In Pursuit of Kronos' Scythe (Completed)

IX - The Underwater Palace of Nerocust - Part IV

Piotr Mikolaj - Extension Chapter - Cytherea's Confession

Piotr walked to his chamber with leaden feet. He considered himself as a loser. Tharalea confided in him but he failed to advise her. How would she seek for his opinion again in the future? Future? The word came smiting his brain in the tone like the spiteful Sphinx's. Would they have a future? Would the Titan, who once swallowed his own children because he wanted to be the perpetual ruler, let them go after he retrieved his totem?

His mind, chained with the fetter of his own woe, was able to relax when he stepped into his room. It had the design of a pirate ship. The wooden plank walls were glossy, illuminating with pearl powder. The floor of a beach brightened up as he walked in. The shore was rainbow-hued, with golden starfish scuttling in a designated orbit. Seaweed and some artificial cobwebs spiraled up the pillars, creating an authentic feeling as if he was sleeping in a real ship.

The luxury had become something he wasn't accustomed to. He used to only have cold green pea soup, but now he could feed his stomach with a king's feast. He used to stay in stone cold prison and lay on a floor of dust; now he was actually lying on a warm bed, cocooning in a blanket knitted with coconut leaves fiber. As he lay in this comfortable bed, he thought of Hephaestus. Carefully, he took out his scrapbook.

Would he think of me too? Did he see all the triumphs we earned along our journey? He caressed the picture that showed Hephaestus and him sharing a three-tiered ice-cream, which had the flavour of vanilla, chocolate, and mint. He should really thank Hephaestus for always sneaking food for him. The god was the reason he was still alive. Grinning, he flipped the pages. He had added the Transgender Manticore to his collection too. But he didn't manage to snapshot the Ismenian Dragon, the Laestrygonian Giants, and the amiable Calypso.

The thing he regretted the most was that he didn't manage to capture a group photo of his comrades. There might not be a complete crusade of quest seekers returning home tomorrow, and the photo would be their last remembrance, and he didn't have that.

Tharalea's words churned up his anguish again. Why would we need to tame his scythe if he will be there waiting for us? Would he keep his promise and not destroy us? There is something hidden between those lines of prophecy.

Perhaps Tharalea was right. The quest wasn't as easy as it seemed to be. He was getting too comfortable with his freedom that he let his alertness slip. What should we do with the stones? How could they help us in the quest? How would Yanazak look like?

He tried to force his mind to think of all possibilities that would make them survive the quest, but his eyelids weren't being cooperative. The mild splashing sound from the waves on his floor was like a lullaby, calling him to sleep. His eyelids fell down lower and lower.

He was surrounded by an army of black shadows. They held a scythe in their hands, which came hammering on them like rain pelting the beach. He flung the stone that had the shape of a hammer, but it burst into nothingness. The shadows swung their weapons more maliciously, concurrently ogling at Cytherea's buxom body. Did Shadow have eyes? Piotr found himself thinking foolishly in his dream when the devils dragged Cytherea away.

Cytherea's wail pierced his heart, jolting him up to reality. Just then, his bedroom door burst ajar. A sobbing Cytherea lunged at him and threw her arms around him.

"Piotr, I-- I had a nightmare. I went to look for Rexon and Tharalea, but they didn't answer my knocks. I'm truly sorry to've bothered you."

"What had happened, Cytherea?" Piotr pulled her aside, wiping away her tears. He didn't wish to hear Cytherea saying they shared the same dream.