Heroes' Journey

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. That was because it didn’t make sense for them to be there in the first place. Really, why would they leave Vasyl’s territory far off in the west, skipping every stretch of land along the way, just to strike at the heart of some insignificant and unremarkable valley? It was nonsensical, yet every time Kyrapi pointed out the strangeness of it all, Ciar would simply look over at her with those big blue eyes of his and she’d immediately feel herself faltering. After that, all it took was a long, haggard sigh and Kyrapi would inevitably drop the whole thing.

Prick. He knew exactly what he was doing. They’d been playing this tired game for decades already. She thought that, eventually, he’d have had his fill of jerking her around, but somehow that smirk of his only seemed to grow more devilish by the year.

Things were so different from the last Heroes’ Journey. Back then, Kyrapi had been as unyielding in her convictions as Ciar had been in his persuasions. He had been exhausting. That was Ciar. Exhausting, and relentless. The worst part? He’d never even taken his responsibilities seriously. The whole thing had been a game to him, including his quest to break Kyrapi down. For years, he whittled away at her patience. Tried to push her until she’d give up and bend on something. But that had only made her more stubborn, and soon every meeting between them ended in a standstill.

If it hadn’t been for the Mediators, the two of them may have never agreed on anything. They’d fought, and shouted, and bickered all the way up until the very start of the Journey. And even then, they’d picked at each other any time they crossed paths.

Then the Final Battle happened.

So much changed for her that day. Obviously her view on humans had shifted – many other gods had had their eyes opened that day as well –, but that was nothing compared to the fear she had felt in those deciding moments.

Nothing compared to the guilt.

Centuries later, and those blue eyes still made Kyrapi’s stomach twist in residual guilt.

Maybe Ciar had noticed that shift. Maybe that was how he’d gathered the guts to approach and dare ask her to run the Journey again. Together. And maybe that was why, against her better judgment, she’d said yes.

But, of course, she hadn’t wanted to do another Journey. She hadn’t even wanted to do the first one. The whole idea was just so convoluted.

It had all started with a prophecy foretold at the dawning of man. Most prophecies had their fair share of death, but that one...it spoke of the inevitable demise of all gods at the hands of humans. As impossible as it all sounded, such predictions could not simply be ignored, and panic spread. There had been a push to eradicate humanity right then and there, but the high chairs of Peos, ever the gentle leads of the world, decided that frequent cullings would suffice. Ritual sacrifices, natural disasters – anything would do so long as mankind was not allowed to flourish beyond their means. How that original, ancient ruling turned into the spectacle know as the Heroes’ Journey, Kyrapi didn’t know, but the premise had warped itself into a silly display: one group of gods, tasked with dealing enough destruction to set the mortal world back generations, would disguise themselves and play the part of a world-ending evil, while the other group of gods aided a hand selected unit of humans in defeating said evil.

At the heart of it, the Journey was just that: a journey. One that chronicled a group of mortals facing prearranged encounters that the gods themselves manufactured. However, it was also a competition: would the human ‘heroes’ come out victorious, or would ‘evil’ reign supreme? Those participating in the Journey schemed and battled behind the scenes, all while trying to put on the show of their lifetime.

The trick, of course, was keeping the humans unaware of the gods’ involvement. In mans’ eyes, the heroes and the evils of the world were as natural as life. If they learned they were simply playing parts in a theatrical show, they would surely revolt. Ruining a Journey just wouldn’t do, not when they only happened every five-hundred years. As it were, the general consensus among Peos was that the Journey was beneficial to both god and man. It was still considered an important and necessary duty to cull humans; who should care if they repurposed that responsibility into some source of amusement? Those that particularly favored the idea also argued that humans found purpose in the Journey as well. Mortals so loved their stories of heroes, after all.

What trite rubbish.

And yet Kyrapi had tried to understand. When she’d been asked to host the heroes’ side of the Journey – as if she could decline. It was considered the highest honor to even be nominated – she had given herself over to those sentiments. She’d worked herself ragged to give Peos the show they so desperately craved. And, despite herself, she had somehow even begun to care for her group. What had it all gotten her? A botched Final Battle and a permanent thorn in her side.

Said thorn had bounced back much more quickly than she had, though she knew he faced his own struggles as well. After everything had settled, Ciar had come to her, more somber than she’d ever seen him, and they’d sat together, silent, for nearly an hour. It had felt like, somehow, they’d truly understood each other for the first time. She’d managed to keep herself composed all the way until Ciar looked at her. Those damn blue eyes, dull and listless, pierced through her, and tore down any sense of healing she’d managed to accomplish. Then he’d left, and Kyrapi felt herself shatter.

When next he came to her, it was to ask her about hosting the Heroes’ Journey again. Just like that, as though nothing had ever happened. She’d said yes. How could she refuse him?

The announcement was made before the end of the day: the goddess of storms and the god of seas were set for a rematch.

Ciar immediately got to work. For him, establishing himself as the ultimate evil required close to a century. World ending threats could be born in a day, but Peos rather enjoyed the slow suffering a long reign caused. Oddly enough, Ciar seemed uncharacteristically keen in obliging them. In comparison, Kyrapi’s duties felt rushed. There was only so much planning she could do with humans being so short lived as they were. Young, malleable heroes were the goal, so that meant waiting until the last twenty or so years before she could even start choosing her candidates.

First she had to find her hero. Nilos was his name, and he was about as unremarkable as they came. Not that he was terribly unfortunate looking, but he surely wouldn’t stick out in a crowd. Such was the fate of brown haired, brown eyed farm boys. What he lacked in looks, however, he more than made up for in endurance and creativity. Unfortunately, he didn’t go out of his way to show off such strengths, and no one would tell just by glancing at him. Kyrapi would have looked right over him herself had it not been for the anonymous tip sent her way. Strong, smart, loyal. Endlessly protective of his little sister, Leora. With a little work, he would do nicely.

From the time he was eight, Kyrapi kept the wind at his back, urging him forward into the man she knew he would become. And on his twentieth birthday, when the Journey was finally set to start, Kyrapi had Ciar kidnap Leora right in the middle of the celebration. The trap was set, and Nilos took their bait.

Next, she needed to find her second warrior. Very early on in her search, even before she’d found Nilos, Kyrapi stumbled across a little mage named Mannara. The young girl wasn’t exactly ‘hero’ material, but she’d fit as a companion well enough. Red hair, pale face, and a dainty frame; she was cute enough to make up for Nilos’ less than charismatic features, at least. More than that, though, were the powers she’d managed to harness at such a young age. At only twelve, she was already running circles around novices attending the College of Magic. She was gifted, and quick to learn, and even though Kyrapi would never admit to it, Mannara’s affinity for air magic won the goddess over nearly immediately. Kyrapi had scoffed at Ciar for even suggesting it, but his smirk made it apparent he knew she was lying.

Belen had been Ciar’s choice for the trio, and, true to form, Kyrapi wasn’t sure whether or not she could trust him. That was the way of the Journey. While the hero’s god was free to choose whoever for their first two adventurers, the ‘evil’ god was given a choice in the third. The reason for the ruling was simply that “it kept the group interesting”. The gods of Peos were, at all times, starved for drama. Ciar rounded up a bunch of potential picks, then presented them to an impartial committee – the Mediators – who’d been tasked specifically with keeping the Journey fair. For instance, while Ciar was able to pick the third part of the trio, the candidate still had to fall under certain guidelines. Mostly, there couldn’t be signs of the human being inherently evil, and they had to show a fair degree of fighting prowess. To circumvent this, most ‘evil’ gods simply chose someone who seemed prone to turn. Someone who had loose morals and considered themselves a lone wolf. Someone they would call the black sheep.

Needless to say, Kyrapi was hardly surprised at Ciar’s choice in Belen. Really, he was practically indistinguishable from Ciar’s last pick. Excellent marksman, dagger stashed in every crevice of his clothing, inability to have a single conversation without scowling – yup, he fit the black sheep. What worried Kyrapi more than anything was the percent chance for Belen to turn. Her last black sheep had actually stayed true to the party, as had the last three black sheep preceding them. Statistically, she was in for a reckoning. She’d just have to watch him carefully and be thoughtful in the magical items she awarded him.

Beyond that, there wasn’t much she could do. Belen’s resolve solely depended on his own virtues, which Kyrapi struggled to feel out, and how well Ciar played his game.

Kyrapi was loathe to admit it, but Ciar was an excellent contender. He made his fair share of strange choices, but he’d been a formidable opponent during the last Journey. The fact that he didn’t take the competition seriously made his triumphs all the more irritating. Something about his oddness and his obsession with pissing her off kept her feeling off guard. For example, she still wasn’t sure why he’d chosen the valley as the starting point for their Journey. And his choice of dragons…

No, she wouldn’t excuse the dragons anymore. No matter how talented Ciar was at the game or how well his coordinated efforts left her caught unaware, the overgrown lizards were the worst decision he’d ever, ever, made. Call her biased, but Kyrapi didn’t think that the very first encounter, the one where both sides coordinated a fairly simple encounter for the fresh heroes to easily win, should end in her black sheep being eaten! This was only the beginning of the Journey; Ciar was supposed to be going easy on them!

Or, at the very least, he was supposed to have the foresight to ask a mother dragon permission before whisking her child away to ‘play with the humans’. Barring that, he should have definitely made sure the mother dragon wouldn’t show up in the middle of the trial!

Yet she had, and there was nothing Kyrapi could do to stop her from plopping down right in the middle of the battle field.

“I told you no, Orva,” the mother scolded in their draconian tongue. “How dare you disobey me.”

“But Mom,” the baby dragon had whined right back, “you never let me play with the humans! Please, let me stay?” In his small claws, cradled close to his scaly chest, was Belen, who he had just managed to snatch right before his mother’s appearance.

“Out of the question. Now, give me that!” And she seized Belen in her own claws. “You can eat this when we get back.”

Kyrapi and Ciar had been silently watching the trial together from a hidden distance; they were meant to be uninvolved spectators, but Kyrapi simply could not ignore that. Still hidden, she floated her words on the wind. “You’re free to go, but the human stays here!”

“My little Orva will eat,” was her only response before going airborne.

Everyone at the scene moved. Nilos jumped just in time to grab hold of the mother’s tail; he held tight even as they ascended, and suddenly he was being whisked away as well. Kyrapi immediately summoned the wind to her before glaring back at Ciar. “Fix this,” she demanded before propelling them both into the air.

Ciar let out a half-squeak, half-groan as he was pulled up after her. “A little warning would have been nice!” Many gods could fly in some capacity, including Ciar, but they didn’t have the time for his piddly bubble to leisurely float its way up. Kyrapi’s pace was ruthless, faster even than the dragons ahead of them. Fortunately, she could still see Nilos managing to hold on, but there was no telling how long that would last. She couldn’t quite see Belen beyond him, but hopefully the dragon would stay true to her word and wait until they’d returned home to try and swallow him whole.

They raced ever upwards, and for a brief moment, Kyrapi considered trying to slow them with a blast of air. However, as they drew closer, she could begin to hear the faint sounds of the mother and son bickering. With every little exclamation, they slowed, until finally they came to a creeping stop. Kyrapi, too, slowed her climbing, but she only fully stopped when they’d finally reached them.

“Alright, alright, here we are,” Ciar piped up as they rose. “Tirri, really, did you have to make us chase you like that?” The mother dragon puffed in defiance, but Ciar kept his voice light. “Look, obviously I meant no disrespect. Orva wanted a chance to play with the humans, that’s all. Kids will be kids, right? He was never in any real danger.”

Tirri snorted a ring of fire. “You overstep, god of seas. Orva is still a babe. Vasyl will hear about this.”

“Mom, stop! You’re so embarrassing!” the baby dragon suddenly wailed out.

“Embarrassing?” she bellowed in mighty indignation. “You think me embarrassing? Fine! I’ll show you embarrassing!” Belen shouted out in pain as the dragon’s grip tightened around him, and Kyrapi was sure she was about to crush him to death.

Instead, to her horror, the dragon tipped her head back and brought her closed claw over her opened mouth.

“Ciar!” Kyrapi cried out, but he was already on the move. Water shot from both arms and legs as he torpedoed himself forward. A cool, green light flashed forth from him as he flipped once mid air; then he landed, solid and firm, on the dragon’s snoot, and as another light pulsed outward, he shot two geysers straight down her nostrils.

The creature’s roar may have very well shook Peos’ foundation.

Kyrapi tried her best to avoid the ensuing thrashing, but she couldn’t quite move fast enough to miss the tail that whipped around. It just barely nicked her shoulder, and she was sent spiraling. Other cries rang out over the dragon’s wailing, and Kyrapi knew that the other three had been sent flying as well.

No! She couldn’t lose Nilos already! Wind whipped around her as she forced herself into a jarring halt. The world spun, but she managed to see enough:

Tirri flailed and clawed at her snout while Orva flew helplessly around her. Ciar, now in a bubble of his own creation, had also managed to right himself, though he looked as stunned as Kyrapi felt. Below them, Belen tumbled uselessly towards the ground. And yet, Nilos was nowhere to be seen.

No, no, no.

Kyrapi turned over and over in the air, searching the world below for any sign of him.

“There!” Ciar suddenly called from a distance.

Kyrapi whirled in the direction of his outstretched arm and squinted against the setting sun. She could just barely make him out, but there he was, soaring in arc far, far away from them. A boom splintered the air as Kyrapi took off after him.

There was no way she’d reach him in time. She knew that, but she still had to try. Nilos had already cleared the height of his arc, so he fell, faster and faster, down and away. Kyrapi reached out, desperately trying to further increase the air resistance beating up at him, because if she tried to stop him all at once, it would be just as lethal than if he’d hit the ground. But even as he slowed from terminal velocity, it wouldn’t be enough.

Twenty seconds to impact. Kyrapi pulled harder, willing to risk causing him substantial injury as long as it meant he lived.

Fifteen seconds.

Ten.

Kyrapi shot out one last desperate current from the ground. The blast hit Nilos unevenly, and he spun wildly before stabilizing on his back. They were so close! Nilos reached for her, and she reached back.

Their eyes met.

Nilos hit the ground in an explosion of earth. Kyrapi gasped as a cloud of dust, fully facilitated along by her upward draft, blasted back up into her. For the second time, she was sent tumbling away, and, once again, she forced herself into an abrupt stop. There was dirt everywhere; it was up her nose, in her hair, and it blanketed everything so thickly that she couldn’t even make out where Nilos had struck. With a furious scream, Kyrapi scattered the clouds to the wind and flew down to what she knew was waiting for her.

Somehow, Kyrapi noted, Nilos didn’t look bad. Actually, aside from the layer of filth caked on him, he looked perfectly fine. Against all odds, he’d landed on a lonely patch of grape vines, sprawled out on his back, with all limbs seemingly intact and unbroken. Even his dirtied face looked as though he were only sleeping. Leave it to a hero to hit the ground in the most peaceful looking way possible.

But had he survived? Kyrapi knelt beside him and brought a hand to his neck. No pulse. “You’re okay,” she whispered as if she could coax his heart to start again. “Come on, you’ve been through worse.” She summoned a breeze to brush his face, just as she had done since he was young. “Just breathe once for me.” Five minutes of that passed, but Kyrapi knew it was useless after only the first. She sat back with her hand to her temple and willed herself to keep calm.

It would be a full thirty minutes later before Ciar found her. “There you are!” he called as he slowly floated down in that stupid little bubble of his. Kyrapi didn’t move to look at him. She hadn’t moved at all since sitting back, actually. She’d sat, looking at Nilos’ peaceful face and at the way the vines had tangled around him. How they’d endured the impact, Kyrapi wasn’t sure, but Nilos looked practically unharmed as well, so what did she know? But the way they’d managed to wrap around him, almost like they were claiming him, looked almost unnatural. Like Nilos had simply grown with them.

Kyrapi kept her eyes on Nilos even when she heard Ciar’s voice again. “Belen survived,” he said casually some distance away. “He fell straight down, and Mannara was able to catch him.” Silence. “Oh, and the dragons left. Tirri is still furious, but I’ll talk to Vasyl and get things straightened out.” Nothing. “So, what then? Are you really that much of a sore loser that you won’t talk to me?”

“Excuse me?” Kyrapi snapped in a booming voice. She was on her feet in an instant with electricity crackling at her fingertips. “Me, the loser? Absolutely not! This is on you!”

The second she had looked at Ciar, a smirk had started to tug at the corners of his mouth. “Well, I’m not the one with a dead hero, am I?” he asked with a smugness that sent every nerve in Kyrapi sizzling alive.

“He’s dead because of you!” she shrieked. “You! And you’re going to fix this! Now.”

Ciar shrugged and shook his head. “You let your hero die, and I’m the one who has to clean up your mess? I mean, I’m not surprised, but I remember you being better at this.”

“You -.” There was a charge gathering in the air from the static rolling off her; it set the ends of her blonde hair to stand on end. Kyrapi was fit to burst. She’d had it with him. It was too much. The atmosphere around them practically hissed as she began to march towards him.

She was all of two steps in when a thick vine shot passed her head and plunged into Ciar’s throat, passing cleanly out the back of his neck as it did.

Ciar let out a garbled gasp, then a smaller, sharper one as the wiry plant began to rise. He clawed incessantly at the wood, trying to find a way to pull it out, but the end of the vine twisted and curled upwards as it ascended, eliminating any chance for the skewered god to slip off. As they both went higher, and Ciar’s toes were no longer able to scrabble across the ground, he grabbed hold of the vine with both hands, trying desperately to keep himself lifted with his arms rather than by the wound in his throat.

Everything had happened so fast, Kyrapi didn’t realize she needed to move until Ciar made another pained noise. Then the surprise took hold, and all that static – all that tension built up in her – suddenly sprung out of her in a series of electric bolts. They popped and zipped in every direction with most sputtering out as soon as they hit land. Some, however, spritzed and cracked into the air, while a few others danced across the vine, including one stray charge that zoomed across and unceremoniously struck Ciar in the shoulder.

Ciar yelped and glared down at her, mouth pursed and eyebrows bunched together. It was clear he was more annoyed than anything, and Kyrapi might have laughed at his kicked expression if he weren’t literally dangling by his throat. “Stars take me, sorry! Hold on!” Kyrapi quickly kicked up a wind beneath Ciar, lifting him gently with the vine so as to take the pressure off. That would have to do for now. Sure, he might be uncomfortable for a few minutes, but an injury like that would heal in a matter of seconds. He’d be fine.

As if sensing what she was thinking, Ciar again looked to her, this time rolling his eyes. Yeah, he could stand to be inconvenienced for another minute or two. Kyrapi waved him off in quiet reassurance. He wouldn’t be waiting long. No, she’d make quick work of whoever dared interrupt her storm.

Or so she had thought. Kyrapi was only half way through turning around before she caught sight of their would-be attacker. Alarm bells startled her to attention, and she snapped the rest of the way to face them. This is bad. This is really, really bad.

Instead of some random passerby beast or local bandit group, Kyrapi found Nilos, tangled completely in twigs and leaves, standing across from her. The vines that had so eloquently cushioned his fall had seemingly wrapped around the boy’s limp body and propped him into an upright position.

No. No, that wasn’t quite right.

Kyrapi had thought him dead. Had seen him dead! But no, he was standing of his own volition. And the vines weren’t wrapping predatorily around him; they were coming from him. His head drooped down low onto his chest, and Kyrapi wondered if he was actually just unconscious and working off some primal instinct. But that couldn’t be right. Nilos didn’t possess such powers. In fact, he’d shown zero magical aptitude during his youth. So how?

“Nilos?” Kyrapi called. At the sound of his name, a few vines that had been probing the earth at the boy’s feet rose cautiously. One licked at the air experimentally, and Kyrapi raised both hands in a pacifying way. “It’s okay. You’re okay.” She took a step forward, and the swaying plants suddenly went very still.

One more step, and that was one step too far. The vines lunged forward. Kyrapi huffed in annoyance as she dropped both hands to her right side; then, with a heavy grunt, she swung her arms over and up. Wind, furious and wild, whirled into a wall in front of her, but she didn’t stop there. Following the momentum of her arms, Kyrapi slowly spun to face Ciar, who was still dangling in his inconvenienced way. In one fluid sweep, Kyrapi and wind slashed down. Air cleaved away from her, cutting the vine holding Ciar perfectly in two. She kept him suspended as she continued to spin, twirling gracefully back to face her foe as she did. Then she pushed.

The vines were tossed and torn and beaten back as the wind wall overtook Nilos. Some of his plants burst from the ground and wrapped around him as though to anchor him, but they too eventually gave way to Kyrapi’s power. Nilos, still unconscious, seemed completely unaware of the wind beating about him. He simply stood, head down, until the wind sent him away in a tumble.

It had been a simple victory, but Kyrapi knew it would be a fleeting one. She’d only meant to stun him, after all, so she had but a moment to free Ciar and get them away from the scene. By the time she returned to his side, Ciar, who had crossed his legs beneath his floating body, was only a quarter way through trying to pull the vine from his throat. The blasted thing seemed unnaturally thick and firm, and its curved shape kept progress that much slower. Sea foam oozed from the wound as he gave another honest tug, and he shuddered into himself once before he seemed to notice Kyrapi’s return.

“I’ll get it.” Kyrapi’s statement was more of a demand than a question. “It’s going to hurt. Prepare yourself.” Ciar’s eyes went wide as he shook his head in distress.

Wait, he mouthed in a wordless plea.

She wouldn’t wait.

In one swift motion, Kyrapi flipped Ciar on his head. Then, without warning, she transferred her point of air-contact from Ciar to the plant itself; from there, it was all a matter of letting gravity take control.

A startling scream ripped its way out of Ciar as he was forced to slide down the remaining vine all in one go. He dropped, but Kyrapi was there to half catch him in her arms. Sea foam, which had been partially plugged by the offending object, suddenly spilled forth in a brilliant display. Or she might say, had the water not drenched her the entire way down. Still, she held fast to him. When he instantly grabbed at her forearms hard enough to bruise, she still held him. And when Ciar’s knees buckled and he began to fall, Kryapi went down with him.

“Holy fuck, that hurt!” Ciar hollered all at once. Foam still flowed from him in staggering quantities, but if he was yelling, then that meant he was already on the mend.

“It wasn’t ideal, but doing it that way hurt you less in the long run. Now come on, we need to go.”

Kyrapi began to move away, but Ciar pulled her back into him immediately. “Are you crazy?” he asked suddenly.

They were too close. She’d been fine in the first moments, because he needed her to be fine, but the longer they remained pressed together, the more anxious she felt. This was the first time they’d been so close since the Final Battle. He was okay. She knew that. But unbidden memories were beginning to claw at her. Again, she shifted to move away, even as her fingers curled deeper into the sides of his shirt. “I told you, that was the easiest way. I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he growled. And she knew that. Damn it, of course she knew that. But she didn’t want to think about it. After everything that had happened in their last Journey. After all the work they had to put in to get back to where they were. Between that and having him in her arms again – she knew he could feel it too –, it all felt like too much. It simply couldn’t be happening. How could she let it happen?

Peos was going to fry her.

When she didn’t say anything back, Ciar pushed forward and confirmed her worst fears. She didn’t want to hear it, yet he said it anyway. “How did you not know your hero was a demigod?”