Work Text:
Abolish sharpened his sword quietly. He didn’t say anything, content to listen in on the others’ conversation, letting the music of the whetstone on blade sing in his ears. It was like this for him even before Hephaestus chose him. There was something in the forge that sang to him that no one else could hear, and what could it be but love, and the rightness of finding the thing one was meant to dedicate their life to?
It was always the weapons with Abolish. Nikos sought purpose in fighting, Scott of many names found his life on the stage and under the spotlight. Drift was a gentler soul, trying her best but clearly not built for fighting in the way the others were. She was more connected to music and medicine than blood and battle. Cleo, now there was someone capable of fighting, and yet they often chose to go out of their way to avoid it. It puzzled Abolish as much as it intrigued him.
His alliance was currently strategizing about the next blessing. Blessings had been almost as much of a battleground as the arena recently, and they wanted to be prepared. Scott suggested that they give their best fighters, Nikos and Abolish, the majority of their supplies, in the hopes that they could hold off the others. Drift was of the opposite opinion, thinking that the weakest among them would need the most help they could get.
The truth was, it’s not like they were getting help elsewhere. The gods would happily see their blood spill on the sands of the arena, and the feather holders would tear their alliance to shreds if it meant a chance to live one day longer. Everyone was living one day at a time, in this place.
Even with Scott and Drift laying out their different ideas, there was no infighting among the alliance. That was one thing they did well in, all of them cognizant of the fact that any fights they shared amongst their allies was a fight their enemies were spared from. Turning against each other was exactly what everyone else wanted.
“Nikos and I have no need for more weapons,” Abolish said suddenly. He hadn’t spoken yet, more focused on caring for his sword. He spoke now, if only to give them certainty before the night was over. It wasn’t that he knew the others would listen to him no matter what he said, but rather that he trusted in their ability to trust him, and his expertise.
“Small one’s plan makes more sense,” Nikos said in his gruff voice, gesturing at Drift, who nodded at him, settling down onto the log she had chosen as her own. As cliche as it was, they were gathered about a campfire before Abolish’s forge, gathering strength from the warmth of the flames. “The pretty ones need to defend themselves, and my sword is sharp enough to lay low many of our foes.”
“When any of us get voted in,” Cleo said. No one commented on how they said ‘when’, and not ‘if’. “We will give them our gear and supplies. But until then, the more of us who can fight back, the less others have to worry about protecting them.”
“Ok,” Scott agreed, nodding. And that was the end of their strategy talk for the night. They would have the morning to mine, to gather resources, to discuss the best methods to fight back against the alliance of the Feather Holders. But this night they would rest, licking their wounds from the day, strengthening their bonds with each other. Night meant stories around the fire, some true, some not. It meant laughter and playfighting, teasing and wrestling in the dirt. It meant sharing a meal, burning sacrifices to their gods in the fire, praying deeply for some amount of mercy, favor, or love from their gods.
Abolish did not often offer food to Hephaistos. He preferred to allow his actions and his words to be a sacrifice, dedicating every weapon forged to his god, every life taken offered up to the son of Hera, the blacksmith of Mount Etna. But tonight, he offered half of his wild berries, mushing them in his hands and letting the bloody red berry juice drip into the flames. Abolish thought Hephaistos might be pleased with it.
Suddenly, there was the breaking of a branch in the forest around them. Nikos’ hand went to his sword immediately, and Abolish turned to face the shadowed woods with a darkness in his eyes. Drift came to stand beside him, her keen eyes scanning the treeline. Abolish wished Nobody was with them, thinking about how useful his keen hunter’s eyes would have been.
“There,” Drift whispered out the corner of her mouth. Abolish tracked the path of her eyes and saw a faint shape in the distance, definitely of human form. Shelby or Nobody, both currently unaligned and neutral, wouldn’t have tried to sneak up on their camp. But one of the Feather Holders… this could be something they had planned.
For a few seconds, there was frozen silence. No one dared to breathe. And then, with the abrupt alarm of a deer caught in a warrior’s sightline, the spy bolted away. They chased the mysterious figure without needing to consult each other, all of them thinking the same thing.
Cleo cut ahead of the rest of the group, veering off to the side to corner their prey. Nikos grinned joyously as he and Abolish followed on the spy’s tail. Scott tossed some wind charges to Drift, and flew up to the tops of the trees, nimbly jumping across branches and using his powers to carry him when the gap was too large.
“It’s Apo!” Scott shouted, having the best vantage point to look down at the spy. “This might be our best shot at killing her!”
Their alliance had been gunning for Apo for a couple days now, and Abolish had a special hatred for the champion who had the audacity to steal his face. Nikos, certainly, was eager to get the chance to kill the bird.
Drift used a couple of Scott’s wind charges to get up to the top of a tree, slipping an arrow out of the quiver on her back and knocking it on her god-given bow. The champion of Apollo took a deep breath, centering herself, before shooting her arrow at the ground before Apo, purposefully aiming farther ahead so Apo would get caught in it while running forward.
Instantly, thorny bushes exploded out across the ground, and Apo, caught in their stabbing embrace, was hit with poisoning effects. Drift jumped down from the tree and joined Scott in following the others.
Apo tried to wade her way through the bushes, probably hoping to continue making her escape, but Cleo was suddenly standing there before her, having run ahead to cut off Apo’s path. Nikos and Abolish were quick to follow, each holding a godly weapon as they stared down the cornered bird.
“Oh, what a fine chase you have led us on, bird!” Nikos enthused loudly. Apo flinched away from his loud voice. Abolish noted, with a frown, that her eyes were dancing between each of the people surrounding her, her face confused and uncertain. These weren’t emotions often seen on the champion of Morpheus’ face. And, where were her allies? Surely they wouldn’t have sent her out here without any support.
“It’s the end of the line, Apo,” Cleo said darkly. “You’ve been lucky, so far, managing to escape each time we get close to you. All it takes is one arena death to knock someone down a peg, huh?”
“What?” Apo said. She spoke in a quiet voice, wispy and thin. “What do you mean? I’ve never met you before.”
The alliance all shared looks between each other, Drift and Scott having arrived at the clearing in the forest just in time to hear Apo’s bold claim. Of course she had met them all before— she had even pretended to be some of them before! To pretend like she didn’t know who they were, or why they were angry at her, was frankly insulting.
“Stop lying,” Abolish hissed out, his eyes narrowing. Apo may be, well, off, but that didn’t mean she had any right to trespass on their territory and spy on them in the middle of the night. He could have sworn all the other Feather Holders had returned to their bridge to sleep, but Apo clearly had not. “What did you overhear? What secrets were you trying to uncover?”
The poisonous berry bushes faded back into the ground, and Nikos approached Apo, holding his sword point up to her throat. He was smiling, of course.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Apo burst out, her eyes alight with fear and uncertainty. “I- I woke up in this place I’ve never been, and I don’t remember how I got here! I didn’t even know my name, I swear, until you called it out.”
Abolish’s eyebrows furrowed. That made no sense. Apo was claiming to not remember anything of the death game they were in. But, if she was telling the truth, how could that have happened? They had spoken to her earlier that day, at the blessing of Morpheus, her god. What could have happened between then and now?
It was a fairly normal blessing— there was fighting, arguing, the alliances facing off against each other with the neutrals deciding on the spot who to support. None of them had died, and Apo had ended up claiming Morpheus’ blessing, which was additional hearts. Unless… it wasn’t unheard of for gods to communicate with their champions. Aeolus talked to Scott frequently through the winds. Hephaistos didn’t necessarily speak to Abolish, per se, but he definitely wasn’t silent. Maybe Morpheus had done something? But why would he sabotage his own champion like this?
“Did you really think we’d fall for that?” Scott scoffed. He crossed his arms, his teal robes settling on his shoulders as he stared Apo down. He mocked her, saying, “‘Oh, woe is me, a poor amnesiac!’”
“I swear on the Gods that I speak no lies to you!” Apo declared. Her eyes were wide, imploring them to believe her. Her irises flashed purple, then returned to their usual red. All of them looked up at the skies to see a bolt of lightning and to hear a crash of thunder.
“Now that was not me,” Nikos assured them all, his face twisted in confusion. Zeus, his god, was clearly trying to tell them something. He removed his sword from Apo’s throat, sheathing it at his side. Apo swallowed down a sigh of relief. Apo was being honest, but what should they do with her now?
“Why were you spying on us?” Abolish asked with suspicion in his voice.
“I didn’t mean to!” Apo yelped, looking embarrassed that her actions had been interpreted that way. “I woke up in the woods, alone, so I followed the smoke in the sky to find you. I was trying to decide if I should walk up to you when you started chasing me, so I ran.”
It struck Abolish that this Apo he was now meeting might be what the bird was like before the death game, how she acted outside of their cursed environment. Was this the true Apo? The face she showed when not under threat of death, when not bearing the weight of the name Morpheus on her shoulders? Or was this another deception, a version of Apo she was playing to garner pity? The amnesia might be true (or, at least, Zeus wanted them to think it was), but she could be playing them all the same.
Abolish voiced his thoughts to the others, uncaring if Apo heard him, telling them, “We can’t let her go. Even without memories, she is a threat. She could be lying right now. This certainly isn’t the Apo we’re familiar with.”
“What do you think the Feather Holders would do to get her back?” Scott asked. He had a cunning glint in his eye. If they could receive a ransom for Apo’s return to her alliance, it would certainly be in their best interests. However, keeping her as a hostage for as long as possible would be the main goal.
“More than we can deal with right now,” Drift warned the others. “They could decide to launch an attack. Nobody and Shelby are wildcards, it could become a seven v. four. I don’t like those odds at all.”
“We can’t exactly give her back,” Cleo countered.
“And we can’t keep her,” Drift said again. Abolish knew Drift was right. The longer they held Apo, the more chances there were for her memories to return. Then she really would be a spy in their midst.
“We kill her,” Nikos suggested. Unlike usual, the thought of killing someone didn’t make him happy. “A mercy death. Who would like to live without memory? One of our enemies, defeated, forever.”
“If we kill her, we get the Feather Holders coming down even harder on us,” Abolish said. But he didn’t seem fully against the idea of killing Apo, more like he was considering all of their options.
As they debated their options, they were so focused on each other that none of them noticed Apo slipping away into the shadows. Once they realized their ‘hostage’ had slipped away, there was much groaning and grumbling, but they all agreed to let the issue rest. Clearly, the Gods willed Apo to escape, and from there, things were out of their hands.
They all went to their own respective homes after that, everyone somewhat unsettled by the experience. A memoryless Apo, if her story was to be believed, was roaming around the map, doing who knows what. None of them knew weapons she might be carrying with her, what resources she might have in her inventory, or if she still remembered how to use her powers or not.
“Well,” Abolish said to himself as he prepared to sleep. “This will certainly be interesting.”
…
The next morning, their alliance had just gathered together at the entrance to the lush cave, preparing to team up on a mining expedition. They had learnt from experience that the more people there were to fend off the mobs, the better, and they made out with a good amount of resources to split among each other. The Feather Holders arrived at the cave as a collective, looking pissed off beyond all belief.
“Where is she?!” Pyro shouted as soon as they were in hearing range. He seemed to be leading the charge, but unfortunately for him, no one on the server knew where Apo was anymore. Her location was known only to the gods, and they told Pyro as much.
“She claims she’s lost her memories,” Drift explained to Apo’s alliance members. Truth be told, she felt a little bad for them. One of their allies, one of their friends, up and left in the middle of the night, and they had no clue why. They had no clue if she was okay. All they knew was that she had not died yet, and that she was gone. “Amnesia, or something like that.”
“Amnesia?” Sausage repeated with a doubtful tone.
“Amnesia…” Owen said thoughtfully.
“You saw something,” Pyro accused, turning on his ally. He looked genuinely upset that his friend might have known about Apo’s memory loss, and not told the rest of them.
“Not exactly,” Owen denied. “It’s just, after Morpheus’ blessing yesterday, Apo said something odd.”
“Odd?” Scott asked, trying to get a clue of what might have happened. Pyro shot him a harsh glare, and he raised his hands up in mock surrender, pickaxe dangling loosely in his left hand’s grip.
“We were returning to the bridge, and something fell on the ground,” Owen explained. “I went to pick it up for Apo. It was cool to the touch, a glass potion bottle. She said it was given to her by Morpheus along with the hearts. When I asked her what was in it, she only said, ‘water’.”
“Water?” Nikos said incredulously. “You think water could steal memories?”
“I agree with Nikos,” Sausage said. He was looking at Owen like the champion of Chronos was crazy, which, to be fair, quite a few people looked at Owen like that. She was pretty used to feeling eyes on her back, and hearing the disbelieving words of onlookers. “Water stealing memories is an absurd idea.”
“Unless it wasn’t normal water,” Pyro realized before anyone else did. Owen inclined his head towards the armored champion, letting everyone know that he was onto something. “It was god-given water. Given by Morpheus… the son of Hypnos.”
“For those of us who didn’t waste our first lives studying dusty books,” Scott said with a thin smile. He left out that, in the time that he was not studying ancient texts, he was often memorizing monologues, and practicing his roles. “Some explanation?”
“There is a cave in Hades, belonging to Hypnos and his brother Thanatos,” Owen said, letting her voice rise dramatically. “Through this cave flows the waters of the River Lethe, the river of forgetfulness. Hypnos’ son, Morpheus, Apo’s God, would have access to these waters.”
“But why would one’s own god do that?” Cleo asked, aghast. And it did seem like an absurd idea. Their gods wanted to help them win, or at least help them put on an entertaining show. Morpheus giving Apo water that would take away her memories seemed like a kind of self sabotage, and that didn’t make sense at all. “That’s more of a curse than anything…”
“Maybe, to Morpheus and Apo, this really is a blessing,” Owen said quietly. He was probably one of the closest allies Apo had, and so knew a little bit about her previous life. She knew Apo was betrayed by those close to her. She knew Apo woke up with nightmares, some nights, like most of the champions did. “None of us have had the easiest pasts.”
Pyro winced, and looked away. It was true. It was probably why their gods had chosen them at all. Who better to fight than a group of people who already had their own broken pieces? For the most part, they were all people who their gods knew would be ready to fight to survive, people who would turn against allies and friends if it meant making it out. If Morpheus thought Apo’s memories of her past were holding her back, then certainly, wouldn’t the most reasonable next step be to take them away entirely?
It was a cruel thing. But, Owen thought, he didn’t think he, or anyone else, would refuse it. Memory loss was the closest thing to a fresh start that any one of them could get.
…
In the end, the Feather Holders did not manage to track down the missing oneiros before the arena battle that night. It didn’t matter, though, as all twelve of them were teleported to the arena together. Unlike the previous match, this one only allowed them to select two people. Scott, privately, was quite happy at the decreased risk of his being called on to fight. Apo had fought yesterday, and lost a life, something which she did not remember now. Scott’s alliance had been gunning for Apo for a while now, but he felt too guilty to select her name now. It didn’t seem right.
Scott selected Pyro and Sausage’s names instead. He didn’t condemn his allies when he learnt that three of them had voted for Apo. Who could blame them? She would be easy to kill in her state. No one knew if she’d even managed to gather her gear and tools from where she had left them on the bridge.
The fates selected the first opponent, and Scott noted that his face was there twice, but it didn’t appear like he would be chosen. It was… Nikos.
That was, not great for them. Nikos, of course, was thrilled that he would now get to fight. But Scott would have much rather seen two of the Feather Holders going in, than risk one of his people. The fates decided on the second opponent, the face they chose being… No. Would the fates be this cruel? The face shown was Apo’s.
Scott gave wind charges and lava buckets to Nikos, the others joining him in tossing the warrior supplies from the audience stands, but his heart wasn’t really in it. How could it be, when he looked down to the other person on the sand and saw a winged figure without armor, without so much as a sword. One of the Feather Holders, Scott squinted and thought it might have been Pyro, threw down an iron sword for her. Owen gave nothing, since he surely already knew how this fight would end. Scott thought he might know, too.
The fight, if one could call it that, began with no fanfare. Nikos walked slowly forward, holding his enchanted diamond sword. It was God-given, blessed by Zeus himself. Apo’s sword was unenchanted iron at half-durability. Scott swallowed down his protests, something in him wanting to shout that this wasn’t a fair fight.
Nikos must have felt it too. He gave a half-hearted swing at Apo, and the bird stumbled out of the way, the swing narrowly missing her wings. Apo threw her body weight into a jab at Nikos with her iron sword, but he just sidestepped to the left, letting her trip on nothing as her imbalanced body caught up with her.
“When I said I wanted to fight the bird,” Nikos sighed. “I did not mean this. Is an abomination, I say.”
“What other choice do we have?” Apo said softly. “You have to kill me, right? That’s what the arena is for. I passed it a few hours ago and I heard the cries of the wounded and the dying carried upon the winds.”
“A remnant, then,” Nikos concluded. He gave a couple more slow swings, blinking in surprise when he felt a raindrop land on his nose. He glanced upwards and faced a stormcloud that had gathered above the arena. It was surely the work of a God. “What is left after the river still lingers in your senses.”
“So my memories may yet be returned to me,” Apo said. Her eyes were also trained on the angry, gray clouds, rain starting to pitter patter down, landing on her wings and in her hair. “Coming here, I think I see glimpses of what I have lost.”
“Not lost,” Nikos said, remembering what Owen had told him earlier. “Given away.”
Apo’s face twisted, and she did not respond. Nikos looked down at his right hand, his dominant hand, the hand that had seen him through many a battle. The rain slid down his skin. His hand was trembling, slightly, subtle enough that only Nikos himself noticed. It had never done that before. Reaching a decision, he placed his sword into the sand, hilt stood upwards.
“I refuse,” he said. The cacophony of the audience echoed in his ears, but he did not look back. Nikos looked straight ahead at Apo. “You are not a worthy opponent. To defeat you when at your most vulnerable would mean nothing.”
Apo flinched away at the word ‘vulnerable’, pulling her wings tighter against her body. She still held onto her iron sword.
“I face you at full capability, or not at all,” Nikos said stubbornly. He was born to fight, this was true, but he was not someone who would kill another already weakened so heavily. Yes, he wanted to fight Apo. But he wanted to fight and to win, and a victory like this would be no kind of victory at all. That’s where he and Pyro differed. When Nikos fought, he demanded he fight with honor, or not at all.
“You don’t have to do this,” Apo said. It was like it was just them two on the arena floor, them and the rain falling around them. “I don’t mind it, if you kill me. From my little time spent here, I’ve learnt that I am not the most popular person. If you don’t do it, someone else will. And then we both will have died.”
“It would not be right,” Nikos insisted. “I am a man of honor. I do not kill the weak. It would bring me no glory and no pleasure, none at all.”
“Nikos,” Apo said quietly, leaning forward. “I know you do not wish to kill me. And I thank you for showing me mercy. But I give you permission to kill me. Here,” she offered up her iron sword, and Nikos took it in a sort of daze, his hand no longer shaking. “Use my own sword. Do not stain your god-given weapon with my blood. I am telling you, I want to die. Maybe, when I wake up again, I will have my memories.”
“You wanted to give them up for a reason,” Nikos said. His mind felt distant, detached from his body. He saw, rather than felt, his right hand weighing the new sword in its grip. “Do you trust your own self so little?”
“Am I my own self?” Apo said with a wry smile. “I do not remember who I am at all. You, better than I, could say if I am still who I was before. I don’t know. I don’t know if I want to know, or if I just want to go back, and have my memories again.”
“Are you sure?” Nikos said. It wasn’t quite a whisper, but it was much, much quieter than his usual speaking voice. This whole ‘fight’, he hadn’t behaved like himself, feeling too upset and unsure to put on his usual boisterous and exuberant personality.
“I am.” And now, Apo smiled. Nikos’ eyes flickered down to her throat, his body moving without a thought, and watched the iron blade slice across her neck. There was nothing, and then there was blood, blood on his hands and blood on the sand. Blood on Apo’s feathers. Her eyes fluttered shut, her wings went limp, and within a few seconds, her body had faded, ready to respawn elsewhere.
Nikos shut his own eyes, still gripping the sword. For once, the crowd was silent. A roll of thunder sounded across the sky, Zeus’ smug celebration at the victory of his champion. Victory was a funny word. It means ‘a conquest’, though it used to mean ‘to overcome’. The rain still fell, and somewhere in the distance, Apo, Champion of Morpheus, was born again. Missing a life coin, but having regained her memories.
Nikos opened his eyes and faced his allies in the audience, holding up the sword, covered in blood, as an offering to his god. He buried it in the arena’s sands, picking up his own sword and returning it to his sheath. He returned to his home that night, and as he walked past the bridge, he saw Apo and Owen, sitting together along the edge. Nikos recognized her by the heavy wings resting on her back. He offered up a one-handed wave, and when he saw Apo give him one in return, he turned away.
A conquest. To overcome. Victory. Nikos thought of his alliance, the pretty ones he fought for and protected without a second thought. He knew he would be forced to overcome many, many more challenges in this death game. He prayed that the others trapped there might not hold it against him.