Page 44 of The Night Belongs To Lovers

After all, the betrayer had consumed all its blood and nearly all its flesh, the godly matter which rightfully belonged to the ancient Titan. The apparition felt an undeniable connection to the stolen power coursing through Olympius’ veins. And that blood—that magic—would call to it, reach for it, and unhesitatingly fuse with the spirit of its original host.

The apparition believed Olympius’ suppressed consciousness would quickly fade, leaving the path clear for Coeus, the forgotten Titan and rightful Lord of the Night, to make his triumphant return to Life Eternal.

After that, a magic that could transform the body, returning the Titan’s physical appearance, would be sought. Shape-shifting was an ability possessed by both Oceanus and Tethys, and the returned Coeus would find his long-lost siblings and beseech their aid, learn their magic.

Yet another opportunity to keep Olympius and Coriolanus apart had been provided; the apparition hoped its efforts this time would bring about the final victory to gain its liberty.

For some inexplicable reason, it sensed a certain auspiciousness in the air. Would The Fates finally deliver an outcome in its favour? The apparition hoped the goddesses had feasted enough upon the pain and suffering this malediction consistently provided and would release it; indeed, no curse could be forever! All gods got bored of repetition and expectancy, and the Weird Sisters were surely no different.

The despairing spirit hung on to this hope like a starving bird of prey’s talons to a plump hare.

Invisible, the apparition had followed and watched Coriolanus for hours—as time worked in the material world—waiting for the perfect opportunity to unleash its wrath upon the unsuspecting god. It briefly sensed Olympius’ presence at one point, but bad luck caused it to just as quickly disappear. He wondered if the constant thorn in his side, the Secundus he long ago discovered was the goddess Fortuna, was to blame.

Trailing Coriolanus in this unfamiliar era, in this exotic city, was all it had to work with; the prolonged pursuit and observation eventually ended at what the apparition considered a garish beggar’s street.

When the apparition first arrived in this unfamiliar time period, it was highly disoriented. Everything vastly differed from anything it previously experienced: the culture, complexity, vibrancy, and especially the extraordinary structures. It tried to imagine Pyramids as far as the eye could see or the great Parthenon of the Acropolis stacked a dozen times upon itself.

But these structures were not merely wood, stone or marble. To its assessment, everything seemed constructed from glass alongside unknown, wonderous materials, a magical iron, perhaps, and they all appeared godlike in their enormity and majesty.

And the giant metal bird the apparition saw soaring above was indeed a wonder! It had no words for such a monstrous thing.

This grandeur was beyond anything it had seen in centuries past, and it questioned why the gods allowed mortals to aspire to such heights of ego. Once it took control of Olympius’ body, the apparition intended to explore and adventure to learn all it could about this fantastical era—before conquering it and teaching humankind humility.

And the gods a lesson in complacency.

Throughout its nocturnal surveillance of Coriolanus, the apparition remained indifferent to the mortal prey at the god’s side. Not once did it look upon the man’s face, and why should it? No matter how Coriolanus played the cat-and-mouse game or how annoyingly long it went on, the apparition believed the mortal’s only importance was as the inevitable meal to satiate the god’s hunger.

However, as it now watched the ancient immortal draw near to the man and kiss him, that odd move quickly changed the apparition’s viewpoint. Though it was barely a breath of a moment, with Coriolanus pushing the man away, abruptly ending the embrace, the apparition believed this was not something to overlook as inconsequential. It knew Olympius’ soul-match would nevershow such seemingly authentic intimacy, such affection for another, especially a lowly human.

As it finally glanced upon the face of this mortal, the apparition understood that this man was no mere source of food; there was a more profound significance at play.

And if it was furious before, the apparition was incensed now.

That face! How is it possible? To look so much like my traitorous child! Coriolanus must have seen this. It is the only explanation for his less-than-predatorial comportment. Your cruelty knows no bounds, bitch goddesses. To lead him to what must be one of Olympius’ distant mortal relatives, descendants of my duplicitous child’s mortal father! The audacity!

Do you think to toy with me, goddesses? I will tear that mortal apart! No happiness for Olympius or his pathetic lover! None! Not even a flicker of the real thing. I will not suffer torturous isolation and exist in this never-ending nightmare alone.

The apparition fumed; its hatred toward The Fates had grown immeasurably over the centuries. This game, this mockery of parading Olympius’ doppelganger before it, was insufferable, and it demanded retaliation.

Before it could conjure a plan of utmost violence against the god and the mortal bearing a likeness to Olympius, the apparition witnessed Coriolanus finish its detestably intimate business and dart away with a swiftness its spirit eyes could not keep up with.

When the apparition finally found the capacity to focus, the immortal was gone, leaving the mortal man semi-conscious on the ground. Alone, without godly protection.

And oh, how the apparition wanted the mortal dead. It previously thought tonight would be different, but whatever optimistic feeling it had earlier that merciful providence was calling this night no longer held weight. If The Fates wanted to play games, it would show them how they would all end.

However, how to enact a violent attack was still to be determined. The apparition long ago abandoned assuming a solid form in the material world; the false flesh was no longer pleasing to the spirit’s senses.

Over time, the god-sized homunculus meant to be its grand weapon stopped feeling even a semblance—real. If it transformed now, the apparition felt no wondrous physical sensations as it had initially. The spirit thought it akin to feeling trapped in a pool of thick tar, struggling to swim while being pulled down to the inky depths. It was perpetual suffocation. To become flesh and blood temporarily was no longer a functional tool in the apparition’s arsenal of vengeance. The so-called gift became a Trojan horse.

The apparition learned a valuable lesson: beware of Fates bearing gifts.

But in its vexation, it discovered that ghosts could manipulate the material plane in their own way. Exerting its will over physical objects took immense concentration but could be done. Heightened emotion made the activity more effortless—like anger, contempt,fury, and hate. And the disembodied, cursed creature bore those feelings in abundance.

The apparition was set on a hostile path as it glared at the mortal who was trying to rise to his unsteady feet. Its first attack was simple. It mentally projected its hate toward the man, creating profound sensations of dread, anxiety, and fear. Once the man’s mind was addled, it would then assail his body.

Christian could barely stand, swooning due to the loss of blood, though he had no idea that was the reason he felt so weak. His heart pounded so hard in his chest that it felt like it might burst through his ribcage. An overwhelming sense of fright gripped him, though he could not understand why. He had felt so safe and excited in the god’s embrace, but this new sensation was something—evil.

Trembling with terror, Christian frantically scanned the dimly lit area, his eyes darting back and forth as he looked for any sign of his otherworldly lover. He found none. His pulse became erratic as he listened to the eerie silence, broken only by his heavy breathing. Fearing the unknown danger that lurked close so intently, his mind began to shut down. The darkness seemed to close around him, suffocating him with its oppressive weight.

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