The Mythos Trials

Chapter Twenty-Two, Part Two

Though Lucas had made a mental note of the date and time when he'd left Earth, it was still difficult to gauge time's passage when Mythos' days were somewhat shorter. Was it still August twenty-fifth? Or had it moved on to the twenty-sixth by now? With so much at stake, time was of the essence.

Even so, Lucas couldn't bring himself to worry about it as much as he should. If all went according to plan, he would become Time itself, and thus, able to control it across the realms with barely a thought.

And speaking of time, he thought, lips twitching into a grin, yours is nearly up, Gwilym. I hope you make the most of it, because once I'm done here? I'm coming for you.

Hearing a sudden commotion some distance ahead, Lucas crouched lower in the underbrush, carefully positioning himself between a set of dark-leaved flowering bushes. Set had been careful in choosing his location, but even so, opening a portal into Mythos—even an area as secluded as this—was risky business. He would have to be on his guard from now on.

When nothing more than some sort of furry tree mammal scampered into view, disappearing into the upper branches of the forest canopy, Lucas slowly moved away from his hiding spot. A sea of green and brown greeted him, dotted with white blossoms and vibrant red berries here and there, though there was little else to be seen in the forest at this time of night.

This in and of itself had Lucas on edge. There should have been nocturnal beasts stirring, but the lack of any sight or sound of them—and of only a single creature fleeing with the fear one might expect from a smaller animal being hunted by something larger—told him there was something amiss.

Someone else was here. He couldn't see or hear them, but he caught the scent of something on the nighttime breeze, something sharp and unpleasant. A tingle went up his spine, causing his arms to break out in gooseflesh beneath the thick fabric of his long coat.

That's not Lady Iris, he mused, gritting his teeth. Nor is it the Akuma. I wonder...

Could it be that winged demon? Set's son, the one who had thrown in his lot with Apophis, and continued to do so even now that the serpent-god was dead? Personally, Lucas had no quarrel with him. He'd had no love for Reeves, only serving under him in the hopes of attaining revenge against Gwilym.

But still, if it was Sitri lurking nearby, it would be bad for him. Very, very bad. He might not have had any true loyalty to Reeves, and he may only serve Iris as a means to an end, but his dedication to Set—for it was he alone who could give Lucas what he sought—would undoubtedly bring Sitri's wrath down upon him.

Granted, that was only if he became aware of Lucas's presence.

Better keep moving.

Casting a furtive glance between the surrounding trees, Lucas broke into an all-out run, boot heels thudding heavily over the damp ground, kicking up clumps of mossy earth as he went. Leaves scraped his face and neck, but he hardly noticed. All that mattered was getting as far away from the sense of danger behind him, regardless of whether it was Sitri or not. If fortune was with him, perhaps he'd meet up with Iris and the Akuma, though that seemed doubtful. While they had been aiming for the Silvestrian Isles rimming the western ridge of the central continent, he had wound up in Aithiopa, deep in the heart of Vatra Woods; the crescent-shaped forest encircling the base of Mount Pyre.

Finally, when his muscles were burning and every breath had become a sharp pain, the warning tingle vanished, leaving only cool air in its wake. Whoever had been farther down the mountainous region, be it Sitri or someone else, it seemed they hadn't noticed him. Or so Lucas hoped. Hands pressed to his knees, he breathed as slowly and deeply as he could, his heart beating a frantic tattoo beneath his ribcage. Where there had been no nighttime sounds below the forest's upper region came to life, the chirp of insects and the sleepy hoot of an owl complementing the scrape of leaves from the wind.