'I can't take this anymore.'
Dione's vision was slipping as the flames crackled. His world was sideways, laying on the floor, his hands and feet burned. This was not what how it should've happened. This wasn't a part of what that oracle said.
These two, they were supposed to be at odds with each other. He understood the stain, he was always going to be a problem, but with Dione's eels blocking any efforts of closing the distance, Cairo should've had no hopes of winning.
The problem came with the second aspirant. That curly haired freak. He could teleport, sure Dione figured it out, but he wasn't supposed to be fighting alongside the stain. It was supposed to be easy, something that he could do.
Something that an Olympian could do.
'I refuse. I'm not doing this again.'
Dione's legs were broken, bent out of shape. His body was bruised up as it was tossed into the burning city. He was through with fighting these monsters.
"Is it just me, or is he still looking at us weird?"
Naren crouched down, tilting his head as he examined the battered Dione, his white robe now whittled and crumbled into a shell of its former self.
Dione quickly averted his eyes, staring at the ground.
"Nah, you seein things. Dude looks half-dead."
Naren's golden eyes burned a hole into Dione's head, one that seemed to feel hotter than the flames around him.
"I guess..."
Naren caught himself.
"...Hey devil. What's the gimmick with this place."
Dione stayed silent. No way could he tell him. No way could he let it slip. If he did then who knows what Ashw—
A sudden piercing pain spread throughout his legs, like branching roots. A bright orange bolt drilled deep inside his calf. Dione gritted his teeth, looking up to see the stain staring at him with his one eye.
"Spill."
His jaw tensed as he tried clenching his fists, but he couldn't feel anything in his hands anymore. Instead his teeth grinded on each other, eyes locked onto the singular grey speck that glared at him.
Then, the pain caught up. All of it, all at once, and his eyes fizzled out as he collapsed into a painful sleep.
Cairo left the bolt in there, letting it cauterize from the heat, sealing it deep in his leg.
"Slumped...Real quick though...What gimmick?"
"Pfft What...You just nailed that in him without even knowing that?"
"I gotta know before I step? How long am I finna get lucky an catch it on time?"
Naren shrugged pulling his attention towards the old lady. He had some truth to what he said. Some things required more action rather than thought, relying on trust.
"Wait. You trust me?"
"I trust me."
"Figures...Anyways, grandma. Your turn to answer tonight's big question...Where is heaven?"
The old lady stared blankly at the two, taken back by just how brutal they had been. If she even offended one of them, she wasn't sure if there was anything she could do to save herself, let alone the city as a whole.
So she decided she had to comply, her shaky finger pointing to the west.
————————
Nobody had ever been to heaven. Nobody had ever even heard of it. Not until the shaman had come. Every year they would come, every year they would stop by Lastlight. They all had the same tale.
Though it was not a lavish tale. It was a tragedy.
Each and every soul that wandered in was half dead, ready to let the latter half slither away completely in the land before them. They would all speak with torn bodies, dull eyes, and empty words: "I have to live. I have to got to The Tomb of Atlas."
Before long, the inhabitants of last light mended a name for this surreal place. A name in order to give even the slightest solace to the kindred souls that wished to, but failed to reach the tomb: Heaven.
At least then, they'll be at peace.
The bodies of aspirants continued sifting through, like a well oiled machine, consistent as hell was hot. Though, slowly the numbers began to dwindle. A hundred turned to fifty, fifty to ten. It was as if the land itself grew more ruthless, as if the idea of just getting to Lastlight was enough of a goal.
That's when a man came down. His steps were rhythmic, his sway enchanting, his words elevating. The man walked the streets of Lastlight, with six following him.
"I am the descendant of the mighty Zeus...All who wish to reach heaven with me...Journey to the west."
That was seven years ago. Every since, no contact with him was made and the aspirants that cut through Lastlight dwindled even more. A drought of souls spanning three years before now. In those seven years, not once did they hear from the descendant of Zeus.
Not until a month ago. He sent one of the very six those old enough to remember faces could identify. A messenger who called himself Hermes. He had one message.
"Your land lives in the dreams of the lord...The lord demands the prince."
"They said that prince was Nico."
The old lady caressed Nico's hair as he slept deeply. His eyes heavy with both grief and exhaustion.
"Since then, a woman came claiming that Nico was a fake. She promised that she would find the real prince if they gave her a week."
Naren was sprawled on the ground staring at the flowing waves where the sky should have been. He was eagerly listening to the tale, engrossed by each and every bit of it.
Cairo was similarly interested, though for different reasons. His jaws tensed as his eye sharpened.
"So where's the bitch?"
"Woah Cairo, we gotta be more civilized."
The old lady glanced at the ground.
"She's—"
"A bitch is a bit too far, don't you think."
"I was saying the same thing."
Naren sat up. That voice was familiar. Or at least it wasn't from the three that were conversing. He looked around to locate it, his ears shifting. Again with someone sneaking up on him.
Then a rattled clink landed right in between him and Cairo. A clothed scabbard along with several metal kunai and shuriken.
Cairo's hands grabbed the scabbard immediately, clutching it so hard Naren thought his veins might pop.
"Are we even."
Turning back, a hooded woman sat on the ground, as if she too had been listening in on the story the whole time. Though, her hood was off this time. For some reason, that felt odd to Naren.
Her straight blue hair was almost black, strands slipping through her slim face. Calling her beautiful would've been an understatement.
Cairo immediately flickered, the air around him growing dry with a sharp crackle.
"I'll boil you..."
"I'd rather you not...Besides there's good reason to keep me alive..."
Cairo stood up, his hands clutched around the hilt of the reacquired scabbard.
"...I'm the only one who knows what's going on here...The only one who can get us out, stain."
Cairo clicked his tongue mumbling under his breath: "Fuckin heir."
Naren raised his hands from behind Cairo before speaking.
"And how's that?"
A white sleeved slipped through the dark cloak, pointing at the pitch black eyes of the girl.
"Because I can see the future..."
For a second, her eyes shook, so slight that nobody could pick up on it. And a reflection stretched across it for a brief second, so fast that it could've been a blink. A boy, blood pouring down his forehead complimenting his crimson hair. He held his hand out with two fingers out.
"...number two."