The wind on Mount Oryx always carried a chill, even in the height of summer. From the Fallen King's throne—an obsidian chair that looked as though it had been carved straight from the mountain's heart—Megumi Valentine could see the world stretched beneath him. Valleys swathed in silver fog, forests draped in emerald green, rivers carving paths like veins of liquid light. It should have been peaceful.
But tonight, the view only deepened his unease.
He sat slouched on the throne, one hand draped across the armrest, the other pressed against his temple. His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. Since the battle against the Olympians, the lingering power of the River Styx had been both a blessing and a curse. It coursed through his veins still, but the toll of wielding it so violently was beginning to unravel him. He felt it every day now—like his body was burning itself from the inside out.
And worse than the pain was the whisper.
At first, he thought it was exhaustion, the echoes of war, the voices of gods he had slain and resurrected. But as the nights wore on, the whisper grew sharper, cutting into him like cold glass.
Rise…
You are not the end… only the vessel…
Megumi pressed harder against his temple. He had learned long ago not to let others see weakness. Leonidas, Medusa, Nyx, Ava—especially Ava—none of them could know what was happening inside him. Not yet.
Because what if it was true? What if the Olympians were right? What if something older than gods and titans was clawing its way back into the world… and using him as the door?
⸻
Cracks in the Day
The days blurred into a strange rhythm. Leonidas drilled his soldiers at dawn, their shouts echoing through the mountain. Nyx sharpened her daggers in silence, her shadowy wings folding neatly at her back. Medusa spent her time tending to Chloe, who laughed and played without fear of the serpent hair that writhed gently above her protector's head.
And Ava… Ava was everywhere.
Her laugh filled the halls. Her touch calmed his storming heart. She tried to anchor him in the peace they had fought so hard to build.
But Megumi could feel the distance growing, invisible but undeniable.
At breakfast, Ava asked, "Did you sleep last night?"
And he answered, "Enough."
When Chloe tugged his sleeve to play, he smiled, but his eyes drifted toward the mountains.
At night, when Ava curled against him, her warmth pressing into his chest, Megumi stared at the ceiling, the whisper echoing in his skull.
Vessel… vessel… vessel…
Each lie he told to protect them felt heavier than the last.
⸻
Searching for Truth
By the third week, Megumi could no longer sit still. He told Ava he needed to train alone and vanished into the wild.
He scoured ruins older than history, temples swallowed by ivy, tombs where dust gathered thicker than air. Everywhere he went, he found fragments—half-written inscriptions, shattered murals, whispered tales from dying oracles.
And always, the same name: "The First Fallen King."
Megumi traced a fingertip over one ancient tablet, the symbols glowing faintly at his touch. The words spoke of a being not born, not forged, but exiled from nothing itself. A king who ruled not with fire, nor light, nor shadow, but with erasure.
The final line chilled him more than anything:
"He will rise again through the blood of vengeance."
Megumi froze. His own story mirrored those words too perfectly. His wife murdered. His unborn child stolen. His war of vengeance that nearly shattered Olympus itself.
The whisper inside him pulsed, louder.
You are not vengeance. You are continuation. Through you, I return.
"No…" Megumi whispered, fists clenching until blood ran down his palms. "I am not you. I am not anyone's vessel."
But the silence that followed only made him doubt more.
⸻
The Strain
When he returned to Mount Oryx, Ava noticed the difference instantly. His steps were slower. His smile was thinner. His eyes carried storms.
"You've been gone longer each time," she said one evening as they stood on the balcony. The sun set behind her, painting her auburn hair in a crown of fire. "What are you looking for, Megumi?"
"Answers." He forced a grin. "That's all."
Her eyes narrowed. She had seen that grin too many times before, back when his heart was full of rage. "And are you finding them?"
"Enough to know I need more."
Her hand touched his arm, gentle but firm. "Don't shut me out. Not again."
Megumi looked away, swallowing the knot in his throat. He wanted to tell her everything—the whispers, the fear, the prophecy—but if he did, he feared the look she would give him. Fear. Pity. Or worse, despair.
So he lied again. "I promise. When I know more, you'll be the first I tell."
⸻
The Cracks Widen
It didn't end there.
Leonidas noticed his hesitation during training.
"Your blade falters," the Spartan remarked. "Are you holding back—or slipping?"
Medusa frowned as Chloe clung to her leg.
"She misses her father," Medusa said softly. "You're here, but not here. Do you realize what that does to a child?"
Even Nyx, who rarely spoke unless she had something sharp to say, muttered one night as she passed him in the corridor:
"Secrets rot the soul, Fallen King. Careful it doesn't devour yours."
Each word cut him deeper than any blade. But still, he kept his silence.
Because the truth wasn't just dangerous. It was poison.
⸻
On the Cliff
One night, unable to bear the suffocating walls of the mountain, Megumi slipped out into the cold. He walked until his feet carried him to the cliff's edge, the wind howling around him like a chorus of ghosts.
The moonlight bathed the world in silver. He stood there, staring out into the abyss, his cloak snapping in the storm. His reflection in the sky looked less like a man and more like a shadow given form.
Vessel…
His fists clenched. He wanted to scream. To unleash the storm inside him until the mountains shattered. But Chloe's laughter echoed in his mind, grounding him just enough to resist.
Instead, he whispered into the night, "If you want me, then come take me. Leave them out of this."
His voice was swallowed by the wind.
"Something is wrong."
The words cut through the silence like a blade. Megumi's eyes widened. He turned, and there she was.
Ava stood a few paces away, wrapped in a cloak, her hair whipping around her face. Her eyes were locked on him—not angry, not fearful, but searching.
"It's time you told me," she said softly. "All of it."
For the first time in weeks, Megumi had no words. His heart pounded, louder than the whisper.
And in the space between them, the truth pressed closer, demanding to be spoken.