Lineage : Anathema to Divinity
Position : None
Faction : The Ironheart Pact
Posts : 227
Guild : Silver Wolf
Cosmic Coins : 100
Dungeon Tokens : 0
Experience : 2,035,084
First Magic: Rollins & Schwartz-Brand
Second Magic: Heaven God Slayer
by Rodadnuf 7th February 2022, 5:29 am
The special son of Nyx was a legend that had been passed on for generations. Though it was not a household story, the tale was quite familiar.
The story goes that Nyx once eloped with a mortal man and bore three children. Of these children inherited Nyx’s power and was called her special son. Erebus the primordial god of darkness, Nyx’s god-consort, had heard of the goddess treachery and slaughtered the family! Nyx, in grief, disappeared no to be seen again. However, the special son had survived the attack and vowed revenge. In his desperation to destroy the personification of Darkness, he mastered the power he had inherited. He became a god and challenged Erebus to a standstill. Before the god could strike the final blow, the primordial god fled. The special son of Nyx chased Erebus around the world and thus explaining night and day. It was one of those legends in the distant past where people could find meaning in the natural yet mystical events around them.
Tim had been attentively cleaning the guild house’s hot springs but the recent events had been living rent-free in the young man’s mind. In the time he had been cleaning the lockers, towels and springs itself the thought has still not left his mind. Especially since not but an hour or so ago he had met his progenitor, the aforementioned special son.
After Tim had left his family, he had been taught by a brilliant researcher to keep his curse in check. It had not been the help of any god nor demon, but mortal understanding about the curse itself. How its supernatural aspects did not make it uncontrollable, it needed Tim’s acceptance of his condition. This newfound understanding led to Tim’s conflict with a primordial deity.
“Tim, dear?” It was while Tim had been finally left with the final task of scrubbing the floors where he heard a voice from behind him. He knew who it belonged to!
In a panic, Tim took a step back and almost slid on the smooth stone floor of the hot spring. Thankfully, the spirit wolf who had guarded Tim back in the library caught his body with its own. Tim was leaning back into its ethereal fur. It was the softest thing he felt. But his thoughts suddenly laid with the lady who was standing in front of him.
The woman had a shapely, well-endowed body. The single piece red dress was the same one she wore when they first met years ago. Her had ginger locks that draped to her hips and a soft expression of genuine concern as she leaned to help the young man. Her brown eyes locked with Tim as he stood up, refusing to take the hand she offered to help him up.
“What do you want, Hemera?” Tim took another step back, taking good care not to slip again. “If you’re here for another attempt at fixing me, don’t. I’ve had a hell of a night already, I’m in no mood—”
“I asked her to come, Tim.” Timόtheos suddenly appeared from a pocket of shadow in the corner of the room. “I do not have the right to ask of you this now, but please. Listen.”
“To what? Miss daylight here already gave me the skinny.”
As with any legend, especially ones that turned out to be actual events that transpired, there were bits of information lost to time. One of these nuggets of truth was that Erebus did not kill Nyx’s mortal family, not directly anyway. Erebus used Timόtheos, the special son of Nyx, to kill his own family. Timόtheos had difficulty controlling his power already, and it was a matter of time before the primordial god drove Timόtheos to insanity. Like Heracles, Timόtheos had killed his family in a fit of madness. His father and siblings had little power to stop him. Nyx returned to see a bloodbath. And, as the legend told, she vanished in despair. She loved her son too much for her to even think of taking revenge against him, but she could never see him eye-to-eye.
“So, you already knew…” Timόtheos leaned on one of the pillars.
Tim had continued cleaning the hot springs, absentmindedly scrubbing the stone floors as he told the god and primordial goddess what he knew. Hemera tied her long dress’s skirt up to her thigs and helped Tim with his job. The spirit wolf, who was behind Tim standing at attention, pointed with its nose to a bucket of brushes. There was a genuine air to her just menially scrubbing alongside him, but a grudge comes a long way. Tim still hasn’t forgotten her attempt at getting a rise out of him. The fear of letting loose on innocent people was something he didn’t take lightly. At all.
The goddess should know this too, given how she had not interacted with Tim for a good while. She hasn’t tried doing it again, as well. Was Tim just being immature then? He didn’t believe so.
“Your battle was less about revenge and more about lashing out at him for using you.” Tim added.
“Tim!” Hemera admonished. “You do not know the pain—”
“Of course I don’t. the same way my ancestor here doesn’t know how much pain he caused just by letting his line prosper.” Tim didn’t realize he had been scrubbing harder. “I didn’t know about those people who turned into monsters because of the curse. How long ago did it happen?”
“It happens less than you made it out to be in your mind, Tim, dear.” Hemera said placatingly. “The last incident happened a good three years now—”
Tim threw the brush at the wall, inches off Timόtheos. The god didn’t move, he knew Tim aimed off target on purpose.
“You already know I could control my curse at that point then!?” Tim hissed. “I could’ve helped them!”
He cursed under his breath.
Timόtheos sighed. “Would you have tried to help them then? Even if it led to your death? You were quick to run away from your family.”
“There were two people I know who had this stupid curse. My father and my great grandmother.” Tim put a hand in front of the spirit wolf, who growled when Timόtheos spoke. “My great grandnan was dead by the time I knew what I had in store for my life. And my father was wearing his curse like a badge of honor.”
“Why did you run then?”
“I saw it, my father speaking to this curse like a drinking buddy.” Tim scowled. “That’s when I knew, this thing wasn’t going to be controlled. Not when that bastard is the one who’ll teach me.”
Timόtheos was wide eyed. “Erebus? He could still whisper sweet nothings even to my descendants?”
No, he was right. Tim didn't even realize it. “…all I knew he was damned, and I would have been too if I didn’t run.”
Hemera looked like she wanted to do something to help Tim, but she kept to herself. Timόtheos looked downcast. “I…was told by my daughter. She did not inherit the curse, but she knew her offspring or theirs afterwards would inherit it.”
“She told me to kill her.” Timόtheos suddenly looked like his age. “But I didn’t.”
“You were much like mother, Timόtheos.” Hemera spoke, her voice was soft.
“I should I have killed my daughter, Tim?” Timόtheos looked at Tim. There wasn’t a challenge in his eyes as he locked gazes with the young man. There was only the longing for affirmation. Please. Tell me I was wrong. Tell me letting her live was the wrong choice.
Tim couldn’t answer that.
And it pissed him off how easy the answer should be. After all, he didn’t do anything about his father, even later when he learned to control the curse. He did say in the heat of the moment to Timόtheos that he should have eliminated everyone who had the curse. But that was hardly a rational answer, especially since Tim had just learned about how the others suffered compared to the ones Tim already knew.
“I finished this part of the floor, Tim, dear.” Hemera said, the look on her face said she also thought the guilt was partly hers. The wolf took Hemera’s brush by the mouth and returned it to the bucket.
Tim looked at the two. All three of them had some similarities. It should’ve been obvious from the get go considering they were family, even if it was by a gap of a few eons. But it didn’t really hit Tim till they had done breaking each other down emotionally.
“Thanks for the help, Hemera.” Tim stood up. “That was the last part, the job’s done.”
Before Tim could walk out of the room, Timόtheos stopped him. “That was an unfair question, Tim. I—”
“If I had a daughter, I know I wouldn’t have the guts to kill her even if she had this curse.”
This was the answer he needed to hear, it seemed like. Timόtheos pinched the corner of his eyes with his fingers. After a good moment of silence, Timόtheos spoke again. This time it had a firm voice Tim hadn’t heard from him before. “I will fix this, Tim.”
He then disappeared.
Hemera walked towards Tim and caressed his cheek. “I’m glad you rejected me, dear. Your resolve was something this family needed.”
She leaned her forehead with his as she started to vanish in a trickle of light. “I’ll find a way to help you further. I promise.”
Only Tim and the spirit wolf were left in the hot spring.