Chapter Text
The world seemed to quiet as the sun disappeared below the horizon, making room for the moon to take its place in the sky as it did every single day—there were few things more certain than the cycle of darkness and light. As the stars twinkled above her and moonlight drenched her figure, Apo sighed, basking in the night's embrace. While they may not be a Champion explicitly tied to the night, she had always felt a strange connection to darkness. If Apo hazarded a guess, that was probably because of her power over dreams, which confused them to this day—despite what the public might believe, Apo didn’t know why she had been blessed. Nor did they ever want this curse that everyone referred to as a gift.
Champions were hunted by society because of their blessings, as people feared what they did not know. Some captured Champions were experimented on, some were killed outright, and some were ripped from anything that made them a Champion in the first place. Apo shuddered just imagining it, her wings instinctively closing in around her, creating a makeshift shield from the outside world. Their heartbeat quickened as she thought about what someone might do to them if they ever discovered the multiple sets of wings she hid under clothing and magic every day.
The problem was that Champions could always be distinguished by the fact that there was something supernatural about them. Apo’s own ‘gift’ had come with two new sets of painful wings that could get her killed, and that wasn't even counting the feathers concentrated around their shoulders and elbows. She had seen other Champions with glowing eyes or cloud-like hair, though, so everyone had their own unique challenges to hide. Or at least they had to hide what made them a Champion most of the time. Only with a mask securely on her face did Apo dare free her wings from their tight bindings or exhausting magic; only when hated by many did Apo truly feel like herself. Only when patrolling as a vigilante could Apo harness the power of dreams without fear.
Sighing, Apo pushed themselves up from the skyscraper's edge, wings fluttering behind her as she took in the city enveloped in darkness. Up here, she had the perfect bird's-eye view of everything, including any fights breaking out between civilians that they could swoop in and handle, but surprisingly, tonight was quite uneventful. Apo continued to sweep her gaze across the buildings, a small ache in her heart when their eyes landed on Hades Bank—gods, the amount of precious gemstones they might have in their collection… It was incredibly tempting for a shiny-loving creature such as herself.
Just as Apo was about to take flight, a sound rang out from behind her, and they gasped, spinning around with a hand already instinctively going to the sword hung on her belt. When her gaze finally met the figure now standing in front of them, Apo sucked in a breath, unsheathing her sword and flaring out their wings. The person staring at her with eerie glowing white eyes was no one other than the hero Temporal, known primarily for his manipulation of time itself. Apo glared, a fire burning just beneath their skin—gods, how she itched to use her powers. “Temporal! What do you want?” She questioned, holding her sharp sword between them both as a defense that would realistically do almost nothing against Temporal.
The hero shuffled her feet, a hand reaching down for his own blade. “Ónerio… I have to try and capture you, as I’m sure you’re already aware.” Temporal stated, eyes closed against the world even though Apo was sure he could still ‘see’ how the vigilante tensed. “This is just the way things have to go, so…” Temporal trailed off, gesturing at Apo with her spear but not making any move to get closer, surprisingly enough. Apo felt their head-wings flutter anxiously, anticipation grappling her heart.
Temporal had always acted strange around her compared to the other heroes. His job was to capture all vigilantes or villains so that she could stay a hero, as they were the only ones allowed to freely use their powers—but then why wasn’t he lunging at Apo? Any other hero would’ve done that by now… so many before had threatened to clip her wings, so why was Temporal the outlier?
Apo’s fingers tingled with magic, a familiar warmth running through their veins that was comforting as she spoke with Temporal. “Why aren’t you coming at me then? Are you afraid? C’mon, hero, let’s fight!” Apo taunted, flapping their dark wings and swinging her sword at Temporal; unfortunately for her, though, the hero jumped back at the perfect time, just barely missing the edge of their blade. A grimace flashed across Temporal’s face, and she stared at Apo, too many emotions hiding behind his eyes that Apo couldn’t see.
It was impossible to miss how Temporal hesitated before lunging at Apo with his spear, giving her ample opportunity to jump away with one powerful flap of their wings. Temporal shook her head as he opened his mouth to speak. “I-“ He never got to finish her sentence, though, because at that very moment another voice called out to Apo, the cadence immediately a lot more hostile than Temporal’s.
“Ónerio, stay back!” A voice yelled, its owner landing in front of Apo, spear already held high. Apo muttered a curse under her breath, backing away just as another hero joined the fray alongside the two she was already fighting! These two new heroes were none other than Moíra and Promachos, known for fate and luck, or strategy and wisdom, respectively. Apo panicked, taking to the sky with a few beats of their wings, luckily these specific heroes couldn't fly, but that didn’t mean she was safe; all it took was one well-aimed arrow stabbing through her wing for Apo to crash to the ground.
“Don’t worry, Temporal, we have your back!” Promachos said, completely ignoring the strange, forced smile Temporal gave at his words, instead choosing to take out their bow and shoot at Apo. The vigilante sucked in a breath, a shiver running down their spine when they felt Promachos’s owl-like eyes hone in on her—she was outnumbered; Apo should run… but her magic burned to be used, something inside them itched for a fight despite the disadvantage. So Apo succumbed to the urge, freely letting the power of dreams flow through her and out into everything around them.
She dreamed that Promachos took a different form, dreamed that a new body would mess up the fighting instincts ingrained into the young hero, and, to nobody’s surprise, it worked just as expected. Apo watched as Promachos barely dodged the dagger she threw at him, only being saved by Temporal’s ability to slow projectiles. The vigilante panted; using any of her powers always was taxing—it felt as if the energy had been siphoned from her—it was a weird feeling that they could never quite get used to. “Come down and fight us, Ónerio!” Moíra shouted, a circle of skulls now spinning around her figure that Apo had to be careful to avoid as they folded in their wings and swooped down at Moíra.
In all the chaos, Apo almost didn’t notice how Temporal purposely stood off to the side, fiddling with her spear but not joining in on the fight against Apo. Why? Is this some weird hero honor thing? No, it can’t be since Promachos and Moíra have no qualms about fighting me. But then… why? Apo questioned, too distracted with her thoughts to realize Promachos had snuck up behind them and was swinging at her with his glinting sword. Apo gasped, spinning around to try and stop the hit, but it was far too late—one moment Apo was watching a sword draw a harsh, jagged line into her skin and the next she was instinctively fanning out their wings to fly.
The wind burned, angering the cut running across her shoulder, and Apo hissed through her teeth in pain. A dull aching sensation infected their nerves, all stemming from the fresh cut now leaking impossibly red blood. It hurt. Gods, it hurt, and Apo knew that all of it could be solved with one simple solution, one simple way to make the stabbing pain go away—the only problem was that the solution was physically attached to her. Fortunately (or unfortunately), Apo had never much cared for consequences, so they took a deep breath and pulled, ripping a feather straight from their body. Apo had to bite her tongue lest she cry out in pain; that would only alert all the heroes to how much a single feather plucked from her could hurt.
Apo ignored the crimson blood soaking into her wing and brought the feather close to her heart, murmuring an incantation softly under their breath. The feather disintegrated before her very eyes and absorbed into her skin, knitting back together the wound scarring their shoulder as if it had never been there in the first place. Apo sighed, beating their wings once before letting herself drop, joining back into the fight against the heroes as if nothing had happened. “Do better than that, Promachos.” Apo taunted, swinging at him with her blade as the moon shone down on her.
“Hey!” Moíra yelled out, pulling Apo’s attention off of Promachos for a moment. “Wanna try your luck?” Moíra said, waving her hand once before three skulls all came flying at Apo, the air around them whistling. Apo’s heart pounded as she tried to dodge the skulls, but in the end, one still hit her, an uncomfortable feeling sinking deep into her body on impact. Right, a power of Moíra’s was the ability to send out skulls either containing an assortment of helpful or negative effects, and as luck would have it, Apo felt something terrible spread beneath their skin, pulsing through their veins. Apo hissed, taking to the sky with one powerful beat of her wings and landing behind Moíra, her sword clashing against Moíra’s spear.
They both exchanged blows with their weapons, and Apo made sure to keep Promachos in her sight, disregarding Temporal since she couldn’t afford to get distracted by him again. A heartbeat thundered in Apo’s ears, their breathing becoming labored as the effect of Moíra’s skull infected their body, and Apo knew that she couldn’t keep this up; she had to end this fight soon. So, with the last bit of her weakened strength, Apo ducked under Moíra’s spear, using their wings to get behind the blindfolded hero and slashed at Moíra’s legs, dreaming that this would temporarily incapacitate her.
Crimson blood ran down Moíra’s calf, and a few moments later the hero cried out, a broken shout tearing from her throat that was full of pure anguish. Apo watched as Moíra collapsed to the ground, clutching the wound as if to stifle it, but red blood just further coated her hands. A shaky breath left Apo’s lips, and under the cover of darkness she didn’t notice how Promachos had cut a line into her own side until Apo felt pain shooting through her body. Apo whipped around, holding up their sword stained with blood as a small defense, and beat her wings, very precariously flying a few feet above the ground.
Fuck. Apo could barely fly in this state; all she could feel was stabbing pain that had overtaken all her senses—there was no way she could escape fast enough like this, even if she used the power of dreams. Nor could they bring themselves to rip out another feather. The vigilante tried to ignore the tears pooling at their waterline as she ducked around the corner of a nearby building, desperately holding her side. And just as Apo racked their brain on how to get out of this situation, everything around her stopped. It was as if the world stopped spinning; it was as if something—or better yet, someone—had completely frozen time itself; it was as if every law that made up the universe was broken in a single moment.
And there was only one person—one Champion that Apo knew had the power to do this, and of course that was none other than Temporal.
Why did Temporal freeze time? Apo thought, stuck with nothing but their own mind to entertain them as the thirty seconds of Temporal’s ability ticked by. Fortunately, that question was immediately answered for her when time resumed, as she was jump-scared by glowing white eyes that could only belong to a certain hero. Apo hated to admit the embarrassing bird-like screech they let out when met with Temporal standing right in front of her. The vigilante shook out her wings and took a deep breath shakily, trying to calm their racing heart as Temporal started speaking.
“Flee Ónerio; they won’t follow you.” Was all he said, unusually serious in tone, and Apo couldn’t help but think that his seriousness didn’t match with all the interviews she’d watched featuring the heroes or Temporal. Apo hesitated, clenching their teeth in pain and fluttering their wings as they debated—Temporal seemed to notice her struggle, though, and mouthed out one simple word, one word that struck a chord somewhere within her, one word that seemed so unfit for a hero. ‘Please.’
Apo made up her mind in that moment, summoning the last bit of her energy to disappear into the realm between dreams and consciousness. They only had to hope that Temporal was telling the truth—since Promachos could easily use his powers as a Champion to find her if Temporal was lying. All Apo could do was dream; luckily, that was something she’d never had trouble with.
<~~~~~~~~~~>
Apo eventually made it back to her dorm after rushing into a nearby bathroom and hiding everything that made her a Champion—a small amount of shock still lingering on her over the fact that she was able to get to her campus just fine. Looks like Temporal really had kept his promise, surprisingly enough. Apo didn’t dwell on the ‘why’ right now, though, instead choosing to focus on bandaging their wounds that took the last bit of her energy.
Sighing, she collapsed into bed, taking comfort in the feeling of the soft fabric of her blankets and pillows all piled up around her. (It might’ve looked a bit like a nest, but Apo would never admit that.) The dreamer curled up in their blankets, breathing in the familiar scent of her dorm room and sinking into the warmth, ready for a good night’s sleep. But just as the haziness of sleep was about to take her, an irritating ‘ding!’ came from Apo’s phone that lay on her nightstand. Sleepily, she peeled open one eye, blindly fumbling around for their phone until its cold case met their fingertips at last. Now to see what was disturbing her rest…
Gods… of course her friends wanted to meet up tomorrow, just Apo’s luck. Fortunately, she had plenty of experience hiding injuries from them, especially with Owen as her dormmate—and Apo kind of did miss hanging out with them all, even if it had only been a few days. Wait- speaking of Owen, where was he? Apo knew she hadn’t seen the brunette when she’d entered the dorm; maybe Owen had just gone to his room already? Yeah… probably. Anyway, Apo needed to respond to their insane friends before Sausage showed up at their door. (She ignored the fond feeling burning in her chest.)
