Oh, the vast and profound darkness once again. Arthur found himself enveloped in it, yet this time without the sense that "someone" else was with him.
He entertained another theory: perhaps he was merely unconscious. But if that were true, why hadn't he woken up?
That notion—that his consciousness was completely shut off—was swiftly dismissed.
Without a doubt, he was back in the same void he had glimpsed—or felt—when Cleopatra had hypnotized him. Yet now the darkness lay entirely undisturbed.
Arthur sensed a perfect, total calm within it. Previously, that very darkness had been contorted and churned, growing thicker around him. During that time, Arthur felt as if he were moving in slow motion compared to this precise moment.
Now, in this limitless, undefined expanse, Arthur could move at will. At times it felt as if he was traveling faster than his physical body had ever allowed.
Arthur recognized his freedom but remained on edge. There was something unnerving in this stillness, something unmistakably familiar.
It was like the placid surface of the sea moments before a storm unleashes colossal waves on a ship.
In that analogy, Arthur himself was the ship, and he sensed what lay ahead.
Suddenly, another consciousness intruded into the darkness, once again thickening and stirring it. Arthur felt it acutely—after all, it was his own subconscious.
His mind churned, pain searing through him. So intense that even his soul writhed.
"It begins," croaked a sinister voice echoing through the void, as though the darkness itself had spoken. "You have awakened, but the trials have already started, young one."
Arthur convulsed in agony, trying to lie down on whatever served as the floor.
A muffled scream strained at his vocal cords, but the subconscious cannot speak—only think—so no sound emerged.
Trembling, Arthur lifted his head. From the inky blackness a figure emerged, undulating like water.
Wrapped from head to toe in a heavy, dark cloak, only its gaunt, skeletal hands were visible. One hand gripped a dark wooden staff.
A sinister intruder confronted the pained youth.
"The gods are falling, Arthur. Your task lies with you and you alone."
Flashing images assaulted Arthur's vision, flooding it with crimson. A dark, storm-laden sky bore no stars. Thunderous clouds of the same infinite hue descended upon the earth, devouring all that humanity had ever known or not known.
A golden bolt of lightning was consumed by the darkness while yellow eyes glowed within, heralding something far worse.
Arthur saw himself standing in a pool of blood, his eyes dimming as from his belly gushed a waterfall of his own lifeblood.
Then the lights went out. Only despair and emptiness filled his heart—a fleeting pang akin to a shooting star before its final glimmer vanished.
A dark silhouette knelt before him. It did not look upon him with hatred, pity, or bitterness. Its gaze held a complex mix of sorrow and ecstasy.
"At last you ascend to the heavens," the figure whispered, voice barely audible.
The figure bowed over Arthur's lifeless form, pressing its forehead to his. With serene calm, it smiled.
"Brother…"
Arthur was thrust back into the void of his subconscious, heart pounding against his ribs.
What had he just witnessed?
As if answering his question, the figure's laughter echoed around him.
"That is the future, young Pendragon," it said approvingly. "He who sent me tasked me to show it to you. What you do to prevent it,"—it pointed at Arthur with its free hand as it lifted the staff—"depends on you."
"Wait—"
Before Arthur could speak, the figure slammed its staff into the dark floor.
"I said!"
Part 2
Arthur's eyes snapped open. Above him was a ceiling he recognized all too well—his own bedroom's ceiling, the one he shared with…
"Oh no…" Arthur groaned inwardly as he shut his eyes again and feigned sleep. "I'll pretend I'm asleep until she leaves the apartment."
"How long do you intend to keep sleeping? You worthless mortal."
As though fate delighted in mocking him, the goddess he'd hoped to avoid spoke aloud. His ruse was undone with a single look.
Arthur opened his eyes to find Cleopatra seated beside him, eyebrow arched.
"Oh, Cleopatra—you're here. Sorry, I was exhausted and didn't notice you."
Cleopatra stared at him for a moment before averting her gaze, cheeks tinged pink. Arthur had never seen that expression on her face. It was shame that colored her features.
Could it be, he wondered, that Cleopatra felt something other than annoyance or anger?
Arthur held that look, imprinting every angle of her profile.
He didn't know why, but she looked beautiful with that fleeting blush.
"So…how did I get here?"
Cleopatra raised an eyebrow. "Don't you remember?"
Arthur averted his gaze to a corner of the room and thought hard.
'How did I get here?'
"As far as I recall…Enkidu was chasing Seshat and me. I ran through so many halls I eventually collapsed."
Arthur's eyes widened as the key moment returned to him.
"Seshat—damn her," he ground out, scowling. "She slammed me against a door so hard I flew through it."
Cleopatra listened as she looked out the window. Then she met his eyes again.
"And nothing else?"
"No," Arthur replied firmly. "From that point I passed out. The only thing I saw when I woke was this ceiling—and you beside me."
Cleopatra turned toward the door and frowned deeply.
"That cursed Anubis," she muttered, frustration thick in her voice. "He said you got drunk with Enkidu, soaked in his private jacuzzi, and drank wine until you passed out."
"What?!" Arthur exploded. To be defamed before his roommate—by the very god of the underworld—was infuriating.
"What angers me most is how shallow he tried to make it sound."
Arthur leaped from the bed with renewed energy.
"Let's go teach him a lesson!" But as he stood, he realized something
It could have been the soft, refreshing spring breeze hitting the areas of his skin where he normally wore cloth garments.
Or the lightness of his body without his school uniform on top of him. Or perhaps the soft caress of the sheets gently falling over his exposed skin.
Or perhaps Cleopatra's surprised gaze directed at a certain part of his body, now uncovered and hanging freely.
He looked down anyway.
Oh, yes. He was naked, just as God, our creator, brought him into the world.
Arthur's face went through several expressions, first one of surprise, then one of horror, and now one of shame. Red as a tomato.
Adding to that shame was Cleopatra's look. She continued to stare intently at the pendulum-like motion of that thing, perhaps in awe, perhaps horrified, or simply surprised.
Arthur didn't know; he wasn't a psychologist. But he did know one thing, and that was that right now she was going through a very embarrassing process.
But to his surprise, he looked at Cleopatra. She was biting her lower lip while her mouth tilted up slightly.
Her eyes looked at Arthur's friend with a certain interest, beyond mere mockery.
Her cheeks were flushed, and her gaze now shifted from Arthur's eyes to his "mini him", and she kept repeating the movement, over and over again.
Cleopatra rested her hand on Arthur's abdomen and looked at him through her eyelashes.
"Hey... Don't you think we should continue with what we did last time?"
Arthur tilted the left corner of his lips upward, and his expression changed instantly; he no longer had to feel embarrassed.
"Maybe..." He sighed as he turned to Cleopatra.