34. Hestia Part II The Acropolis

The new Kethrifle Ophion had printed for him was much like the first. Though this time, it would be difficult not to kill Bartie himself after what he'd done to him—and the presence he'd inadvertently corrupted him with as a result.

Do you really believe there is such a thing as coincidence? the whispers taunted.

Auren's grip on his gun tightened, his hand trembling with the weight of his conflicted emotions.

"You okay?" Lupo asked, grasping his arm and looking him up and down.

"Yeah, I just stumbled. I'm good," Auren lied.

They had crossed about half the distance between where the Fortunato had set down and where the acropolis loomed. The synths had continued to work, and even when Auren had scanned his gun across them, searching for weapons, he'd been ignored. It was unnerving. And horrifying.

"Those poor people…" Fengári whispered.

As they neared the acropolis, Auren realized how truly enormous it was. Beyond the first set of columns, he could make out a dull red glow from within that matched the scars he'd seen in the snow when they'd first entered the atmosphere. A part of him—a nearly vestigial, animal part—desired to run when it saw that glow. There was something wrong about it. Something cruel. Something obscene. And the moment he'd noticed it, the whispers had begun to giggle.

They were giggling now.

"Will you shut the fuck up!" he growled.

"Excuse me?" Fengári said, his tone mocking offense.

"You're hearing them again, aren't you?" Lupo asked, worried.

He stopped Auren in his tracks and peered into his eyes. The frown that crossed his face unnerved him even further.

"What is it?" he asked.

Lupo averted his gaze.

"What?" he repeated urgently.

Ophion and Fengári were staring at him now too, and the pressure of their collective appraisal made him want to scream.

"They're red now," Fengári said bluntly. "Your eyes, I mean."

"Great. Fucking great. Well, I'm still me—Auren—and I think we should keep going and stop making a big deal out of the color of my eyes." He pushed past them all—and headed straight for the light he knew was wrong.

"Auren, wait up!" Lupo cried.

But he didn't feel like it. He felt angry. He felt afraid. And what he wanted more than anything was to not feel powerless in a universe that seemed bent on convincing him that he was. He wasn't a victim. He was a survivor. And to do so—to be who he knew he had to be—he needed to commit to letting go of the idea of who he once was. They were right. Auren had changed. But it wasn't the shadow that had done it. It was him. It was them. It was everything and everyone everywhere since before he could protect himself, dragging him down and down and down…

He could barely feel the tear that rolled down his cheek as he approached the acropolis steps.

"Hey!" Lupo said as he caught up. He grabbed him firmly by the shoulder, and Auren finally slowed down.

"We do this together—as a team. Okay? Ophion, don't blow us up with that thing, please. Fengári, stay close. Auren, I… I love you," Lupo said. He stared at him pleadingly, then gave him a long, deep kiss.

"Right," Lupo said. "Now let's go in there and get some answers."

Auren took a deep breath of Hestia's thin air, wishing he could say the words back. But he was barely able to tell them to his brother. He felt momentarily frozen once more as he watched the other three begin to climb the steps.

Love.

He'd said love.

Auren had never realized how unworthy of it he'd felt until it had been offered to him just now. And now that it had been, he had no idea what to do with it.

Love is NOTHING, the whispers screeched.

Auren shuddered as the words clawed against his nerves, before hurrying up the steps after the others.

He'd said love.

The thought echoed in his mind louder and clearer than the screaming erupting within him. It was enough to keep him moving forward. Auren gripped his weapon as a familiar voice greeted them atop the stairs.

"Welcome." Charon beamed. Its mechanical voice was as glibly cheerful as ever. The little sphere bobbed in the air before them, its arms and implements spinning about wildly.

"What are you up to here, robot?" Lupo demanded. "Why enslave these people this way? Why do any of this?"

"My my. You're much more curious than some of the other Lupos. However, you've had less time to be adequately trained. I'll add behavioral remediation to your agenda after you've settled on our little utopia," the droid prattled. "Now if you don't mind, Bartie has something he's very eager to show you! Come along. There's not much time," it finished, gliding off into the massive temple complex.

"You guys know it's a terrible idea to go in there, right?" Fengári said. "What do these guns even do?" He waved around the Keth rifle they'd given him.

"Watch it with that," Lupo said through gritted teeth.

Behind them, the slaved synths had stopped working and had lined up at the foot of the acropolis in their multitudes. Their naked bodies looked cold, and dead, to Auren from atop the stairs.

Look at them suffer!the whispers squealed. We will FEAST on your kind!

Auren suddenly felt perilously close to raising his weapon and mowing down the lot of them. But then Lupo's words and the reality of what that would mean washed over him.

He'd said love.

And the thought again blew the whispers from his mind—their shadowy presence billowing away like so much smoke.

"You coming?" Lupo asked, arcing an eyebrow at him.

Auren nodded.

"Let us make violence, then," Ophion hissed. He slung his rocket launcher from his shoulder.

"Eyes sharp, guys. Try to spare the synths if you can."

And then, just like that, the four of them—and the shadow—followed Charon into the temple.