Kairos 90: Sunset on the Old Gods

Everyone must die one day. Even the gods.

This was a law of nature as unbreakable as gravity. Not even Thanatos, the incarnation of death itself, could escape this fate.

Nor could life incarnate.

No, Kairos thought as he held Andromache against his chest. Nessus hadn’t sacrificed his current life because Fate caught up to him or because he had sought death for so long, but because he chose to save someone else. He could have ran or refused to lift a finger.

Instead he had chosen to answer a parent’s desperate prayer. After a lifetime of demanding worship as Dionysus, Nessus had decided to earn it.

He will, Kairos thought. He would have statues of his old friend raised in his cities’ temples to honor his memory. Maybe he could even hear prayers in his new state and fulfill some of them.

The group had set a campfire on the battle’s site to sleep a few hours before they fought the creature lurking at the dungeon’s bottom. Though Thanatos’ [Death] spell had been lifted off her daughter and Thales provided medical treatment, Andromache still needed to rest. They all did.

Only Agron’s soothing music broke the silence. Cassandra sharpened her spear with a grim look on her face while Sertorius and Thales examined the magical necklace left behind by Medusa. Only Rook had fallen asleep, snoring lightly against Andromache and Kairos; his feathers warmed them more than the fire.

Nothing remained of Nessus but his bow and amulet. None of his allies had dared to claim his items for themselves, though Cassandra agreed to carry them. Maybe the satyr’s possessions would be laid in a tomb for their fallen friend, or they would wait for him to claim them in another life.

Sertorius assured him that Nessus’ divine soul now coexisted with that of Kairos’ child, allowing her to hang on to life. It wasn’t quite reincarnation from what the judge had gathered with his Legendary Skills, but a lesser form of possession. Nessus had become a guardian spirit who would follow Kairos’ child like a shadow until her own demise.

The Travian King could scarcely believe it at first. Nessus had fused back with Thanatos in the hope of escaping his cycle of rebirth, not to perpetuate it. “It’s called a sacrifice, Kairos,” Cassandra had said as she offered a prayer to Persephone, asking her to alleviate Nessus’ burden. “You heard him yourself. You were his friend and captain.”

“He had no regrets,” Agron had added with respectfulness. “To mourn his sacrifice is to disrespect it, Kairos. All you should feel is gratefulness.”

And he did, alongside sorrow.

Kairos would rather have everyone live. He had lost so many people over his life, why couldn’t the gods spare one more? Nessus was making progress about enjoying life again, even if he denied it. He had made friends, forged a new existence for himself. If only they had had more time…

“I have no regrets, my friends,” Nessus’ last words echoed in his mind. “I had fun.”

Agron was right, remorse only sullied their friend’s sacrifice. The satyr had no regrets and they shouldn’t either.

“It will be a girl,” Kairos told his concubine. “‘My life for her,’ he said.”

“Nessia,” Andromache whispered back with a thoughtful face. “Her name will be Nessia.”

Kairos nodded slowly. The Fate System took note of their decision, and when the Travian King glanced at Andromache’s stomach with [Observer], a new screen appeared before his eyes.

Nessia Marius

Legend: Fateloved (Elite)

Race: Human (Nymphblooded)

Class: Unchosen.

Level: 0

She had a [Legend] even though she was months away from birth.

Her uncle Nessus had spoiled her rotten. He had given her the gift of life.

Andromache pulled at the [Golden Fleece] the couple used for a blanket. Somehow, it always managed to remain clean. “I never thought much of the satyr,” she admitted. “Even after he told us of his history. I distrusted that mocking smirk on his face. It always made me wonder if he would betray us.”

“I always saw the sadness behind the smile,” Kairos replied. “He found it easier to laugh than to cry.”

“I was wrong,” Andromache admitted as she put a hand on her womb. “His sacrifice will not be wasted, my love. Our daughter will live. Not even death itself could take her away from us, and neither will the sun. You must kill him, Kairos. For us.”

Kairos thought back to Thanatos and Nessus. He had seen first-hand the might of [Demigods], and the power that awaited would-be [Gods]. Power over life and death, to change Fate itself.

If Kairos became a [Demigod], he could protect his homeland from Lycaon, Mithridates, and all the foes who would threaten his family. And if he ascended to godhood… maybe he could free Nessus from his cycle of rebirth.

Kairos glanced at his brother-in-law and the necklace in his hands. Made of solid gold, it was the most beautiful piece of jewelry that the Travian King had ever seen; resplendent yet not ostentatious. Seven gemstones of different colors were arranged on its surface like a rainbow, from a bloody ruby to a purple amethyst. The artisan had crafted them in the shape of eyes and the style of peacock’s feathers.

Necklace of Harmonia

Rank: Artifact 4 (treated as Artifact 3)

Value: Priceless

A cursed necklace forged by Hephaestus for the bastard daughter of his wife Aphrodite. Only women can use the Necklace’s powers and suffer from its curse.

1 Star Power: The first woman who wears the necklace is recognized as its master; ownership of the Necklace can only be transferred either if the current owner dies, or if they give it to someone else. The recipient of the gift must accept ownership of the necklace out of their own free-will. The Necklace’s owner will not age as long as they carry the necklace; they are immune to all [Aging] effects, magical or otherwise, except those caused by a [God]. The owner can still be killed by other things than age.

2 Stars Power: The Necklace now actively restores youth. Whenever the owner puts it on, the Necklace restores them to the prime of their youth.

3 Stars Power: The Necklace grants the owner a fragment of Aphrodite’s beauty. The wearer has their [Charisma] treated as if it were one letter higher (maximum A+).

4 Stars Power: [Need Demigod Rank].

Curse: The Necklace of Harmonia punishes women for making fools of men. The Necklace’s owner will have her Luck stat downgraded to E and will thus attract misfortune; this effect remains even when the owner does not wear the necklace. Additionally, the Necklace will find its way back to its owner even if separated.

It would look good on Julia, even if Kairos doubted that his wife would ever wear it before they found a way to break the curse. Even Andromache thought something similar, if her jealous gaze was any indication.

Sertorius noticed their wandering looks. “Your crafter found something,” he said.

“You did?” Kairos frowned at Thales.

“My Skills allow me to craft minor [Cursed] items,” the automaton said. “Lady Julia asked me to run tests in order to better understand them. From my experiments, I gathered that all curses must include an escape clause.”

“This teaches us nothing,” Andromache said with a snort. “We already knew that from our travels.”

“Agreed.” Thales nodded. “But the escape clause is always linked to the nature of the curse. Only a god of magic can lift a witch-goddess’ spell. A sword hungry for blood must save as many lives as it has taken. Considering the necklace’s curse, I suspect the purification has something to do with either faithfulness or womanhood.”

“Maybe we must right the wrong that led to the curse in the first place?” Kairos guessed with a frown. “Like symbolically undoing Aphrodite’s unfaithfulness?”

Cassandra chuckled upon hearing the discussion. “An impossible task.”

“We were bouncing off theories,” Sertorius admitted. “But these questions can wait until we return to my sister victorious.”

Kairos glanced at the tablet among his belongings. They only had to bring it to the dungeon’s bottom and summon Orgonos to end this war of the dead once and for all. With Thanatos gone, Queen Persephone would soon bring balance back to the Underworld; and the creature at the dungeon’s bottom couldn’t hope to fight against a true [God].

The descent had cost the party dearly, but the worst was behind them. Or at least, Kairos hoped so.

“Do not…”

The voice was old, nothing more than a whisper; and yet clear as water.

Everyone immediately glanced at the campfire as it brightened. The flames swirled and danced as a divine will manifested through it.

“Kairos Marius Remus, you who once offered pity to the woman that now shares your life…” The fire flickered as if each word was a pain to say. “I ask that you show the same mercy I saw back then. Cassandra Bato, stay your hand on the life you owe me.”

The life she owed him?

“The phoenix,” Cassandra whispered in recognition. “You are the phoenix.”

“Helios,” Andromache said with far less warmth.

The flames seemed to oscillate for a moment, but quickly regained their brightness. “That was my name once. I am but an ember now… a single flame struggling inside a lantern.”

“But an ember can still ignite a fire,” Agron said with a wide grin. His eyes burnt with a mania that deeply disturbed Kairos.

The minotaur had shown himself to be far more than a brute in the past months. He was wise in a way, cunning, and got along with his crewmates perfectly. Andromache in particular had grown fond of him.

But while Kairos thought the minotaur had let go of his pyromaniac tendencies, he realized that they had just been sleeping. Now that the phoenix was close, old habits kicked in.

“What do you want, old ghost?” Sertorius asked with a snort. “It is too late for mercy.”

“Is it?” the fire asked back. “When Heracles begged for water, I granted it to him. When Thyestes stole his brother’s throne, I made the sun rise in the west and set in the east to reveal his treachery. When Orion the hunter came to me, I healed his blindness; and when my son Phaeton took my chariot against my wishes, I could only watch as Zeus struck him down to save the world from its flames. I never bore your kind ill-will, and only punished those who shamed me first.”

“That was then,” Sertorius replied with coldness. “This is now.”

“And you watched as your daughter made a monster out of me,” Andromache hissed through her teeth, tensing up against her partner’s chest. “Is her soul with you too?”

“Yes, but… I had nothing to do with my daughter’s whims or Thanatos’.” The fire’s voice faltered. “Please. Let us settle this with words rather than swords.”

The voice died and the flames with it.

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It didn’t take them long to find the stairway to level four.

Nessus’ insight had been correct. It took Andromache’s magic and Agron’s strength to dig a way out of the hall where Thanatos had trapped them, but afterward, they only had to follow the late satyr’s directions.

His additions to Thales’ map led the party to an underground passageway. No undead came to attack them this time. Perhaps they had all passed on with Thanatos’ demise or they figured out that they couldn’t hope to defeat the living. Or maybe they awaited them in an ambush at the dungeon’s bottom.

Kairos would know soon enough.

“This is a mistake,” Sertorius said as they walked down the steps of the stairs. “What if this is a trap?”

“Helios is an honorable deity,” Agron said, a dangerous glint in his eyes. He had grown more joyful and excited the further they descended, like a child entering a toy store. Kairos hoped that he could maintain control once they met the phoenix in the flesh. “So the tales say.”

“Whatever he offers, it will not make up for the devastation his kindred will unleash when they escape Tartarus,” Cassandra said, her hand tightening on her fork. “We were given a mission. We must fulfill it.”

“I understand,” Kairos replied, carrying his [Anemoi Spear] in one hand and Orgonos’ tablet in the other. But if there is a battle, more of my friends will die… and I have filled enough graves already.

Though he doubted it, Kairos hoped that they could find a compromise with Helios. The doors to Tartarus would remain shut no matter what, but perhaps the sun-god could be convinced to abandon his daughter’s mad plan against a concession of some sort. The phoenix meant to house his soul had once given Kairos a feather out of kindness, and Cassandra only breathed today because of this mercy.

Maybe they could even trade for more. Maybe they could even revive Nessus with a phoenix feather. With the planetary alignment many days ahead, Kairos was in a strong position to negotiate.

And if they couldn’t reach a compromise… then he would fulfill his kingly duties and protect his land. No matter what it cost him.

The fourth level was the smallest of the dungeon’s floors, but perhaps the most awe-inspiring yet. The stairway led to a large cavern with a stone altar taller than a hill occupying its center. A winged flame burnt at its summit, awaiting the mortals’ visit.

On the wall opposing the stairs stood a great gate similar in height and shape to the one between the second and third layers. But where the door to the Underworld had been made of cold metal and austere in its aesthetic, this one had embraced the macabre. The bones of giants and monsters made up its structure alongside blackened stone. Spikes protruded from it like the fangs of a great beast’s open jaw.

And a woman’s soul worked as its lock.

A female ghost had merged with the gate’s center, her ephemeral form mixed with the bones. Time and undeath had reduced her to a shadowy silhouette, but Andromache recognized it all the same. Her eyes blazed with cold disdain as she uttered her cursed name.

“Circe.”

Kairos had expected to feel fury and anger at the sight of his lover’s tormentor. Though it didn’t burn as intensely as Andromache’s desire for vengeance, the witch-queen needed to face justice for her crimes.

And yet… as he watched this pitiful thing, moaning in pain, the Travian King couldn’t help but pity the sorceress. From the way she writhed in agony bound to the gates she worked so hard to unlock, her deal with Thanatos hadn’t gone well.

“Such are the wages of dealing with death,” an ancient voice echoed in the cavern as the party faced the altar. “Thanatos’ gifts are all poisoned.”

Kairos and his allies looked at the flames on the altar’s summit as they transformed into the familiar shape of a great winged beast. A giant of fire that the Travian King had seen hatch in Travia and whose blazing path that had led them to Histria in the first place.

The phoenix let out a cry, his wings illuminating the cavern. “So pretty,” Rook whispered, while Agron’s eyes burnt with a ghastly desire and Thales fell silent in sheer awe. Cassandra herself observed the creature with respect, for she owed his feather her life.

Had there been an entity more beautiful? The flaming feathers glittered like the sun while its eyes blazed with the wisdom of immortals. This was a different gaze than the hatchling, older than the world.

“Has your soul returned to its vessel?” Kairos asked softly. “Helios?”

“Not yet.” The phoenix closed its wings as he looked down on the mortals below his rookery. “It awaits beyond these gates, but the frontier between the afterlives has thinned enough to let me speak through.”

Sertorius clenched his jaw and glanced at Andromache. “I thought he needed the planetary alignment to return to the world of the living?”

“He should,” the nymph replied as she glared at Circe’s soul. “But she weakened the barrier on her own.”

“The ritual was for a godly soul to thin the gates to Tartarus, until they grew weak enough for me to shatter them from both sides and let the old gods through when the planets aligned,” Helios said with a sad sigh. “My daughter thought the soul would belong to one of the Anthropomachia’s victims, but Thanatos twisted their deal. I have been waiting for the path to open so I might rescue her from this agony.”

Her mind is gone, Kairos realized as he observed the witch-queen’s ghost. The torturous experience had destroyed her.

Even Andromache seemed to realize it. Her fingers clenched around her staff, and while she took some pleasure in her nemesis’ punishment… she seemed almost disgusted by it.

“It doesn’t matter,” Sertorius said as he glanced at his brother-in-law. “Orgonos will surely repair the damage and send the witch’s soul to the abyss where it belongs.”

“It might even be a mercy,” Andromache said with surprising gravitas.

The phoenix flapped its wings, sending embers falling from the altar. The party raised their weapons in turn, though the beast didn’t attack. “Do not,” Helios asked, his voice grim and powerful. “This is for the best.”

“Whose?” Andromache hissed. “Yours?”

“The mortals too,” Helios insisted.

“Sir?” Thales hesitated while raising his hand, slightly intimidated by the phoenix's presence. “May I ask you a question?”

“This is not a classroom, automaton,” Andromache snorted at him.

“What do you wish to know, crafter?” Helios asked more warmly.

“Why are you doing this, even knowing it will result in your demise?” Thales asked. “It has been bothering me for a while. You are not truly a Titan, only the child of two. You fought against them alongside the Olympians.”

“I fought to overthrow a tyrant who ate his own children.” Helios looked away. “I thought Zeus would be a better ruler than his father. He was, in a way… but the cure was as terrible as the illness. My kindred were chained, mankind’s conditions degraded, and Zeus grew drunk with power. I was not aware of the cycle and its implications back then.”

“But even if you free the Titans trapped in Tartarus and unleash them on the world, they will not be grateful to you,” Thales pointed out. “You will be free, but hunted by the Old and New Gods alike.”

“I know,” Helios replied sadly, to Kairos’ surprise. “This is beyond me.”

“Is this for your daughter?” Kairos asked, glancing at her ghost. “Are you ready to engulf the world in war to bring her back to life?”

“How can you ask me that after watching your friend sacrifice his life to bring back your daughter from the dead?” Helios brightened with determination. “For my family, I will do anything. But while I desire to save her, the Titans’ freedom is an end in itself. Even if it will cause destruction in the short-term, it will leave the world a better place in the long run.”

Cassandra almost choked. “How could a cosmic war help anyone?”

“By breaking the shackles of fate and undoing the cycle,” Helios declared. “Don’t you see? Each age, each revolution of the young killing the old, leaves the world diminished. The last iteration ended with the flooding of the earth. What will be left with the next conflict? Rubble?”

“You would have us be slaves to the Old Gods again,” Kairos said with a glare.

“Is that so wrong?” Helios asked as he reminisced about old times. “I was born in the golden age when Kronos ruled this world. Under the Titans, your kind was happy. They lived a life of plenty from the bounty of Mother Gaïa. And although Zeus was not an ideal ruler, your mortals enjoyed more luxury under him than you do now. What freedom is there in Travia? The liberty to die young?”

Kairos winced as the death of his sister came to mind. Though he had heard the argument before, it still hurt as hard as ever. “We are improving,” he replied. “The old world may have more resources, but its divine rulers toyed with mortals at their leisure. The New Gods rule with a light touch. I prefer this status quo, even with its downsides.”

“Whatever you hope to accomplish, you offer nothing that would benefit us in our lifetime,” Sertorius said with cold pragmatism. “You can’t give us more than empty promises.”

“And I cannot let your foul daughter return,” Andromache warned, her staff blazing with power.

“I swear to you, my daughter will not threaten your family again,” Helios argued. “I will extract an oath from her. She will leave you in peace, you have my word.”

“You misunderstand, dead sun. It is not revenge I seek.” Andromache put a hand on her belly. “I will not let her, or any other woman, go through what your daughter made me endure out of jealousy. She may spare us, but unless she has changed she will bring suffering to countless others. So will the creatures beyond this door.”

“She’s right!” Rook chirped. “Kairos, don’t listen to him. The old ones will break our nest on their way out!”

“I will extract an oath from them and make one myself,” Helios argued. “The Old Gods beyond this door will leave your island alone as we wage war against Lycaon, Orgonos, and those who have taken our thrones. Ask your people to migrate here, and no harm shall come to them. I will revive the dead myself if needed.”

Kairos couldn’t help but glance at the phoenix’s shining feathers. The power to revive the dead, he thought. How I lusted for it.

“I cannot raise those who have already been judged and sent to their righteous afterlife,” Helios explained as he looked at Kairos, having sensed his desire. “But your brother’s soul, and all those unrighteously taken by Lycaon… I can bring them back. Same as your friend Rhadamanthe, whose soul languishes on the Styx’s shores, and the many people who died in your wake.”

“Why even negotiate?” Agron asked with a disturbing grin, after having been silent so far. By now, he looked almost maniacal. “Kairos, you just have to kill him, ascend to [Demigod], and feed the corpse to your ship. We’ll get a sun of our own. Or at worst, we take the feathers by force.”

“My gift is mine alone to give, bridgeburner,” Helios warned with disgust at Agron’s ruthless proposal. “It is linked to my [Legend], not to my body. These feathers only raise the dead if I allow it, and feeding them to your ship will not grant your vessel this power. As for killing me, Kairos of Travia… by the fate that binds us, you would become a [Demigod]. But you would not inherit my [Legend] and unique powers. The dead will only return through me.”

Kairos’ thoughts turned to his brother’s soul, either bound to Lycaon’s service or rotting in the monster’s stomach. He remembered all the crewmates he had lost, all the innocent lives his campaigns had left in their wake.

Maybe we could bring back General Zama’s lover too, the Travian King thought. He made an oath to avenge her, but her return would free him from it. How many would be saved then? “What about Nessus? Could you bring him back too?”

The phoenix hesitated, but eventually shook his head. “That is beyond my power,” he admitted as his eyes settled on Andromache. “The Fate System itself bound his soul to the child. I am not a [Personification] or a [Protogenoi]; even at my peak, I doubt I could do anything. I am sorry, Kairos.”

It would have been wiser to lie, but the Travian King couldn’t help but respect Helios for his honesty. Even if he fought for the wrong cause, the old deity sounded honorable. No wonder so many called upon the sun’s blessings in ancient times.

“All of you have dead loved ones,” Helios argued as he observed the party. “I can bring them back. I can reward you too, grant you my blessing. You will live forever young with your loved ones.”

“That’s the carrot,” Cassandra whispered, “what’s the stick?”

“If we cannot reach a compromise…” The phoenix hesitated, as if reluctant to reach such extremes. “Then I will force my soul through the weakened door. It will damage it, perhaps not to let my kindred through without the planetary alignment… but it will cause harm to your island and I have nothing to lose.”

There would be a fight.

Once upon a time… once upon a time, Kairos would have listened to Helios’ offer. Maybe even accepted it, if he could spare his homeland. The possibility of raising his lost loved ones would have appealed to his greed, the offer of power to his ambition. When the phoenix first appeared before him at the beginning of his journey, he didn’t have children to protect, a kingdom to rule, or allies across the sea to defend.

Kairos had grown to despise the old gods. He had seen the consequence of their rule, the suffering of Andromache, the gorgons, Orgonos, and all the ancient deities oppressed. He had witnessed the arrogance bred by their followers in Orichalcos, gotten a glimpse of how the world would look like under their rule; beautiful and grand, but built on slavery, fear, and exploitation.

Even if he could extort oaths protecting his native land of Travia and Histria, Kairos couldn’t let the rest of the world go through another Anthropomachia. All the cities of the Sunsea would look like Orichalcos and countless people would die. Helios believed the destruction would eventually lead to a paradise, but he couldn’t guarantee it.

Kairos could see between the lines. For all of his bluster, Helios simply couldn’t accept that his sun had set.

Now?

It was Kairos’ day.

The Travian King threw Orgonos’ tablet at the ground and unleashed its power.

At this signal, the group attacked Helios as one without warning. Spells and wind blasts flew at the surprised phoenix while the fighters rushed at the altar. Smoke erupted from the broken tablet, runes floating in the air as they prepared to summon Orgonos.

The fiery bird let out a screech and bathed the room in divine light. Kairos had to cover his eyes not to go blind, but he saw enough; the gates of Tartarus shook with a mighty quake, a crack spreading through their surface. A burning ray of light pierced through it, carrying Circe’s soul with it as it rejoined with the phoenix.

The fiery avian repelled all the spells thrown his way, his form shifting. His wings expanded not to reveal a bird’s body, but that of a humanoid form of blinding light. A System notification appeared as Kairos struggled to see the creature, the air heating up.

Helios, the Sun that Was

Legend: Sun of the Dead (Demigod)

Pantheon: None (formerly Dodekatheon).

Level: ???

“Let’s go!” Rook shouted as Kairos leaped on his back, spear in hand.

The twilight of the gods awaited.

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A/N: chapter made possible by you, dear patrons. 

I confirm that the second volume of Kairos will end in two chapters, aka chapter 92. I hope you enjoyed the ride so far.