“I had heard of these servants, these Laruas. They truly obey you?” The King of Heroes asked.

“I took up a role within Elysium to control them. A position called the Lord of Sutures.” I explained as 13 came beside me, surveying his kindred distributing our stolen goods seized from the Blessed.

He wrinkled his nose. “I can smell the corruption in them.”

“They are what other men made them to be.” I defended.

“They’re a violation of nature and heaven.”

“We’re about to conquer death itself. If that’s not a violation against the heavens, then the Laruas certainly aren’t.” I said.

“They belong to Hades just as much as they belong to you surely if they are transformed with the blood of his bestial minions, commanded by a master appointed with his own power, and are bound to his little paradise within the Underworld. You cannot truly claim you have dominion over them if you’re honest with me and yourself.”

“They just burned that ‘little paradise’ down to its foundations. They belong neither to me nor Hades.” I said.

“Who do they belong to then?” Achilles said shrewdly. “Themselves? I think not.”

13 stiffened behind me, not doubt believing I was about to blabber away Kronos’s involvement.

“They belong to freedom. As do I.” I said. “All but 13 the head Larua next to me have had their voices taken away with golden stitches, so I will speak for them. Hades and Elysium took their wills and their liberty and I have restored it to them. I am connected to them, I feel their intent and their pain and their rage, these men and women could be commanded by all the gods and goddesses in the heavens, the Dominium, and the Underworld and they would not be knelt.”

“If you say so.” He said with skepticism.

I wondered if even I believed those words and was surprised to find I did. Kronos and I had given them the ability to resist their enslavement, but they could have bowed to the will of Hades, the third part of the equation when it came to their collective destinies. They could have been cowed, they could have been weak. Instead, they had become destroyers. I was the Flame and my touch caused wildfires, but the Laruas had been ignited by me without being consumed themselves. They had laid waste to the false paradise of their oppressors and done all but salt the ruins. Elysium’s fall was my glory but it was theirs even more so.

He tossed me a ball of mist and condensed light. My Ghostforged blade, taken from me when I had gone on into Elysium.

Without thinking I transformed it from its shrunk form to a copy of a standard Keenblade and hissed when the pain of the Blurs forming its essence and structure cried out in my mind.

Every Larua I could see froze in place.

When I had first taken up being the Lord of Sutures, 13 had told me that he and the others could read my mind at times in select situations. Evidently the agony of something connected to my mind and soul was echoing through theirs. I could almost feel their judgment as they realized I had enslaved something for my benefit just as they had been.

I didn’t know what I could do to sway them, but I could at least try and soothe the distress of the thirteen Blurs combined into the weapon. I reminded the Blurs with my thoughts and the intention behind my promise to free them once we escaped.

It wasn’t enough. Their minds could barely comprehend the logic of my arguments. It was only words and to beings with that capacity worn away by time, words would never be enough.

I gave them feelings instead. A memory of looking into a mirror and seeing brown pupilless eyes staring back instead of violet, the shame I felt about being on the least and lowliest of Paths in the Dominium. The heartbreak of my family’s deaths, the fury at my brother inviting the tragedy with his lust and at the Cantions for carrying out the murders. The elation of the ring transforming me, of looking into another mirror and seeing an Imperator’s face. The ecstasy of my victories in the arena and on the battlefield, my heart pumping in my veins. My stubborn refusal to burn Alsig in order to win the fight against the giant creature we had fought during the rebellion on Iulius that had gotten Pollixa killed. My bargain with the Sicarii’s Silicon Daimon AIs and how they trusted me.

I know what it’s like be worthless. I know what it’s like to be in pain. I’m not going to abandon you or break my promise. I thought.

The souls inside my Ghostforged sword calmed, but my relief was dashed by the prickling feeling of the eyes of the Laruas on my mind. Had they heard and felt what I had transmitted?

I shoved my unease down when I saw Pollixa, Albas and Fish coming to me.

“Alright, spill.” She said, but I was too busy staring at the Leechling.

He had serrated fangs for his canine teeth and was taller and more gaunt. A faint Red Halo ringed his irises and his long nails almost seemed like yellowed claws. I inspected my own, they hadn’t grown at all in my time in the land of the dead, why had Fish’s done so?

“What happened to Fish.” I said in horror.

“He’s a Leechling.” She said as if that explained everything.

“He didn’t become like… this when I saw him feed before.” I said.

“That’s because he fed on a Bright before. He’s been drinking the blood of Infernal Beasts, we couldn’t have him drain life essence from one of our soldiers and he needed sustenance. It transformed him.” Pollixa said.

Fish smiled. It was more a predatory baring of teeth than true affection. I was glad that he was more aware and focused, but it seemed he had sacrificed his haziness for something far darker.

“He can drink Nectar and eat Ambrosia now instead. Maybe it’ll heal him back to something more human.” I said.

Fish shook his head but didn’t elaborate.

Pollixa spoke for him. “The King says that Fish being a Leechling that fed off of the Corpsefather’s Beasts means he won’t be able to properly process it. Blood is the only thing that will give him vitality and consciousness.”

I was still trying to process the mutations when she cut back in.

“Like I said, spill.”

“Spill what?”

“You promised to tell me how you knew me and who I was once we met again after your scouting mission.” Pollixa said. “I’ve had to wait far longer than that because of you infiltrating Elysium.”

“Your name is Pollixa Gallion and both you and I were Bronze Imperators who graduated early from the Apollonian Scholarium. There was a mass Servi uprising throughout the Dominium and you, me, and a small number of other Strategoi officers of the Solar Guard were sent as a special strike force to take out a major nerve center of the rebellion and assassinate their leader. When we faced the giant…”

“I died in combat.” She whispered.

I could have left it there, but the idea of lying after I promised the truth sat like an anvil in my stomach.

“You died. And I could have saved you. Prevented your death.”

“What?”

I kept forging forward, avoiding looking her in her eyes.

“I have, well, I had at the time some divine powers from my grandfather, the Regent, and I could have used them.” I said.

“Why didn’t you? Why did you let me die?” Pollixa said, tears coming to her eyes.

“Doing so would have burned my Silicon Daimon, Alsig, to a crisp and I refused to do so. The divine powers had to do with fire and light and so-“

Pollixa swung at me. It was a good one too, she must have either unlocked previous memories or had training done in the Underworld. I would have let it hit me, because I felt I deserved it from her perspective, but a Larua moved with unnatural speed to catch her by the wrist.

Through my connection to the Laruas’ telepathic network, I could sense the killing intent radiating from the former servant.

“Don’t hurt her.” I said quietly and withdrew from her and Fish so that she could process the truth without being forced to stare at my face.

Albas, my sort of cousin, followed me.

“Divine powers, huh? You realize that’s unprecedented for us descendants of Augustas.” Albas said.

“He was surprised as well.”

“And pleased, I’m sure.” He replied.

I laughed, trying to put the negative energy of what had just happened behind me. “Grandfather received a new useful weapon, of course he was pleased.”

He laughed as well and I almost fell into the trap of thinking him as a child when really he was only wearing the age of when he had died like an actor’s costume. It was an illusion of innocence that this conqueror of Mars had no doubt used many times to manipulate others.

“They’re mirroring your body language, you know.” My cousin said.

“What?”

“Your shadows,” He said as he nodded his head towards the Laruas. “They walk like you.”

“I think you’re just seeing things,” I said dismissively.

“And I think you’re blind. When they first carried the treasures out, their heads were bent. Good little slaves.” Albas said.

My anger spiked at that word. What was causing this reaction repeatedly to people calling myself or the Laruas slaves?

“And then?” I said.

“And then you stared the King of Heroes in the face and told him they were free.”

I looked at the Laruas I was connected to. They did seem to hold themselves differently. Before they had seemed like mice and now they were like lions. Was that really how others saw me?