Chapter Text
Was it bravery or stupidity in sacrificing life essence to leap into the abyss? Piercing pain racks his body like a hundred needles splayed out. The anguish grips his spirit and twists it down into the black and starry space. The portal rimmed with gold; a circle of Tartarus seen from below shrinking above him.
He is remade in a place void of light except from those stars reflecting in black, unknowable waters. He stood upon the gray, cracked stone. It was without any temperature or texture he could discern. Gray, smooth roots twist and push up through the stone floor while fuchsia flowers bloom and fall in ways not quite convincing.
As if keeping his gaze from the wrongness of this space, his gaze is drawn toward a purple mark emanating power. He slowly moves closer; tightness in his chest and pulse beating at his neck as warning. He accepts the invitation: his hand reaches out to the unrecognizable power.
As if suddenly existing in the space before his eyes, he sees the being. A piercing pain shoots behind his eyes and pressure grows in his head. He desperately attempts to make sense of the many eyes and many faces— unlike anything he has ever seen.
With blurring vision he says, “Who or what are you?” The answer is knowledge gifted right into his aching head: Chaos, Primordial Originator.
A powerful boon the price of which was blood and a curse. Once their curse lifted, the weight of Chaos’ influence changed in clarity and power: a visceral feeling moving inside him as feelings of pleasure echo from Chaos. His obedience was rewarded. They were pleased he had survived their trial. He had made Master Chaos pleased.
Their boons were incredibly powerful which was, of course, he returned to the starry realm to hear Chaos’ layered voice. He strained his senses to get one more hint of their realm; to learn a little more about them. If he wasn’t mistaken Master Chaos enjoyed his company as well.
Upon his arrival the echoing chorus speaks, “This space grows far more interesting when you occupy a small amount of it." A flush of blood heats his face perhaps it would go unnoticed. Their overwhelming presence hadn’t yet been revealed to him.
Recently, It has been easier, less painful to look upon them. To see the red eye-like gem in their chest and their cascading ever-changing cloak of faces, form, and flower.
“How you evaluate decisions is of limitless interest to me. Please consider these.” They say, without moving their mouth or changing their ever-serene expression.
Three options: only one of which would truly be useful this run. However, its drawback would require him to avoid dashing for a few rooms. I’m sure that I can make do. Just have to… remember.
“This one then!” Zagreus says, nearly dashing towards the door before remembering himself.
“My mark be with you." Is the last thing Zagreus hears before jumping down into the portal somehow also falling downwards into Tartarus. Best not to question that.
In the very next room he realizes his mistake. As a thugs club comes hurtling downwards and a grasping Wringers fingers attempt to trap him in place, he dashes. A lancing pain ripping through Chaos’ mark. His skin tingles once the pain subsides. He recognizes this as pain and healing in immediate succession. He is cut; and healed as the blood spills from his body.
He is caught in a trap, dashes and the sudden pain and almost pleasurable feeling on his skin after the pain fades makes him pause a moment.
“Have you forgotten?” Many voices layered over each other to shape Chaos’ words. He could hear hints of emotion within some of them, some monotone, others amused, and others he could almost hear a smile shaping the words.
Focus. Focus! Run, attack, throw. Attack, run. He was trapped again. It was either dash or get crushed by a club. He dashes, hearing a melodious laugh as his blood spills again. Fucking beautiful— an another blow raining down—Blood and Darkness!
Surprised and distracted by the laugh of Chaos echoing in his head the Prince returns to the Styx.
“Why, that is rather strange." No one had ever considered them beautiful. Horrifying certainly, considering the fleeting thoughts of that mortal who had mistakenly found themselves in their realm; before their mind had turned too muddy for even Chaos to discern. It was likely a mistake. All creatures had thoughts that they did not truly mean— including them.
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A few runs later when Zagreus finds himself in the starry void once again, he wisely picks the only boon where he doesn’t need to restrict his actions.
He’s here again despite the chance that the choice of coming here will kill him. He’s here despite the wrenching headache that ensues when Master Chaos allows themself to be seen. He’s here because he’s certain if he had the experiences Chaos had he would be lonely.
He likes spending time here no matter how brief. The cost is worth it to see them, their realm, to hear them speak. He shakes his head. They had already opened the portals back to the underworld. Time to get back.
“Look my vessel in the eyes, O Son of Hades.” Of course, Master Chaos. He looks forward at eyes that peer at him curiously. They might be called purple (red) if you didn’t look too closely at the shifting hues of the cosmos behind them.
That laugh again, joyful and entertained. “No, not those.” Something touches his cheek and chin: a hand larger than he expected tilting his head slowly up up up. The need to squint as a dull ache behind his eyes turns sharp. What—
His mouth is dry, his knees ache bending slightly under his own weight. His eyes flick from face to mouth to eye, to bone and spine. There is too much in his vision; what he’s seeing could not possibly fit in their visage. He sees them. Abruptly, he blinks hard to break eye contact. He gasps for air as if he had stopped breathing. He needs something solid.The smooth gray, cracked stone of the decaying temple under his feet grounds him.
A warm trickle flows from his nose and the weight of the hand on his face suddenly disappears. There is a drop of red on the gray stone. The image of eyes within an eye is burned into his retinas. It’s after image skittering everywhere he looks.
“Ah. I apologize— I have taken more than we agreed to in my curiosity… I wish for you to have this.” Zagreus feels the change in Chaos’ mark: a rush of power, the momentary feeling of weightlessness.
Zagreus tilted his head up. He would do anything— Chaos was gone.
The multi-layered voice was all that remained, “I misjudged the depth of your Psyche. Forgive me. You came to harm in an attempt to protect yourself. I will consider this in the interim of our meetings.”
A boon from the origin of all things for the price of: a drop of his blood, fingers under his chin— something else too— but the memory slips away
——
Something drew him back to the black portal. The feeling of his skin after giving up his life essence, the call of Master Chaos themself, the curiosity of the void. Was it in spite of the pain or due to it?
"I find myself anticipating your arrivals, Son of Hades."
There was no request for a response. And today (or tonight?) he was exhausted. He hadn’t made it to Lernie in a couple runs and was still fuming at himself for his last run. He stood uncertain of his welcome for a moment, panting.
"May you enjoy a moment's peace within my space before venturing on in uncertainty. To my surprise, I must admit I do appreciate the company."
Zagreus let out a breath before sliding down to the stone slab. The column lines draw his gaze up to the blinking stars above.
“Thank you,” He fumbles in his tunic for a moment before pulling a bottle of nectar free, its golden contents swirling and settling.
“Master Chaos, I pledge never to forget you of your good graces. May your wisdom and whim forever guide me.” He holds out the bottle to the starry void.
For a moment a silence of this place grates on his ears. “Is this an offering of fealty or friendship, son of Hades?”
Defined by father.
“Does friendship not encompass fealty? I simply mean to thank you for being a constant in my journey and a welcoming presence.”
“You are welcome then, …Zagreus” A slight brush on his wrist, softly pulling the bottle from his palm. It disappears from view. I wish they would appear, would have liked to see them receive that one.
A smile comes to Zagreus’ weary features as he hears his name from the voice of creation. He spots a splash of some water out some ways from the platform. Some denizen in the black water. Zagreus assembles his fishing rod, dangles his legs over the edge, casts his line, and waits. Silence crawls through time.
“You are quite different, Zagreus.” A muli-layered hum that he can feel vibrate deep in his chest. “You come here without fear, without demanding answers, simply absorbing your surroundings.” The ocean shifts as if something large moves, but he cannot see what disturbs it. The stone seems to fizz in the moment he blinks.
“I am intrigued by what you perceive of my realm. I would ask a boon of you.”
Please. “What can I do for you, Master Chaos?” His palms grow damp.
“I believe you cannot see the truth of things yet. I would ask for you to spend greater time in my presence. It is my suspicion that this will prompt a deepening of insight. A widening of perspective that may be interesting and enjoyable for us both.” Their voice fracturing, hint of trepidation. “Will you agree? Respond.”
“What do you mean I cannot see the truth? I am happy to spend time with you— I already do nearly every day or night in fact.” A tug on the rod pulls Zagreus’ focus.
A pause of consideration. “Allow this explanation: this vessel is a lie, a lesson in fluidity, but it reflects some aspect of self I would like to share. To be known by you.” A another tug, harder this time, but not hooked yet.
Softer than he had heard their voice become, they said, “I wonder with time if you will be able to see more truly.”
They want to be known. He wants to know them.
Before unthinkingly accepting a pact with the progenitor of all things a last flicker of self-preservation makes it out of his mouth, “Will I come to harm?”
“Please, do not fear. I will not harm you if you do not wish to be harmed.” I might wish to be harmed if it is by their hand.
“Then I agree.” The buoy dips under the black waters disappearing into opaque waters.
“Very well. Your choice pleases me.” Zagreus swallows thickly, heat pooling in his cheeks and further down. Pleased them.
A final tug, “Mm, you are eluded.” The creature in the water had escaped, never to be known.
Zagreus looks down into the depths of that black ocean. Below there is a shape of a temple like this once except… a burning buzz starts at the back of his head and radiates outward. His thighs and shoulders feel heavy. Too heavy to move. His eyes stare unblinking into the rippling void trying to find something, he’s close. let me in.
The undulation of ever flowing cloth. A small flash expanding to a yet enormous explosion of color rending the black void as a purple light fills the space between distant stars. A cascade of a silky iridescence falling from a tilted head, golden halo. He’s almost there.
“That’s plenty, Zagreus.” He pushes himself to the limits, foolish, enchanting. “Come here.”
Hearing their voice as if from a great distance. He follows his name returning to the red gem beacon of Master. where is this, where was I?
He blinks and blinks again, his eyes watering. He’s standing in the middle of the temple now. Chaos moves their arms to either side of the platform leaning in slightly as if protecting something. They are hard to focus directly on. The buzzing in Zagreus' head settles to a low hum.
He feels their hands; one on his head and two enveloping his own. There is a slight weakness in his knees. I’d like to kneel. Safety ensured with their fingers in his hair. One of his knees buckles, but suddenly gravity doesn’t seem to apply and he floats, held.
“You cannot be lost with my eyes on you, but I have kept you here too long.” Too long? It’s only been a couple minutes (hours).
“I have yet again taken something from you without proper exchange.” A sound like a soft breeze. A finger brushes his cheek collecting a single tear from his stinging eyes.
don’t wanna go. wanna— He’s back in Asphodel the dry, hot air quickly drying a wetted cheek. The ghost weight of hands holding him: gentle.
"I have something for you." The influx of power moves through Zagreus. The earth’s pull lessens momentarily in intensity.