Idex Index: The First Chapters

FOREWORD:

Hi, Mike here. Before you start reading, I just wanted to personally say thank you. You reading this means so much to me, and hopefully, the review you leave at the end too, whether it be a written review, stars, or a dm, whatever you decide to do, thank you. I put so much effort into this, and if you really care what I went through, there is an afterword at the end. Before I go, I’m unsure why Wattpad sections paragraphs like this. I’m not the biggest fan, but whatever. Anyways, please enjoy Idex Index: The First Chapters!

Idex Index: The First Chapters

“Hey, look at me.” Our eyes locked as we dangled from the side of the mountain, our harnesses tugging tight under the weight. “We need to get down. We don’t want to get caught in that storm. Do you remember what I told you? Do you remember that shape?”

“Yes, an anvil. It means-” He hesitated, desperately scraping the back of his mind for any sort of clue as I fearfully shouted at him. “It means rain.”

“Pretty much. We’ve got to get down before that gets to us. I’ll go first. Just follow my lead. Going down is harder than going up.” I gripped the rope tightly, rappelling with speed down the mountain, still within shouting range.

“I’m scared!” He cried, hesitating to drop. “I don’t want to fall!”

“Keep your eyes on me, don’t focus on the ground.” I receded a little further, glancing up in desperate search of my climbing partner. He was young, only fifteen, but he was an anxious little guy. He stared at the clouds, mesmerized by the magnificence of the colossal anvil.

The cumulonimbus cloud. A towering, vertical display. Powerful and beautiful, they sit not far from Earth’s surface. Wherever this behemoth travels, heavy rain storms follow.

“Snap out of it!” My voice strained as it left my throat. I could feel the fear boil in me, the anxiety. I was nearing the bottom, maybe seventy feet, while he remained unwavering at the mountain’s peak.

“Listen to me!” The wind began picking up, howling, displacing boulders, and flinging branches from trees. You could almost see the marvel shrink from his mind as the discord hit him. He frantically began to descend, skipping placements to regain control.

“You’re going too fast!” His feet brushed from the rock, kicking off reddish dust into the now swirling air. He approached faster and faster. I don’t know if it was the fear, but he moved with intent and purpose to each calculated step. Suddenly, as my confidence grew in his skill, his line tore, sending him from the mountain.

I reached, my arm lashing from my body, barely seizing the rear of his harness. He faced the ground, screaming, writhing in fear.

“Calm down. I got you!” My heart was throbbing, cloaking the sound of the approaching storm. He shouted my name in overwhelming euphoria, but I could not be so happy. I placed my hand on the rope and gave a slight tug. The tension was gone. The rope was straining, and it was soon to split.

I couldn’t tell him. He would lose his mind and begin to flail. He wasn’t well under pressure. I knew for sure there wasn’t a way out of this unscathed. I had to descend quickly to a low point where the fall was survivable.

“Hold on! I’ll get us down!” I said, reinforcing positive emotions towards him, choking down my pride, lying to his face, knowing this wasn’t the slightest good news. We inched closer and closer. Sixty, fifty feet. With each movement down, I felt more and more anxious. When would the line snap?

“Look!” He shouted, shifting his body to point towards the clouds. This sudden weight change was the last straw. The rope ripped aggressively, sliding from my hands, hurling us from the wall. I fell, landing arms first on an appendage of the mountain. I reached out to concuss the blow, but to little effect. Both of my arms snapped, folding out sideways.

My head made contact next, crashing into the dirt and throwing me backward off the extra bit of mountain. Though the fall was only a short distance, it felt like miles. Time seemed to hinder, blissfully, watching the trees sway in the wind, the subtle drop of rain gracing my cheek.

“Ma-” My brother’s voice snapped me out of it before a fractured tree stump broke my fall, impaling through my chest. Everything went black, and I could no longer hear my brother’s cry. I felt my body grow cold. The pressures in my ears dissipated. My vision was clouded, almost entirely dark.

I lay in a calm bed of what felt like water, the slow ripples bracing against my hands. As soon as I arrived in this place, I left, appearing in a new location, resembling a waiting room. I sat there momentarily, in shock as to what had just happened. I looked down at my hands. They were red, with a defined burn down the center. The woman at the front desk called my name.

I stood, the reality of the situation finally hitting me like a truck. My breathing shuddered, and discourse filled my body. Where am I? What happened?

“Sweetie, over here.” The clerk called, waving a flyer in the air. “Another beauty, maybe he’ll finally make up his mind. It’s been a while since we had a change of pace around here.” She said to the other woman as I dreadfully approached.

“Where am I? Where is my brother?”

“Here.” She said, handing me a notecard and returning to her conversation with the other desk attendant. I stood, terrified, awaiting a response. After a few seconds of nothing, the lady turned back to me with disgust.

“Well? You going to take it or waste all of our time?” She slammed the notecard on the table. “Just take the damn card.” I grabbed the card. It read“U43.”

“Excuse me, lady, could you please get a move on?” A man behind me said as he poked my shoulder. I backed away, awkwardly laughing. I entered an elevator, followed by another person. Glancing at the man, I hid from his gaze. He stood tall with deep, brown, curly hair and a well-kempt beard. His physique bulged from his white blazer and navy undershirt. Scars cut through his skin, face, and hands; one could only imagine there were more scars beneath his clothing.

“Excuse me.” He said, scooting to the side of the elevator and resting on the handrail. “You smell fresh,” he exclaimed as he inhaled deeply, “straight from your death, ah?”

“I’m sorry?” I replied, confused.

“You haven’t put the two together yet?” He chuckled, undoing the top button. “We are in a place called The Apple. Original, right? Yeah, I get it, I never liked the name, but majority wins.” He spoke to me as if he’d met me like a mutual bond had been established before this conversation. “See, you have died, and now you’re here, with me, in this elevator. Romantic, right?“”

“I- I don’t understand.”

“Well, as you’ll come to learn this place, it isn’t what it seems, but I’ll let you figure that out for yourself.” He said, cutting me off. The elevator dinged, announcing“Ground Floor.”The sun sliced through the opening doors, unveiling a cornucopia of majesties. Greek architecture lined the walls, and columns of quartz climbed to the roof, separating into thin, long overhangs.

An expansive glass wall shared the forefront overlooking a sandy, colosseum-like ring with a deck harboring three thrones. Closer to us opened into a large seating area. To the left was a cafeteria, and to the right was a destination sign with multiple listings.

The floor was linoleum-esque that came together in the center in a chessboard-like pattern. Past the sanded circle were clouds, endless clouds, a beautiful cascade of pearlescent pinks and oranges creating an almost imaginary background of varying sizes.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” He whispered in my ear. It all took me a minute to process. Where am I? Ten minutes ago, I was climbing a mountain, and now... Now I’m here.

“It is. It really is.” I said, turning, but to my surprise, no one was there. He had disappeared. I blew it off. A disappearing man was the last thing to surprise me right now. I had a strong feeling I’d be seeing him again. A few hours passed, and I was escorted to my room by what was said to be an angel. There, I tried to rake the scraps of information I had gathered in my mind to make a cohesive story.

I died falling from the mountain. Now, I’m here in The Apple, which seems to be between life and death. That receptionist I met at the beginning gave me a paper that dictated whether I continue on into The Apple to regain my life or follow the path of the afterlife.

I’m unsure how it works or if it even makes sense. I’m a little lost myself. I don’t believe there’s a way out. After all, I’m dead. My brother may as well be dead, too. There’s no point in pouting over something I can’t control. Brother, if you are still on that mountain, know I didn’t leave you.

“Everyone, please make your way to the West Wing for the briefing of your first game.” A voice sounded over a PA system, derailing my train of thought. I followed instructions and made my way to the West Wing. There, I tailed a crowd of people as we entered what seemed to be a theater, a colossal theater. The screen turned on, and to my surprise, the man I met earlier took center stage.

“Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Jackal, and I will be your tour guide today. You will attempt to win and follow through to the next round in your upcoming game. Supposing you do and continue to win, you will be granted another chance at your life. Right now, your tangible body is in a coma-like state, one where you won’t die.

If your family decides to pull the plug, let’s just say some of you won’t be as lucky. Whereas most will wake up to their families, the stragglers may wake up six feet under, surrounded by mahogany wood in a dapper suit. That is if you win.

It’s all a bit much, but that is okay. I don’t suspect the overwhelmed ones will get very far.” The crowd gasped in shock. Uniform anxiety brushed over each individual. Was this some sick joke?

“Your objective in this first game is to kill the other opponent by whatever means necessary. You will be given a mallet-type hammer and tasked to finish the other player before the time runs out. If time is to run out, it’s our choice.” The crowd erupted in anger, screaming at this projection of a man.

“Please remain calm!” One of the angels said, throwing her hands up and putting on a saddened expression. I sat still, entranced, struggling to process the reality.

“Calm? You expect us to be calm?” A man replied, making his way toward one of the angels. “I’ve had enough of this babying bullshit!” He threw his hand up, attempting to slap her. As it sailed downward, Jackal intervened. He appeared from thin air, almost like earlier in the elevator.

“You sit down, or I will finish this for you.” He said, seizing the man’s hand. The man pushed harder, struggling to gain any movement. “I warned you.” Jackal twisted the man’s arm upside down and struck the elbow from the bottom. His arm snapped, the bone sliding from the skin. The man shrieked in pain, throwing his head back as Jackal held him still.

He reached around with his other hand and grabbed the man’s head, plunging the exposed bone through his skull. The man collapsed in a squirting fiesta of blood.

“Got my suit all red,” Jackal said, popping his neck. “Anyone else have an issue?” The crowd was silent once again, frozen from shock. My stomach turned, was this real? It couldn’t be. How could someone be so strong? How could anyone, anything do such an action?

“Good.” He said, “The first game begins tomorrow.” He walked out the door. Depressed, people made their way from the room. I remained seated. As the bunch dwindled down, I sat thinking about everything.

“Ma’am?” An angel said to my left. I heard her but paid little mind, only showing a slight head movement in response. “You have to leave.” Later that night, I lay in my room. I hadn’t winded down, I hadn’t relaxed, I was on edge, and the edge only grew smaller.

I heard a knocking on my door. I lay there, having lost the will to move. I hesitated to stand, afraid. After a pause, a second knock succeeded. Swallowing my fear, I stood, made my way, and opened the door, but to my surprise, no one was there.

“You should work on your speed. You’ll keep the impatient patient.” A voice stated from behind. I pivoted on the balls of my feet, frightened by the man’s appearance.

“How did you-”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, interrupting me, “Hi, I’m Thompson. It’s nice to meet you, finally!”

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow,” I replied. Thompson was a slender man, not skinny, though. He had a strong frame, one of high stature, overflowing with confidence. His hair was golden and wavy, falling just above his ears, the forefront swooping over and back, parting in the middle. His eyes shined with sapphire depths, a brilliant shade of blue.

His shallow sideburns met with a stubble that filled his face with a five-o-clock shadow. He wore a burgundy blazer with a solid black button-up undershirt. Following his legs were tight, slim fit, black slacks that greeted brown, wing-tipped dress shoes with an engraved design of wings on either side.

“I’ve come to deliver a message.” He reached out his hand. He held an envelope with a wax seal. Looping his right wrist was a brown, beige, braided leather cord bracelet hooked on end with a fisherman hook-like clasp.

“I like your bracelet,” I said.

“Thank you.” He paused, his eyes glancing to the ground before returning to mine. “It was my fathers.” I grabbed the letter from his hand.

“I’ll be off now. It’s almost time.” He checked his left wrist, around which was a gold-plated wristwatch. I closed the door after him, making way to the one-person dining table by the mirror plastered on the wall.

There, I sat and opened the letter. The paper was dark, wine red, accented with gold trim. Upon breaking the seal, I read: “This message is not meant to be shared, kept as a secret between you and me. You will win your first game. Upon victory, go to the western wing and enter the ′Do Not Enter’room.There we can discuss further. -A”

Confused, I folded and slipped the letter into my pocket, where it awaited tomorrow’s game. The following day I was awoken by the PA calling all contestants to the arena grounds. I found my way through the corridors and made a mental note of the location of the ′Do Not Enter’room.

“Up first,” A brunette angel shouted from a table, “contestant U43 and contestant U91.”

“That’s me.” A boy shouted from the audience, audibly anxious and frightened.And me, I thought to myself, stepping up to the door, my head hanging.And I have to kill this kid to win?I stood there, my mouth agape. I don’t know if I had the guts to kill a kid. Guilt raced through my mind. Is it selfish to end this kid’s life so I can return to mine?

My temples ached as I entered the sandy pit, gripping the issued mallet. The weapon resembled a mahogany meat tenderizer with a flat and spiked face. The grip being polished wood, I could feel the sweat build on my hand.

“Contestants to the middle, please!” A womanly voice cloaked the arena, echoing off the empty air. Three people walked to the seats in the middle, the protruding two sitting further back than the forward-most throne. Thompson and Jackal seated themselves in the back row as an unrecognizable woman took a seat in the front.

“I am Rosemary,” she said, bowing, inflating herself to be of a higher social hierarchy than the rest. She was beautiful. Her beautiful coffee hair stretched down to her chest and parted in the middle, allowing her hazel eyes to sparkle in the sunlight. Her body was ideal, perfectly carved and shaped, with smooth, fair skin.

She rested her hand on the armrest, flaunting her nails, the color of the deep swallows of wine. She wore a gown of cobalt-like colors with white trimmed accents exaggerating her curves. Few feathers found their place on her shoulders, sewed in with a thin white string. Following this string led to the sides of the gown, where they crossed her collar bone and looped around her neck.

Her legs were visible from the knee and lower as she stood there, barefoot on the wooden slats of the deck, where her nail color matched her fingers. She was what every girl wished to be and more, absolutely breathtaking.

“Okay,” she sighed, “you may begin.” The boy stood across from me. His posture was slumped; he was frightened. You could see it in his eyes. They stared back at me, animated, his pupils fully dilated. The bags under his eyes sagged with a dark purple, almost bruise-like color. Little tears raced down his cheeks and into the creases of his quivering lips.

“Please...” He whispered, “you don’t have to do this.” He began to cry. The rest of the arena fell quiet. The first to fight, a child and an adult, isn’t this unfair? If he wins, this kid has a whole life ahead of him, but he has to win.

“I’m sorry,” I replied, “but there’s no way you make it passed round two if I let you go. I have a chance, a chance to see my family again.” I knew it was wrong. I knew I was lying straight to this kid’s face. If anyone was to win, it wouldn’t be an eighteen-year-old girl. I had to tough it out, whatever it takes.I can’t leave him alone.I walked towards the kid, each step dragging more than the other.

The overwhelming tidal wave of guilt tipped, emotion sloshing against the walls of my brain. The disgust, the horror, his blood would be on my hands, and the brutality of these weapons doesn’t make it any easier.

His eyes grew wide. Despair brushed his face, maybe the truth, perhaps terror, as if he knew he couldn’t make it out alive. His lips moved, murmuring something under his breath. I raised my arm, gripping the mallet with all my strength. My eyes squeezed together, rejecting any sight of what I was about to commit.

“What was that?” Rosemary questioned. I hesitated, pausing mid-swing.

“I resign.” The boy said, his voice cracking. He dropped his mallet, upraising a dust cloud around it. I stood frozen, shocked by his words. He resigns? He’s not even trying to fight to live. What’s the point?

“Disappointing,” Jackal grunted, standing fervently, buttoning the top of his blazer, and exiting the arena.

“You resign?” Rosemary stood amazed, quickly appearing beside the boy. “As in, you give your life for hers?”

“Yes... I do.”

“Now, why would you do that?”

“Be- because.” Rosemary slumped over his shoulder, almost as if she was cradling him. Her lips pressed gently against his ear, moving softly, whispering. Her other hand came up and stroked from his available ear, tracing his jawline to his chin, where it fell to his hand. She slipped the mallet into his hand, gently squeezing it into a fist, but as she let go, his hand remained open, dropping it again.

“Fine,” she sighed, “so be it.” She pulled a dagger from the back of her skirt. He saw the blade as it raised past his side.

“Get off me!” He shouted, pushing Rosemary off of him. She gasped, placing her hand on her chest in a satirical manner.

“Now, why would you do that?” She laughed. The boy stood across from her, panting, crying, struggling to catch his breath. I stood in shock as to what I was witnessing.

“Help him!” A man shouted from the next group of contestants.

“No, don’t.” The boy threw his hand to the side with passion, slowly regaining composure. “She’ll kill you too.”

“Aww, he already knows he’s dead.” Rosemary chuckled from behind the boy, skating the knife across his throat. Streams of red sprouted from the slit as the knife glided across his skin. The boy gurgled, gradually reaching his hand up to his throat. Rosemary pushed off him as he fell to the ground coated in a dark red.

“You win this round.” She said, unimpressed, walking up to me. “You got lucky, girl.” The watching crowd from the Apple was silent, as was I. The angles walked in, their heads hanging, picking him up, one attempting to hide her tears. My feet dragged as I followed them out of the entrance and back into the building. As the shock left my body, I quickly rushed to a nearby corner and threw up.That poor kid.

“A word.” As I turned, I was greeted by Jackal, already escorting me towards the restricted room. The door creaked open, and I was met by a wave of aromas filling me with vellichor. Hundreds of thousands of books lined the walls, each on distinct and organized shelves. Greek, historical artifacts sat in display cases mounted to the empty spaces on the walls.

The room was dimly lit by a floor lamp that struggled to stay alive, flickering every few seconds.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” He repeated from our first interaction. As beautiful as it was, I couldn’t focus on anything but the mental image of that boy, so clear it may as well have been taken in polaroid. I turned to Jackal, staring into the depths that were his eyes. He towered over me, emitting a gentle but frightening aura.

“Why would she do that?” He was confused for a moment before closing his eyes and slightly nodding. He placed his hand on my upper arm.

“He resigned. He had it coming.”

“How can you say that?” I shouted, pushing Jackal against the lining bookcases. “He was a child!”

“And thatchildkilled a family of three after stealing a car.” He shouted, pushing me back, much more mighty than mine. “Which then collided with oncoming traffic. He was fifteen, not much younger than you.”

“And that justifies slicing his throat?”

“I’d believe more than beating him senselessly with a flimsy hammer.” I could feel the exhales of air exiting Jackal’s nose. I was pressed against a corner, standing on the balls of my feet. He obviously didn’t find Rosemary’s actions ideal either, but he put up with them. My heart pounded through my chest, his face inches from mine. He backed off, leaning up against a neighboring bookshelf.

“I told you you’d win, didn’t I?”

“You’re A?” I asked as I found my way to a spot across from him. “What does A stand for, asshole? Anarchist? A murdering psychopath?” The air was frigid. My breathing staggered fearfully as I yelled at this behemoth. He stared at me with daggers, understanding why I was angry. He had regret in his eyes on his face. I don’t think he knew he was showing it.

“Ares.” He said, turning and grabbing a book from the shelf, handing it to me. “It stands for Ares.” The book was old, worn down, and the leather surrounding the cover was strewn to pieces. The words that crossed the front page weren’t in English but written in what seemed to be Greek.

“Like the zodiac sign?”

“What? No, not like the zodiac sign, the Greek God.”

“But, I thought Greek mythology was just fairytales.”

“And your religions aren’t?” Ares retaliated, offended by my misjudgment. “A man appears and claims he’s the son of God. He’s nice to people while they’re high on whatever shrooms existed at the time, and boom, it’s solved. God is real!” He shouted with enthusiasm. “Does that not sound like a fairy tale to you? A bunch of hocus pocus bullshit!”

I stood there, terrified. A God? His presence, overwhelming aura of bloodlust, speed, and strength made sense. He unbuttoned the top button of his undershirt, allowing himself to cool off.

“That’s besides that point, though.” He walked up to me and grabbed my arm. I flinched, but to my surprise, it was gentle, loving.

“Miss,” He said, comedically bowing, “would you accompany me to the nextgodlymeeting.” He chucked, laughing at his own joke. I blew him off, continuing down my own path of questioning.

“Ares? The Greek God? Like of war? The one whose cry sounded like ten thousand soldiers? The belligerent asshole of the gods?”

“Could it kill you to be a little kinder?” He scolded me. “Yes, that one, but would you please forget Homer’s tales and listen to me.”

“Why me?” I asked. He sighed, annoyed with the explaining he was doing.

“Great question!” He said, his sarcastic tone still poking through but faded from the last time he spoke. He slowly walked up to me. I felt my body begin to rise, again, to meet his height. He reached up with his finger, fluffing my tendril-like bang to the side.

My heart pounded. I wasn’t sure about the emotion I was feeling. Whether it was fear or attraction, this man could kill me whenever he wanted, but there’s something about that.

“You look just like her.” His voice quivered under his breath. “You act just like her.” He stared into my eyes for a few more seconds after backing off and clearing his throat. “She wouldn’t have let that kid slide, and neither should I. We don’t intervene.” Ares started his way towards the door but paused just before leaving.

“After your second game, Thompson will get you.” He left the room, leaving me with a weird swirl of emotions. Who isher? I made my way from the library back to my room, where I sat in my bed, sifting through the interaction for answers. A knock sounded on my door. I felt my heart drop. Who is it this time? As I opened the door, I was greeted by a group of what seemed to be contestants.

“Hi,” the man at the front spoke sheepishly. “We-” his voice cracked, causing him to clear his throat. “We saw how you had to kill that kid.”

“And we saw how you reacted when he died.” Another man said to my right.

“We just thought you might want to join our plan.” I was skeptical, worried about their plan and if it was even worth my time.

“During the second game,” the man paused and looked around at the others, attempting to find reassurance in their expressions. “We’re going to revolt, and we’d like you to join us.” I stood there, surprised. Ares alone can take them on without a sweat.

“Are you crazy?” I hissed. “Jackal will obliterate you. All of you.”

“He can’t stop us all, not if everyone unites.”

“He damn well can, and I’d rather not be one of those bodies.” Annoyed and scared, I attempted to close the door, but the man caught it.

“Please, U45, we need your help.” I felt guilty turning this man down, but I value my life, my life with my family more, and I cannot die trying to fight back.

“I’m sorry. I can’t” I closed the door, locked the lock, and laid in bed, struggling to fall asleep thinking about the massacre to come. Golden light streamed through the windows as dawn broke. Like yesterday, the PA announced the briefing of the next game. This time, the crowd cooperates and listens as Ares speaks again.

“Today’s game will be another, faster, more deadly duel. You and your counterpart will be handed a handgun, allowing you to deal the fatal blow in seconds. You must be fast enough to fire or smart enough to form an agreement to turn against. The games begin after this announcement.” The screen turned off, and the angels escorted us to the arena.

I began to worry. Could they know about the coup? Why would they give us guns? This plan must be agreed upon now as we will be armed with pistols. I have to find a way to prove to them this will not work. I turned to the angel escorting me to my right.

“I volunteer to go first,” I said, stopping the angel in his tracks.

“You what?” He responded fearfully. The surrounding contestants were speechless.

“This is interesting,” Thompson said as we entered the clearing of the arena. “So be it. You’ll be the first in history.” He danced, winking at me in the process. Could they know?The man who came to my door and I walked into the arena, armed. The three sat on their thrones and gestured for the game to start.

Like I thought, the man stood there, staring at me, waiting for me to give the signal. I have a different idea. I need to set an example for the rest of the contestants. I stared up at Ares, locking eyes and holding them. His facial expression grew confused. He stood, hopping down to me. As he passed, I whispered, barely audible.

“They want you dead.” He exhaled, amused, slightly smirking. He stood next to me, looking across at the man.

“Jackal.” The man acknowledged, standing up straight to be more intimidating. Ares let out a wry laugh. Thompson appeared between the two, slowly closing the gap towards Ares.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked under his breath. Glancing at me behind him. His eyes gave off the truth.He knew Thompson knew all along.Ares removed his blazer, unbuttoned the top button of his navy undershirt, and rolled the sleeves up past his muscular forearms.

“Positive.” He said, handing Thompson the coat before waving him off. The two of them stood there, staring each other down. Ares was filled with confidence and unwavering euphoria, while the man was noticeably shaking.

“Well, are you going to fire or just stand there?” The man looked surprised but didn’t let Ares get to him. He raised the gun, pointing it at Ares.

“Safety’s on.” Ares giggled. The man twisted the gun, examining the safety, which was, in fact, not on. Ares appeared to his side, reaching around the man and firing a bullet through his knee. Blood spurted from the hole as the man shrieked, barely standing his ground.

He turned, swinging at Ares as he ducked and elbowed the man in the abdomen. Ares jumped back, gaining distance as the man fired the pistol. He evaded the latter, intently listening for the last bullet. The gun’s slide locked as the handgun ran out of ammo. The man desperately reached for the spare mag in his waistband.

Ares appeared next to the man, disarming the slide and bashing it into the man’s nose. The man dropped the weapon, only to be snatched midair by Ares as he re-equipped the slide to the firearm. He tossed the gun up and around, readjusting the barrel into his hand.

He gripped the man’s shirt, pulling him in as he slapped his face with the bottom of his grip, laughing all the while. Ares released the man, sliding the spare mag from his pocket and reloading. Before the man could react, Ares held him tightly, shoving the gun into his chest. He drove the man back until they collided with the wall, where Ares emptied the mag into the man’s chest. Ares held the man as he stood, his mouth agape, his eyes wide.

“Don’t cross me,” Ares said, dropping the man. He slid down the wall, leaving a path of blood.

I was frozen in fear. Ares toyed with him. I didn’t think he would make it so gruesome, so painful. Ares wiped the blood from his hands on his slacks and made his way towards his seat. Before hopping back up, he glanced at me. He removed the slide of the gun and tossed it at me. I watched as the piece of the firearm bounced on the sand.

“A memento.” He tossed the rest of the gun onto the floor behind him. He turned, making his way back to his seat.

“I thought we don’t get involved.” He paused and clenched his fists before shrugging it off and continuing to sit. I exited the arena, again in trauma, adding more with each death. It floods your brain, replaying each moment like a movie. As I entered my room, I heard guns fire. Seems the plan to revolt was no longer in action.

I saved some lives today, that’s the only way I can look at it, anything else, and I am condemning myself to defeat. I stood in the shower, staring at the drain as the water trickled down my nape.How long have I been in here? Thinking, what was I thinking about?

I was gradually going insane, losing my mind and my emotions. The only way to win is to strip the lives of countless others. Has anyone really returned to life after this?Howdo you return to life after this? A faint knock on my bathroom door caught my attention.

“Hello, it’s Thompson. It’s time for dinner.” He said, reminding me of my mother. I wiped the tears from my eyes, thinking about my family, remembering not to get distracted.

“Yeah,” I shouted, turning the water off. “I’ll be right out.” I stood in the steam from the hot shower, feeling the water as it dripped from my body. I stepped out of the bathroom wearing clothes left by one an angel. A pair of chic black leggings, a beige-toned sweater, and a golden, Greek style necklace.

“Glad to see the Greek has grown on you. It looks great.” Thompson said, holding his fingers up in L-shapes as if he was framing me.

“Thanks, someone left it on my bed.”

“Ready?” I looked around, making sure I had every outcome accounted for. This dinner was dangerous, it could have a tragic end, and though I don’t stand a chance against the likes of Ares, I’m not going down without a fight.

“Yes,” I said, flushing out the waistline behind my back. “I am.” I followed Thompson out of the room and down a corridor to a wood-slated door. He inserted a key into the lock that opened into a room with an elevator. We stepped in and began to climb.

“We’ll be on the forty-fifth floor.” He said, “and just, so you know, Rosemary and I are gods too, not just Ares.” I wasn’t surprised as I had also expected the other two to be gods.

“Who?” I asked, “gods, I mean.” The elevator dinged, announcing that we had arrived. Thompson turned from me and looked straight ahead. He chuckled, pulling up his sleeve and checking his golden watch.

“That’s for another time.” He took the lead out of the elevator. The left wall was plastered with ten-foot windows that painted the right wall in a beautiful array of colors. The sunset daubed the clouds opalescent as they swirled out of my vision to the south. The golden sun formed the perfect barrier between the heavens and the lower sky, allowing for a smooth transition in color.

“Wow,” I said, fully immersed in the beautiful view.

“Beautiful, right? It’s my favorite part of this place.” We stood there, admiring the scenery, taking in the lovely something in this dreadful place.

“Well, are you two going to just stand there, or are you going to get some dinner?” Rosemary said as she walked past, pausing to watch with us.

“It really is something else.” She said, patting my shoulder. “Let’s go.” The two of us followed Thompson as he entered the room. A mahogany table stretched from end to end, plastering the center of the room. On the back wall stood a robust stone fireplace containing roaring flames. The walls were slatted wood with support beams on either side of the table.

The candlesticks, chandelier, and chairs were all lined with gold, everything from the window sills to the plates. The roof met in the center, where a chandelier dangled. The table was cluttered with amazing-looking foods, predominately all Greek.

“Dolmades, salads, Spanakopita, lamb, potatoes, octopus, we have everything.”

“These look-” I choked in awe, “amazing!”

“That’s Aph’s cooking for you,” Ares said as he walked in.

“You know I don’t like that name, Ares.”

“I’ll never understand why, goddess of-” Thompson cupped my ears, obstructing my hearing. “The name slips right off the tongue,” Ares said, mocking her. “So do you.” He stuck his tongue out and closed his eyes, shouting an immature‘bleh’in the process.

“Why, out of anyone, did I have to get stuck with you?”

“Maybe it was Hephaestus’ idea. Maybe he was the one who got us all stuck here.”

“Oh, come on,” Rosemary said, visibly growing angrier with every comment.

“Was he not pretty irate after he caught us- sorry, me, banging you? Sore loser, I say.” Ares glanced at me childishly, almost as if he was looking for a reaction.

“How immature can you be?”

“Both of you shut up!” Thompson shouted, slamming his palm against the table. “Father put me in charge, and I command the both of you to stop talking and allow our guest some content.” Thompson pulled a chair from the table and gestured for me to sit.

Shocked, I slowly descended into the chair. Thompson sat next to me, visibly disappointed.

“So, you, girly,” Rosemary said, pointing her fork in my direction. Ares’ eyes peered up at me as he stuffed his face full of Greek delicacies.

“Hi,” I replied nervously, grabbing my fork and poking into the Dolmades.

“What could Ares want with you?” I could see Thompson sigh out of annoyance in my peripherals as I smiled awkwardly, shocked by her bluntness.

“That’s none of your business, Rose,” Ares interjected, cutting me off and pushing Rosemary’s hand back to her side.

“She bears a resemblance to Artie-” Rosemary’s eyes widened, and her mouth gaped. Ares’s eyes pierced, his eyebrows furrowed, his joking grin completely wiped from his face. Whoever this Artie character is, it has Ares on edge.

“Please, don’t start,” Thompson said, glancing at me with a glum expression.

“Oh. My. God.” She laughed, “after all these years, I thought you would move on.” She placed her hand over her maniacal grin and turned to the side, covering her giggle.

“I’m sorry?” I said, curious about what she meant. “Who’s Artie?”

“It’s nothing,” said Ares, “It’s really nothing.”

“It’s really something!” Rosemary exclaimed, “But alas, I’ll spare you the details.” She said, taunting Ares by putting the rear of her hand on her forehead and acting as if she was a damsel in distress. Thompson pushed his cuff back and looked at his watch.

“Longer than usual,” he said. “You, my lady, are witnessing history.” He laughed, leaning in to whisper something to me. “He doesn’t last this long normally.” I sat there, confused by the crowd that surrounded me. Thompson seemed to be the only one with a sense of decency. Were these really gods or children?

“This is really good,” I said, taking a bite from an octopus tentacle.

“Your girlfriend likes my cooking,” Rosemary murmured, slipping a piece of broccoli into her mouth. Ares spun the knife in his hand like a pen staring into my soul. His eyes were deep. Though he seemed a brute on the outside, something about him was loving.

Staring into, you would fall into the abyss that was his eyes, entirely captured by them. I felt my cheeks grow warm and returned to focus on my food, my heart pounding. The room was quiet, the only sound being silverware’s screeching and the fire’s crackle.

“Still just that little boy, Ares,” Rosemary said, refusing to enjoy the peace and quiet. She stood from her seat. Ares stopped spinning the knife as he clutched it in a fist. Thompson witnessed this already between the two.

“Ares,” Thompson said, staring him in the eyes. Ares stood, leaving the room.

“God of war? Yeah, right.” Rosemary laughed, “Pussy.” Thompson scowled at her, his posture less refined and more barbaric.

“You, get out of here. Rosemary and I need to speak to each other. Ares’ room is on the left. You can’t miss it.” Thompson shouted towards me, his eyes never leaving Rosemary’s. I stood, making my way to the door. I contemplated saying thank you, but the atmosphere was crushing.

I grabbed the brass doorknob, rotated it, and opened the door to the white quartz hallway. I glanced at Thompson as he subtly nodded before exiting the room. I approached Ares’ door, my heart pounding through my chest. I knocked twice, fast, unsure if I should be doing this. The door cracked, and his eyes peered from the slit.

“Can I come in?” I asked softly. There was a pause, a moment of hesitation.

“Of course,” he opened the door, welcoming me into his lofty space. It was cavernous, with twelve-foot high ceilings, and large, sectioned rooms, almost as if the floor plan of a home was pasted here. The walls were white sheetrock, while the floor was black wooden planks. Modern lamps lined the corners, and windows opened to the beautiful sky.

Ares walked passed me and through a door to his right, which entered the bedroom. A king-sized bed took up the middle of the room against the northmost wall. In the corner was an L-shaped desk with papers and books and floating shelves lining the walls above it.

Ares walked up to me and stared into my eyes. I was again lost in the rich swirls, trying my best to maintain composure.

“Thank you for coming. I wasn’t expecting Rose to be such a burden.” Ares turned as I laughed nervously, attempting to sit, but falling backward and onto my butt. I launched from the floor like a stove and, this time took a seat on the bed.

“Careful there.” Embarrassment filled my body. He saw. “That bed might run away.” He chuckled as he turned, leaning against the wall. “That necklace looks beautiful. Where’d you get it? My brain flatlined, forgetting I’m dead and in a place of otherworldly beings. His charm had me tongue-tied, and all he was doing was making fun of me.

“I go-” My voice cracked as I attempted to rid of the dry throat. “I-,” my voice cracked again. I paused, regaining my composure. “JCPenney,” I replied, laughing off the embarrassment of the prior attempts. Ares reached over and placed his index finger and thumb on the gold, tracing the necklace around my neck. Shivers ran down my spine as his hands lightly grazed my skin.

“You oughta wear more gold. It suits you.” The bed was soft but not too soft, a perfectly tempered mattress.

“Perks of being a god,” he leaned against the desk in the corner, switching placements every few minutes as if he was struggling to find comfort. “You get things fit for gods.” He removed his blazer and draped it over the back of the chair. He stripped down until he was just wearing a black t-shirt and shorts.

“It’s nice to have some company in here. We don’t receive many visitors.” He opened a bottle of wine and poured it into a glass. “Want some?” He asked, picking up a second glass.

“I can’t drink.” I chuckled, still finding it hard to act natural.

“You’re dead. I don’t think your American age laws matter anymore.” He poured some into the second glass and handed it to me anyways.

“It’s Retsina, an old, Greek, white wine. It’s sweet. Think apples, peaches, that sort of thing.”

“It smells,” I whiffed the glass, “piney?”

“They use pine resin in fermentation, a natural and authentic feel. I quite like it. It’s relaxing to me.” We talked for what seemed to be hours, finishing a few glasses along the way. He sat next to me, the connection growing with each drink. We were laughing, happy, and enjoying ourselves. It was nice to forget for one night.

In a brief moment of silence, we locked eyes. Ares leaned in close. Losing myself in the moment, I closed my eyes, feeling his lips press against mine. Chills erupted from my nauseous stomach, traveling throughout my body and down my spine.

We didn’t stop there. One thing led to another, and I was, lying in the God of war’s bed, outlining the scars on his back, while my clothes lay on his floor.

“And what’s this one from?” I asked, tracing the scar that wrapped the contour of his shoulder blade.

“Sparring with father, Zeus. I was a cocky little kid who thought I could take on the world until he flipped me over and kicked my ass. Needless to say, I lost that fight. I wasn’t even a god yet, just a kid. He was hard on us, and I didn’t respect that growing up, but hell, he’s why I’m still here.”

“Zeus, the almighty!” I laughed, placing all my fingers onto his back and vibrating my hands as if I were electrocuting him. We laughed, enjoying the rising sun that cut through the curtains.

“So, what’s the deal with you and Rosemary?” I asked, hoping the alcohol would dilute the tension a bit.

“We had a thing. It’s in the past.” He sat up. “She’s been acting differently lately, and I feel like I’m losing my mind. Since you arrived, something has happened, and the Idex hasn’t answered me anything.”

“The Idex?” I asked. Ares froze. His body sat still, motionless. “Are you okay?” I asked. His eyes widened with fear, his mouth slowly opening in disbelief.

“I’m sorry.” He said, standing up, frantically gathering my belongings. “You have to leave right now.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You have to go.” He handed me my clothes, rushing me as I put them on and forcing me out the door. Before closing it in my face, he grabbed my shoulders and held me tight.

“Run!” Ignoring his words of advice, I stood there, knocking on his door, pounding on his door.

“Ares! I don’t understand.”

“I’m sorry.” A voice that resembled Thompson’s said from behind. I tried turning, but I was too slow. Suddenly, I felt arms reach around, grabbing me, holding me tight. I tried to shout, but cloth with a sweet scent covered my mouth and nose. I felt my eyes grow heavy. As I lost my balance, my body began to sway, and everything faded to black. I woke up slowly, my eyes struggling to stay open. After a moment, I regained my vision and began scanning the area.

The room was a red color emitted from the overhead lights. I was tied to a regular chair, my feet wrapped around the front legs, and my arms tied to the armrests. There was a table to my right with tools I couldn’t make out.

“She’s awake,” Rosemary said, twirling a keychain on her index finger. Thompson appeared in view with an apron on. His sleeves had been rolled up and pushed back, exposing his forearms.

“Where am I?” I shouted, my throat seared almost as if I had choked down hot coals. “Where’s Ares?” I said quieter this time, hoping to cause less pain.

“That is not the matter,” Thompson walked over to me, crouching down to my level and placing his hands on my knees. “What matters is that you listen and that you listen well.” He stood and began to pace back and forth. Rosemary leaned against a table in the background, still twirling the keychain pendant.

The pendant was a golden circle with an ovular eye shape in the middle. An hourglass-like outline was attached in the center, where the pupil would be.

“You need to stop interfering,” Rosemary said, grasping the pendant and sliding it into her pocket. “You are manipulating him. We know what it looks like. We’ve witnessed it countless times before.”

“I’m not manipulating anyone,” I said, confused at the announced claims.

“What do you gain out of sleeping with a god? Hmm?” Rosemary leaned in close as if waiting for an answer. “You get their liking, especially one like Ares who’s thirsty for just about anything. You hope to gain a fighting chance, an easy skip to the finish where you can take back your life.”

“No, that’s not it!”

“Then why do you know of the Idex?” Thompson interjected, towering over me, his eyes against the backlight.

“Ares, he mentioned it. I don’t remember in what context. He just said the name.” The room went quiet. Rosemary stopped spinning the pendant as she caught it in her hand. Thompson turned to her, awaiting her response.

“We gave her a chance. That’s more kindness than we usually tend to share. Let’s just hope he forgives us this time.”

“I don’t know anything! I swear!” My emotions began to bubble inside me as the end of my life grew closer.

“You know of the existence!” Thompson shouted, “and I know you’re lying. I know everything. It’s already written in ink; I’m the only one with continual access. Ares is intemperate towards the rules, constantly breaking or changing them as he sees fit. With the acknowledgment of the Idex, we cannot allow you to continue, and we need to get it before Ares does.” He said, turning to Rosemary with a hasty speed.

“I’ll get it,” Rosemary sighed, leaving the room. Thompson walked over to the door and locked it, ensuring it was secure. Is Ares that large of a threat? Am I?

“What are you going to do to me?” I asked, already thinking of any possible exit plans. Thompson sat on his stool, placing elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He sighed, his knee gradually starting to bounce with anxiety.

“I’m not sure. We may turn you towards the forty-fourth, get a free wish.” His leg bounced more intensely.

Bounce.Bounce.Bounce.

Suddenly, he froze, lifting his head from his hands.

“I know what we’ll do.” He walked over to the instrument table, rolling it over by my side. “Have you ever heard of a Transorbital Lobotomy?” He smiled, the sanity in his voice fading with each word. He pulled the stool up in front of me and sat on it. He looked up. His eyes were wide, as if they were popping from his head.

“You’re scaring me,” I said, attempting to move as far back from his face as I could. His expression seemed to warp inhumanly, his grin spreading from cheek to cheek as if it were stretching. His teeth seemed sharper, his eyes redder, and his sanity vanished.Is it because of the chemical they drugged me with?

“Let’s put it this way.” He said, standing as he slowly strolled behind my chair. His face appeared to my side before switching to the next like we were playing a game of peekaboo. “A Transorbital Lobotomy is one of many outlawed procedures. Where I, the doctor, take an excellent metal pick, one of any preferability, and rest it on top of the patient’s eyeball, or in this case, you.”

A leather sound met my ears as he pulled another restraint from the chair. He grabbed my head, held it still, and wrapped the bind tightly to my forehead. I began to shake in fear as he continued to walk around the chair, making his way back to his seat.

“You see, with this pick, I take a mallet, like the ones from the first game, and tap,” he hit the palm of his hand as a demonstration, “tap,” repeating the action, “and tap,” he finished with the same motion. “The pick breaks its way, with each little push, further into your frontal bone.” Thompson took a seat on the stool, holding what seemed to be an ice pick and the mallet from the original duel. He glanced at his hands before returning to my eyes.

“Than, with one final tap, this little piggy plunges through your bone and into your frontal lobe.” He sighed sarcastically, “to spare you the details, it makes you forget things. It makes you a zombie that will follow all of my commands if done by the right hands.” He leaned in close, tracing the area between my left eye and nose with the ice pick.

“I may not be Asclepius, but I know a thing or two about steady hands.” He stood up, placing the instruments on the stool. Thompson flipped his watch up, looking at it for a moment, before walking back to the door and looking out. The restraints around my limbs seemed of cloth, nothing too hardy, nothing I can’t find a way around.

Quickly, I twisted my right wrist, attempting to loosen the bindings just enough to slip my hand free. After a few seconds of prying, my hand slipped out. I quickly reached over to the chair, grabbing the ice pick and hiding it under the sleeve of my sweater.

“She should be back by now,” Thompson said, growing nervous. He looked at me, walked over, and looked at his stool curiously. He chuckled, crouching down inches from my face. “Do you think this a joke?!” He shrieked. Tiny spit projectiles launched onto my face. My face cowered away, and my eyes squinted.

Quiet overcame the room as I returned to his eyes. My heart began to pound through my chest, and my breathing rapidly increased with my anxiety. I slid my hand from the restraints again, pushing the ice pick into the palm of my hand.

Before Thompson could react, I plunged the ice pick into the side of his throat. He fell backward, tripping over the stool and falling to the ground. He grasped his neck, wheezing for air, wailing in between breaths. I tugged on the rest of my restraints, freeing my left hand, head, right leg, and left.

I ran to the door, my balance still a little off from whatever they used to knock me out. I tugged on the door but to little success. A large metal bolt sat in a ring, acting as a lock to the large bulkhead.

I searched desperately for the mallet as it lay flung across the room next to Thompson’s writhing body. I grabbed the mallet, and Thompson reached out, grabbing my ankle.

“Fu-huh-CK-”

“Let go!” I yelled, stomping onto his forearm and slamming his elbow into the ground. I made my way to the bulkhead and swung from the bottom, attempting to raise the latch. The first swing did little to nothing, but the second jolted it out of its locked position and, with the third, removed it from the ring entirely.

I pulled on the door. It was heavy. Slowly, light began to peer from the door, revealing the outside. I entered the clearing only to be tackled from behind by Thompson. We fell to the ground as I scrambled my way out of his grasp. He quickly stood, his wound seeming to heal, but I wasn’t planning to stay around and check my theory. We stood as he fell against the window, leaning on it for support, still holding his neck.

“You better run, bitch!” He cried with an airy voice. “I know everything! You can’t hide from me!”

I sprinted towards where I thought the elevator was, but to my surprise, the room layout had differed. We were no longer on the forty-fifth floor.

The room twisted and turned, contorting like liquid. I couldn’t find my coordination, stumbling into facade walls feigned to be something else. The colors swirled, becoming a gray tone shimmering with intensity. My stomach swayed, leaving me nauseous and fatigued.

I opened doors frantically, looking for a way out. I stumbled into a dark room, with no light to be seen except for a tiny sliver at the end of the large corridor. I sprinted with all of the energy I had left. My parents fabricated into the darkness. A memory of them fighting in the kitchen.

They argued and shouted obscenities at each other, where I, a young toddler, watched from the corner, witnessing everything. They didn’t fight often, but when they did, it was ugly. They would never get physical, and we’re lucky for that, but my brother and I would struggle to sleep those nights, having to drown out the fights with our pillows or white noise.

I kept running, my vision blurry with tears, still swaying with imbalance. I didn’t want to remember, I didn’t have to, I told my brother we could do it together, and I left him all alone. The next memory was in fragments, losing my friends after I got into MartinBrooke. They despised me, hated me for such an accomplishment, and I never understood why.

I took a leap and made it, one of which they never could achieve, and I was to blame for such a mishap in their intelligence. The door was growing closer, the end to this painful tunnel.

The memory of my brother crying forged to the left of me, sitting on the doorstep, his tears leaving trails on my shirt. It was humid, a warm day in Virginia following a storm. His heart was shattered, the backlash of something that wasn’t, in any part, his fault.

The suicide of a friend, one of which he was being blamed for assisting. He loved her, and I might not have known her, but she changed something in him that I may never know. Emotions were pouring from me as I ran, sobbing in the darkness. I was a few forty feet from the door.

“Finally, took you forever.” I stopped dead, breathing in erratic patterns, overwhelmed by emotion. I turned slowly, my heart painfully thumped out of my chest. It couldn’t be. I turned to see his face, his smile, one of pure euphoria. He stood there, glimmering in the sunlight.Why did it have to be you?He stood, waiting for a response, and I stood, frozen, waiting to respond.

“I-” I choked on my heart, choking down growing queasiness. “I had to eat breakfast.” I sobbed, tears rushing down my face. “No point going out on an empty stomach.” My sentences came out choppy, a sniffle between each word as I struggled to compose myself.

“Mine’s pretty empty. I don’t see why you couldn’t have just waited till the drive. You’ll be starving by the time we get there anyway.”

“C’mon-” I couldn’t say his name. It hurt too much. It tore a hole through my chest. I’ve tried not to think about him since I arrived. Is this punishment? How could I forget my brother?

“I’m sorry.” I said, “I never should’ve left you.”

“What do you mean?” He said, laughing.

“Did you live? Tell me did you live goddammit?” I shouted, dropping to my knees. “Please, tell me!” The pain of the past and the fear of what’s to come if I remain here mixed, growing an endless form of anxiety.

“I am alive, sis. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He chuckled awkwardly, reaching his hand towards me. I sobbed like a baby, my throat scraping raw as I wailed. His hand pressed on my shoulder as he chuckled. I looked up with teary eyes. Staring back was his calm, collected, warm, gentle, angelic, relieving smile.

“Get up.” He said, “You got this.” He helped me up onto my feet. My tears continued to stream, and my despair grew, devouring any hope and excreting it into a bottomless pit.

“I can’t leave you again! I won’t leave you again!” I grabbed onto him, pulling him into my embrace. I squeezed tightly. I opened my eyes, the tears abstracting the colors in the distance into little blobs. The light from the doorway was blocked as Thompson’s silhouette came into view.

“Ow, sis, you’re hurting me.” He laughed. “Now, let go. You have the stuff to do.” Thompson began to sprint, growing in speed, faster and faster. A shockwave of fear sent through my spine as Thompson approached with breakneck speed.

“Sis, you got this.” My brother said. He pulled out of my hug, pushing me towards the door. Thompson was now only a few feet from me, breaking through the visage of my brother as he vanished into vapor. I stumbled back, falling through the doorway, the door opening behind me and closing once I entered.

“No. No!” I crawled towards the door, clawing at it. “God, please, no!” My voice scraped my throat dry, and snot ran down my face. “Please, Connor!” I shouted. I fell to my elbows, screaming, the tension in my chest growing tight.

“Stand up,” Thompson said from behind. My heart stopped. How did he make it? He couldn’t have. My body shook with fear as he lifted me to my feet. “This is why you can’t live.” I turned. The room was backlit by a dark red radiating from the center of a fountain in the middle. The corners and walls were dark, with the only light coming from the water. Sitting in front of the fountain on the ground was Ares.

Across his lap lay the brutally beaten body of Rosemary. Bruised and bloody, Rosemary’s body was disfigured, decrepit, and deformed, the skin of her limbs warped and stretched around the bone. Her left eye was gouged, and the right hung from the socket, still attached to its nerves.

Hair was ripped from her scalp, and her teeth were scattered with uneven gaps in her mouth. Her clothes were bloodied and ripped, exposing her mid-riff and left breast.

Ares sat in a pool of blood, completely uninjured. He sat on his knees with Rosemary’s body laying horizontally across his legs. His head fell back, staring at the ceiling.

“He cannot be allowed to continue this, and you-” Thompson turned to me, staring daggers at me. “You cannot be allowed to live.” He reached into his back pocket, pulling out the golden pendant twirled by Rosemary. He knelt beside me, attempting to place his hand on my shoulder, but I pulled away. He looked angry but understanding as he set the pendant on the floor before me.

“There is a ritual, a gift, one of the forty-fourth floor. Your wish will be fulfilled by tossing a precious item, one of great value and pain, into the fountain alongside sacrificing yourself. One of profits, one of harmony and peace, or one of a god.” He stood up, his fists balled, clutching his bracelet. “You can take Rosemary’s place.”

“I won’t allow it,” Ares said, unwavering as his voice boomed through the empty room. “I can’t allow it.” He stood, dropping Rosemary’s body and turning towards us. “I won’t lose you, too.”

I stood up, wiping the tears from my eyes. I paced over to Ares, fear coursing through my veins. I walked up to him, looking him straight in the eyes. The trance I would fall into no longer held. I remember why I’m here, who I’ve come this far for. I won’t let Ares stand in the way of my brother.

“I have to do this, for me, my brother, for you,” I said. He stared at me, shocked, his eyes puffy and wet as if he’d been crying. He lowered his head, our foreheads meeting in the middle. I closed my eyes as a beaming grin showed on my face. “I like this. It’s peaceful.” I could feel the warmth radiating from his body, the overwhelming anger leaving as he cooled off from the fountain’s mist.

“I’m sorry, love. I promise I won’t forget you.” I felt his hands grab my neck, not choking but holding me securely by the sides. We spun, pivoting one hundred and eighty degrees.

“Ares, no!” Thompson shouted. I opened my eyes to Ares, tears streaming down his face as he squinted, blinded by emotion. Time seemed to slow as our eyes made contact. I was floating, lifted from the ground. I reached out, my arms reaching, attempting to grab Ares’ shoulders.

My hand scratched past his left eye pulling up skin and blood as it glided over the cornea. My back felt cold as the water from the fountain brushed over it. Thompson’s face expressed his shock, his fear of losing someone else. There was nothing left to save him. Ares must be exterminated.

I crashed through the center pillar of the fountain, my hips smashing into the hard concrete. I dropped the medallion, hoping,wishingit would find its way. My body pierced through the water, slamming into the wall in the back of the room.

I felt my back snap. My skull whiplashed back, shattering on impact with the wall. I slid to the floor, where my legs split in opposite directions, bent at the knee. Everything went quiet as I watched the blobs of the color clash. Thompson tackled Ares into the fountain, holding him under water before being flipped by Ares, the roles reversing.

My body fell limp. I could no longer feel. My head slowly swayed, my arms glowing a pearlescent gold and blue. I floated from my body. Surprised, there I was, lying against the wall. My half-up-half-down, dirty blonde hair was soaked in water. Blood trickled from my mouth and shoulders, down past my wet sweater. I felt like I was growing far from my body, flying over the fountain in line with the brawl. I dangled, limbless, bodiless, just a floating soul.

I began to descend, growing in speed. I regained control, making my way to my feet, standing with shock and confidence. I now stood in front of the fountain as the two gods wrestled. I looked at my hands, a dark red nail plastered on each finger. Deep brown hair fell over my shoulders as my clothes changed entirely.

I was Rosemary, just like Thompson had said. Ares pushed off of Thompson, stepping out of the fountain, his mouth gaping as he struggled for breath. His arm raised as he pointed at me.

“You’re supposed to be dead.” He said, exasperated. Tears began to form once more in his eyes. “I loved her, dammit! I loved her, and I killed her for what?” He shouted, swinging his arms, exaggerating every gesture.

“I’m not-” I stuttered, shocked at the change in my voice. Thompson appeared from behind Ares, reaching over with a cloth and holding it firmly. Ares fought back, but only for a moment before falling limp. He released Ares’ body as it fell to the floor, collapsing with an audible thud. Thompson stood and sighed. Adjusting his bracelet back onto his wrist.

“You did the right thing.” He said, hoisting the large Ares onto his shoulder with ease and walking over to me. “Welcome to the godly hood, Rosemary.” He patted my shoulder, exiting the room into the dark abyss behind me.

Dear, you,

It’s been four years since I’ve felt normal since I’ve felt human. I rarely sleep without dreams of a past that I don’t remember. Time has not been kind to me, brother. Ares and I, we haven’t been on the best of terms. He won’t believe he didn’t finish the job and refuses to listen to reason. We are gods; we don’t interact with each other often, not more than we have to.

There are things that I don’t understand, things the other gods don’t know about. I did not take Rosemary’s place. She’s still out there, somewhere. We had to relocate following the death as Ares could no longer handle it. We built a new Apple, one with more efficient games.

The games have changed since I arrived, and I take pride in that, but I sense these killings will continue, no matter my stature with the gods. A few days ago, a boy arrived, he looked quite like you, he reminded me of you, but your time is not up yet, keep going.

Dear brother,

My memories are returning, coming in waves of nostalgia. I can remember things better now. I remember how it all ended. How the games began. I’m growing memories that aren’t my own, ones of my creation. I promise I haven’t forgotten about you, and I won’t. The days are beginning to feel slower as I grow more acquainted with the gods and the Apple.

We keep up with the library, though it’s off-limits to those who wish to enter. We keep up with the Idex, no longer under the totalitarian rule of Thompson as it once was. There has been a domestic change within the gods since I arrived. As much as I want to tell you about it, I can’t. I miss you but seeing you won’t help that pain. Please, brother, stay away.

Here we are. Here I am, at the end of time, with you. You’ve come so far, further than I’d ever imagined. I wish I could talk to you about what you’ve done over the years.Have they been kind to you?I’d suppose not. I sit here watching the man you’ve become, the power you continue to show, and the guile surrounding you.

I wish we could’ve had more time together, but I won’t forget you. I love you, brother. I loved you. And I’m happy to say the wish is yours. Hurry, brother. Just a little bit longer, and you can say you finished.

As the world was devoured by flames, my vision fell flat, leaving me in an abyss.