Altered Destiny

Ch. 18

Oh man, I've been so psyched to give you this one.

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In Achillean's experience, fog over the ocean always brought on an otherworldly feeling. But what kind of otherworldly it was, very much depended on where your head was at. If your mood was light and carefree it could feel like you were floating in the clouds, walking across a landscape in the sky. If your mood was darker or burdened, then the mist felt more like a blindfold, shrouding your surroundings and turning trees to silhouettes with reaching arms, and approaching strangers to dark blobs or smears of color.

Today was the latter. The lush cove had been turned monochrome by the mist, the surface of the water as flat and gray as iron. The sky was featureless, hanging close over the ground and blurring with the water until it seemed like there was no distinction between the two. It was as if the rest of the world didn't even exist, as though the cloud-choked cove were all the gods had ever made.

In Nestoria, morning fog wasn't uncommon. It would usually be gone by mid-morning, as the heat of the sun burned the mist away. But Achillean couldn't help but feel like this fog was some kind of an omen, a reaction by nature to the as-yet-uncertain futures of life or death that hinged on his companion's actions.

Achillean glanced over at Ingressus as the Voltaris refugee splashed water over his face, the rippling of water sounding unnaturally loud in the silence of the cove. Ingressus had never been the particularly open type in the handful of times Achillean had met him before, but Achillean had never wanted so much to know what he was thinking. Ingressus had been contemplating murder the previous day. Not the exaggerated, metaphorical kind of killing that was said but never meant literally when someone annoyed you, but the real kind; the blood-spilling, heartbeat-ceasing, blackened-markings kind. Achillean had been afraid that he would wake up in the morning to find Ingressus gone; that he would return to Ataraxia to find a town in turmoil, that Aegus would tell him that there had been a murder while Achillean was gone. But to his great relief, though their borrowed tent had been empty when they woke, Ingressus had merely been pacing the shore, the fog glowing in a flame-colored aura around him.

Achillean didn't know what he would do if Ingressus did decide to go after the Champion. He wasn't sure he would be physically capable of stopping him. Ingressus reminded him of the warriors in Nestoria: calmly confident, his movements deliberate and precise. He'd probably had combat training– meaning he could almost definitely kick Achillean's butt if he chose. Achillean hoped he wouldn't.

Achillean hadn't caught on to the reality of Ingressus's situation at first. He had assumed that Ingressus's presence in Ataraxia was due to the place being a melting pot of the Ardoni clans– that maybe the town was accepting even of the Voltaris. Maybe there just weren't many Voltaris there, and that was why he hadn't seen any others. Ingressus being leery of Aegus was understandable given the remaining tensions in the outside world, so Achillean would respect his wishes for secrecy. Over time, though, he had come to realize how... optimistic that was. The raids were still happening. There were no other Voltaris in Ataraxia– or anywhere else he had heard of, aside from the Barrier Mountains and the clan's occasional forays into the rest of Ardonia. He had slowly come to realize that Ingressus was still in hiding from the rest of the world. His plea for Achillean to keep him secret hadn't been due to lingering mistrust; it had been for fear for his life. Ingressus's account of the Champion's actions had only hammered the dark truth home even more.

Achillean cast his fishing line into the brightening waters, still lost in thought. He didn't know what to think. Anyone dying was not something he wanted to happen. In a fight or in self-defense would be one thing– not that he wanted that either– but killing Thalleous would be premeditated. He knew he would try to stop Ingressus if it came to that, but how could he talk him out of it? He had no place to decide what Thalleous did or didn't deserve; he wasn't a judge. It was all so much bigger than anything he had any frame of reference for. He didn't understand what Ingressus was going through– and he rather hoped he never would.