The Severaine

Chapter Three The Oneiroi's Mistake-1

Chapter Three

The Oneiroi's MistakeThe bowels of the underworld were a place even the Gods feared to tread. Far from the paradise of Elysium, close to the entrance of Tartarus, Hades, the Lord of the Underworld, awaited his guest. It was rare for beings, gods or mortals, to make this journey in order to seek an audience, and the presence of this person surprised him greatly. None could pass through his kingdom without his knowledge. Cerberus left his side merging into the shadows, back to the place where he stood vigil, as the figure entered Hades' chamber.

“What brings you here?” His deep voice was filled with ancient power as he leaned forwards on his granite throne to address his visitor.

“I am here to offer you a trade.” Night crouched to one knee before him, lowering his head in respect before the dignified figure. “Something you desire in exchange for something I want.”

“And what is that?” He motioned for him to stand. There were few things he wanted, and far less that this ruler desired. He appreciated Night's tendency to forego the pleasantries and address the matter at hand.

“It has come to my attention that being the Lord of the Underworld is not, perhaps, as terrible as you first thought. You have the hand of the fair Persephone, and the loyalty of Cerberus. Not only are you the richest of the Gods but you have brought order to the chaos of death by having Minos and Rhadamanthus judge where in the five kingdoms of your domain the souls of the dead are placed. To visit you here, I have walked the Isles of the Blessed, Elysium, the Fields of Asphodel, and the Fields of Punishment. Before I came to stand before you I even followed Phlegethon into the depths of Tartarus. You have done well. You seem suited to this role, and I do not doubt you even find yourself enjoying it.”

Night smiled to himself. He knew Hades could not object, after all he had taken the time to walk the expanse of his world. In Tartarus he had observed the pride taken in his work, from the ironic punishment of Tantalus, to the self-inflicted suffering of King Sisyphus. It was abundantly clear the time and energy Hades invested in his domain. He could no longer argue that the role was one he despised. He looked to Night expectantly and asked one simple question.

“And?”

“When your rule was young, we deceived your brother into conceiving his successor, the second child of Metis.” He moved to sit upon the stairs near the feet of this God. “I have come to offer you my silence.” From the change in Hades' posture it was clear this had been unexpected.

“And in return?” If Night did indeed take the vow of silence, making a divine promise on Styx, there would be no possible way for Zeus to learn of his deed. He had been dubious at first when agreeing to the offer made by this mortal, but anger had fuelled his decision.

It was a long time ago now, but Zeus had tried to force the Goddess Nyx into mortal form as a means of punishment for her taking no sides in the war referred to as the Titanomachy. However, as Nyx was a goddess who aided with creation itself; she could never be destroyed. The result of his actions had been the creation of the mortal Night, an aspect of the Goddess Nyx, a fragment of herself forced to take mortal form. By his actions Zeus had created a new enemy. In time this mortal approached Hades and in exchange for his immortality, and the chance to reclaim the godly powers that had belonged to him, he would provide Hades with the means to overthrow his brother.

He had not thought that his actions would provide this new god, now thought to be a child born of Nyx and Zeus, with a means to exploit him. Then again, until now Night had never approached him in search of a favour, or in any way used his knowledge to influence his actions. So the fact he stood before him now with this proposition came as a surprise.

“What is it you seek, what can I offer you that you would trade your influence for?” Hades had anticipated a visit from Night of this manner over a decade ago. He had expected him to ask for the return of his soul-mate; and although Night had visited him often, and spent time with her on the Isle of the Blessed—a place reserved only for people who had three times been reincarnated and lived a life suitable to be granted access to Elysium—he never once asked for her return. It was a favour most gods, on the loss of a mortal love, would request, and Night was the only one amongst them who could offer an exchange for this deed, yet still he had not requested it. Despite the time they spent in each other's presence, he still didn't understand the innermost workings of this god. He had never asked anything of him. That was, until today.

* * *

Dawn bathed the fields in its golden hue. The light radiated through distant mists giving the impression of the air itself being aglow. All that stood before it, tree or mountain, turned to ghostly shadow in its brilliant light. It was a new day, one that brought a glimmer of hope to the defeated.

“It's not a lot t'go on,” Eiji stated, carefully taking in Daniel's drawn appearance. Dark circles ringed the eyes of his pale complexion. He did not look well, and the fact he had not even asked about their progress spoke volumes for his current condition. Eiji, suppressing a sigh, continued. “It seemed like another dead-end, most the books we can't even read. Then Acha found somethin' interestin'.” Eiji prompted her to continue in his stead as she moved to stand at the other side of Daniel as they walked.

“It was nothing really. One of the books held a sketch, and although I couldn't read anything of its tongue it, along with the other drawings, suggested a city. One where ancient technology was paramount. I wouldn't have thought anything of it if not for coming across this.” She produced a small pocketbook from her bag, extending it towards Daniel. It was the only one she had not arranged to be returned to the woman Daniel had named as Amelia. He didn't take it. His sole focus seemed to be putting one foot in front of the other, his gaze fixed downward. Her own hands opened it, leafing through the pages. “It was illustrated with a near-identical sketch. It's a book of ballads, but this ditty was authored by someone we know. It seems impossible given the age. The text is all but faded, but if you look closely, you can just make out the name. Eryx Venrent.” Daniel stopped in his tracks, the first sign he had been paying them any attention at all. His shoulders stiffened, his fists clenched at his side.

“We then looked int' ancestry. If the Venrents were known enough t'be included in texts, then there'd be a crest or sigil, right? But nothin', not one mention of this name, save for the merchant with no apparent lineage. So we figure, why not pay him a visit today, after all, what d'we gotta lose?” Daniel with a short huff of air once more began walking, his shoulder hunched as he pressed onward. He knew their destination well.

On entering the main trade district Daniel's posture, if possible, seemed to grow more tense. He knew where this figure resided, he had visited him before. It was a place he had often considered returning to in order to exact his revenge for the role this man had played in Zo's death. Next to Seiken and Night, Eryx Venrent bore the brunt of his blame.

As the interconnected stores became scarce, and the wall separating the main trade district and the affluent boutiques grew closer, there, almost alien to the natural surroundings, stood a large house. Outside, a tidy semi-circular maroon tent carefully sheltered an array of tables possessing unique items. The casement windows were open to reveal the store within. Contrary to what had been expected, the proprietor was absent.

Acha glanced inside, the shelves were lined with multitudes of goods. Rope, rune charms, and small medicinal packages were just a few things that immediately caught her attention. An old tin cup was placed upon countless watermarked rings on the desk below the opening. She was just about to ring the small bell, which hung from the window frame, when she heard Daniel pounding on the door. He struck it so hard that each strike sounded like a deadly blow. Eiji stilled his hand fearing such an action was unlikely to have the desired effect of bringing the merchant to the door.

It was a young man who answered, and his grey eyes carefully studied those who had laid siege to his home. His once aged hair was now thick and dark. Despite this drastic change to his appearance, Daniel recognised him instantly.

“Venrent, what did you do?” The young man's eyes flickered with recognition on hearing the voice. When last these two had met he had not been gifted with sight, or youth for that matter. It was clear from the rage in the young man's voice he had somehow learnt of his actions. Daniel took a deep breath trying to remind himself of the reason they were here. They needed his help. They had questions only he could answer. The figure ushered them inside, casting his vision across the street as he did so. He left them unattended for a moment shuttering the cascade windows and bolting them closed.

The room was almost exactly as Daniel had remembered, awash with treasures and relics of long-forgotten times. Whether they were a collection belonging to the man, or the store, was never quite clear. Its every shelf or surface was filled with such unique collections it was hard for anyone entering not to be amazed.

The open fire, at the rear of the sitting area, held the remnants of long charred logs. The previously hidden fire surround was now bathed in the room's natural light as the curtains had been drawn back, allowing that which its occupier had not previously required to flood the room.

During his last visit the only source of light had been from carefully placed flames enclosed within their glass holders. Darkness had shrouded so much from view, like the aged sketches lining the fireplace. Daniel's stomach churned as he took a framed drawing within his hand. It took a few moments for him to realise the sketch was not his friend, but they shared so many common traits. Acha glanced over his shoulder, mentally comparing the timeworn signature on the bottom of the ditty to the one on the drawing. There was no doubt in her mind, they were a match.

The delicate wooden frame began to tremble in his grasp as the anger once more began to boil inside him. There was only one person this could be. The resemblance to Zo was so clear she could only be family. Her mother, Kezia, to be precise. The care of each stroke, the attention to detail, revealed feelings his words had not. Some of the images were fantastic and some clearly drawn only from memory, no doubt after his sight had been claimed. It seemed clear he had loved her. But if that was true, if his art reflected such deep-rooted emotions, how could he have done what he had to her daughter?

“How could you?” Daniel's voice growled. He replaced the frame as his angry gaze challenged Venrent, who instead of meeting his accusation did all he could to avoid the hateful glare.

“How is Zo?” he asked shamefully. He understood why she would not be able to bring herself to see him, it was clear she knew exactly what he had done. In his attempt to avoid Daniel's angry glare he saw the expressions that crossed the faces of his friends. Their silence was answer enough. “I see.” He lowered his vision. “You must hate me. You know what I did… I traded her for my youth and sight. But you must believe me, I didn't know what was at stake. I would never wish her harm. I thought I was helping her. I thought she would return the softness to his eyes.” He looked at Daniel shamefully, who stood glaring at him, his fists clenched as he fought to suppress his anger. “So what brings you to an old fool whose presence you can barely bring yourself to be within?” The hatred flared in Daniel's eyes as Venrent stepped closer towards him.