The Mythos Trials

Chapter One

No matter how he tried, Sitri couldn't find the open air.

Pervasive blackness surrounded him, pressing in from all directions. Smothering him. There was no up or down, left or right; just an endless, whirling quagmire from which he could not escape. His wings were tangled in it, twisting at painful angles, feathers tearing loose to be lost in the viscous substance coating him from head to toe.

His chest burned, throat threatening to open up and swallow the darkness in his desperation for oxygen, and still he tamped it down, pain searing his ribcage for his efforts.

Finally, when it seemed he could no longer stand it, a single fingertip broke the surface, kissed by blessed, frigid air. Sitri struggled in its wake, thrashing his arms and legs with all his might, ignoring the fiery lance of agony that shot through his wings as they were dragged back.

I will not die here!

With his last ounce of strength, he broke through the surface, choking and gagging on the putrid liquid that coated the back of his throat on his first breath. Blackness filled his vision at first, growing clearer with every breath, every thump of his heart. Sharp, metallic pain filled his body, flowing through vein and muscle, dancing over bone and nerve.

The sensation telling him all he needed to know—he was alive.

By degrees, he was able to take in his surroundings, feel the cold, coarse sensation of the bank he'd washed up against. Shafts of dismal grey light pierced the pockmarked dome above him, chips of blue- and green-tinted ice raining down from its many crevices. All around him were dark, glittering walls painted in eerie hues of violet and blue, stalagmites of ice jutting up from the cavern floor.

By the Destroyer...what is this place?

As carefully as he could, Sitri pulled himself fully from the liquid, staggering under its thickened weight as he clambered up the shallow embankment, mindful of the sharp bits of ice and rock littering the matte black ground. A breeze swept over him, howling a discordant tune as it cut between the interlocking stalagmites and stalactites barring the passageway directly behind him—the only other opening, besides the holes riddling the ceiling.

No matter, he told himself, gaze flitting over the ceiling in search of the largest opening. Once I've recovered, I'll take to the skies, and—

Pain, sharp and sudden, racked him from sternum to navel, driving him to his knees. Black and yellow spots danced in his vision, each breath a stuttered gasp.

What...what is this? What's happened to me?

As the sensation of barbed wire worked its way through his chest, Sitri found himself seized by flashes of remembrance. Apophis's untimely death at Set's hands, the very father Sitri had forsaken to serve a master whose vision he had believed in; whose strength eclipsed all others.

Who, against all odds, was now dead—a mockery of all he had stood for.

The pain flared, forcing Sitri's forehead to the ground, a pained growl working its way between clenched teeth, the corners of his mouth dripping with slather. With its increase came more images, burned into his memory like a brand. Iris and Reeves, watching on in smug approval as Apophis fell. Operatives and renegades engaging in battle all throughout the Spectrum, and then its eventual exodus...

The agony peaked, and Sitri threw his head back, screaming into the cavern's ceiling. His voice echoed back to him, pulsing against his ears and bringing with it a fresh rain of ice, cooling his fevered skin wherever it touched.

Minutes, hours... Sitri had no way of knowing how long the pain coursed through his body, contorting his muscles beyond their normal capacity. But at long last, the searing, metallic sensation numbed, leaving him with a sense of nothingness in the centre of his chest.

As his breaths grew steadier, he again clambered to his feet, a familiar warmth blossoming beneath his skin.

He didn't know how he had gotten here, had no memory of escaping the Spectrum, nor even where here was; but come Horus's righteous fury or Anubis's swift justice, he would see to it that Iris and Reeves paid for their betrayal of Lord Apophis.

And then, whomever had survived among the Regulations Force's rabble would be the next to fall.

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