Chapter Text
The breeze chilled around Scott, the final moments of sanctitude before everlasting horror. He would die. He was the first one out, all because fate had pushed his hand. He didn’t want to end up in the same boat as Hermes, so he broke bridges, he mended them and burnt them again.
For that, he went in a lot. He didn’t betray because he wanted to, but he just...
... He had already been killed by getting close to someone, he didn’t know being further apart would cause him to get in more. It seemed to work out for Nobody! Why him?
But he was the second gone. Not even first. Not even the one people would say is the beginning of the violence, just someone in the middle.
Owen’s staff dug deep into his chest, breaking through ribs as he coughed and heaved. Owen had caught him in the arena, he was going to die.
So as a final call, he tried to cry out. Scott’s eyes fluttered, but he fought the exhaustion and pain as he attempted words.
None would come out. He only coughed and choked on more blood as Owen pressed deeper. He didn’t even get to give a dramatic speech, all he got was solemn faces and cheers. Some were upset, of course. (there was a reason Owen was put in the vote, afterall.)
But Scott dying was their greatest accomplishment.
Not because he was inherently bad, but because he was sc....
He was fighting.
He wanted his life, his freedom. He wanted to return.
Instead.
He felt his body dissolve, blood and vicsera on the ground, and he finally shut his eyes.
Eyes snapped open, he darted around; his hair was still fluffy, still white, but instead of his blue garments, he wore more golds, blacks, browns, and whites, with strands of his cloudy hair being gold.
Everyone else was still there, still in their same outfits, except Owen, who wore light blues and whites, yet still had her blindfold on.
It puzzled Scott, what had happened? Why did he remember?
He tried to think back, only for his thought to be interrupted, strings on his body as a trio of voices rose
“Your fate was not true.”
“It was not right.”
“We have given you a second chance.”
“Chronos, has given you a second chance.”
“In exchange of the nihilist getting the powers of both Aeolus and Chronos, you have been granted the same.”
Scott paused. He thought back to everything, how cold Owen looked- no, he looked sorrowful. It was the heat of the moment, surely.
Scott knew a good actor.
But the fates didn’t.
... Maybe he didn’t either.
They would never know, “So... will you tell me what powers we got or...”
“Huh?”
Scott looked down to Shelby, the only one remaining here, how their helm covered the remains of her eyesight. His eyes narrowed. The last time he had helped Shelby it... went fine. It was going down that hellish cave that caused the start of it all.
All because he didn’t want to go through caves with a bunch of people.
Eventually, he rested his hands on Shelby’s shoulders, causing her to flinch and stare up incredulously (despite her inability to see)
And then he sighed, “I am...” Saying his full name might make him pompous (which... sure, he was, but it also felt like he was missing something crucial.)
... Bah, whatever, “I am Scott Antonis Mattheos Pagona Pavlos the III.”
“... That’s uh!-” Shelby stuttered out, “That’s a fun.... a very long name!... I’ll have to-”
“But my friends just call me Scott.” Scott finished with a smile.
Was this not what he said the first time he met?... Didn’t he say his name? His memory was fading fast, too many things to remember.
But he doesn’t remember Shelby’s hesitance; he doesn’t remember them jumping at the noise.
Perhaps it was different. Maybe others do remember what occurred.
... a test.
“Do you happen to know who I am, perhaps?” Scott leaned back, laying on the floor (these clothes weren’t his, nor were they pretty; he’d have to get new ones again.) Since Shelby didn’t know who he was before. Drift did.
He knew Drift did. Not Shelby. Shelby had- “No clue, Scott!”
... hm. “I’m Shelby!... just- Shelby! I uh... do you know why the other voices just... stopped?”
Right. Of course, “Well, they all left through these caves... Perhaps we should go down one?”
Scott tilted his head towards the blind one, she took a broad step forward, nearly falling off the ledge. She steadied her footing as she continued, “Sure... but uh... would you mind guiding me?”
Shelby...
...
“Scott- wha-”
“Shelby, I’m sorry I just-... I can’t trust you to not-”
“SCOTT..! I just- I'm trying! I can do this! I can give you help in the arena! Just don’t vote me in!”
“Shelby- you tried to KILL ME. The only reason you didn’t was because it was APO instead. And you said it yourself! You didn’t know that wasn’t me. You said how GOOD Apo was at pretending to be me!”
“I didn’t-” “You did! Shelby I-”
A roar from the colosseum beckoning those who left to return, to vote, to cast their allies out, “... It’s either you and Owen or me and Owen. I can’t die again, Shelby.”
“...I h-”
The words wouldn’t come out. But they both knew what Shelby wanted to say.
And all Scott could say in response is a mere, “I know.”
...
Was it a good idea teaming up with them? The one who sent him and Owen in, who got him killed. They had overheard Owen saying he was going in no matter what, it was fate, it was the will of time, time he nor Shelby would fight against.
Shelby would’ve voted Scott either way. To her, future and fate had no difference, so if the future involved Scott going in over her, then so be it.
But now? Scott had more power. Sure, so did Owen, but he had more control this time. He could change the current of time, help the winds redirect to a brighter path, not out of fate, but out of honor and want.
So, all Scott could say in response is a mere, “Of course.”
Shelby’s helm glistened, their eyes underneath probably sparkling as they grabbed Scott and hugged him. (Don’t get too close. Don't get too far.) So with resignation, Scott pushed them aside.
“But, you need to ask if you need my assistance, I will not be right by you the whole time, I also wish to explore the caverns.” Scott hummed carefully, noting the spying that was on them rather than the usual feeling of loneliness they had in this cave.
This wasn’t normal.
Someone was watching.
Someone remembered.
Owen didn’t know what happened. He was granted sight into the future, millions of paths that opened and closed at the same times.
But rather than being chosen as a champion for the God that had forsaken him with such power; he was instead blessed by Aeolus.
God of the winds.
He steadied himself, looking around at the caves. He felt something missing.
His eyes were shut, but his memories of how this place was supposed to be were... foggy.
Was there a hole in front of him? Who was beside him? He knew there were people, but...
The clothes he wore also did not match how they felt, the clothes from his memories felt more like hemp and rags with cloth around the sides.
Now, it felt more like a softness of cotton and cloth, sewn together almost seamlessly.
Owen remembered being the chosen champion of Chronos, but now he was... the champion of Aeolus... why?
What did Aeolus want with him? Chronos, he understood, cursed with sight of the future, then made to fight for his honor.
But why did Aeolus want to toy with him further?
It made no sense.
That is, until he felt the wind guide him, pushing him towards someone, a girl, with red hair (like- three out of the five girls have red hair?! Why can’t his mind be more specific?!)
The women’s wings fluttered as they whipped around to see Owen. Though Owen could cross off one of the girls (the other blind one), he couldn’t remember who, out of the two remaining, had what animal features.
Both women did, being champions of Pan and Morpheus, but based on the wings and the darker hair color in his mind... he made a gamble, “... You are... Apo, correct?”
“How’d you-...” She coughed into her arm, feathers off put, “That’s correct, how did you know?”
“We’ve met- I-” He can do so much better at explaining it. “I’m the champion of-”
... He can’t use that because he’s NOT! This sucks. It really sucks.
“Champion of..?” As others began to move, Apo rolled her eyes and began to walk away.
Owen knew how this goes, “W-wait!... It’d be better if we stayed!”
Apo’s wings puffed up, body shaking up as a feather fell off of their wings, “... why?”
Owen was about to pick up the feather when Apo crushed it under her feet, leading to a somewhat sad Owen. But, no matter. “To... watch! We don’t know exactly what powers each of them has! Perhaps personality would assist in that... or they might show off their powers now!”
As much as Owen would love to act like he knew everyone’s powers and just go into the cave, he also knew that his memory was failing him now... perhaps it is something to do with the wind god’s powers mixing in with Chronos’ curse to form a sort of amalgamate in his mind.
But Apo seemed convinced by that, nodding along as they spread their wings out, ready to attempt flight.
Owen could help with that... right? It’d be good practice.
So as Apo attempted to jump up, just trying to test the waters, Owen had brought up a small current, just enough to keep Apo afloat if they both focused.
And suddenly, she was up on some little cliff by the amethyst caves. It was Owen’s turn.
Making the currents helped map out the area, feeling where the wind was blocked off, when it had to turn slightly, and when it didn’t even reach the ceiling.
He positioned himself before hurling himself up towards the cliff, back hitting the wall rather firmly.
... If the current could tell him where things are...
In a moment, he squeezed his eyes shut (or as much shut as they could be while still closed) and a gust of wind blew through the caves.
He could feel everything, maybe not see (he’d have to guess on the colors) but he could feel everything. Every pebble, every person, every pit. There were four people in there total, two of whom were already leaving, which left the supposed chosen champion of Aeolus and Tyche...
But he was Aeolus’ chosen champion, not... Scott? That was his name, right? He was one of the few men with a slim body and the only one with such fluffy hair. Tyche’s chosen champion was easier to depict now that the winds could feel the helm that covered their eyes, rather than basing it solely on memory.
Apo had been rambling. Owen knew the jist of it. He had always been good at listening to multiple things at once (multiple timelines, multiple fates.) She mentioned how there was another winged one, (Pearl?) As well as a man that seemed “so full of himself”
... That would apply to a lot of the men here.
But er-regards, his eyes (or lack thereof) stayed on Scott, trying to picture his outfit... perhaps it’s the same colors as it would be before... But the texture was odd, not like a cloud like how Owen’s memories depicted it being. It was fluffy, yes, but not cloudy; it was messier.
The eyes were what got him. They were more 3D. He could feel the iris; it was like two lines, numbers along the sides of them in a circle as the lines, one short, another long, moved around very slowly.
Owen knew what that was; he had seen far enough to know what it was supposed to be; a clock. This was Chronos’ chosen champion.
Or perhaps just another person cursed like him?... no, unlikely. They had somehow swapped Gods. There was no way around that. There was no timeline that Owen saw where Scott was the champion of Chronos, like how he saw no timeline where he was the champion of Aeolus.
Yet here they were.
This would not be fun.