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Chapter Text

It happened early in his dash through Asphodel. Perhaps it was due to being distracted by the lovely ladies of the Witches’ Circle, or being laden with a boon of Chaos which increased the damage he took and quite a lot of damage he did take, or perhaps it was even due to the frustration of getting stuck behind a structure in the magma, but finally he managed to sidestep it and dash forward-- into a slash of green not unlike that of Artemis’ boons. One he could not, unfortunately, avoid.

Looking back, he’d never heard the witches make any sort of discernible noise throughout all his escape attempts, but in that moment they’d sounded positively horrified and even perhaps a little bit concerned . How sweet of them. He’d have to remember to leave some nectar for them to enjoy the next time they respawned. That is, if he ever made it back to Asphodel.

Currently, though, Zagreus, son of Hades and Persephone, Prince of the Underworld, god of blood and of life, was falling face first toward the ground. He didn’t have the time to do anything but to turn and roll into the fall and, rather unexpectedly, bodily slam into someone else.

Beneath a grunt and angry words that followed, Zag heard the tell-tale sound of something hitting the ground and rolling toward him. Instinctively, he grabbed it and held it out to the person he’d collided with, trying to blink bright spots from his vision.

“Sorry about that, mate. You dropped your, uh… ball?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, it was chaos. Mortals-- dying mortals? --were yelling, an older mortal woman was shouting at him to warn someone, the person who he’d knocked over who… wasn’t quite mortal, but wasn’t quite dead, was snarling at the dying mortals to kill him. It was all quite confusing, really.

Zagreus was unsteady on his feet, twisting around swords and spells and arrows with just a sliver to spare. He still couldn’t see and he was having to rely on the sounds of heavy feet on tile, on the sounds of sharpened arrows cutting through the air, on the telltale crackle of magic heading towards him. Or...

Something was off . It was much too bright, almost as if he’d already made it to the surface and the sun his cousin ever so dutifully brought up every morning was flushing his skin in a way that Meg loved to make fun of, on the rare occasion the Styx didn’t take the burn away. 

Magic wasn’t only being thrown at him now, no, it seemed to be lancing up his arm from the sphere? It was hot, was getting hotter , and all Zagreus could see was the same green as before.

He couldn’t even curse before it, quite literally, blew up in his face.

Zagreus awoke kneeling. It wasn’t something that was particularly out of the ordinary, nor was waking feeling as if his entire body had been shred to ribbons by Meg’s whip. What was new, however, was the weak, metal manacles about his wrists that even Skelly could break. He didn’t think Meg would ever resort to using something as easily escapable as rusted and pockmarked mystery metal to restrain him, but perhaps it was a test of his own restraint?

It was strange, though. Lingering magic, magic that wasn’t Meg’s or Than’s, magic he couldn’t pinpoint as belonging to anyone he knew, lanced its way up from his palm to his wrist, deep into his bones and beyond. Sharp enough to distract him from the chill that seeped in from the wooden doorway, into his skin and muscles from the frozen stone beneath him. 

Any thoughts on what Lady Demeter was doing here or why there was a door were interrupted as said entrance was quite loudly thrown open. In stepped an armor clad mortal who, now that he was paying full attention, was not alone as four others surrounding him sheathed their blades and returned to attention. Behind her followed another draped in cloth and chain, her expression a near match for Father’s on his worst days.

“Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now.” She’s circling him now and, had he not been around Meg for so long, he may have even been slightly intimidated.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t.

“The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. Except for you.”

“...Well, that’s not especially new. Although, I’m not entirely sure what it has to do with me. Seeing as I did not, in fact, attend it. The conclave, I mean. If there was an issue, I’m sure the lovely shades with administration would be willing to file a complaint for you?”

Clearly, something Zagreus said was very, very wrong, because the woman’s fist slammed into the side of his face but nary a second later. The inside of his cheek split against his teeth, red blood pooling and coating his tongue in an oh so familiar way.

The mortal, though, did not seem satisfied. Her muscles tensed beneath armor and skin and Zag readied himself to flow into the hit, but it did not come. The other woman had a leather gloved hand grasped tightly over the first’s forearm, frown slicing its way across her features gruesomely.

“Cassandra, we need him,” Spoke the mortal, before turning to him with a dark intensity, “Do you remember what happened? How this began?”

It hadn’t yet occurred to Zagreus to think about how, exactly, he ended up in this predicament. He’d been in Asphodel, yes, and then… It was as if he was trying to access a boon after purging it; it should have been right there , easy for him to tap into and use, but...

“I’m sorry, dear Lady, but, I don’t recall even arriving at… wherever here is. If I could tell you more, I would, truly.” Zag tried for a smile, which quickly fell off as pain radiated out from the foreign magic attached to his palm. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about this, would you?”

He was just a hit with Cassandra, it seemed. Had the hand on her forearm not been gripping so tightly, she would have doubtlessly struck him yet again. Clearly, his words were working against him. Either she thought he was lying or she just wanted to kill him and be done with it.

“ Ugh .” She shared some similarities to Meg, it seemed. Then Cassandra turned to the robed woman, “Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take the prisoner to the rift.”

The woman, Leliana, caught Cassandra’s eye for a heavy moment before inclining her head and turning away, metal greaves clanging surprisingly softly against the stone floors. Now that he thought about it, the armor on those around him seemed to be lacking any and all chthonic iconography. It seemed stained and worn and made of the same pockmarked metal that was surrounding his wrists.

It was as Cassandra jerked his arms about to undo the restraints that his confusion truly caught up with him.

“I’m sorry, I feel like I don’t quite have the full picture here.” He said, doing his best to roll his wrists beneath the rope about them.

Her dislike was nearly tangible as she spoke, “It will be easier to show you.”

Zag’s muscles cried out as he untucked his legs from beneath him, barely getting a moment to stretch into the pain before Cassandra started dragging him forward, not looking back even as the soldiers behind drew their swords once more. He hadn’t yet extended himself to his full height before Cassandra guided him straight into the path of a lit brazier.

“ Ow .”

Her only response was a disgruntled noise which, rude, but understandable.

Thankfully, he had time to duck beneath the door frame and-- why was everything so small ? Zagreus was not used to being tall, or even average height, so to be in such a structure where he had already had to lean so far forward as to not hit himself? It was strange, to say the least.

He was drawn through the doorway and the chill was even more biting now. So distracted he was by the cold that he didn’t notice the few full-footed steps he’d taken on an entirely non-flame resistant rug. At least, he didn’t notice until the scent of burning wool reached his nose and he had to bite the inside of his cheek and reopen the wound Cassandra had given him to keep from cursing.

He’d have to offer to get the rug replaced, later, once he got all of this sorted out. For now, though, Zag merely resorted to walking on the balls of his feet, hoping he didn’t burn too much of a weaver’s hard work.

Cassandra let go of his arm, briefly, to push open doors of a size he was used to seeing, before promptly pulling him forward once again, and--

Oh. 

This… this is the surface.

Chapter Text

Eyes watering from the searing brightness of the sky, Zagreus staggered.

He was on the surface . Why had he not already been taken by the Styx and been back at home? He should’ve already checked in with Hypnos, talked to Mother, pet Cerberus. Why-- oh . Oh . Zag was an absolute fool . He’d been surrounded by mortals this entire time and--

“ Blood and Darkness , I’m so sorry, I thought the conclave was of shades, not of living mortals . What happened? What caused-- this ?”

Cassandra, having stalked ahead in his moment of panic, whipped her head back toward him, prepared to snap, which he truly understood, now, but she paused, lips parted. She made eye contact with him and he could see the exact moment she decided not to deal with whatever it was about him that upset her. He couldn’t fault her, really. Zagreus just had that kind of effect on people. Besides, they had more pressing matters to address.

“Do not pretend -- ugh !” She was furious with him and he wanted to apologize, to make it right , or as right as he could , but he could not get in a word edgewise, “We call it the Breach; a rift into the world of demons which grows larger with each passing hour. It’s not the only such rift, just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave.” 

That she blamed him, held him wholly responsible, went unspoken, but was heard nonetheless. Her lips turned downward harshly, pulling the skin of her scarred cheek taut and she turned away from him, almost… almost as if she couldn’t possibly bear to gaze upon him any longer. It reminded him of the days when he was young, running through the halls of the House with pomegranate stained lips and fingertips, and Father would shut himself away to do parchment work as soon as he caught sight. Instead of the repressed longing and sadness directed toward him, though, it was rage.

Longing and sadness was still there, close to the surface, but it wasn’t for him. No, what she had for him was rage and fear .

Something about Zagreus was strange enough to scare Cassandra into lashing out, into being angry enough to think that he had something to do with an explosion that killed mortals . He wanted to ask, to see if perhaps she’d lost someone and to give her condolences and assure her that Than had taken good care of them, but he doubted now was the time to speak.

“We must act, or the Breach may grow until it swallows the world.”

As if timed with her words, the vortex of sickly green shattered and crackled like the striking of Uncle’s lightning. In the same instant, the magic seeping through the layers of his skin, into his muscles and the sinew of his bones, cracking and leaking through, down and down , into his marrow-- flared . 

Zagreus would hold onto the fact that the only one to have ever made him scream was Meg, but this was rather undeniably painful. Not scream-worthy, of course, but enough so that his jaw clenched and he couldn’t help the hissed breath that escaped. He was half-way curled protectively over his clenched fist and it took more effort than he’d admit to for him to straighten out as the pain receded.

“Each time the Breach expands, the mark spreads, and it is killing you. It may be the key to stopping this, but we must leave now.”

She… didn’t seem to know that he wasn’t mortal. Zagreus had never dealt with mortals before, didn’t know how to converse with them, and with this one in particular it seemed anything he said simply furthered her dislike. There was only one thing he could do, he supposed.

“I will follow you, Lady Cassandra. Whatever I can do to help, I will.”

Cassandra nodded tersely, mouth set into a hard line. 

“Come, then. We don’t have much time.”

Rather than pulling him along again, as he suspected she would, she returned to guide him forward by his side. An aborted motion towards his shoulder later, Cassandra planted her palm beneath the blade of his shoulder and pushed.

To say the walk through the village was awkward was quite an understatement, in Zagreus’ opinion. He had to slow his stride so that he did not get too far ahead of Lady Cassandra, all the while townspeople nearly screamed at the sight of him. He wasn’t that frightening, was he? 

The soldiers and the lay people seemed quite eager to call upon a maker to save and preserve them; he didn’t think they meant Master Chaos, hadn’t thought mortals even remembered Master Chaos, though what other originator was there?

Also, excuse them , he certainly wasn’t hideous enough to be called an abomination! Was it because he was dressed in chthonic garb? If he was dressed as--did they just call him a demon ? Stopping dead in his tracks, his mouth dropped open in shock.

They were almost as bad as Theseus . Zagreus hadn’t thought it possible.

“Keep moving ,” Cassandra snapped, pushing unsuccessfully at his back.

Zag blinked and smiled apologetically, forcing himself to keep walking. “Sorry about that! I-- oh , okay, shutting up!”

His smile turned into a grimace and he dutifully turned away from the glare, walking on. His feet continued to melt the snow to water, to dry out the mud in a hiss of steam. That, at least, was familiar.

It was still bothering him, how he was still alive and well and on the surface, breathing . He didn’t think he’d ever lasted this long visiting Mother, not even after his quickest escapes. But… he hadn’t escaped, had he? Zag remembered besting Tisiphone in Tartarus, visiting Master Chaos as soon as he arrived in Asphodel, getting a boon from Lady Demeter, and then the Witches’ Circle. There was nothing after that, though. Not until he awoke, chained in that cold room, missing his weapon and his laurels.

He didn’t think the witches had the capability to send him to the surface, or to block portions of his memories in a way that made it very clear someone did not want him to view them. Even if they did, they certainly wouldn’t, not when the last being to have any sort of hold over the realm of memories was a titaness. They would’ve had to have gotten a special writ for that, and he doubted Father would have signed that without Zag’s own consent first. If anything, it would have been on the Pact of Punishment, but it never had been listed, he was sure, so that wasn’t it.

Zagreus would have to go through administration files later and see if he couldn’t find the order himself, if Father didn’t know anything of it either. He certainly hoped he did. Zag didn’t want to consider the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he’d dashed into the River Lethe by accident. It had, unfortunately, been known to happen. Thankfully, only Than and Patroclus had witnessed his shame, though likely Than had shared it with Meg and Hypnos, and Meg had told Dusa while Hypnos shared it with Mother and then… Well. He wasn’t going to dwell on that.

Cassandra stewed in silence as she guided him past equally as disgruntled townsfolk. He wanted to ask her what the conclave was exactly, how many had died, but she didn’t seem to be talkative. Her lips were still pressed tightly together, the hand not pressing into his back resting heavily on her sword, ready to unsheath it in an instant. 

Their path wound on through the trees, the dirt worn and stomped down, yet still Cassandra did not speak.

Zagreus still didn’t know how to make it right, but he wanted to, despite it being likely he’d never see her again after he was finished with… whatever this was. He understood that she was upset that he hadn’t realized that living mortals had died at the conclave, but had she not realized he resided in the Underworld? Chthonic regalia could be spotted and identified by an infant a city over, or at least that’s what shades had said. Zag could understand why, after seeing the plain armor of these mortals. She’d said earlier that the mark upon his palm was killing him… So. No. She hadn’t recognized that he’d come from the Underworld, or that he wasn’t mortal. He wasn’t truly short enough to be mistaken as a mortal, was he?

Around the bend of the path stood yet another pair of wooden doors, nearly identical to the ones of the rundown temple-like building from before. A soldier, plain-faced and similarly dressed to the multitude of other soldiers from about the town, pushed the doors open and motioned them through, nodding to Cassandra out of respect.

They’d taken a few steps onto the bridge before she shifted her hand, gripping at his elbow, thumb pressing into the soft flesh in the crook which, had he been mortal, likely would have been painful. She stared up at him, anger making her irises burn bright in the midday sun. Looking down upon her, the green of the breach reflected, a green that reminded him of Artemis, of Tartarus, of Mother’s eyes, and Zagreus felt an inexplicable pang of loss.

“There will be a trial, but I can promise no more. Your sentence may be lighter given your… willingness to help.” Her lip curled, as if she’d decided something, and-- “I’ll cut your bonds when we get closer to where we will test your mark.”

“Test the mark?” Zag questioned, strategically leaving out that ropes could be gone in an instant if he wanted. He doubted she’d appreciate it.

“We need to know if it will seal a smaller rift before we attempt the Breach. We must hurry, now.”

Zagreus stared down at her as she moved to begin guiding him forth once more. If it was truly so dire...

“I can keep pace if you run. I will see this through until the end, I promise you, Lady Cassandra.”

Cassandra considered him for a long moment, before finally nodding her assent.

“...Very well.” She said, before turning to a pair of soldiers at the opposite end of the bridge and raising her voice, “Open the gate! We are heading into the valley!”

Zag could only spare a moment’s thought about what he had seen on the bridge before he was striding after her. 

What in the gods’ names were those two wearing? Red and white sacks? One had been speaking to a group of soldiers while the other was kneeling over wrapped bodies, both with metal wrapped about their heads.

Perhaps it was the latest mortal fashion?

Zagreus couldn’t dwell on odd fashion choices for long.

Cassandra’s run was more comparable to a slow jog and he couldn’t risk taking the lead by dashing. Even with his pace being comparable to a slavug, she was suspicious of the ease of his breath and of the way he purposely slowed his steps to stay equal at her side. They weaved, side by side, past the rather rudimentary barricades and the occasional soldier running the opposite way, and continued on uphill.

That, however, didn’t last long. The breach flared and seconds later the mark followed and Zagreus-- stumbled . Eyes slammed shut, teeth clenched and biting into the thick muscle of his tongue, he held his white knuckled fist as close to his body as possible, foreign magic burning through his veins. It tore up his arm, through his shoulder-- it was choking, strangling him, worse than any of the Furies’ whips. Blood pooled in his mouth, dripped and slid down the back of his throat, trying to suffocate him. He tried, he tried , to cough, to get it out , to breathe , but his jaw stayed locked and blood seeped between his teeth and it-- faded?

Zagreus gasped and gagged and retched, hunched over, barely feeling the hand placed upon his back as he curled around his own.

His blood followed the curve of his lip, heavy yet fluid, flowing steadily towards the earth, toward the splattered white that steamed, melted beneath. His blood, not godly ichor, his red blood, too bright even for a mortal; as bright as the iris he’d inherited from Father, as deep and as heavy as the Styx.

“The pulses are coming faster, now. The larger the Breach grows--the more rifts appear-- the more demons we face.”

Her words came through, garbled and halting, and Zagreus barely parses them together as he spits out the remaining blood. He glances up at her from the corner of his eye, taking in the way she immediately dropped the hand from his back and pressed her lips together.

“And you think I came from there ? From this breach?” He asked, voice heavy and wet with the blood still coating his throat. 

“I-- you were there, when the scouts went looking for survivors. You were the only one, at the center of the ruins. Reports said you stepped out of the rift, a woman was in it behind you.”

“ A woman? You’ll have to be more specific.” 

Did she mean Mother? Or, he’d most recently taken Lady Demeter’s boon, so perhaps it had been her?

“No one knows who she was,” She replied curtly. “Everything farther in the valley was laid waste, including the Temple of Sacred Ashes.”

“I suppose you’ll see soon enough.”

Cassandra allowed him a brief moment to collect himself, to swipe at the blood staining his chin, before he finally straightened. 

They once more continued on in silence, Zagreus easily keeping pace despite the blood that was still flowing from the open wounds in his tongue. It throbbed in steady beat with his feet hitting the earth, throbbed like the centaur heart Than would give to him after their contests.

It was not long before they came upon yet another bridge, more soldiers dotting the expanse of it. As they started across it, Zagreus barely had any warning before something large and green and flaming struck it, sending them down into the ravine below.

Intense sparks of pain lanced through the mark in his palm as they tumbled down onto a frozen lake, boulders barely missing them. As Zagreus caught his breath, another flaming thing--that now that he was paying closer attention, came from the breach--hit the lake a mere ten feet from them. Sickly green crystals grew from the impact and a strange grey creature emerged, groaning out a warbling growl.

“Shades! Stay behind me.”

Shades? Those… certainly don’t look like any shade I’ve ever met.

Chapter Text

Cassandra launched forward with a shout, sword and shield drawn in a form that seemed unlike any Achilles had shown him. She blocked a swipe of claws with her shield held high, bracing forward to swipe with her sword in a low cut, aiming for the knees had it been of a regular mortal form.

Zagreus couldn’t watch the way in which Cassandra fought for long. The mark on his palm flared and his muscles spasmed, almost as if in warning before the same sickly green bubbled before him, crystals beginning to crack and spike and-- the same creature as before came growling into existence.

All the while he was still on his side, feet very carefully not touching the frozen lake beneath him as to not melt it. He’d heard stories before, of those that had died from falling through the cracked ice of lakes and rivers, and he didn’t want to subject Cassandra to that kind of death by accident.

“I don’t suppose you’ll let us go past you, mate?” He asked, only to quickly have his hopes dashed as the… shade , as Cassandra called it, glided toward him.

It had been worth a try, at least. 

Zag forced himself into a roll, dodging backwards from a downward slash of talons. His gaze darted, looking for something, anything , that had some sort of reach to it, that would allow him to stay to the bank of the river and strike out from-- there ! He brought his knees up, dug the metal of his greaves into the ice and lunged , grabbing the stave-mace hybrid as best he could without breaking the rope about his wrists. He didn’t need to give Cassandra another reason to be angry with him, after all.

Twisting around, he brought the spiked tip of the stave swinging in an upwards arch into the creature’s face. Frost spread from the impact, splintering out in miniscule patterns before growing and solidifying.

A hissing groan escaped the now frozen jaw of the wretch before him.

“Oh. I… did not expect that to happen.”

Promptly, Zagreus hit it again, using the moment’s silence granted to him to right himself, kneeling into the frozen lake. 

If Zag was honest, it was a rather dull fight, despite the earlier excitement. The creature would fail to even attempt to dodge his strike, it would pause for a dazed second before gliding forward with claws at the ready, only for the cycle to repeat. He’d faced numbskulls with more variety than that . It only took a handful of swings, of the mace-like end of the stave connecting with the head and neck of the creature, for it to dissolve into a sludge which crackled and dissipated out of existence the same way it came in, accompanied by the flare of pain streaking up his forearm once more.

He turned his attention toward Cassandra, only to see her finish her turning toward him, away from her killing blow, fury on her face as she charged forward.

“Drop your weapon! Now!”

Zag tossed the stave, letting it land nearer her than him, and held his empty palms towards her.

“Lady Cassandra, I did what was necessary to defend myself. I won’t apologize for it.”

She considered him for a long moment before she frowned and turned to the side, sheathing her sword as she did so, “You’re right. I cannot protect you… and I cannot expect you to be defenseless.” Letting out a breath, she fully turned and began walking toward the small path leading up from the river, “I should remember that you agreed to come willingly.”

Cassandra continued to walk away, seemingly expecting him to follow her. He watched carefully, waiting until she got to the shallowest part of the bank before, as quickly as he could without outright dashing and breaking the ice, he stood, grabbed the stave, and darted after her on the balls of his feet, grimacing as he heard the loud cracking following him despite his best efforts.

She must have heard as well, because just as he reached solid land, she turned, ready to draw her sword once more… only to find Zagreus right behind her, followed by a trail of still steaming footprints standing out starkly among the continually splitting ice. 

“Um, Lady Cassandra,” He started, hoping to distract her, “Do you think it would be possible for…?”

Zagreus lifted his wrists, still clutching the stave, “I can still fight if you don’t, but it’d certainly make things easier, I would think.”

“You--,” Her eyes darted from his still bound wrists, to the now cracked area that he’d killed the creature, and, against her intentions, lingered on the area behind him. 

She forcibly closed her eyes, letting out a low ugh and centering herself before she drew a plain dagger from her belt.

So, not removing the bonds hadn’t helped dissuade Cassandra’s anger, unfortunately. Zag waited patiently, shifting his weight between his feet as she took the time to slice through the rope. The dagger seemed well used and perhaps a bit dull, if the amount of time it took to cut through rope was any indication.

“There,” She said, as the ropes finally fell away, and looked him dead in the eye, “Do not make me regret this.”

“You won’t, Lady Cassandra.” Zagreus promised.

As if the Fates were very specifically looking to make his day worse, which he truly wouldn’t put past them, an earth shattering crack resounded as the spidering fractures in the ice finally reached the point that they could no longer remain connected in the slightest bit.

An awkward laugh bubbled up before he could suppress it. 

“Ah, sorry?”

A scathing glare was his only response, though Cassandra didn’t take long to snap at him to continue following her and on they went.

Cassandra took her pace back up, Zag easily jogging alongside her. It hardly took him a handful of strides to come across two bodies, clad in strange metal helmets and chest pieces and heavy skirts. Heavy metal chains hung about their necks, a wickedly sharp red crystal attached at the center most point, resting just above the darkened etching of a sword in the metal chest armor.

The crystal… the crystal almost felt like one of Lord Ares’ boons. Or, no, perhaps it felt more like the more vicious casting abilities Father had. Zagreus couldn’t put his finger on it, but it felt familiar . It was malevolent, in a sense. Malevolence purely for the sake of malevolence , with no particular target in mind. A bit like the biting cold currently digging into his skin, really.

It was difficult, pushing on past the downed mortals. It’d been different before, on the bridge. The bodies had been delicately wrapped and placed off to the side, presumably to be taken to their final resting place and to be given their funerary rites. These two… they were just there , without another mortal but for Cassandra anywhere near. It made Zagreus hesitate for a long moment, enough so that it caused his pace to slow down to the point it drew Cassandra’s attention.

She had a look about her, one that he couldn’t even begin to name, one that he wouldn’t have the chance to because two more of the creatures she’d named shades appeared around the bend of the path, once more on the frozen surface of a river.

Cassandra shouted a warning, drawing her sword and shield before sliding down the ledge, throwing herself towards the closer of the two wretches.

Zag huffed, dashing to reach the area that the path leveled out with the ice, kicking up flurry of snow, rocks, and… coins? Ah, there’d been a coin pouch beside one of the bodies, it’d seemed. It was no matter.

He skid to a halt at the edge of the frozen bank, whistling sharply to draw the attention of the being not completely preoccupied with Cassandra. Rather than just the one, they both began gliding toward him, following without question as he continued taking steps backward, drawing them further onto solid earth. If he was less competitive, perhaps, he would have felt just a bit bad for stealing Cassandra’s kill.

He wasn’t less competitive, though, as Than could well attest.

As soon as the creatures were far enough inland to allow Zagreus enough room to truly move , he attacked , the full movement of his whole body allowing him to put in far more power into the swings of the stave than before. He’d much rather prefer Stygius or Varatha, but it would just have to do.

The one Cassandra had been attacking went down with a single hit, low growl reaching a crescendo of a hiss that set his teeth on edge.

These aren’t shades. There is no way these are shades.

Zagreus poured his uneasiness into the ferocity of his next attacks, quickly felling the second.

He paused, feeling eyes on him, and turned to find Cassandra standing at the bend of the path, still armed.

“I’ll follow along the ledge?” He offered, gesturing toward the rocky outcropping to the right. “You should cross the river before I, ah, well, you know?”

“Indeed.” Cassandra said, sounding nearly as unimpressed as Father, which was impressive .

She returned back to the river while Zag hauled himself onto the top of the snowy rocks, keeping pace and easily jogging through two different merrily burning fires. If he paused long enough to let the flames lick at his skin, letting the embers chase away the biting chill, well… what Cassandra didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her, in this case.

His palm twinged, more painful than before, and Cassandra called out yet another warning. 

“Up on the hill! It attacks from a distance!”

Zag spotted the wisp of green light, of the barest hint of a mortal outline, of ribs standing out starkly against the snow. Now that was much more similar to a shade. Not quite, but much closer than the wretch that came gliding from behind a jutting rock.

“Got it!”

A bolt of ethereal green sped toward him and Zagreus ran forward, planting his feet on the curve of the outcropping and lunged , clearing the river and landing just shy of a body resting at the base of snow covered steps leading up the hill. He threw himself up the steps, taking two, three at a time until he could launch himself at the being.

Just as his stave connected with the semi-corporeal ribcage, just the faintest whisper of the creature’s magic brushed against the back of his hand and Zagreus saw green .

The muscles in his arm seized , rippling and burning through his shoulder and back and neck, and a strangled noise escaped his lips as he desperately tried to take a breath. World tilting, Zag stumbled near drunkenly, barely managing to plant the base of his stave deep enough into the earth to keep himself from falling to his hands and knees.

Soft huffs were loud in his ears, the cloud of mist from his breath blurring his vision as the pain twisted back in on itself, retreating back to its origin, back to his palm.

“Alright… alright. I-- I should avoid being hit by magic, then.”

“That is generally advisable, yes.” Spoke Lady Cassandra from directly behind him.

Zagreus couldn’t summon up the effort to even be surprised, “I can’t say I’m very good at doing what’s generally advisable, Lady Cassandra. If you’ll lead the way?”

I can’t die here.

Zag pushed himself to his limits as he fought alongside Cassandra, sure that within the next breath the Styx would rise up and claim him once more… but it never did. They continued to slay growling wretches and wisps of bones and glowing green and yet still, he did not fall.

One of the wisps they battled managed to catch him off guard, a bolt of their magic seemingly drawn toward the mark on his palm rather than going forward in a straight shot as he caught one of the solid creatures upside the head while failing to dodge another’s claws, and the next thing he knew, he was clutching onto his stave while Cassandra was just barely holding him upright on his other side.

“Here,” Cassandra said, pressing something into his marked hand, “Take this potion.”

Zag shook his head, trying to fight off the rush of lightheadedness.

“I, ah, don’t quite think that would be a good idea, Lady Cassandra. It would better serve you.”

He’d have taken her up on the offer if he’d known what the potion was , but he doubted it was one of Charon’s Life Essences. Actually, it looked a bit like the Styx? No, thank you .

Meeting her eyes, he held it back out to her. He was thankful, truly, but if surface magic had this sort of effect on him from the outside, he couldn’t even begin to imagine what would happen if he chugged a mortal made potion. Nothing good, most likely.

“Thank you, but please worry about yourself, Lady Cassandra.”

Something within her warred, and she reluctantly tucked it back into a pouch on her belt.

“The rift isn’t much farther, now, just past those steps.” She said, looking back as she began to cross the ice, unspoken words clear.

He inclined his head. He’d be able to clear them easily, so long as the mark didn’t flare or stray magic wasn’t drawn to him.

It was routine, now, waiting for Cassandra to clear the danger zone before running across the frozen surface, leaving steam and echoing, spidering cracks in his wake. 

Cassandra had begun taking two steps at a time as soon as she’d reached them, he’d seen, and he quickly joined her. He could already hear the fighting, the telltale twang of a bowstring, the moaning growls of the not-shades, something that sounded quite similar to the crackle of Lady Demeter’s ice…

Zagreus sprinted up the stairs as quickly as he could without destroying them at the first sound of a mortal in pain, stave at the ready. He launched himself from the ledge, hearing rather than feeling the impact he made as he landed on broken stone and packed dirt.

His approach, despite it being unintentional, drew the attention of all of the fight’s participants. There were two soldiers in what seemed to be the average armor, standing at roughly Cassandra’s height, both fighting the not-shades. Another mortal fought alongside them, quite a bit shorter than the rest, and the last… the last was not a mortal at all.

The time he was given from the creatures gliding towards him was used solely for staring at the last of the four fighters. There was a part of him, Zagreus thought as he brought his stave crashing down into one of the creatures, that immediately assumed the man to be a trickster, if his entire visage was any indication. 

Despite the pointed ears, he certainly didn’t look like a nymph in any other way, besides that. His head was smooth, bare and lacking any branches or leaves, and his skin lighter than even the palest of barks. So, likely not a nymph, but what he was, Zagreus couldn’t tell.

He felt Meg’s earring throb, a gentle, aching reminder that he was likely closer to dying than he’d thought, and he brought the stave down in a vicious move that he thought would make her proud-- or, at the very least, would make her smirk.

Of the three not-shades, two remained now, one of which turned and seemingly decided the mortals and the trickster were easier to deal with than one nearly dead god.

It was just as he was finishing up with the second of the wretches that Cassandra cleared the ledge, sword and shield already in hand, and Zag strode with her into the crux of the battle, feeling the pull and twist of the mark becoming ever the more apparent the closer they got.

Zagreus couldn’t help the shifting of his gaze to the rift. So much like when the first creatures appeared, sickly green crystals, wickedly spiked, grew from the center, ever changing and shifting. He longed to reach out to it, wondered if one of the crystals stabbing and cutting through his palm would be as painful as when the breach expanded.

His arm was almost lifting of its own accord when a hand grasped his forearm tightly and wrenched it forth, holding it up toward the crackling green of the rift and Zagreus defied death .

Back contorting, muscles tensing and pulling, blood coursing and heart pumping desperately, wounds reopening, Zagreus’ neck arched, head back, and he cried out, throat raw.

He was being pulled, ripped apart by the foreign magic leaching into his body. The hand on his arm was so blisteringly cold that it burned , twisting with verdant energy. Zagreus’ knees gave underneath him, his greaves hitting the snow as the rift screamed louder and louder, collapsing in on itself. In the silence of the moment that followed, past the baited breath of the surrounding mortals, he could hear a call that echoed the one before--coming from above, beyond the tear in the sky.

Chapter Text

The sound that came through as Zagreus came back to himself was warped, twisted. It made his head ache with a fury, throbbing painfully, and he felt too warm and yet freezing all at once. His shoulders were slumped forward, loose and tender, and he greatly wanted to simply fall forth, to press his face into the cool ground in an attempt to ease the blinding ache in his head.

Earth swaying beneath him, Zag tried to focus on his own shallow breathing, on the blood that yet again steadily dripped from between his parted lips. His palm, the one that had already been so thoroughly marked by the foreign magic, spasmed still in the sudden absence of the rift. The pain unfurled further up and Zagreus could already feel it etching its way from his palm to his wrist, digging and twisting into his bones and muscles, deeper and deeper.

As the nausea, as the lightheadedness finally began to recede, noise began to return to him. Voices, three distinct ones, were speaking around him, tones urgent and laden with stress. Their words didn’t yet make sense to him, though he didn’t doubt that they would, eventually.

Zag slowly sat back, putting weight on his feet more so than his knees, and with a patience unlike him, delicately rolled his shoulders back, letting out a low, long breath. His neck cracked, loud and ugly, as he tilted his head from side to side.

He wasn’t sure, now that he considered it, if closing the rift had used a single death defiance, or two . It was still too blurred for him to remember any details, and a large part of him had doubts that he ever would. Zag still couldn’t remember how he got here , to the surface. It’s blocked, not allowing him to access it, and something insistent was nagging at him--it was important that he remember it, whatever it was. Was it something to do with Mother? Or was it Lady Demeter? Or both?

His head hurt. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to have Than cart his fingers through his hair, wanted to lean back into him, into his touch, but Than wasn’t here, and neither was Meg.

The only ones who were here were two mortals who were snipping at each other and a not-nymph not-mortal trickster who, apparently, was passing as a mortal with no issue.

“Hey-- Seeker, what’s his name?”

A voice that sounded not dissimilar to Cassandra spoke then, though Zagreus still could not quite make out the words. She sounded entirely disgruntled, though, much like she had through the entire time he’d been recovering.

“What do you mean you don’t know his name? Didn’t you interrogate him?”

“She didn’t have the chance to.” Zagreus answered, letting out a low, long breath as nausea rose within him with a fierce vengeance, “Oh, that was a bad idea. Blood and darkness , this is worse than the time Alecto almost took out both of my eyes.”

He’d purposefully thrown himself into the magma of Asphodel, after that, and not even Hypnos could offer a lighthearted quip when he’d read that .

“What? Actually, I don’t want to know.” Zagreus could almost feel that the man was shaking his head, “How are you feeling, kid?”

Kid ?

“I just need a moment, sir, and I’ll be fine.” Zag said, slowly, slowly letting his eyes open and adjust to the snow bright day. He turned his head toward the man, unsurprised to find their heights to be much closer now that he was kneeling.

“Ah, and my name is Zagreus, by the way. I apologize for not introducing myself before, Lady Cassandra.”

The demeanors of all three, both of the mortals and of the trickster, changed the instant his name left his lips. Faces became pinched, Cassandra’s frown heavy and cutting and her hand gripped her sword with more force than he’d thought it required. The mortal man seemingly stopped himself from taking a step away from Zagreus, though from the timing he couldn’t quite tell if it was due to his eye or his name. The trickster, though… he looked full of regret, and rage, and perhaps a bit like he should have killed Zag when he’d had the chance. A look he knew well, though it was interesting to see it on someone he’d never met.

Do… they all have an issue with Chthonic gods? Or is it because of Father? Than mentioned…

“You’re Tevinter, then.”

Cassandra’s words were more spat statement and less question and it left Zagreus feeling unsteady and confused. He’d thought she’d been warming up to him, even just the slightest bit, through pity of his continuous pain or through the camaraderie of battle he wasn’t quite sure, but whatever progress he’d made with her had been destroyed… because he’d given her his name.

“I--I’m sorry? Lady Cassandra, I’m not sure what Tevinter is .” Zag said, grasping for the stave to better heave himself into standing.

He brushed aside the tightened grips they all had on their weapons as his hand closed around the middle of his own, planting the base into the earth and pulling himself up. His world spun once more, body swaying, and he let out another low, mist filled breath.

Whatever Tevinter was clearly wasn’t anything positive, if their reactions were anything to go by. Zag tried to recall any possible meaning of the word, if any shades had ever mentioned it, if perhaps he’d glanced it on a map before, but he was left with nothing. It meant something to them, enough so that they considered him standing to be a threat.

It was as he finally fully righted himself, shifting his weight between his feet, that he realized they were silent and staring, still. Their bodies were held tense, though the mortal man had gone lax in his surprise, either at his height or at the steaming snow beneath his soles, Zag wasn’t quite sure.

“Lady Cassandra?”

His voice shattered the silence. The trickster’s face smoothed over in an instant, becoming a very carefully crafted portrait of professional blankness. Cassandra, carrying on with how she’d been during their journey thus far, was once again angry with him, while the mortal man… well.

“Kid, you have to come up with a better lie than ‘sorry, Seeker, I’ve never heard of this entire country’ if you want to be believed. I mean, if it has the name of a Tevinter, sounds like a Tevinter, and looks like a Tevinter… it’s probably a Tevinter.”

So, Tevinter was a location, then. A country, though? Zagreus had surely not heard of that, unless the mortals had just renamed another country again, but it certainly didn’t sound Grecian. Which--

“I’m Greek? Or, Chthonic, really, though that’s more pantheon than ethnicity, and I can’t say I’ve ever heard of this Tevinter.”

His confusion was mirrored, though it was much better hidden on the face of the trickster and was drowned out by anger on Cassandra’s.

“Enough of this!” She snapped and Zag straightened at the tone, “The longer we stay here, the more the Breach expands. Zagreus possesses the means to stop it. We must reach the Temple before any more damage is done.”

“Seeker, hold on- kid’s not looking too hot. Can he even make it to the Breach?”

The trickster frowned, blue eyes cutting toward him, “I can keep him stable, though… this adverse reaction to magic is unexpected, and concerning.”

“Uh,” Zag said, glancing between them all, “I’m fine, really. Nothing can ever really keep me down, just set me back. If you’ll lead the way again, Lady Cassandra?”

The mortal man rested his gaze on him even after Cassandra had turned and begun to walk away, as if looking for any misstep or reason to halt the travel. He took up beside Zag when he passed, having to double time his pace to keep up. Trailing behind them both was the man that Zag still couldn’t pinpoint-- perhaps a minor god in the way nymphs were, though that didn’t explain his mostly average, mortal appearance.

Cassandra led the march, planting a palm onto the ruined edge of a building to clear it in a leap, while Zag merely had to step over the boards. He turned, offering a hand to the shorter man.

“I don’t believe I caught your name in all that excitement?”

The man, with only slight hesitance, gripped his hand and allowed himself to be lifted over the block, looking only vaguely put out by the ease of which Zagreus managed it.

“Varric Tethras,” He introduced, “Rogue, storyteller, and occasional tagalong.”

“Oh, you’re a bard, then?” Zagreus asked, turned away from him to offer assistance to the other man, only to be turned away, “So is my mate Orpheus, and of course Eurydice-- have you heard of them? Though, it has been some time since they graced any halls besides Father’s.”

Varric was startled into laughter, “Maker, no, not that kind of storyteller. I can’t sing worth shit. Can’t say I’ve heard of them, either.”

“Oh, Gods, neither can I, though Orpheus did teach me how to play the lyre. I was strumming away at it for ages in my chambers before he gave in, though I suspect the only reason he taught me was because he finally got tired of listening to me butchering the poor thing.”

Cassandra’s steps gained more anger behind them at the light tones and laughter and, truly, Zag did feel sympathy, though he didn’t understand quite what was her point of contention. Behind them, the man that vexed Zag so seemed to be trying to fade into the background as much as physically possible.

“And you, sir?” Zag asked over his shoulder, meeting sharp blue eyes, “I don’t think I caught your name, either.” 

He seemed taken aback by the address, pace slowing just the slightest bit that would have been easily missed, had Zag not been paying as much attention as he was. The jawbone hanging about his neck jostled just so in the movement.

The teeth still clinging to the bone were similar to those on his pauldron, similar to but much smaller than Cerberus’, but the necklace was the only piece. Not nearly enough to be considered Chthonic garb, especially not when paired with the mortal traveler clothing he donned, but…

Hmm .

He was almost reluctant as he spoke, “My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions.”

There was a pause, as if he was expecting Zagreus to find fault with that, to demand a different name. It was strange, he supposed, but perhaps that was just how some minor gods were? He would have to ask Eurydice when he came upon her next-- she’d never had an issue with her name, as far as he knew.

Minor gods were not his strong suit, clearly, but there was something about Solas, about the magic intertwined with his soul, that was biting and cold and thrumming in the same way Life Essences were, in a way that could only truly mean one thing.

“I suppose I have you to thank for keeping me alive this long?”

A flicker of pleasure at the acknowledgement was clear, with the slightest tilt of lips and the scrunch of the corner of his eyes.

“I kept you alive while you slept, yes, though I fear it may not have been enough. This magic is strange and unknown, yet your reaction to it is stranger still.”

“Well, I think you’ve done a great job! Longest I’ve been on the surface by far. Normally the Styx would have brought me home by now.” Zagreus told him with a smile, which quickly twitched as the mark on his palm flared once more, “Ah, Lady Cassandra? Incoming!”

Chapter Text

The three companions startled at the sudden shout that came from Zagreus. 

Before them, past the snowy path and once again on a frozen lake, more of the creatures from before appeared in crackling, spiking crystalline green, growls echoing across the open air. Sharp eyes cut toward him once more, narrowed and calculating but Zag couldn’t spare the time to consider Solas’ scrutiny.

Why did the wretches keep appearing only on the ice? Why could they not appear on, say, solid ground that Zagreus could actually step on without fear of sending mortals to their untimely deaths?

It was as Cassandra gathered herself and rushed forward, just before Zag darted right with a swiftness Hermes would be proud of, easily clearing the narrow offshoot of the lake to the side of the path in a leap, that he felt a wave of pain wash over him. His skin prickled, cold yet burning, needles being driven deep into his muscles and through the veins in which his blood ran hot.

Zag huffed out several shallow breaths, trying to steady himself before pushing forward. He whistled sharply, as he had done before, calling the wretches’ attention as he circled the edge of the ice.

Of the two corporeal creatures, the one not preoccupied with Cassandra stabbing into it began gliding toward him, faster than before, shining armor curling down its spine. A large plume jutted from the armor, gapped and torn asunder by past battles.

Despite the increase of skill level, the creature was still quickly dispatched. While Cassandra continued to slash and hack at the other creature with aid from Solas’ magic and Varric’s arrows, Zag sprinted around the bank, quickly approaching the gathering of combatants.

The wretches were still too far from solid ground for him to readily fight and, gritting his teeth in the resemblance it would have to a certain king, Zagreus shifted the grip on his stave as he ran, getting as close as he could before planting a foot and twisting , launching the weapon forth as a makeshift javelin.

It sailed through the air, bottom heavy but heaved with enough strength that it collided with the wisp before it could shift. Ribs cracked and shattered as it connected and, with a dying gasp that echoed and rasped, the wisp dissipated.

“Well. That was rather anticlimactic.”

Unfortunately, his move left him without a weapon save for his casting ability. Though, as it turned out, he need not worry as Cassandra struck the killing blow to the weaker of the two not-shades.

Varric made a noise not unlike choking on his own laughter as he turned his compact crossbow towards the remaining wisp. For a being that seemed quite intangible, though, it took an interesting amount of damage from physical blows and quickly succumbed to the attention being turned upon it.

“Ah, would you mind terribly returning my weapon, ma--” Zag started, abruptly cutting off as the magic searing his skin faded in a sudden wave of nausea, “ Oh , that-- that. Hmm.”

He was very much regretting pulling a Theseus. Zag was swaying in place, just barely managing not to stumble as his vision swam once more and he was desperately wishing he had his stave to steady himself.

“ Shit ! Kid, you okay?” Varric’s voice was raised, concern clear, and Zag heard the scrape of metal against ice before heavy footfalls started quickly approaching.

Zag hummed his reassurance, letting his eyelids slip shut, “Will be, mate. That magic didn’t quite agree with me, I’m afraid.”

Cold metal was pressed firmly into his palm, a hand closing his own around the middle of the stave. The base had already been twisted down, buried in snow and rock, and Zag readily used it to keep himself upright. 

A gentle breeze brushed against him, ghosting his skin and playing with his disheveled hair, a cool relief after the blistering magic. Zag breathed in deeply, steadily, and, in a way, felt closer to Lady Demeter than he ever had before. He could almost pretend, for a moment, that Nyx wasn’t shielding him and that the winter’s chill surrounding him was his grandmother’s embrace.

“The fault is mine. I apologize, Zagreus. I hadn’t realized you were still within the range of my barrier spell when I cast it.”

Liar .

Zagreus couldn’t summon any heat for the thought. He couldn’t fault Solas for it, truly. His sudden reaction to magic was strange and concerning and, had he been back at the House, similar experiments likely would have happened. Though, Zag would have preferred a warning, especially if there had been a chance the magic could have faded before the fight was mostly finished. It was over, now, and Zag had never been one to hold a grudge.

“We all end up in the Styx, eventually-- especially me. It’s fine, Solas. Truly.” Zagreus told him, letting his grip loosen as the nausea began to fade once more.

They were all silent, uncomfortably so, as they granted him the time to collect himself and brush aside the adverse reaction. Meg’s earring throbbed, reminding him just how close to death he actually was , and Zag straightened before them, letting the tenseness of his shoulders drain away.

Cassandra simply shook her head and turned, beginning her trek up the snow covered steps, clearly deciding not to deal with him any longer.

Eyeing him with an odd look, Varric fell into step beside him once Zagreus finally started after the woman. He held his tongue for only a short moment before he visibly threw caution to the wind.

“So… my information on Tevinter slang might be a bit outdated, but I don’t recall ever hearing about a ‘Styx’. Whatever that is.”

Zag frowned down at him. Who hadn’t heard of the Styx? He’d understand if someone forgot about the Lethe, but the Styx ? It ran within the mortal realm, how had Varric never heard of it? Or, perhaps, he was simply fishing for information?

“Ah, still not Tevinter, I’m afraid. Though, what do you mean you’ve never heard of the Styx, mate? It’s kind of hard to miss, being a river of blood and all. Flows from the mortal realm down to Tartarus-- ringing any bells?”

Varric’s boot caught on the edge of the next step and Zag reflexively caught his shoulder, keeping him from smashing his face into the cold, icy stone. Zag could feel him start to shake, incredulous laughter catching deep in the man’s throat.

“Maker’s balls . You’re fucking with me, right?” His voice was higher than before, a hopeful, sharp edge to his tone that would have made Zag pause had he not already stopped.

Both Cassandra and Solas had come to a halt as well, their attention a heady intensity which made Zagreus feel as if he were being stared down by a predator that could truly harm him. It was a strange sense of foreboding, one he’d not felt outside of Meg and Than, and even then, that harm had always been for the sake of pleasure, while this… It seemed as if his next words may decide his fate, for a reason he couldn’t place.

What reason did he have not to tell the truth, though? He was quickly becoming used to gaining Cassandra’s ire the more he spoke, so what change would it be to simply continue?

“Why would I…? Have you truly never seen the Styx? I mean, I understand having not been to Tartarus--Cerberus wouldn’t have even let you past the Temple doors if you weren’t meant to be there--but, it flows throughout most of the mortal realm? I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m understanding the issue.”

Varric’s mouth was parted in preparation to speak before he resolutely shook his head instead, “You know what, kid? I’m not touching this with a ten foot pole.” He started back up the steps, shaking his head and muttering to himself, “Rivers of blood? What is this, Kirkwall?”

Zag glanced between Cassandra and Solas, both of whom were still staring him down with expressions he couldn’t place. He gave them a tentative smile, only for Cassandra to sneer and return to her stomping pace and for Solas to frown at him, eyes never leaving his form.

“You should continue walking.” Solas suggested, words Zag couldn’t pick up going unsaid.

His smile faded to a brief grimace and he inclined his head toward him, “Right.”

Their ascent up the iced over stone steps was quickly becoming interspersed with Zag’s huffed out breaths as the foreign magic flared in his palm once more. Zagreus could almost see the cracks of sickly green snaking out further, marring and breaking skin yet shedding no blood. It thrummed deep within him, reaching and calling out to a point ahead, and he knew he would have to be careful in the fights to come.

Stone became half frozen mud as they trudged onward. Varric’s shoulders were taut, mind doubtlessly boughed down with thoughts, though Zagreus was still left confused. He let the man walk ahead of him, slowing his pace and shortening his stride to leave a significant enough gap between them.

His reaction to Zag’s words were… wrong, concerning. He could sympathize if any mortal were uncomfortable with mention of the Underworld, knew from Than that they feared and even hated what they didn’t understand, but even Cassandra’s anger and Solas’ masked reaction left him feeling unsteady. Zag wanted to reach out, to ask, to understand , but each of them were giving him a wide berth, though he continued to feel a gaze upon his back.

The thoughts were not something he could spare time on for long. 

Once again, the mark on his palm caused a writhing pain to twist up his forearm as it flared, as more not-shades and wisps appeared, indistinguishable from those previously slain. Zagreus called out a warning, adjusting his grip on his stave. Before Cassandra had even had the chance to draw her sword, Zag dashed forward, an explosion of pebbles and snow and mud in his wake, only to nearly stumble at Solas’ cut off shout.

Zag glanced back, meeting the eyes of the man now splattered in mud before quickly jerking his head back and sprinting forward, grimacing full force.

Whoops .

He angled himself toward the armored creature, running full tilt until he was just far enough before dashing once more, swinging his stave upward in the same movement. The stave collided against the wretch’s throat with enough force to nearly dislocate his shoulder and Zag just barely kept in his hissed breath. Blackened red dripped from where the metal mace-head of the stave was stuck, spikes ripping and tearing at what appeared to be partially decayed flesh as Zag resolutely planted a foot against its abdomen and pulled .

It took less force than he’d thought it would, and, perhaps , it may have been the extra damage caused from freeing his stave or from the now flaming hole where his foot had been, but the creature went down with a snarling shriek, dissolving before his eyes.

Zag blinked down at the goop left behind, fighting back the urge to poke at it with a toe.

“Not now.” He told himself, shaking his head and looking back toward his companions.

Varric and the still mud covered Solas were focused on the wisps while Cassandra was facing off against another creature that seemed mostly unharmed. 

Zag started off toward Cassandra, making sure to catch her eye as he swiftly approached. She just barely inclined her head toward him as she struck, slashing upward, and he took the opportunity to close the distance and swing down, catching the creature’s neck. It was shaping up to be the most easily exploited weak spot and, with the unexpected strike, the wretch seemed stunned.

It was finished off quickly and easily by Cassandra, after, and Zag darted toward the stronger of the two wisps, ducking and weaving past the green bolts of magic, having to dash more than a few times when they started to curve to him rather than going straight.

Not much longer after he’d reached the wisp was the fight over. It was a relief to finally not be hit by stray magic, though Zag had a sinking feeling that it wouldn’t last much longer. He still wasn’t sure how many death defiances he had left, if he had any at all, and it felt as though he were tempting the Fates.

They took the brief lull to look over one another for injuries and Zagreus quickly had to cut in when Varric noticed the newest addition to Solas’ outfit.

“Ah, sorry about that, sir! I’m not used to, um, fighting with a group-- erm, mostly fight against them, really.” Zag told him, and had to bite back a sigh as Cassandra’s frown got even deeper than before.

Though his face was rather placid, Solas met his eyes with quite a bit of fire behind them as he spoke, “All is well, Zagreus. So long as being unaware of your surroundings does not become a habit, there is no issue.”

Varric hadn’t bothered hiding his amusement during the exchange, though, out of the corner of his eye, Zag could see the edges of Cassandra’s lips twitching despite her effort to appear restrained and unaffected. She seemed to shake herself of it moments after he noticed and her scowl resurfaced, not entirely unforced. 

“We’re nearing the forward camp--it should not take much longer, now.”

Zag sobered, the lightheartedness fading as he inclined his head. Cassandra needed no more reply before she was off, sword once more sheathed, eyes forward and head held high. Solas, likewise, fell back, face hard and blank.

Varric continued to walk ahead of him, though Zagreus was warmed by the lessening gap between them, the way his muscles were less tense clear from the angle of his shoulders. Achilles had made mention, once, of the camaraderie fighting alongside another brought, though Zag hadn’t thought he would be able to tell after a single battle.

They moved in silence, save for the grinding of rocks beneath heavy leather and the hissing steam of suddenly heated snow, of Zag’s increasingly huffed, wheezing breaths.

Pain, bright and piercing, grew more overwhelming with each step Zagreus took forward, muscles aching and spasming with it, with an unnatural exhaustion, but he couldn’t falter. He tightened his stave tighter, knuckles pale and teeth gritted with a single minded devotion, and pushed himself to continue on.

The chill in the air had not a hint of the warmth he could draw from Lady Demeter and it ached , weaving its way into his very bones and drawing taut, working with and adding upon the pain echoing out from the twisting magic in his palm. For all that he’d longed to go to the surface, Zagreus wanted nothing more than to be in the depths of Tartarus, to be warm and comfortable and home , surrounded by friends and family.

Zag was not new to pain, as far from it as someone could possibly get, truly, but this… this was foreign to him, and he would be a fool to not notice that there was clearly something wrong , but he’d not yet had the chance to dwell or ask questions without risking his head. He was missing something , perhaps something to do with a minor god blending in with mortals without issue, but it was eluding him.

It fled from him just as the strength drained from his very bones, pushing himself up another flight up stairs as he was. His mind, his eyes, drifted with the haziness of pain, gaze catching dripping ice, as sharp as any blade. The surface was truly astounding, Zag had to admit, and full of new things to discover around every bend, but, still, the comfort of the House called to him.

Green filled his vision as his foot met the last step. Cassandra and Solas shouted, voices echoing and blurring together in a way that Zag could only guess at what they meant and he resigned himself to yet another fight.

He much preferred the ever changing rooms of the Underworld to this unending horizon.

“Lord Ares, grant me a boon of strength for this battle to come.” Zagreus spoke the prayer under his breath, knowing despite his hope that he wouldn’t be helped in this, not with how Nyx cloaked his presence on the surface.

Shifting the grip he had on the stave, Zag planted the base into the ground and used it to push himself forward into a run, muscles burning and tearing and screaming . Like wading into the Phlegethon and staying painfully still, the piercing burn surrounded him, drawing him in deeper and deeper the closer he drew to the rift.

Vision blurred, he used the growls of the not-shades to guide him, to flow around the swipe of claws. He struck out with as much effort as he could, blow glancing but still connecting.

Solas raised his voice, words lost on the wind, drifting. A rake of talons across his bare arm sent him hissing out a pained breath, a nasty trophy for his distraction. Though he’d not heard his words, Zag could hazard a guess, and he would simply have to take a chance.

The mark on his palm had already been itching to raise, to lift toward the great, crackling tear in the fabric of the air itself, and it only worsened as Zagreus fell back, away from the clawed creatures baying for his blood to be spilt upon the snow.

His hand ascended and his arm was rent open, splitting from palm to wrist to elbow, on and on until it felt as if his whole body was being flayed, stripped of each layer, carefully peeled back and pinned and salted. No sight, his vision finally having completely blackened. No sound, either, just a high pitched keen that tore his throat to bloody strips, blood which dripped and slid down, down into his lungs, cloying and sweet and just as choking as the Styx, with none of the calming familiarity.

He was burning, but he’d never been colder.

Magic was pulled from his palm even as he fell, as his heart thudded and skipped in his chest, as he tried desperately to pull in ragged breaths but failed.

Zagreus fell as the rift condensed, stabilized, and his arm went limp not moments later, bonelessly hitting the rocks.

His heart was just as motionless.