[Q] Enter Zagreus (An Arbiter's Plea)

Zagreus

Son of Hades
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Zagreus sat up, rubbing his eyes with his pale hands. Looking more like a disgruntled teenager than the son of Hades, the young man stayed seated on the ground, back hunched and eyes shut in the light.

“I’ll get you next time, Father,” he muttered, “Blasted Spirit Vases…”

Zagreus stretched his arms, finally straightening his back. Eyes still shut, Zagreus ruffled his hair, shaking the last of the blood out of it. He hated waking up in the Styx. He couldn’t even tell whose blood this was. It was warm and comfortable, like walking out of a bath, but… blood is still blood. It is especially discomforting when one is covered in blood that is, in fact, not theirs.

It was in the middle of this thought that Zagreus jerked to his feet, eyes wide and arms close to his face, as Achilles had always taught him..

Every time he awoke from the River Styx, Zagreus found himself stepping into the central corridor of the House of Hades, in the middle of a spring that derived its waters directly from the river Styx. There was a direct hallway that led towards the Throne of the Underworld, in which sat Hades and the Three Mortal Kings behind him. Zagreus had pretty constantly and contently changed the decorations of that hallway (mostly to irritate his father), it was simultaneously always the same. That was the fascinating thing about the House of Hades. There was a fundamental permanence about the whole place, as if the very architecture reminded you that the walls cannot be moved, that death is permanent, that there is no escape. Zagreus felt that he would never truly leave that hallway.

And yet, here was Zagreus, no longer in that hallway.

Zagreus found himself in a clearing in the middle of a forest. It was unlike the one he had found near the entrance to the mortal realm, which was thick with frost and sent chills to your bones. If Zagreus had to use a word for this place, the word would be “wet”. Wetness clung to the air and suffocated it, as if the Anemoi had pissed all over this place. But it was also warm. Zagreus was always used to ice-cold water (not counting the Phlegethon, of course), but this wetness was sticky and warm.

“Ugh,” Zagreus said to himself, relaxing his stance a little, “Not a fan of this weather.”

The godling also found he wasn’t a fan of the noise. There was a constant whirring in the noise, like thousands of little screechy wheels that were all being spun by tiny gremlins. There was birdsong, which Zagreus was assured sounded lovely, but Zagreus winced at the piercing sounds of the shrill cacophony. It almost sounded as dreadful as the godling’s lyre practices.

“I can still hear you, old man,” Zagreus snapped at the narrator as he continued to observe his surroundings.

“Zagreus,” a child’s voice whispered.

Now, Zagreus was not a stranger to telepathic voices. Since he began his mission to escape the Underworld, Zagreus had come in contact with most of the Olympians. They were unable to hold a regular conversation with the godling, given their inability to enter the Underworld, but they spoke in his mind. It sounded like the direct translation of concepts, but also like a thousand copies of the same voice overlaying on top of each other flooding your ears from the inside. Even your humble narrator had a booming whisper to his voice that dominated his eardrums.

But this new voice? Zeus have mercy on Zagreus, but he could’ve sworn this new voice was… something more powerful than Olympus itself.

Which was, of course, not entirely possible. Though Zeus was far from omnipotent, he was the most powerful being in the universe. So whoever this was was extremely good

“...Hello?” Zagreus attempted.

“Zagreus,” the mysterious child repeated.

The godling looked around again. There were scarcely any children in the Underworld, but he was hard-pressed to say he was in the Underworld at all. He looked at the big ball of light in the sky, and within seconds its brightness started burning into his cornea. Zagreus wagered this was why he had difficulty opening his eyes.

“Hello, Lord Apollo,” Zagreus mumbled.

He said this, of course, trying to oppress the growing panic in his heart. How did he arrive here? He remembered seeing his father, again, blocking his way, again, and blathering on about blasted rules, AGAIN. Zagreus remembered drawing his sword, the comfortable hefty weight of Stygius. He remembered feeling Ares’ wrath embrace its blade. He remembered how the edge glinted in the blinding whiteness of the snow.

Zagreus rubbed his brow. It was usually never this difficult to remember what had happened. There was a fight, of course. Lord Hades had done all he could to return Zagreus to blood. What a father, hm? He even broke his own rules, summoning the spirits of the dead to distract Zagreus as he prepared some sort of horrible attack. He shot out beams of pure hellfire. Zagreus could scarce forget the smell of brimstone.

Even with Nyx’s blessings and the embrace of shadows, Zagreus felt his body fall onto the ground- Wait, not this time, actually, did it? This time, Nyx lifted him up again. He felt it. He had defied death, and continued to fight. So then… what happened?

“Blood and darkness,” Zagreus muttered, in absolute shock, “I won.”

Zagreus let out a chuckle, which grew into a full fit of laughter. He looked up at the sky, this time tolerating the absolutely scorching rays of Helios.

“I BEAT HIM!” Zagreus shouted into the sky.

Eh-hem. Anyway.

Zagreus looked around, finding Stygius stuck in the dirt behind him. He unceremoniously drew it from the ground, and with his bloodstained hand, he wiped the dirt off of the blade. It drank in the blood, and glowed happily for a moment.

“So where am I?” Zagreus mumbled.

The godling had a habit of speaking to himself. After the centuries of being left mostly alone by his pale-fingered father, Zagreus had to keep his own company. At times like these, when things seemed dire, and when Zagreus truly didn’t know what to expect, he spoke to himself. It helped him distance himself from the anxiety of the situation, he supposed.

“That’s quite enough,” Zagreus snapped at the narrator again.

“Zagreus,” the childish whisper repeated.

“And enough from that as well,” Zagreus grumbled, releasing Stygius. It smouldered in the air, and vanished in a fit of ashes. “Who are you?”

There was no response. Zagreus sighed. Well, at the very least, now that his father was back in his House, there would be no further interruptions in his search for his mother.

“Wait,” the son of Hades flinched, “It… can’t be, right?”

Zagreus looked around the clearing again.

“...Mother?”

“What? No!” the childish voice snickered, “Do I look like-”

“So you do talk.”

The childish voice silenced itself. Zagreus rolled his eyes.

“Fine. I’m coming. Where do I go?”

The woods itself seemed to respond by giggling. Well, an approximation of giggling. The leaves rustled, and branches folded back as the trees moved.

“Odd,” Zagreus mumbled, “Achilles instructed me explicitly that those aren’t supposed to move.”

And yet, they did. The trees crawled and shimmied side-to-side, eventually revealing a smooth path through the rainforest.

“Fine,” Zagreus said. After all, he was never one to question how things came to be.

Zagreus squinted into the air for a second.

“I can still hear you, old man,” the godling repeated, then started trotting down the path.

1285/2500 words
 

Zagreus

Son of Hades
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It was hard to exaggerate Zagreus’ displeasure. The godling didn’t need to sweat - he assumed that gods in general didn’t need to, let alone the ones that are attuned to the Realm of the Dead. But by Zeus, Zagreus wished his body could do something about this unbearable warm wetness that continued to choke his breath. Even the ever-running Zagreus found himself quickly out of breath.

Zagreus squinted. “Do you ever stop talking?”

The childish voice from earlier chuckled. Evidently, this entity was able to hear both Zagreus’ thoughts and yours truly, no matter the distance. Zagreus’ eyes narrowed in equal parts surprise and irritation.

“Well, this all seems unnecessary,” the godling muttered, “Since we are able to speak, couldn’t you just tell me what’s happening here? I’m getting quite tired from all this jogging.”

The voice sighed.

“Very well,” the child said, “You’re on your way, so I’ll start explaining some things while you’re on the road. You are a guest of mine, Zagreus, Son of Hades… and Persephone.”

Zagreus flinched, stopping his tracks briefly. His burning feet smoldered in the foliage as he squinted again. A complex broil of emotions swirled around in his head at hearing his mother’s name.

“Keep moving,” the child urged.

Zagreus pondered for a moment before continuing to jog along the path. The trees were still excusing themselves from their permanent rooted locations to make way for Zagreus to run.

“This is not the world you know,” the child continued, “My name is Chomper. I… am an Arbiter.”

“Arbiter?” Zagreus mused, “Never heard of your kind.”

“You wouldn’t have,” Chomper’s voice sighed, “These realms are far from the ones you call home. There are no Olympians here, not as you know them. No Underworld, no Tartarus… not even Master Chaos is here.”

Zagreus frowned. “I don’t understand. Chaos was the creator of the Cosmos.”

“Of your Cosmos,” Chomper corrected, “This is… a different Cosmos. The residents tend to call it the Crossroads. It fits, I suppose.”

The godling stopped jogging again, absorbing the information as best he could. Zagreus scratched his head, causing more leftover blood to drip out from between his locks.

“Keep going.”

“I’m sorry,” Zagreus said, rubbing his eyes, “It’s just… Is this a prank? Lord Dionysus, is that you? Are these all grape trees?”

“Grapes grow on vines, Zagreus.”

The godling shook his head with a grin. “Whatever. This is a prank, isn’t it? Well, it was delightful, Lord Dionysus-“

“Keep. Going.”

Zagreus glared up at the sky, as if that would change anything. “Not until you tell me what’s going on. Did Father put you up to this?”

There was silence. Zagreus rolled his eyes, then continued trotting along the path.

“Hades is not here,” Chomper said, “The god of death in this realm is… far less forgiving.”

“If you think my father is forgiving, you’ve not met him.”

“Your father believes in rules, Zagreus,” Chomper said as Zagreus tumbled over a fallen tree. “And he loves you, though he knows it not. The god of death in this realm is obsessed with ruin, and his obsession will lay waste to this realm until nothing is left.”

Zagreus scowled as he kept jogging. Ugh, another great evil monster for him to fight.

“His name is Darkseid. He believes existence itself is disgusting, and will stop at nothing to tear it all down,” Chomper continued, “And he’s well on his way of succeeding. He’s already torn down four of my friends. Though I suppose you’d only hear about three of them.”

Zagreus scoffed. “And they’re all gods as well?”

“Yes,” Chomper sighed, “The Unmaking is… all-powerful.

“You want me to fight your god of death.”

“Yes.”

“I refuse.”

“I imagined you would,” Chomper said, “which is why I’m not asking. Or demanding. I’ve brought you here to make your own decisions.”

Zagreus narrowed his eyes again. “Why?”

“I’ve seen you work, Son of Hades,” Chomper whispered, “You’re a force of nature. You’re stubborn to a fault, and you’re fiercely independent. You’ll defy laws of nature to get your way. The world will demand you change, and instead you will change it.”

“…you make me sound like a villain.”

“On the contrary, those are the marks of a hero. You’re a destroyer, Zagreus, but you’re a good man. You destroy things that need to be destroyed, to make room for stronger growth. Heck, I’d recommend you take the title of the God of Clearing Deadwood.”

Zagreus frowned as the clearing started shifting to the left. The trees were sealing up behind him at a slightly faster pace now. Not that Zagreus couldn’t keep up, but he didn’t like feeling threatened… or trapped.

“In your future,” Chomper continued, “You repair dozens of broken families, blood-related or otherwise. You foster open communication and deliver hope and warmth to the coldest of hearts. And you do so while defeating hordes of monsters.”

Zagreus shrugged. “Surely, you exaggerate.”

“I’m not exaggerating, Zagreus. You are a hero,” Chomper replied, “This universe has many heroes… but it needs more. It needs you.”

Chomper chuckled. “I can’t force you to do anything, Zagreus. Stronger gods than me have tried. And I can hear your paranoia from here. Rest assured, I have an agenda, which I will be keeping secret. Though, I think it’s one you’ll find agreeable.”

Zagreus rolled his burning eyes. “I suppose it’s a relief to hear you admit that.”

“For your part, just consider this a journey, Zagreus,” Chomper continued, “A vacation, if you will. I want you to do whatever you want. Just… in that general direction.”

Zagreus felt his hairs tug to his left. The godling sighed and turned to face that direction, where a clearing was already forming in the trees. The godling could see a building in the distance. It was some sort of temple, similar to the ones Zagreus had seen in the Satyr Tunnels, but smaller. Zagreus racked his brain for his architecture lessons from Mother Nyx, and the only word he could find was “crypt.”

“I suppose this god of yours is hiding in that crypt?” Zagreus snarked, “Well, I’ve slain death gods before. I’m sure I’ll get this one. Eventually. After a series of failures.”

“Gosh, that’d be silly for me to do,” Chomper’s voice giggled in Zagreus’ head, “It’s just some desecrators in there. You know how it is with mortals sometimes.”

The godling stepped forward, approaching the crypt. Upon closer examination, Zagreus noticed that it was made of rotting marble and ancient gnarled tree roots. Zagreus touched the bark that writhed around the marble, as if it was a mother hugging the stone to protect it from harm.

“This is dead,” Zagreus noted, “It should be rotting and gone by now.”

Chomper chuckled amusedly. Zagreus could have sworn he heard the invisible god’s voice moving away.

“Are you going somewhere?”

There was no response again. Zagreus sighed and stretched his arms. With a flourish of his pale fingers, embers sprinkled from the godling’s palm. Each fleck floated like glowing dust before they gravitated towards each other. Eventually, they reformed Stygius, Zagreus’ trusty blade. Zagreus could feel the sword tense up excitedly at the imminence of bloodshed.

“Well, Lord Ares,” Zagreus mumbled quietly, “Seems like you’re still with me, even in this strange place. I beseech you, help me escape this accursed place this time.”

The Son of Hades took a deep breath. He prayed quietly to the other Olympians, searching for hints of their spirits around him. Then, despite his best efforts, Zagreus found himself praying to his father. He prayed for his blessing, and despite how much he hated being trapped in the House of Hades, prayed for a safe journey back. He thought about what the Chomper god had said, how Hades did love Zagreus, somewhere in that permanently disappointed visage.

Irritated by this introspection, Zagreus unceremoniously used his divine strength to knock down the crypt’s stone door.

2671 / 2500 words. Finished the quest!
 
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