Mount Etna was cold at night, almost airless. But what stood exceptionally different tonight was the large, full moon in the horizon, floating over the endless azure. Not that it mattered to Victor anyways. If anything, he would consider this night an apology for the rainstorm of the previous.
An apology he wouldn't accept— not until he got what he wanted.
By now, he was starting to lose himself. His knees rattled, pain exploding from it like freon freys. His feets were now numb from where his blood had declined flow. His breath constricted, and the few he managed was a struggled passage of cold air. His arms bled because he fiddled with a sharp rock, tearing into his own skin as if forcing himself not to die.
How he missed the sun, the warmth of it had reminded him that the world was anything but a comfortable place to pass away. Even the consistent noises of the vultures had been a motivation— they would die from their hunger before they could see him curl up and crumble into his own unconsciousness.
But what hope was still left? The god, Pan had explained his situation to him and why he or any other god won't be able to help him. So why did he still stay? Was he trying to get the god to go against the command of Hades, his father?
A wave of approaching footsteps answered him. Victor must've gotten an elevation of hope in his heart because he opened his eyes. They dawned distorted on a figure ahead, like a person on white clothing.
Pan, he recognized. Or was he? He strained to get a clearer look at whom had been approaching him, but all he register was a motion of blur.
Dang it! Had his weakness gotten to his eyes too?
"Pan, is that you?" He asked still, sliding the rock off his hand. "I know you won't forsake me."
"They have forsaken you." A girl's voice replied like a soft whisper.
Victor flinched, and his hopeful stare transcended into an alerted frown. His palms searched around for whatever rock he could find, and then he asked.
"Who are you?"
His answer? A cold, sharp rip through his chest. Something sliced through him, so fast that he barely had time to make out what it was. The cut inched deep and so his blood sprouted out in a wild rush, staining the jagged floor with crimson splatters.
He yelled, but all that came out was a strained groan. His weakness had not only made his eyes blurry, it had also made his voice croaked.
Through his pain, he could see the figure approach until it stood before him. Didn't look like Pan, didn't smell like him. Pan usually smelled like thick vines on a spring morning. This person smelled rather like a wispy boquet of dandelions.
A girl. He confirmed that when she knelt before him, smirking. Her eyes were hidden behind a black blindfold, and her hair— plain white— shimmered silver under the heavy moonlight.
"Your light is interesting. It glows even brighter in the darkness." The girl mused. "Perfect."
And just abruptly, she grabbed Victor by his chin and pressed her lips against his. The feeling immersively judged him, and he felt his consciousness drift away as she kissed him still. The burn in his wounded chest intensified, and his mind journeyed through a torrent of torments.
Something changed, the weather, the scenery. He was no longer on the harshly cold grounds of Mount Etna. He now floated in an endless void that brimmed with smoke and heat. He felt himself being sucked into the darkness, more and more. . .until his feet landed.
When he looked, he saw a throneroom, one so dark and almost never lit up. A throne seat was the stage, ominously crafted to fit a mysterious, dark king. At its fore was an inscription in Greek, "ἜΡΕΒΟΣ, ὁ ἘΞΟΡΙΑΣΜΈΝΟΣ ΑἸΤΗΤΗΣ ΤΟΥ ΣΚΌΤΟΥΣ— ὃς ἡ ἡΓΕΜΟΝΊΑ Αὐτοῦ ἐλήσθη."
Which meant, EREBUS, THE BANISHED RULER OF DARKNESS— WHOSE REIGN WAS FORGOTTEN.
"Where am I?"
Immediately Victor asked, a long, shadowy hand outstretched toward him. It seemed to be linked to nowhere, as if it was formed out of the nothingness itself.
The hand paused for a nano-second, and then before Victor could make a move, it vanished into his chest. Victor could feel the hand playfully curling a finger around his heart. It wasn't until it gripped it whole before he groaned, crumpling down to his knees.
He tried to grab the hand but his grip only went through. It was a shadow, and he was only a physical being, which meant they couldn't make contact.
Maybe except if the shadow willed it.
"I would give you power, son of Hades." A voice spoke, one so hoarse that it shook the whole room. Victor felt the grip on his heart loosen. "In exchange, you would give up your purpose and choose mine."
"Anything." Victor wasn't sure when he'd uttered that, but it seemed like his determination spoke louder than he did now.
At his reply, a surge of blackened mist sorounded him. The mist twisted violently around him like fast-growing curls, blinding him from seeing anything else. And when he struggled to keep his eyes open, he realized his sight had not been the only thing that was fading.
His environment vanished in a wild, yet thin air. And nothing else reminded him of his consciousness than the gleaming sunlight, burning into his eyes.
Ding!
[SYSTEM AUTHENTICATION IN PROGRESS. . .100%]
[WELCOME, SON OF HADES.]
Victor opened his eyes, and the sound of flapping feathers resounded in his ears. The vultures must've assumed that he was dead, because they flew off in utter shock. Wrong guess. All he had taken was a short nap. He'd been dreaming?
The girl with the blindfold, the eery voyage to the dark throne room. All that had definitely happened, and it was evident by the system interface that shone with dim green colors before him, hovering midair without a bearing. This was. . .
[YOU HAVE AWAKENED THE BLOODLINE OF HADES.]
[YOU HAVE GAINED AURA: DEATH.]
[AURA WOULD POTENTIALLY DECREASE YOUR ENEMY'S STATS BY 5%]
"You still here, eh?" Pan announced himself with the clumping of his walking stick. When they locked eyes, the god groaned and nodded disapprovingly. "You just don't listen, do you now?"
Then the god paused, his mouth dramatically flung open.
"Something feels off." He finally said, staring cold into Victor's eye. "Oh no..."
Victor's eyebrow arched at him. He watched as the god's expression turned sober, and how he started to chew nervously on his fingers.
"What have you done, boy? What have you done?"