Acheron

The room as a whole looked to the wisewoman who stared blankly at the tiny, helpless baby who cried out for someone to hold him and offer him solace. Warmth.

But no one did.

'He will be a destroyer, this child,' the wisewoman said, her ancient voice loud and ringing so that all could hear her proclamation. 'His touch will bring death to many. Not even the gods themselves will be safe from his wrath.'

I gasped, not really understanding the significance of her words.

How could a mere baby hurt anyone? He was tiny. Helpless.

'Then kill him now.' My father ordered a guard to draw his sword and slay the infant.

'Nay!' the wisewoman said, halting the guard before he could carry out the king's will. 'Kill this infant and your other son dies as well. Their life forces are combined. 'Tis the will of the gods that you should raise him to manhood.'

The elder twin sobbed.

I sobbed, too, not understanding their hatred of a simple baby.

'I will not raise a monster,' my father snarled.

'You have no choice.' The wisewoman took the baby from the midwife and offered it to my mother.

Frowning, I saw a note of satisfaction in the midwife's eyes before the beautiful blond woman made her way through the crowd to vanish from the room.

'He was born of your body, Majesty,' the wisewoman said, drawing my attention back toward her and my mother. 'He is your son.'

The baby squalled even louder, reaching again for my mother. His mother. She cringed away from him, clutching her second-born even tighter than before. 'I will not suckle it. I will not touch it. Get it away from my sight.'

The wisewoman took the child to my father. 'And what of you, Majesty? Will you not acknowledge him?'

'Never. That child is no son of mine.'

The wisewoman took a deep breath and presented the infant to the room. Her grip was loose with no love or compassion evident in her touch.

'Then he will be called Acheron for the River of Woe. Like the river of the Underworld, his journey shall be dark, long and enduring. He will be able to give life and to take it. He will walk through his life alone and abandoned-ever seeking kindness and ever finding cruelty.'

The wisewoman looked down at the infant in her hands and uttered the simple truth that would haunt the boy for the rest of his existence. 'May the gods have mercy on you, little one. No one else ever will.'

August 30, 9541 BC

'Why do they hate me so, Ryssa?'

I paused at my loom to look up at Acheron's timid approach. At age seven, he was an incredibly handsome boy. His golden hair gleamed in the room as if it had been touched by the gods who seemed to have abandoned him. 'No one hates you, akribos.'

But in my heart I knew the truth.

And so did he.

He came closer to me and I saw the red, angry handprint on his face. There were no tears in his swirling silver eyes. He'd grown so used to being hit that it no longer seemed to bother him.

At least nowhere other than in his heart.

'What happened?' I asked.

He looked away.

I left my loom and crossed the short distance to his side. Kneeling in front of him, I gently brushed the blond hair away from his swollen cheek. 'Tell me.'

'She hugged Styxx.'

I knew without asking who she was. He'd been with our mother. I'd never understood how she could be so loving to me and Styxx and yet so cruel to Acheron. 'And?'

'I wanted a hug, too.'

Then I saw it. The telltale signs of a boy who wanted nothing more than his mother's love. The shallow trembling of his lips, the slight watering of his eyes.

'Why is it that I look exactly like Styxx and yet I'm unnatural while he is not? I don't understand why I'm a monster. I don't feel like one to me.'

I couldn't explain it to him, for I, unlike the others, had never seen the difference myself. How I wished Acheron knew the mother I did.

But they all called him a monster.

I saw only a little boy. A small child who wanted nothing more than to be accepted by a family that wanted to disown him. Why couldn't my parents look at him and see what a kind, gentle soul he was? Quiet and respectful, he never sought to harm anyone or anything. We played together and we laughed. Most of all, I held him while he cried.

I took his little hand into mine. A soft hand. A boy's hand. There was no malice in it. No murder.

Acheron had always been a tender child. While Styxx sought to whine and complain over every minor thing, to take my toys and those of any other child near him, Acheron had sought only to make peace. To comfort those around him.

He seemed older than a child of seven. There were times when he seemed even older than I.

His eyes were strange. Their silver, swirling color betrayed the birthright that linked him to the gods. But surely that should make him special not horrendous.

I offered him a smile that I hoped would ease some of his pain. 'One day, Acheron, the world will know just what a special boy you are. The day will come when no one will fear you. You shall see.'

I moved to hug him, but he pulled back. He was used to people hurting him and even though he knew I wouldn't, he was still reluctant to accept my comfort.

As I stood, the door to my sitting room opened. A large number of guards came inside.

Scared of the sight, I stepped back not knowing what they wanted. Acheron clenched his small fists in the skirt of my blue gown as he huddled behind my right leg.

My father and uncle walked through the men until they stood before me. The two of them were virtually identical in looks. They had the same blue eyes, the same wavy blond hair and fair skin. Though my uncle was three years younger than my father, one would never guess to look at them. They could easily pass as twins.

'I told you he would be with her,' my father said to Uncle Estes. 'He's corrupting her again.'

'Don't worry,' Estes said. 'I shall take care of the matter. You'll never again have to worry about him.'

'What do you mean?' I asked, terrified of their dire tone. Did they intend to kill Acheron?

'Never you mind,' my father snapped at me. I'd never heard such a harsh tone from him before. It made my blood run cold.

He grabbed Acheron and shoved him toward my uncle.

Acheron looked panicked. He reached for me, but my uncle took him roughly by his arm and jerked him away.

'Ryssa!' Acheron called.

'No!' I shouted, trying to help him.

My father pulled me back and held me. 'He is going to a better place.'

'Where?'

'Atlantis.'

I watched in horror as Acheron was taken away, screaming for me to save him.

Atlantis was a long way from here. Too far, and up until a very short time ago, we'd been at war with them. I'd heard nothing but terrible things about that place and everyone who lived there.

I looked up at my father, sobbing. 'He'll be afraid.'