21. THE APPARITION

THE APPARITION

The Past

A GAIN free from its spiritual prison and given another opportunity to inflict misery upon its murderer, the apparition watched with glee as Olympius’ progeny stood alone against half the Olympian pantheon. Yes, his army was behind him, but what was even five thousand mortals strong against the might of Olympus in the day, at the peak of their power?

A mighty assemblage stood before Coriolanus: Zeus, King of the Olympians and protector of the state; Hera, Queen of the Secundus and protector of women; Ares, god of war; Athena, goddess of wisdom and strategy; and Hermes, god of trade, herald, and messenger of the gods.

The apparition also keenly sensed Apollo’s radiant aura somewhere above his brethren high in the sky; it especially hated Apollo. The apparition knew that the upstart Olympian, with help from his Maker, Zeus, had supplanted Helios, the child of the former Titan’s long-missing brother Hyperion, as the god of sun and light. Helios was cast aside like his direct Titan lineage meant nothing.

The former Lord of the Night had little love for its sun-worshipping brother or any of his progeny; still, the humiliation of any Titan—or Titan-born, even though Secundus, by an Olympian was an unforgivable insult.

Though invisible in the material world, the apparition was initially concerned that the powerful gods would detect its presence and attempt to interfere with it, but none approached.

Interestingly, Athena and the majestic owl perched atop her right shoulder both turned—simultaneously—in its direction once. They stared momentarily before shaking their heads in unison in apparent bewilderment before returning their focus to Coriolanus.

The apparition realized it had been sensed but not seen and took that as a sign The Fates protected it from being discovered, not allowing even gods to meddle in their judgments.

Secundus bastards —s o arrogant in their posturing! Flaunting the power given to them by my brother. Just like Olympius. And look at how our children repaid us for the gift of immortality, for godly power, Chronus! Foolish, trusting, love-struck Titans, were we to —

But the apparition could not finish its thought, suddenly distracted by the carnage beginning before its ghostly eyes.

Moving with lightning speed, the mighty Olympians descended upon the mortal army. The soldiers were blinded by Apollo’s light, making it nearly impossible to see their attackers.

Despite instinctively fighting back using the skills taught to them by their great leader, the men were unable to defend themselves against such a force. The soldiers, some confused and frightened, others angry, fell one by one to the superior might of the gods.

Unleashed was the devastating power of Ares’ sword, which could effortlessly cut through any substance crafted by man. Simultaneously, Athena brandished her spear, a masterfully forged weapon that never missed its target when thrown and always returned to her hand. The Olympians wielded these formidable weapons with deadly precision and brutal intent.

But it was not only ancient indestructible weapons made from Celestial Bronze which wrought havoc on the battlefield; the gods possessed majestic powers that could instantly turn the tide of battle.

Hera’s gift of mind control was second to none, pitting bewitched mortal soldiers against one another in a lethal dance of blood and iron. And then there was Zeus’ thunderous, invisible force, which could overwhelm entire armies with its sheer indomitable power .

The apparition watched as the body of Gaia became soaked with mortal blood.

Amid the slaughter, brave Coriolanus valiantly attempted to intervene to protect his soldiers.

The apparition sensed that the god was trying to summon the power within his blood to call forth the darkness. To blot out the sunlight and weaken the day gods? It’s a solid idea but an ultimately futile move. You cannot act fast enough, untrained fool. You are but one little godling against an impossibly powerful foe.

The apparition was positively gleeful knowing Olympius’ bastard, who was fresh in his immortality, had no hope of matching the strength of the ancients.

With incredible speed, Hermes ran in circles around the mounted Coriolanus, the ensuing whirlwind lifting him and his steed off the ground. The action broke the warrior-god’s concentration, dispelling the darkness he had begun to manifest for offensive use.

Then, Hermes stopped, still, and allowed the whirlwind to quickly dissipate, which brought Coriolanus and his mount crashing back to the ground. In his confusion, splayed out on the dirt and gravel of the road, the warrior-god did not see the swift immortal move behind him. Before he could get his bearings, the back of his head was struck with such force that he felt like an entire stone tower had collapsed upon him.

The blinding pain Coriolanus experienced lasted only a moment before he lost consciousness .

As the one-sided battle raged on, the apparition seized the opportunity to take action amidst the chaos. It paid no heed to Coriolanus’ inevitable tragic outcome and, instead, set its sights on the not-too-distant villa, where it instinctively knew Olympius paced, waiting for the night to arrive.

The price for consuming the entirety of the Titan’s blood was that Olympius had acquired his Maker’s power and weakness. Olympius’ troublesome flaw was that he could not enter direct sunlight without inevitable destruction by immolation; he could only move through and hide in shadows if outside during daylight hours.

The apparition had long known this was a challenge, as some places had limited shadows to manipulate. It knew Olympius was vulnerable between dawn and dusk, just as it once was, and most likely preferred to stay behind walls and roofs for safety during these hours.

Although anyone of Coeus’ bloodline could summon darkness from the enigmatic Shadowlands and control it, it was too taxing to maintain for hours. And cloaking oneself in darkness to walk the day hardly went unnoticed by mortal eyes.

As it sailed through the air towards its destination, the apparition could not help but feel a great aversion towards the bright, sunny sky above, though, in its incorporeal form, the sunlight no longer caused it harm.

Suddenly, the sky’s unnatural brightness drew the apparition’s attention. It knew the hour was too late for the sun to shine so intensely still and that dusk should have already commenced. Instead, the sky remained illuminated as if it was midday.

And at that moment, the apparition understood why Apollo was in the sky, not amid the battle: he was using all his godly power to keep the dusk at bay.

Very smart, Secundus-filth, to provide the means for the Olympians to remain at full power and keep Olympius, who would be a threat to them, from acting. But why you did not attack at dawn or midday is a mystery. As a former deity, the apparition knew the motives and actions of gods rarely made logical sense.

As far as Olympius was concerned, the apparition reasoned the gods only knew about him and his power—a god born directly from a Titan’s blood—but not his crime, or they would have come for him by now.

As the villa came into view, the apparition willed itself downward and used its ghostly form to pass through the walls of the grand structure. It moved from one room to another, searching for Olympius.

Finally, it caught a glimpse of ostentatious finery moving inhumanly fast down a hallway that led to a single door, which opened and closed so quickly that no mortal eye would have caught its movement. The apparition was no mortal.

On its way to the villa, the menacing spirit devised a plan so vile it could not wait to enact it.

With intense focus, the apparition exerted its willpower to transform again from a ghostly presence to a corporeal being in this realm. This time, it pictured itself in the likeness of Coriolanus as he appeared when confronting the Olympians, endeavouring to imitate that form perfectly.

As it felt its spectral energy transmute into flesh and bone, even manifesting clothing, the apparition relished the anticipation of the exquisite pleasure it would derive from tearing out Olympius’ heart, be it only emotionally.

Despite its fervent desire to do so physically, the apparition realized that none of the forms it could create through The Fates’ sorcery would be powerful enough to vanquish a Titan, which Olympius had essentially become by virtue of the stolen blood.

The apparition sensed it had fully changed once the tingling sensation it remembered from its previous transformation had ceased. It looked at itself in a large mirror, one set in a bronze frame decorated with laurel leaves, hanging on the corridor’s stone wall. The apparition saw a perfect likeness of Coriolanus in the reflection.

As it approached the wooden door adorned with intricate carvings and a golden handle, it gave a single knock before opening it. Entering the grand cubicula, the false Coriolanus was greeted by the sight of Olympius, pacing back and forth angrily, refusing to go near the window where the sun’s rays cascaded in with abandon. The god was so caught up in his frustrations that he did not hear the knock or notice he now had company.

“Maker, I have returned bearing news.” The voice was Coriolanus’ own; speech was no obstacle for the apparition in any false form.

Olympius looked up to see what he took without question to be his warrior-god. With a massive smile upon his alabaster face, the Lord of the Night rushed to the doorway with blinding speed to provide a welcoming embrace.

“My love, do you see what is happening?!” Olympius cried, pointing to the grand chamber’s main window. “That unending light is unnatural. It is the work of the gods, I tell you. By now, I should have departed from this place, sailing on the night winds to join you as you lead our army to its final battle. But you see what comes through that opening! I am trapped inside! This light is a bad omen.”

“I know quite well why the light has not begun its retreat behind the mountains,” the false Coriolanus stated plainly, aggressively pushing Olympius off him.

“My love?” Olympius stepped back, staring incredulously at the burly figure before him. “Why push me away? What troubles you to act so?” Confusion and hurt sat firmly upon his face.

The false Coriolanus turned its head toward the window. “Yonder, the Olympians have finally made their move. At this very moment, they are decimating our army. We have lost.”

“What!” Olympius’ voice reverberated throughout the chamber. Enraged by this unexpected revelation, the elder deity’s eyes widened, turning pitch-black. His body levitated off the ground as tendrils of pure darkness emerged from the gloomy corners and crevices of the chamber; they swirled and lashed around him like frenzied serpents. “So near the hour of my victory, they now dare intercede on Rome’s behalf?! Those Secundus bastards!”

“ Your victory?” the false Coriolanus questioned with a smirk, emboldened by Olympius’ momentary pause and its contempt of him.

“Am I not your partner, Olympius? Am I truly just a weapon to be directed and used? And are you not Secundus? You speak so hatefully about your brethren. How you sound like I assume your Maker must have, from the scraps of details you have deigned to feed me. Do you see yourself as a Titan, Olympius? Above even Zeus? Above me, undoubtedly!

“The Olympians commanded us to fall back, and at first, I said nay, I shall not! I remained loyal to you. Alas, they quickly overpowered me. You made me too weak in your selfishness and fear of creating and loving an equal. Even now, you elevate yourself above me. In the end, I could do nothing but comply with the will of Olympus.”

Olympius turned away in shame, as part of what he just heard was true. He had feared a godling with too much of his blood in him, but he never, not once, thought of Coriolanus as his inferior. After having already discussed and settled the matter with his beloved, that suggestion hurt him dearly. To even bring it up again!

“Beloved, I have never thought myself above you. You must know this by now!”

“Must I?” the false Coriolanus growled. “As I sat on my backside amidst the dirt and dust, defeated, watching the enemy’s superior forces slaughter our men, I realized how foolish we were to believe we could win this war. Your arrogance and conceit have led us to this point. Did you ever truly believe, Olympius, that this fool’s errand would end any differently.”

With expressive pain across his face yet fury in his eyes, Olympius silently commanded the twisting tendrils to wrap themselves tightly around the false Coriolanus, pulling the larger, heavier figure closer until they were face to face. The darkness pulsed with energy like it was alive.

As the animated blackness held fast to its false flesh, the once-Titan remembered what the darkness felt and tasted like; it was comforting in its coldness and thick and delicious, like Ambrosia. Oh, how it missed being its master.

“Why are you saying these vile things, beloved?! Have you gone mad? Tonight was to be my— our moment, our victory over our enemies! To show them that they cannot destroy and conquer with abandon, tearing lives apart, wrenching innocents from their kingdoms, their—”

“But is that not exactly what we—what you have done?” interrupted the false Coriolanus with a bold, mocking tone

“What? I have not—I did nothing—I—”

“You cannot get the lies to leave your throat,” the false Coriolanus scoffed. “You know well that beneath your brazen superiority, you are no better than the Romans, including your mortal father.”

“Enough!” Olympius seethed as he set the false Coriolanus down with neither force nor fury onto a silk-covered lectus. “I will hear no more of this madness! What have the Olympians done to you, beloved, to make you speak such hateful, untrue things I know you cannot mean?!”

Even in his anger, he treats his lover with a gentle touch. I must strike harder with my condemnations and accusations, slather them in vitriol and spite, for him to see his wretched Coriolanus as a false ally and a treacherous lover.

“All those proud and wise immortals have done is open my eyes, Maker, allowing me to finally see you as you truly are—a frightened, bitter isolationist. You have kept me away from others of our kind, a prisoner, too afraid I would see past this blanket of fabricated emotion you have tricked me into thinking is love. No— true love! What blasphemy!

“The Olympians accuse you of using your dark power to control me. They claim that my thoughts and heart are no longer my own and that you have manipulated me since my Becoming, making me a pawn in your absurd revenge. How lies and trickery come so easy to you.”

“No, beloved, it is the Olympians who lie! I have done no such thing! I love you more than the Starry Firmament itself! You know this to be true!”

The false Coriolanus quickly rose from the lectus, grabbed it by its wood base, and flung it at Olympius with all the strength The Fates allowed it to possess .

As the Lord of the Night’s dark, serpentine arms quickly caught the object and tossed it aside, his beautiful, eternally youthful face showed horror and bewilderment. “You would strike out at me!”

“Yes, betrayer, fool, manipulator!” the false Coriolanus roared. “How could I have agreed to attack a nation that is under the protection of Olympus? As a trained soldier and former General in the very army you aim to destroy, I should have realized the foolishness of such a mission. The gods laughed at us and openly ridiculed our flawed strategy!

“And those thousands of brave soldiers who believed in me, trusted me? They are condemned to die because of your weakness and your inability to forget the past and move toward the future. Who cares about your absurd little mortal kingdom, long abandoned by Rome and lost to time and sand?! Not my men. Not me. And now, we shall join those doomed mortals, for the Olympians shall surely come to punish us for our hubris.

“But no, Maker, I will not be destroyed so easily. I shall hasten to the gods, supplicate myself before them, and leave you to your miserable, inescapable fate!”

Speechless, Olympius was stunned by the hateful and accusatory words spoken by the god before him, whom he believed to be his beloved Coriolanus, his immortal soulmate. Truly stupefied, he could not react and stop the deceitful apparition in false flesh from jumping from the window into the abnormal daylight. All he could do was stare into the detested sunshine, his mouth agape .

Directly after clearing the window, the apparition quickly transformed into a spirit, making it appear like Coriolanus had vanished into the sky with incredible speed. To make Olympius believe his beloved had gone to join the Olympians, turning his back on him. The apparition hoped its murderous child choked on shock and misery.

As it flew through the air back to the battle, the pull signalling the end of its time on the material plane commenced. The apparition looked down from its lofty position to view the devastation and revel in it for one last time.

However, what caught its attention was seeing a horrifying sight not related to the bloody death of thousands of mortals but one that could potentially ruin all of its work that day. The Olympians, gathered on the ground below amidst the carnage, had done something terrible. At least, to the apparition, it was.

They had not destroyed Coriolanus, which meant he could still talk, have his mind read, and his blood tasted to experience his memories, undoing all of the apparition’s efforts.

As it entered the portal of light that would send it back to its prison of darkness, the enraged apparition cursed itself for not remembering the gods’ law above all others. It was this very edict that Olympius had spurned, the one that began all of this: gods do not kill their own kind.

As the portal closed completely, the apparition realized that it should have slaughtered Olympius’ godling bastard itself.