest with two fingers and let them clink back into place.

"Yes, and no, kind of. He brought himself after bonding with me. I am just the very confused mailman."

The figure tilted its head. Its hand rose, hovering near the pale crown, then withdrew.

"You said the name. You smelled like the river, but I could not be sure."

’Smelled like the river? What could that possibly mean? I know I’ve been away from the showers for a while, but still, come on!’

Charon took a slow breath and kept his hands in view.

If Achlys decided to remove his head, he did not want it to be because his fingers looked opinionated.

"I did not mean disrespect, saying your name like that. It was the Warden’s... idea."

In the quiet, he felt the Warden rouse inside the chains. Not with a word like usual, but instead like a posture.

Like a hound that had lifted its head.

Achlys drifted closer. A cold breeze brushed Charon’s cheeks as the figure studied him without eyes.

"You are young. Unfinished."

"Thank you. I hate that I understand that."

Silence again. The figure turned, and for a heartbeat, Charon could see something through it. A woman, pale with beautiful black hair, sitting on the sand. Others sat with her, one wearing a heavy cloak wrapped in chains.

The others were impossible to make out.

Charon felt his eyes drag to the crown again. Pale metal with three prongs, a stone that glowed as if it were tired of glowing. He did not have to be told this crown was not here for decoration.

"What is this place?"

Achlys responded without emotion, and yet, Charon almost felt some sneak in.

"Once a place of worship. My home has been sundered, and so I have drifted here, the power of my brother aiding me."

The Warden reacted almost violently to the news. The chains shook with fervor, followed by the fluttering of his robes as if a fan were blowing up them.

’Stop that! What has gotten into you?’

He earned no response.

Hoping to turn the attention elsewhere, he gestured to the crown.

"What is that?"

Achlys turned to face him. Her normally blank face was suddenly easier to identify, her small eyes full of an eternity he was petrified to look at.

"The crown is not yet of importance for you. Why has the Warden chosen to bond with you?"

She began to slowly rotate the room, Charon rooted in place by an unknown force.

"I sense the touch of another on you. That is two. Why have they chosen to come under one banner after so many millennia of being separate, and why has that led you to me?"

None of what she said made sense; the words were meaningless to Charon.

’Is she saying I’m not worthy of the Warden?’

His jaw set in a tight expression.

"What do you care? The Warden called you a friend, and he chose to bond with me, so why are you upset about that?"

"Upset."

The response wasn’t a question, but rather a threat, the sharp edge easy to feel.

Charon knew he had crossed a line, given an insult he should not have.

’Shit, shit, shit! Just perfect, piss off the creature your timeless summon seems to feel is his equal! Great going, genius! Some soul mage you are!’

Achlys did not move for a long time. The fog coiled lazily around her like smoke from a dying fire, but every instinct Charon had screamed that it was anything but harmless.

"You speak without knowing. A common flaw in your species."

Her head tilted, and the chains on his chest went taut without warning, pulling him an inch forward. His knees buckled before the tension eased, leaving the Warden’s weight pressing into him like an unspoken warning.

’Careful.’

His voice was calm, but urgency lingered under the surface, as if this was an important point that could determine the fate of many things at once.

The Mask of the Jester jingled at his hip, Achlys’ gaze turning towards it. With a flick, a tendril snaked out and snatched it up, bringing it to her face.

She studied it for a moment before turning back to him.

"Jester. You have his favor upon you? Why?"

Charon answered truthfully, too scared to lie.

"I don’t! I found that in a shop, and bought it thinking it looked cool. I use it to disguise my identity."

In a strange display of emotion, she huffed. Whether it was in humor or disgust, he wasn’t sure.

"None of the Gods’ Champions let humans happen upon their prized relics. It is antithetical to our being."

’Gods Champions? So that’s what she is, and Jester! So much for being a demi-god.’

"You have weakened the Warden. Allow me to discuss with him alone, and I shall reward you."

As he expected, it wasn’t a request, yet it had the strange wording of "allow."

’Can she not take him without my consent? Is that the power of an Animancer, having complete control of my summons?’

He wasn’t sure what the rules were for other summoners, but it was certainly strange to have something as powerful as Achlys ask for him to "allow" her to do anything.

’Should I do it, Warden? Will it be safe?’

There was a pause before the response.

’Yes.’

It was confident, yet Charon didn’t feel right with the delay.

Despite his misgivings, his instinct was to trust his first summon.

’Okay, I’m trusting you on this. Please don’t let this be a ploy to get us separated so I can die and you can leave me.’

Just when he accepted that possibility, he froze, realizing he had no clue how to physically separate the Warden from himself. He could summon, and unsummon, it at will, but it always came worn.

’Can you remove yourself? Just... go?’

It felt like an obvious solution, so he gave it a go, hoping that it’d be enough.

In an act of mercy, it was. The cloth of the Warden pulled off of his skin to become a detached robe. It floated in the air, turning to face him. The skeletal face he once had was still missing, leaving the hood empty.

Its sleeves spread out in a flourish as it bowed dramatically, ending with a spin.

Achlys watched the event without a reaction, simply drifting off towards the other end of the cave to leave Charon alone, the Warden close behind her. Once there, they both reached out to touch each other, their "hands" connecting to create a dim flash of purple light.

Then, they were gone, leaving Charon alone in the cave with nothing but his unshirt, pants, and mask.

For the first time in a long time, he realized that it was true now.

There was no Warden with him, just himself.

He was alone.

For a moment, Charon simply stood there, unsure whether to move or even breathe.

The silence was heavier now, oppressive in a way that made the back of his neck itch. Without the Warden’s constant, cold weight, his chest felt exposed, like someone had removed a shield he hadn’t realized was there.

A breeze blew into the cave, and he covered himself to stay warm, his teeth chattering, but the chains no longer clinking.

He glanced toward the crown again.

It hadn’t moved, but somehow it seemed closer, like the faint glow from the gemstone was leaning toward him. His feet shuffled backward instinctively.

’Nope. Not doing it. You’re not tricking me into touching you, magic death hat.’

The onyx tiles underfoot creaked softly, a sound that didn’t make sense for stone. The ripple from earlier had gone, but now he swore he felt the faintest vibration under his soles, like something deep below was stretching in its sleep.

A distant thump echoed through the cave. It didn’t sound like footsteps, yet it traveled in a rhythm his nerves hated.

He swallowed hard.

"Warden?"

His voice bounced around the room and came back smaller.

"Achlys?"

No answer.

For the umpteenth time since entering the mist-shrouded town, Charon felt truly vulnerable.

And he hated it.