25. Dead Man Walking: Eryx

CHAPTER 25

DEAD MAN WALKING

ERYX

C onsciousness returned to Eryx like a slow-motion car crash – gradual, disorienting, and with the distinct feeling that something was very, very wrong. His eyelids felt like they were made of lead, refusing to cooperate as he struggled to pry them open. When he finally managed it, the world around him was a blurry mess, like someone had smeared Vaseline over his eyeballs.

"What the actual fuck?" Eryx mumbled, his voice coming out as a raspy croak that barely sounded human. His mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton, his tongue thick and uncooperative.

As his brain slowly came back online, Eryx became acutely aware of several things. First, his hands were tied behind his back, the rough texture of rope digging into his wrists. Second, and far more alarming, his magic wasn't responding. It was like reaching for a light switch in the dark, only to find that the entire electrical system had been ripped out.

Panic began to claw at the edges of his mind as Eryx realized the implications. Not only was his connection to Apollo's power severed, but the constant, comforting presence of his soulbond with Alex was gone too. The absence felt like a physical ache, a phantom limb that he kept trying to flex only to remember it wasn't there.

"Alex," Eryx whispered, his heart rate spiking. "Fuck, Alex, where are you?"

But of course, there was no answer. Just the oppressive silence of wherever the hell he was being held.

As his vision slowly began to clear, Eryx forced himself to take stock of his situation. He was in what appeared to be a dark room, though the details were still frustratingly fuzzy. The air was cool and damp, with a musty smell that reminded him of old basements and forgotten storage units.

He shifted, trying to get a better look at his surroundings, and was surprised to find that his legs were free. No ropes, no chains, nothing. Just the bindings on his wrists keeping him restrained.

It clicked then, the realization hitting him like a bucket of ice water to the face. They wanted him to look around. This wasn't just a prison; it was a stage. And Eryx was the unwilling star of whatever fucked up show they had planned.

As he continued to survey his surroundings, Eryx couldn't shake the feeling that he'd been in this situation before. The loss of his powers, the disorientation, the sense of being watched – it all felt eerily familiar.

"Sven," Eryx growled, the name tasting like bile on his tongue. That goddamn mimic had been the bane of their existence for months, always one step ahead, always with another trick up his sleeve.

But no, something about this felt different. Sven was a tricky bastard, sure, but this level of power suppression? That was beyond even his capabilities. Which begged the question: who or what was blocking his magic?

As his eyes continued to adjust to the dim light, Eryx began to make out more details of his prison. The room was larger than he'd initially thought, with high ceilings that disappeared into shadow. The walls seemed to be made of some kind of dark stone, slick with moisture. Here and there, strange symbols were carved into the rock, glowing faintly with an otherworldly light.

Carefully, he began to explore his surroundings. Every step was measured, cautious. For all he knew, the floor could be rigged with traps that would make Indiana Jones shit his pants. The last thing he needed was to impale himself on some ancient booby trap before he even had a chance to stage a daring escape.

"Come on, Apollo," Eryx muttered under his breath as he inched forward. "Now would be a great time for some of that divine wisdom. Or, you know, literally any help at all. I'm not picky."

But the god remained frustratingly silent. Eryx was on his own.

As he made his way across the room, a faint glimmer caught his eye. There, in the far corner, was the barest hint of light. It was so dim he almost missed it, but after who-knows-how-long in near-total darkness, it might as well have been a spotlight.

He made his way towards the light, his heart pounding with a mixture of hope and apprehension. What would he find? A way out? His captors? A vending machine stocked with energy bars and burner phones? At this point, he'd take any of the above.

As he drew closer, the light resolved itself into a soft, pulsing glow emanating from what appeared to be a spell circle etched into the floor. And in the center of that circle...

A man sat cross-legged in the middle of the circle, as naked as the day he was born. His head was bowed, long gray hair obscuring his face. But even in this state, there was an unmistakable aura of power about him.

Eryx's mind raced. Should he approach? Try to help? For all he knew, this could be another trap. But as he hesitated, the man slowly raised his head.

One eye. One piercing blue eye that seemed to look right through Eryx, seeing things beyond mortal comprehension. The other eye socket was empty, scarred over .

"Oh, fuck me," Eryx muttered as realization dawned. "You're Odin."

The Allfather of Asgard, looking decidedly worse for wear, gave a slight nod. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse, as if he hadn't used it in a long time. "And you... you are Apollo's vessel."

Eryx blinked in surprise. "Uh, yeah. That's me. Eryx Ross, professional pain in the ass and part-time god taxi. How did you...?"

Odin's lips twitched in what might have been a smile. "I may be bound, boy, but I am not blind. The light of Apollo clings to you, even now."

"Great," Eryx sighed. "Good to know I'm still lit up like a divine Christmas tree. Any chance you could, I don't know, use some of that allfather mojo to get us out of here?"

Odin's expression darkened. "I fear my power is as bound as my hands. You must leave this place, Eryx Ross. Before it is too late."

"Too late for what?" Eryx asked, a chill running down his spine. "What the hell is going on here?"

But before Odin could answer, a slow, mocking clap echoed through the chamber. Eryx whirled around, only to find himself flying through the air, propelled by an invisible force. He hit the ground hard, the impact driving the air from his lungs.

"Bravo," a silky voice drawled. "What a touching reunion. The fallen king and the upstart demigod. I'm almost moved to tears."

Gasping for breath, Eryx pushed himself up onto his elbows. Two figures had materialized near the spell circle. One tall and lean, with a shock of black hair and a grin that screamed 'trust me, I'm totally not planning to stab you.' The other broad-shouldered and imposing, radiating an aura of barely contained violence.

"Loki," Eryx spat, glaring at the trickster god. "And Ares. Fantastic. The Assholes. "

Loki's grin widened, sharp and predatory. "Oh, I do like this one. Such spirit. It will make breaking you all the more entertaining."

Eryx struggled to his feet, ignoring the protests of his battered body. "Yeah, well, get in line, buddy. There's a whole pantheon of gods who've tried and failed to shut me up."

Ares growled, taking a menacing step forward. "Mind your tongue, boy, or I'll rip it out."

"Kinky," Eryx shot back, though his heart was racing. "But I'll pass. I'm more of a dinner-and-a-movie kind of guy."

Loki laid a restraining hand on Ares' arm, though his eyes never left Eryx. "Patience, my friend. We have all the time in the world to educate our guest."

Eryx struggled to his feet, ignoring the protests of his battered body. "What do you want with Odin?" he demanded. "If this is some kind of daddy issues revenge plot, I've got to tell you, there are cheaper forms of therapy."

Loki's grin widened, sharp and predatory. "Oh, Odin? He was the bait, my dear boy. The irresistible lure to bring you and your little team of misfits right where we wanted you."

Eryx felt his blood run cold as the pieces fell into place. "You used him to draw us out."

"Very good!" Loki clapped his hands in mock applause. "You're not as dim as you look. Yes, the disappearance of the Allfather was the perfect way to get your attention. And you, little vessel, were the prize we were after all along."

Ares stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. "You and the power you carry. The essence of Apollo, ripe for the taking."

Eryx's mind was reeling. They had used Odin, manipulated the Shadowguards, all to get to him? The thought sent a surge of anger and protectiveness through him. "Well, you've got me," he growled. "So let Odin go. He's not part of this anymore."

Loki's grin turned cruel. "Now where would be the fun in that? Besides, taking the magic of a god and a vessel? That's the kind of power boost you don't pass up."

"What?" Eryx's eyes widened in shock. "That's your plan? Steal our magic? Hate to break it to you, but I'm running on empty here. Whatever you did to block my connection to Apollo-"

"Is only temporary," Ares cut in, his voice rumbling with dark promise. "Once the ritual begins, your connection will be restored... just long enough for us to sever it permanently and claim that power for ourselves."

The words had barely left Ares' mouth when another voice cut through the chamber, sending a chill down Eryx's spine. He knew that voice. Knew it all too well.

"Stop with the games, Loki and Ares," Sven's disembodied voice echoed off the stone walls, dripping with impatience. "Father is waiting and getting impatient. Do the ritual now."

Loki's smile widened, taking on a razor-sharp edge that made Eryx's skin crawl. With a flourish that was equal parts theatrical and terrifying, the trickster god summoned Gungnir. The legendary spear materialized in his hand, its tip gleaming with an otherworldly light.

As Loki raised Gungnir, the spell circle beneath Odin's feet blazed to life. Symbols that had been etched into the stone floor now glowed with an eerie, pulsing energy. The air in the chamber grew thick and heavy, charged with a power that made Eryx's hair stand on end.

"Shit, shit, shit," Eryx hissed, his mind racing. He had to do something. Anything.

Without conscious thought, he found himself stumbling towards Odin. His hands, still bound behind his back, fumbled clumsily at the ropes binding the Allfather. It was like trying to untie a knot while wearing oven mitts, but Eryx persevered, driven by a desperate need to at least give Odin a fighting chance.

"Come on, come on," he muttered, his fingers working frantically at the bindings. "I swear to all the gods, if I get out of this, I'm taking a damn course in escape artistry."

The spell circle's glow intensified, casting harsh shadows across the chamber. Eryx could feel the magic building, a pressure in the air that made it hard to breathe. Time was running out.

"Odin," Eryx ground out, his voice strained with effort and urgency. "If you get the chance, you run. You hear me? You get the fuck out of here and you don't look back."

The Allfather's single eye met Eryx's, a wealth of emotions passing between them in that brief moment. Understanding. Regret. And something that might have been pride.

Just as Eryx felt the ropes give way, a surge of power erupted from the spell circle. It hit him like a physical blow, driving the air from his lungs and sending him sprawling across the cold stone floor.

Through blurred vision, Eryx saw Odin rise to his feet. The Allfather, though weakened, still cut an imposing figure. With a roar that shook the very foundations of the chamber, Odin charged at Loki and Ares.

For a moment, just a moment, Eryx dared to hope. If anyone could turn this situation around, surely it was Odin himself.

But Loki's laughter, high and cruel, shattered that hope like glass.

"Oh, father," the trickster god taunted, effortlessly sidestepping Odin's attack. "Always so predictable. Did you really think we wouldn't plan for this? The spell has begun. It cannot be stopped now."

As if to emphasize Loki's words, another wave of energy pulsed through the chamber. This time, Eryx couldn't hold back the scream that tore from his throat.

As the pain reached a new crescendo, Eryx found his thoughts turning to Alex. To the team. To all the people he loved and who loved him in return. He thought of lazy Sunday mornings and adrenaline-fueled battles, of quiet moments and world-shaking events.

He thought of the life he'd built, the family he'd found. And he made a silent vow, to himself and to whatever forces might be listening.

This wasn't the end. Not by a long shot. He was Eryx fucking Ross, vessel of Apollo, member of the Shadowguards, and royal pain in the ass to gods and monsters alike. And he wasn't going down without one hell of a fight.

His last conscious thought was a silent plea, sent out into the universe with all the strength he had left.

"Alex, wherever you are... hurry."