Changing the Future

Chapter 87

It was wishful thinking to believe the other children of Nyx wouldn't be hunting for their pound of flesh. The newly increased bounty on my head coupled with my distasteful disposal of Poine had whipped the dark entities into a frenzy. Their attacks became more frequent and aggressive, conveniently forgetting about the fact that Tartarus had requested me to be brought back alive.

Sure, I could regenerate down here, but where was the fun in waiting?

Gold dust and ichor clung to my skin and clothes. It had become more time consuming to clean up between battles than to leave evidence of the slain divine. And if it happened to strike fear into the hearts of those who wished me dead, well, all the more reason to walk around like an omen of death.

Epithymia gleamed in my hand, a beacon of bronze light in the otherwise reddish glow. The weight of my trusted sword gave me the barest amount of comfort, but I'd take it in the given circumstances. If nothing else, it served as a reminder of my mother. She needed me to make it out of here to help her with the bigger upcoming threat.

The thought of reading that cursed book made my temples throb. The language of Chaos was truly a punishment for those trying to learn it. Sadly, my domain of languages only covered those spoken by humans on Earth. The language of Chaos died out with the first generation of primordials, so the task of learning the convoluted tongue fell squarely on my shoulders. God bless Salina's linguistic workbooks.

My train of thought came to an abrupt end as I stopped myself from stumbling into a regeneration bubble. Curled in the membrane bubble was a fully formed Titan in golden armor, his skin the color of polished pennies. His eyes were closed, but he scowled so deeply that he appeared to be on the verge of a bloodcurdling war cry. Even through the blister, I could feel the heat radiating from his body.

Hyperion, I thought with a frown. I hate this guy.

I hadn't given him much thought since the satyrs turned him into a tree in Central Park. Standing here, taking the time to observe his face made my heart ache something fierce. If I were to change his color scheme from gold to silver and give him hair extensions, he would've been almost indistinguishable from Bob. Though the transformation from Iapetus to Bob had been an accident, I'm glad it happened. Bob was such a sweetheart. It made my next decision that much easier.

I swung a Greek fire-tinged Epithymia across the regeneration bubble, which burst in a geyser of hot golden mud. I didn't want to deal with this hothead any earlier than scheduled.

The good news was that meant Small Bob should be around here somewhere. I'd find a way to get him to return to the mortal world with me as a gift for Bob. If Hades had an issue with a skeletal saber-toothed tiger kitten, he could take it up with me. Bob deserved a companion, too. Maybe if he got along with Cerberus, Hades wouldn't mind as much.

Small Bob found me three hours later, appearing like a specter out of the fog. He was a small calico kitten, no bigger than the length of my forearm. He butted his head against my foot and purred loudly. As he purred, the ground vibrated and pebbles danced. Small Bob fixed his yellow, lamp-like eyes on one particular rock to my left and pounced.

I smiled to myself as I bent down and scooped up the kitten. Small Bob was bony under his fur but seemed like a perfectly normal kitten otherwise.

Small Bob nuzzled in my arms for a few seconds before deciding to explore. I held still as the kitten hopped onto my shoulder and made himself comfortable. He purred like an earthmover, rattling my bones. His fur shimmered and revealed his ghostly skeleton for a few seconds. I waited to pet his head until his normal kitten appearance returned.

"Good kitty," I cooed. "Thanks for being my companion, Small Bob."

Now that I had my animal companion like a proper Disney princess, I resumed my habit of singing as I traversed the landscape. The hidden cliffs, mountains, and regeneration bubbles did wonders for the acoustics. If not for the inherent danger of Tartarus, a part of me wondered if anyone would consider recording an album here.