Echoes in the Dark

 The streets were dark and grey, the pedestrians merely silhouettes as he walked past them. He looked down to avoid eye contact, as he often did, until he saw white footprints glowing brightly on the bleak pavement. Moving to follow them, he stared ahead into the crowd, wondering who he was following. His pace and heart quickened as he felt compelled to chase this mysterious track. Seeing a part in the crowd, there stood a man with hair as white as snow and a suit just as pristine. The piping on his lapels was a pale olive color, his vest a bright orange. His purple tie drew his eye, at least until he matched the man’s gaze. His eyes were gentle but cold. The sort of gaze that built walls instead of inviting in. Still, his tragic smile seemed to warm his whole body. That was until the man’s hand brushed one of the passers by and they scattered like they had been made of ash. As the ashes spread and the scent filled his nose, the others on the street seemed to suffer the same fate. The ashes began to cover and smother him, his world fading to black before he heard a voice say, “Tragedy is part of the myth. Without it, we lose something worse and mistake ourselves for gods.” He felt a hand reaching for his neck. Cold, dark, and unreasoning. As he tried helplessly to scream, all he could see was it drawing closer.

He snapped awake, his body ice cold and drenched in sweat. He rolled out of bed and over to the light switch, snapping it on like his life depended on it. Looking around the room, it looked normal. Everything was where he left it. Everything exactly as it was when he closed his eyes. Still, he couldn’t shake it. That wasn’t just some dream. It was something else. Something wrong.

It didn’t seem like a warning or anything intending to save. He didn’t believe in omens, but this might change his mind. Checking his room again and again until he had settled some, he sat in his bed and had one thought beyond all others creep over his mind. Death was hunting him and it was only a matter of time. He hugged his knees like he was a helpless little child and sat there until the thoughts passed and his exhaustion finally took him.

The figure stood over his exhausted form, scythe in hand, cold dead eyes staring out of the featureless porcelain mask. Pulling a black feather out of his billowing black cloak, he placed it on the boy only to watch it catch flame and burn to ash. The figure shook his head as he placed a hand upon his mask and ceased. The boy slept the rest of the night in peace. His instincts were good, but this was not the night.

The night was cold and silent, as it should be on a day like today. The girl with ebony hair stood under a street lamp with the engraving on it that read, ‘A beacon for those lost on unfamiliar streets.’ She played with her broach as she waited. “Anomaly or not, he is not our target.” She jumped a little at his sudden speech, but tried to hide it from his eyes.

She sighed, “I can’t fathom why he will not share his information with us.” She stared into the foggy bay and grumbled, “Make a note on this one.”

Another figure cloaked in grey chuckled at her, “Maybe he hasn’t shared with you Pegasus, because he has a grander plan.” She glared at the figure as he pulled out a oddly designed card. “I don’t know why you and the spooky one are digging, but I’ll remind you again. Leave Apollo and his friends to us. You stay to whatever phantoms crawl from this Silence you keep talking about.”

The reaper approached casually, “Cerberus, I do not know what game your mentor is playing, but there are shadows darker than his in this world. So keep playing his guard dog until they reveal themselves.” The figure touched his mask and in a moment without recognition, he was behind Cerberus, “Don’t grow over confident. The gates you guard are not as impervious as you believe and the day will come when you will see exactly that.” Cerberus cleared his throat, dropping the card before snapping his fingers. As the card hit the ground, it seemed to become a hole in reality leading to a tunnel of ice. It closed before Pegasus could follow but the cloaked figure didn’t seem to mind. He stated clearly, “We came here with your power and my own special talents to find and label anomalies. This one has been marked. Let’s continue. Janus and his dog will not stop us this night.”

Pegasus glared at him before pointing and asserting, “You claim you have no place in this world, but you seem very invested in my search. I demand your motivation.”

The figure touched his mask again and before she was aware of it, he was behind her with his scythe to her throat. “You have no right to know. Right now, our goals align. When they don’t, I won’t be here. If I find what I’m looking for, I might tell you more, but for now, we have prey to track. Be useful or be alone.”

She sighed, not afraid of his posturing anymore, “If you didn’t need me, then you would never have insisted on this hunt. I’m only here because your goals align with mine as well. I just wish to understand more about when those goals will begin to deviate.”

The scythe moved closer to her throat, “When the situation changes, I’ll inform you. Professional courtesy. For now, know that finding what I’m after will not make us enemies at first. Things could change after, but that will depend on you.” He reached for his mask and ceased again, leaving her alone in the street.

—————

The armored figure stood in an alley, looking over the passed out former mugger. He sighed, “I feel restless. We never should have come here.”

The steel grey cat with one green eye spoke smoothly, “You didn’t come here. You were called. Just as they were. This town calls to them. A secret buried in these twisting roads. One that reveals itself in golden light. Fortunately, you are the rising sun, my friend.” The cat with the golden eye gave a low purr, “Of course, you are still pursued by your prey and the interlopers, but there is no better place for the cricket to hide than among cicadas.”

He glowered from under the visor of his helmet at the cat, “You told me that if I walked this road my dreams would become more clear. That I would have answers to my question. And yet I feel more lost than ever.”

The cat laid down atop the purged criminal, “Apollo, you carry the Radiant Blade. It’s strength reflects the true will of your heart. If your conviction wavers, then your blade WILL fail you.” His tone shifted jaggedly to judgement, “You will fail. Everyone who you have ever vowed anything to, past and present. You will be a failure if your heart caves. Do you remember why you took up the blade?”

He nodded, “To fully embrace my own nature no matter where that took me.” The cat’s expression didn’t change as they stared at each other. “You have remained true thus far, Janus. I will continue, even if it brings me to the fiery maw of hell itself.”

The cat purred and looked pleased for a moment before responding, “That time will never come. I will guide you as is my mission. We will find the rest and upon your reunion, your true nature will be laid bare.” His voice shifted again, “Do you remember what I told you before I began your awakening?”

Apollo recited it by heart, “Four are the fangs of the kingdom. A sun buried in shadow. A mirror cloaked in deceit. A howling blade in a silent storm. A furnace consumed by its own flames.” He stared at the ground for a moment, “How in the hell will I find them?”

The cat purred, “They will find you. After all, you have all been bound to the same oath. Give it time.” The feline smacked the thug with his paw hard enough to jolt him to awareness and then jumped off and ran into the bushes.

The thug sat up suddenly and looked at their hands in disbelief. He was about to speak when the armored knight spoke, “You have been purged. All negative emotions and memories have been cast out of you by force. Warn your former friends. Those who cannot cast the evil from their heart will perish from this process. As for you, live whatever life you wish. Allow Hope to guide your path and never again allow despair to haunt you.”

The man looked at him with eyes full of confused joy. He had never been so happy or exhausted. Before the man could ask the name of the knight, the armored figured walked away in the night, the sound of armored plates echoing through the street.