Kairos 89: Amor Fati

There was light and then numbers.

A veil was lifted off Nessus’ lone remaining eye as he absorbed his other half into himself, and for the first time in his life he was no longer blind. His piercing gaze cut through the illusion of forms and colors to witness the true, underlying structure of all things.

Life [1d20 + Health + (Vitality/2) + (Luck/4)]  ≥ Death [1d20 + Magic + (Luck/2)]

= Survival

In this universe ruled by the Fate System, all things were decided not by concepts, but by numbers.

Complex formulas floated all around him as they calculated the hardness of walls, the remaining lifeforce of his companions, the degree of protection granted by the ambient darkness. He noticed twenty-faced dice rolling above his allies, each of them completing strange equations determining their fate.

The only thing separating life from death was a single mathematical threshold.

Life [1d20 + Health + (Vitality/2) + (Luck/4)]  < Death [1d20 + Magic + (Luck/2)]

= Permadeath

Even the letters used to measure stats were no more than fluctuating values hidden from mortals, giving them with the illusion of stability in a constantly changing world. Probabilities ruled weather patterns and determined the effectiveness of spells. Magic was a subset of mathematics too complex for even talented [Spellcasters] to grasp.

And who was he? He who could see the numbers of all things?

He was Nessus but also someone else. A door opened inside his heads as he absorbed Thanatos into himself and subsumed his spirit. Information flowed through it like water through a canal and filled his mind with cosmic knowledge from eons past.

He thought that Thanatos’ mind would become one with his and that the fusion would erase everything he had been; that he would be finally free of his humanity, of his guilt and the weight of countless lives.

He had been wrong.

For the satyr once known as Dionysus was created with a purpose in mind and he had fulfilled it. He knew, deep within himself, that he had somehow done everything right; that all his actions had served a mission whose parameters escaped him. He hadn’t deviated from the orders given to him before he was even born.

Thanatos had strayed from his mission, letting his subjective decisions affect his judgment. He had abused what little freedom he had been granted. And for that, he had been punished with erasure.

Nessus was Life and Death, but he was not Thanatos. His other half’s hate and memories would not influence him; they would not lead him astray.

Instead, he had become someone else.

Welcome back [Ananké].

You have regained your [Personification] privileges. Legend portfolio: [Inevitable Necessity].

You inherited a quota deficit of [75764] souls from your predecessor. If you do not correct your quota before the next System update, you shall be [Reformatted].

Nessus knew what an update was before he even asked. The Fate System enlightened him directly, teaching him about data, the laws of statistics, the subtle calculations determining the consequences of all actions.

He was [Ananké]. He was certainty and predetermination, birth and death. Once a [Goddess] split in two, now a [God] made one.

Nessus couldn’t help but laugh at the bitter irony.

He had defeated his shadow, but he couldn’t win his freedom in the bargain.

And as his laughter echoed across the room, so did his power. The shadows raised by [Thanatos] collapsed into nothingness, their delinquent souls returned to the cycle. Only dust remained of Pelopidas' shadow while the [Shadow Wall] vanished.

The terrible Medusa, whose sisters Nessus had feared so much, let out a cry of joy as her undead existence came to an abrupt end; Sertorius let out a breath of relief as he was freed from his prison of stone. Only a jeweled necklace remained from the gorgon, both beautiful and terrible. Nessus didn’t even pay it attention.

His allies had triumphed.

That was all that mattered.

“Nessus?” Kairos asked him, a number fluctuating above his head. The countdown to his demise, as determined by Fate. Sometimes it had three digits, then four the next instant. “Is that you?”

Nessus wasn’t sure what he meant… until he realized that he watched his captain with two eyes instead of one.

The satyr looked at his hands, only to realize he was a satyr no more. He had the void between worlds for skin and numbers for scars. A balanced equation flared to life on his chest, bringing structure to his humanoid shape.

He was a [God] now.

A shackled [God] though. Nessus was more powerful and knowledgeable than he had been as [Dionysus], but his power was no longer his own. He had become a cog in the great machine known as the Fate System like the [Moirae], one of the countless hands of a larger entity bringing order and stability to the promordial chaos.

But his mind remained his own alone.

“Who else, oh my captain?” Nessus mused, his voice unchanged. “Thanatos? The old jackass is gone.”

He would rather have gone down with him, but… as he watched Andromache cross the room to embrace Kairos with a cheerful Rook following closely behind, Nessus realized that this was an outcome he could accept.

Everyone had survived his shadow’s [Death] spell.

Even Agron, that cold-blooded son of a bull. The [Doom] counters had vanished, Thanatos’ last grudge gone with them.

“So this is over?” Cassandra asked as she joined Nessus, examining him with a smile of relief on her face. “We’ve won?”

“Complete victory,” Nessus replied as he showed off his new abilities, floating a few centimeters above the ground. He looked in his reflection on Cassandra’s shield, finding himself face to face with a satyr-shaped incarnation of the cosmos. “Damn, I’ll miss my beard.”

“And I can’t see your level,” Cass replied as she squinted, her confusion replaced with shock. “No way… you are…”

“A [God],” Agron whispered in shock. Such was his surprise that he dropped his ax. Even Judge Sertorius remained speechless, his stoic mask breaking into genuine astonishment.

Only Thales kept some modicum of calmness, and he still dropped everything to scribble notes on a scroll. “Incredible!” he said. “All data gathered indicate that it is impossible to skip a Rank step, and yet you went straight from [Elite] to [God]!”

“I am a very special case,” Nessus replied as he looked into himself.

Though he had lost his [Legend] as [Dionysus], his nature had never changed; he had always been a [Personification], one half of a larger entity more powerful than any Olympian. His ‘father’ Zeus had been a long-lived and powerful mortal, but he was an aspect of reality. When Nessus dared to look at his status screen, the Fate System answered with only one word.

Irrelevant.

Stats and levels meant nothing to him anymore. He was no longer the mortal avatar of a concept, but the concept itself in its purest form. Life and death were his to command, within the bounds set by destiny.

But now… where should he go from here?

The phoenix at the dungeon’s bottom would be no match for Nessus. A snap of his fingers would extinguish his immortal life and return Circe’s soul to the hell she so richly deserved. But when he tried, something crushed the very thought in the back of his mind.

A voice told him that he could save the world, but that he wasn’t allowed to.

Gravity did not choose who it affected. The laws of the Fate System weren’t like those of mortals, fallible and easily broken. This great machine didn’t need to punish anyone, because nobody could disrupt it in the first place. His agents could neglect their duties for a time, but they could be easily replaced.

Was that what drove Thanatos mad? The knowledge that he possessed limitless power, but not the right to exercise it?

“Andromache?”

Kairos’ panicked voice brought Nessus back to earth. The former satyr glanced at his favorite couple, only to see Andromache turning deathly pale in her lover’s arms.

“Andro, is something wrong?” Rook asked in concern as he looked at the nymph.

“I don’t feel well…” the nymph admitted with a sick voice, hands on her stomach. “Not…”

She collapsed on the floor without warning.

“Andromache!” Kairos shouted as he caught her in her arms, with Thales immediately rushing to their side.

“Lay her on the ground, sir!” The whole group hastily gathered around them as Kairos obeyed Thales’ suggested, the automaton ripping the nymph’s robes to better examine the witch’s naked body. Cassandra immediately covered her mouth at the sight, while Rook let out a screech of horror.

Andromache’s stomach was rotting.

Nessus and his allies could only watch, powerless, as a vile magic turned her pristine skin black. Kairos’ face lost all color as his concubine lost consciousness, her head resting on his thighs. Thales immediately grabbed a knife and potions from his supplies, preparing to operate on the nymph to save her life.

But though Nessus saw through his divine vision that Andromache had still years to live… he couldn’t say the same for someone else.

“The child had a [Doom] counter,” Sertorius whispered grimly.

Thanatos had not gone quietly into the night.

Kairos took Andromache’s hand into his own and immediately looked at Nessus in panic. “Do something!” he snarled. “Undo this spell!”

“You are a [God]!” Agron added with surprising concern as he played a buffing song in a vain attempt to delay the inevitable.

“I am!” Nessus replied as he quickly raised his hand above Andromache’s chest. He called upon the same power he once wielded as Dionysus, to breathe life back into the rotting corpse inside the nymph’s womb.

Action denied.

Nessus’ confidence turned to panic, as he once again tried to weave the string of destiny in his favor, to alter the cosmic life equation. He saw the newborn soul escaping the vessel, a small thing that didn’t have a name yet.

A girl, Nessus thought. She would have been a girl.

But no matter how many times he attempted to undo Thanatos’ crime, the result remained the same.

Fate refused to change.

You do not possess the necessary privileges to execute the [Resurrection] routine on a [Permadead] individual.

What? But he could revive the dead as Dionysus, to the point of infuriating Thanatos! Why couldn’t he do it now, after becoming more powerful than ever?

These privileges were granted to you as part of a previous experiment. This experiment has since concluded.

Nessus looked into himself, at the knowledge of his own birth. And as he remembered his first moments not as a child but as an outside observer, he gained a better understanding of his nature.

Dionysus, child of Zeus and Semele, had been nothing more than an empty shell; a [Demigod] vessel imbued with a divine spark inherited from the king of Olympus, inhabited by an indestructible [Personification]. His inherited [Legend] had been influenced by his soul’s true nature, gaining the power to alter life, but it had remained apart from it.

Just as Queen Alexandria claimed the divine spark of Dionysus, she couldn’t usurp dominion over the cycle of life and death. This power, which Nessus embodied, was never for mortals to wield. Many liberties could be granted to them, including the possibility to disrupt the cycle of souls in isolated cases… but not all of them.

But why? Why let him wield a mortal [Legend] and give him a taste of freedom once, but not now?

And at long last, the Fate System finally answered his questions and Nessus learned his life’s purpose.

You and [Thanatos] were separated halves of the [Ananké] [Personification]. [Ananké] is [Certainty] of [Life] and [Death]. The [Personification] of the lifetime cycle of [Players].

[Reformatting] into different avatars was part of a test-run attempt to optimize the cycle of souls.

One incarnation would follow the reincarnation process of [Players] to accumulate information over multiple lives and identify potential ways to improve the System’s operations.

Another would guide souls to the [Afterlife], while being allowed to make minor subjective decisions in order to improve the harvesting process.

The Fate System had given Thanatos enough free will to do his job better, and instead drove him mad. Not even by malice or intent, but by sheer indifference.

Only then did Nessus realize the frightening nature of the Fate System he served. It was a machine larger than any automaton, a set of self-sustaining laws more complex than the Senex, an omniscient mind whose insight surpassed even Orgonos.

But it was the coldest of all cold monsters.

Happiness, pain, joy, and sadness were meaningless to this cosmic machinery. Thanatos’ despair and descent into insanity didn’t matter to the Fate System; only that the late reaper had failed to meet an arbitrary quota. It didn’t care that the law of life and death would cause suffering to mortals, only that this rule remained inviolate and the world kept turning.

Wait, every law has a loophole! Nessus thought, as he realized he had been doing it wrong. Instead of trying to break the cosmic rules that bound his powers, he only had to bend them! Thanatos had made the wrong decision; it was up to his successor to make things right by returning a life wrongfully taken away!

For the purpose of maintaining continuity of operations, you cannot overturn a previous [Personification]’s decision unless they violate the [Fate System]’s guidelines.

“But he cheated!” Nessus snarled loudly in frustration, oblivious to the glances his friends sent him. “The old gnat said so himself!”

The [Permadead] status of [Player] [???] was determined based on probabilities, equations, and a random number factor; based on biological incompatibilities between the mother’s [Nymph] race and the father’s [Wolfling] nature, the probability of death by stillbirth was estimated at a stable 52.35 percent with minimal chance of completing a [Quest] or achieving a [Legend].

While the decision of the previous [Personification] to cause a stillbirth early was based on a subjective judgment, it did not violate universal guidelines. [Player] [???] was considered insignificant enough that an early stillbirth would not meaningfully affect the world’s destiny.

Nessus clenched his fists in fury. Though it used elaborate words, the System’s meaning was simple enough to grasp.

The child wasn’t important enough to make an exception.

“You can’t save them,” Kairos whispered with a crestfallen face. “Why?”

“The phoenix,” Cassandra said, clinging to hope. “He’s down there. If we claim a feather in time, we can… we can bring the child back!”

Yes, of course! Maybe Nessus couldn’t change the outcome, but his party could!

The previous [Personification] has applied the [Permadeath] status to this soul; it is not eligible for [Resurrection] whether by any [Personification] or [Player].

But Thanatos had fucked them from beyond deletion.

Nessus looked at Kairos’ hopeful face and found himself unable to crush it. There had to be another solution.

The [Player] [???]’s soul must be claimed for immediate [Afterlife] transfer and eventual [Reincarnation].

That or undeath. A half-life that would drive the unborn soul mad, as it did with Jason of Iolcus and so many others.

Couldn’t Nessus remove the [Permadeath] status? Maybe he couldn’t revive the child himself, but make it possible.

For the purpose of maintaining continuity of operations, you cannot overturn a previous [Personification]’s dec—

“Then who can?!” Nessus snarled as he watched Cassandra help Thales pour a potion down Andromache’s throat. “If I, a [God], can’t, then who?”

You are a [Personification]. Your role is to execute key subroutines for the continued preservation of the [Fate System] and the integrity of the [Anima Mundi] universe. Failure to maintain System integrity will result in a [Chaos Hazard] and the destruction of this reality.

Only the [Fate System] or an [Administrator] may overturn a [Personification]’s decision.

“Who is an [Administrator]?”

The [Elder Wyrm] and the [Eldest] are the co-administrators of the [Fate System].

The Elder Wyrm and the Eldest? Nessus had never heard of them. Were they ancient primordials who existed before Gaïa, before Chaos itself? Or secretive New Gods who had gained limitless power after the Anthropomachia? “How may I contact them?”

Status of [Administrators]: Unavailable. The [Fate System] has been deemed self-sustaining and capable of maintaining its operations and cosmic harmony without continued oversight from its creators.

You can however make requests that will be examined by the [Fate System], and validated if they improve operations.

Nessus glanced at Sertorius, though for once the judge ignored him. Instead, he had put a hand on Kairos’ shoulder and was trying to reassure his brother-in-law the best he could.

If only he could be the one rules-lawyering this mess…

“Then let me make my case,” Nessus said as an idea crossed his mind. “If all souls can achieve a [Legend], however minimal their chances, then you should let everyone be born to try their luck. By robbing the unborn of their chance, you make the whole system unfair!”

Analyzing proposal…

Proposal rejected.

Based on the last 500 hundred cycles, an average of 2479 [Human] [Players] are born each day against an average death toll of 1981; each new [Player] [Race] added to the calculation increases these numbers exponentially.

Only a handful of these people have the potential to develop [Legends] and achieve great feats worthy of myths; the death of a small percentage [Players] before their birth will not threaten the balance of souls or System integrity, especially as they may try again in their next life. The resources needed to successfully ensure the birth of all living creatures will not be compensated.

“I can save her,” Thales told Kairos with grim resignation. “But the fetus… I am sorry, sir. This is beyond me.”

“My life for her,” Nessus offered.

Analyzing proposal…

Clarify proposal.

“I had a satyr's lifetime left,” Nessus said as Kairos glanced in his direction with a confused look. “Give her whatever bloody years I should have lived through.”

Analyzing proposal…

Proposal denied. Unless you gained an independent [Legend] or terminated the reincarnation experiment, your existence as a [Satyr] [Player] was expected to end at the hands of [Helios, the Sun that Was] within the next three hours.

Useless to the end...

No, he shouldn’t give up. Not until he had exhausted all his options. “How about I make her an assistant deity to help me in my work?” Nessus asked. “My mini-reaper or life-giver apprentice? Wouldn’t that be a good idea? Look at the mess the last Death made because he had no one to share his burden with!”

It wouldn’t be a good life… but at least she would have one.

Analyzing proposal…

Proposal denied. A [Personification] is more than capable of fulfilling its duties alone, unless they actively neglect them; nor can privileges be transferred to a [Player]. A [Personification] may only be [Reformatted] into a new one.

If you find your duties incompatible with your subjective judgment and emotional capabilities, you may request a [Reformatting].

Nessus froze as he processed the answer. A… a reformatting?

If you are [Reformatted], you shall return to the Fate System, where all your accumulated memories and data shall be consumed. You shall forget everything and be reborn into a new [Personification]. Your current identity will be erased.

Is that what you desire?

Oblivion and a fresh start.

The Fate System offered him the same deal as all mortal souls, to forget his previous life and be reborn without carrying the memories of his previous existence. Freedom from the self.

Is that what [Hypnos] chose? When faced with the terror and sorrow of the Anthropomachia, watching the nightmares of a world gone mad, had he and his fellow dream deities sought an escape from their duties in a new form?

“Will…” Nessus struggled to find the right words to articulate his question. “If I have an idea of what the new me should be, will it be taken into account?”

Your suggestions will be taken into consideration, if they will improve the [Fate System]’s operations.

Nessus could offload his duties to a new, better him.

After his failures as a deity, he could participate in the creation of a [God] who would help for mortals from the get-go. An entity kinder than Thanatos and more selfless than Dionysus. Someone who would improve life and death for millions of mortals for centuries to come.

A [God] who cared.

And at long last, Nessus would shed his shame and past mistakes like a snake with his old-worn scales.

Maybe he wouldn’t save Kairos’ first daughter with Andromache, but… she would reincarnate anyway. Surely they would have more children in the future, sons and daughters who would benefit from a wiser [God] of life and death’s guidance. It would be a tragic loss, but the net gains in the long-term…

And if he looked at the bigger picture, beyond his personal affinities and affection for his crewmates… how many people suffered now around the world? How many restless souls languished because of Thanatos’ misdeeds and Nessus’ own neglect? Surely their happiness mattered more than one little girl.

I could help reincarnate her before asking for a reformatting, Nessus thought, as he examined the dying soul struggling in Andromache’s rotten womb. I’ll make her the princess of a peaceful land, where she will grow with everything her father never had. A full family, wealth, and food aplenty.

It would be mercy. If she lived now, she risked dying anyway if her mother perished fighting Helios. And if everyone survived, only war awaited their fledging kingdom. Wouldn’t it be better to let her move into a new, better life? One where she wouldn’t remember anything?

This was a good outcome for everyone.

An ending. An escape from his past, his guilt, a measure of redemption.

But as Nessus prepared to take the child’s soul and return her to the cycle… a doubt crossed his mind. He glanced at his allies, seeing their fate, the destiny they claimed for themselves.

A pirate king who bounced back from defeat to defeat without ever losing hope of making his land a better place; and the griffin who shared his joys and sorrows.

A woman who came back from death like he did, only to find purpose and happiness in her second life.

A cursed witch who fought tooth and nail to win her freedom, and eventually did so.

A minotaur who dared to fight a dragon in the name of everlasting glory.

A cowardly automaton who found his courage when he defeated a lion.

A judge with unquenchable ambitions and a relentless drive to conquer.

All of these people had earned a [Legend] before invading his dungeon, while Nessus never earned one on his own.

Why? he asked, both to himself and the Fate System.

Outside of [Protogenoi] and [Personifications], [Legends] are divine myths created either when a [Player] fulfills a great destiny, either by virtue of their birth or deed; or when a [Player] surpasses the [Fate System]’s expectations by forging their own path and altering the world’s future.

All the people here had gained their [Legends] through the second method.

They weren’t the children of [Gods] born powerful, nor did they have an ancient destiny to fulfill. Even those who had completed [Quests] earned their [Legend] from other means, whether by killing foes far stronger than them or overcoming their fate. Cassandra’s mere existence was a violation of the natural order, a destiny that should have been cut short.

And yet among all these people, only the immortal among them had languished as an [Elite] until now.

Because he had stopped striving for anything.

Because he had wasted his life wishing for death.

And now, a girl would die before she even had the chance to fight.

Nessus looked at his hand and all the power he wielded. Shackles or not, Orgonos only wielded a fraction of it; and yet he had done far more good in the world than Dionysus ever did. He had freed mortals from oppression, sealed monsters like Lycaon and Typhon, helped a cursed nymph get her life back, and promised to help against a reborn Titan.

And instead of following his example, Nessus considered giving up and running away. To transfer his burden to someone else, hoping it would get better, without taking responsibility for his present actions.

All this power, and Nessus still looked for the coward’s way out. All while Kairos and Andromache desperately needed a divine miracle.

No more, the satyr who had once been called Dionysus thought with determination. I won’t run away from my divine duties this time.

This was his moment to act like how a true [God] should: by making life better for mortals now.

Even if it would cost him.

Cerberus had multiple heads, Nessus thought, one last idea crossing his mind. Multiple souls into an avatar body.

“Let me share this soul’s burden,” he offered the Fate System, Kairos’ eyes widening as he put two and two together. “I shall share the life taken from her, see through her eyes as she lives her years to the fullest. If all you wish for is untainted information about the life of mortals to better improve your stats and numbers, you’ll get it.”

Analyzing proposal…

The benefits of the proposal are unclear. You have already lived multiple lives as a de facto [Player], with the ability to make your own decisions for the purpose of analyzing the mortal condition. How will sharing an existing [Player]’s lifecycle improve the continued operations of the [Fate System]?

“Because…”

Because it was the right thing to do.

Because it would make mortals happier.

Because it would make his friends happier.

But as he caught a cold glance from the cunning Sertorius, Nessus realized appealing to emotion wouldn’t work. Only cold logic would sway the Fate System.

“Because all my decisions up to this point were influenced by my previous lives’ memories,” Nessus said, blurting out his secret to all who could hear him. “Mortals don’t remember a single existence; they aren’t burdened by a past inherited from before their birth. They are born free to make old and new mistakes, to explore paths no one else ever did. By letting me make decisions but allowing me to carry information from one life to another, you biased the experiment’s results. Only by experiencing the life of another mortal, ordinary or otherwise, can I truly understand the mortal condition and improve the cycle of souls.”

Nessus chuckled to himself, as he delivered the final blow. “This child, the first daughter of a pirate king and a cursed witch, is a unique occurence that may never happen again; a wonderfully perfect oddity. It is the only opportunity to gather information on what she represents. The study will be incomplete without her.”

Analyzing proposal…

Proposal deemed acceptable, with modifications.

You shall be transferred into the [???] vessel and share it with the original soul until the end of the [Player]’s lifespan for the purpose of accumulating data on the mortal condition; you will keep all the data accumulated so far, and the [???]’s [Permadeath] status shall be delayed until the vessel’s expiration.

However, based on your performance review, your ability to make subjective judgments on [Life] and [Death] has been deemed detrimental to your duties and shall be taken away. You will become like the [Moirae], a neutral observer unable to affect the outcome of the Fate System’s decisions. You will process souls whether you want it or not; and though you will be able to offer advice to your [Player] host at their demand, you will not be able to interfere with their decisions even if you disagree with them. You shall be no more than a passenger.

If this [Player]’s cycle is deemed insufficient for the experimentation’s purpose, you shall be transferred to another newborn [Player] as many times as the [Fate System] needs it. Only when the experiment has been deemed completed will you be eligible for [Reformatting].

Do you accept this new routine?

“If the first experiment works, how many more lives will I have to observe?”

Analysis…

If the first test is deemed a success, 100 [Players] randomly selected from all available [Races] should be a sufficient sample to gather the necessary data. This number may increase with the addition of new [Races] in the future.

Do you accept this new routine?

The Fate System promised Nessus a Tartarus not out of vengeance or justice, but in the name of bureaucratic efficiency.

It would be a greater agony than his past lives. Whether the mortal he shared a life with would grow into a hero or villain, he would only be along for the ride until the System saw fit to release him.

If it ever did.

And yet…

And yet to his surprise, Nessus wasn’t scared. He felt neither fear nor regret. Only a quiet sense of content acceptance.

For his pain was no longer meaningless.

This time, it would serve a greater purpose and help others.

“Can I at least snap Mithridates to dust beforehand?” the former satyr asked, as he moved a hand above Andromache’s stomach. “Maybe Lycaon too while I’m at it?”

You may not. Probabilities remain in flux and have not stabilized. The world’s destiny will depend on the confrontation between multiple [Legend] wielders, including [Helios, the Sun that Was], [Mithridates IV Hegemon], and [Kairos Marius Remus], with multiple outcomes possible at this stage.

For the first time in centuries, Nessus found himself having sympathy for Thanatos. He wondered how many times the reaper had asked this question and met with denial, only able to take souls whose fate was set in stone.

“Don’t do it,” Kairos whispered. “The phoenix—”

“It won’t work,” Nessus replied. “And I’m not one for last words, my captain.”

He heard Cassandra protest, Agron too, but their words became a buzzing sound he couldn’t fully understand. The world’s equations changed all around him, the Fate System adjusting reality itself to account for such a small but momentous change. The numbers forming his body dissipated as the formula of life and death took a new shape. Kairos’ eyes looked at him with sorrow and Sertorius’ with a hint of respect.

“I have no regrets, my friends,” Nessus whispered as his celestial body returned to nothingness. “I had fun.”

His soul entered Andromache’s womb to join with another.

The last curse of Thanatos receded, and the cold rotting touch of death was swiftly replaced by warm life. A vessel of flesh returned to life, while the childlike soul of Kairos’ daughter was spared from an early grave.

To Nessus’ eye, she looked no bigger than a speck of light in the darkness; a seed of infinite possibilities. Maybe she would flower into a queen or a witch, a heroine craving adventure, or a humble farmer. It didn’t matter. He would be with her all the way.

I’ll be your guardian daemon, the little voice of your imaginary friend, Nessus mused, though I’m not sure you should listen to my advice.

…

Hmm?

The child’s soul suddenly burned with a new radiance, the spark of divine potential. The seed of a newborn myth that could shake the world’s destiny.

A [Legend].

She hadn’t been so insignificant after all.

Then again, Cass got one from the same circumstances and she didn’t have a [God] giving up his death for her pretty eyes, Nessus thought as he closed his eyes and went to sleep; at least until the child’s birth. This is my penance. Being condemned to live.

But he didn’t care.

He had acted as a true [God] should and made a few mortals happier.

That was all that mattered.

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

Here's the secret ending, with Kairos' daughter only to be granted a second chance... and a Legend.