Shadow of the Abyss

"The Upper Moons," Zagrues muttered, the name not unfamiliar, but that was all that it was, having at most heard it in passing, many years if not cycles ago. He shook his head. "I've no clue."

Altair turned to Syris, but she gave a similar reaction: "I'm rather ignorant when it comes to Babels Tower politics." Her gaze swept across the many faces of unnamed creatures of unknown origins, wearily marking the strategic points of escape. She wasn't as comfortable anymore around so many people—not after the Lake of Rot.

Altair gently patted her shoulders, sending a jolt through her skin into her churning stomach. She blinked at him, managing to find her smile.

"I'm good," she lied, playing off the trepidation and caution she now held in crowds, pushing her spatial awareness to its limit. And to her credit, Syris had managed to retain her composure, though she was missing her mask.

There had been much they'd learned from the cruelty held within the Lake of Rot that seemed to have imprinted itself onto their bodies and souls. Maintaining their Spirit Domains in a perpetual state so as not to allow anyone or anything to sneak up on them being one.

They couldn't rely on the average senses there, in the Lake of Rot. The harsh climate was barely survivable, let alone the creatures that lurked beneath its depths. Each step, breath, and sound could mean death. Hiding wasn't enough; they had to adapt to the grueling conditions, becoming one with their surroundings.

"But we should go," Syris said.

And Altair agreed, spreading his consciousness to his surroundings: They were being watched, both him and his woman, but mostly his woman.

Catching a few leering eyes, Altair marked the faces, their intent of purpose, before moving along, forming a domain around his heart, though not before explaining how Syris could do the same.

The skill was simpler than she was led to believe by Zagreus, who said such a technique took weeks for even a genius to master. Hearing how Altair had mastered it on his first try and Syris after her third left him in a sort of stink, slumping his shoulders in defeat.

Syris grinned, nudging his shoulder. "It's alright, Zag. High Humans are born with insanely high affinity for the soul. It's why many Fallen tried to convert them into Infernal Creatures. They make the best devils." She explained, recalling the story Soloman had told her about Devils hunting down her ancestors.

By the time she was born, High Humans had almost died out, forced into the cycle of reincarnation or, worse, made into thralls of the Fallen Angels. Celestial was a bit lucky losing the soul attunement for a high degree of Elemental and Spatial Attunement. By the time most Celestrial were born, most had an instinctual understanding of how to fold space or manipulate it to some degree.

Syris didn't share that ability during her birth despite being a Half-Blood; spatial manipulation wasn't her forte despite possessing the talent for it. Rather, her ability to fuse reality around her echoed from the depths of her soul, even before her reincarnation.

It was what made her so dangerous, more so now that she had managed to purify herself through Dual Cultivation. Syris was every bit as dangerous as Altair, especially since her skill set was so unpredictable.

"Wait!"

The shout echoed from behind as a young, handsome Fae waved them down. Tall, with golden olive-colored skin, emerald eyes, and snow-white hair, hurried forward.

Talia stopped him dead, two meters away from Altair and Syris, the obsidian edge of Endymion poised against his throat, a cold, desolate expression replacing the usual teasing face. The touch of the blade tip punctured the first layer of flesh, finding blood that trailed down his white tunic.

'Wait! Wait! Wait!" shouted the Fae, his face turning white, not daring to make any sudden movements. He glanced down at the wicked blade, then back up to Talia, then Altair, and only Altair. "I meant no harm. No—"

"What do you want?" Altair asked, measuring the man's number of circles in his chest. He had four nearly a half a step into his fifth.

An unimpressive accomplishment for a Fae, known for the ability to manipulate the Mana in ways that would put Elves, who already possessed incredible levels of Mana Manipulation, to shame.

"To team up!" he said quickly. And his eyes slid towards the rear towards the seven women behind him.

Altair glanced at them, sensing tension in their bones, ready to explode at the slightest provocation. The seven were humans, or rather, half-bloods, sharing the blood of a Fae. His mates, most likely, judging by their nervous expressions.

"No, thank you," Altair said, turning his back to the man. He wanted nothing to do with the man or his harem.

Talia lowered Endymian, grinning gleefully. "Lucky man. Seven women. You must have quite a bit of stamina."

"Talia," Altair called, his voice trailing off in the distance.

"Coming!" she grinned, staring at the man clutching his neck. "Keep your eyes off our Master," she said, noticing the distinctive way he'd been staring at her master since he materialized—the same way he looked at his woman.

"Yes…" he muttered.

Talia beamed, sliding Endymian back into his ancient leather casing. She hurried on after her Master, arriving just in time to hear Syris's laughter.

"I know Fae's are rather open about their sexuality. I never thought I'd ever see you get hit on. He didn't even look at us, just you." She laughed, elbowing her lover. "How'd it feel? Be honest."

"Odd? I think. I've no idea how to feel. Do you ever get hit on?" he asked, realizing he had never really had the chance to explore in over nine years. Earth was rather unfamiliar to him, more so now than nine years ago. He'd lived longer in the Lake of Rot than he had on Earth.

"I do now!" Said Talia, holding her head up high. She still found herself looking in the mirror every morning to see where that ugly girl had gone. Touching her face to find how surreal her life now was. "It's freeing… no… it's rather empowering in a way."

"Empowering… I guess that's the word I get when I look through some of your memories. You girls are weird."

"Really?" said Syris, smirking. "You don't feel it empowering to press me down, touching me when you know I'll be annoyed."

Talia giggled sinking, 'Oh là là'

"... Hmmm." Altair nodded, caught in a sort of conundrum. He had their memories, their lived experiences. He knew everything about them, yet he wasn't them, at least not anymore. He had been unable to say when it happened, but there had been a clear line drawn between their lived experiences and his.

And now, at least without reviewing their story again, he found himself unable to relate to some of the more cultural side of being a woman.

"I do have to ask," Zagreus joined, " How did it feel to be a woman?"

"Never really thought about it. Being Talia was hard. Her life was pretty crappy. Vaiga was nice but cold but not bad all around; it was just empty. There a woman who needs some dick in her life."

"Fuck you…. Master." Vaiga felt compelled to say, biting her lip to Altair's amusement. He knew all the buttons to push to get her mad.

"Well, it's just different. I don't know how to explain it. It's very different but pretty much the same as a man's. It's like a culture… Hmmm. That's a hard one to describe. Although I will say Hilda did express the pleasures of a w—-"

Altair ducked, dragging Syris down with him, barely managing to dodge Hilda's axe sweeping through the air. Hilda might have struck again had Vaiga not dragged her away, leaving their master to laugh, unbothered by the fact that Hilda tried to kill him or at least make him bleed.

Altair didn't seem to mind, nor did he bring it up, something Hilda and Vaiga attributed to his madness. Any other King would have had her head on a pike within the hour. And in truth, he might have done so in his Imperial Court.

It was these little acts that made Syris chuckle. She didn't like him so serious all the time. And there were plenty of times she wanted to stab him herself.

"What are you laughing about?" He asked, stealing a peck across her cheek that stung her loins with heat.

Syris practically glowed.

"Are you interested in becoming a woman, Zag?" Altair asked, ignoring Hilda's treasonous actions as he helped Syris off the ground.

"Pass. I quite enjoy giving it to women."

"I'd heard Greek Gods also like taking it." Altair fired back, meeting that awkward grin of his second bannerman.

"The Olympian Gods, maybe. I'm a part of the Chthonic Gods."

Talia leaned onto Zag's shoulder, her teasing smile nearly predatory, "And who by chance did you conqueror in the underworld? Hmmm? "

Zagrueus pushed away, using her face as a grip. "It was one of the Furies, Megaera. Father wanted me to marry, but I was rather against it."

"Oh?" Syris's ears perked as the three Sword Maids looked at him, curious as to why. They'd all heard how honorable Hades was, and that much was clear to them with how Thanatos turned out to be. Zagreus had claimed as much on occasion, saying they were practically the splitting image despite not being blood-related.

Altair, however, already figured out the reason. "You wanted more than one woman, eh? Wanted a harem."

"You're kidding?" said Syris

"Trash," Vaiga muttered

"Lol!" chimed in Talia.

"Wow," mewled Hilda.

Zagreus seemed a bit sad then, scratching the back of his head. "I don't really have a better excuse. But yeah. I hated my father back then. I wanted nothing to do with him or his moral high ground. Megaera was hurt… and for nearly a Dao Cycle, she didn't speak to me.

Didn't even so much acknowledge my existence. When she finally did… she told me she hated me. It's been a few Chaos Cycles since then."

An eerie silence crept over the forest bed, broken only by the whistling of the winds through the tree.

"What's a Dao and Chaos Cycle?" Talia asked, her tone softer. She didn't feel for the man—he'd made his bed—but curiosity did win out.

"Measurements of time in the Myriad Heavens go like this: Years, Cycle, Dao Cycle, Chaos Cycle, Hell Cycle, and Eternal Cycle. All creatures die out at a Dao Cycle if they haven't reached the natural cultivation level, no matter who they are or how young they are. It's like a universal reset. It's easy to defend against if you know what you're doing.

A Chaos Cycle is when the Abyss feeds our Myriad Heavens energy to sustain itself, and a Hell Cycle is when the Nine Hells begin to shift… though I don't know what that means. And Eternal. You'd have to ask someone who's actually lived that long. I haven't. There's a bit more to it, but that's the jist of it."

"Is there a way to quantify it?" Vaiga suddenly asks. "Like in numbers?"

"For a Cycle, yes. It's a googol. But for the others, nope. You just have to feel it out."

"So-So-So?" Syris reached out, arms curling over Zag's broad shoulders. "Is that why you so readily wanted to reincarnate? You wanted to build a harem away from your father?"

Zag swatted her arm away and shook his head as he walked further ahead. Syris didn't give chase, stopped by Altair holding her back.

"I didn't reincarnate to form a haram. I ran. I ran because I'm a coward… who couldn't continue facing Megaera over some stupid ass bullshit."