The darkness swallowed all of the neon glow and, it seemed, grew thick as he approached. He pushed through; his pulse throbbed with an odd mixture of fear and anticipation. At the end of the path stood an archway, shaped from what must have been ancient stone and carved with designs that danced under the dim lights.
Gathering himself, Zypher went forward through the archway into a small dimly lit space. A woman sat at its center, swathed in silver, her face shrouded in a veil. Potency of ancient knowledge seemed to prod at his soul even as she looked up. Otherworldly softness burned in her eyes.
So, you are the one," she whispered, her voice booming with a power that ignored time.
Zypher felt the weight of her gaze, as if she was seeing right into his soul. "You know what I have," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
The air in the room chilled as Zypher faced the Oracle, her eyes spitting a clarity that made it unsettling, as if she looked through every defense he built. She just stared, silence building between them, heavy and thick, filled with unspoken truth, and Zypher felt himself on the edge of something ancient, something which had been waiting for him all along.
She cocked her head to one side, and a pale glimmer of her eye watched him, curious interest like a crawling on his skin. "You carry more than a sketch," she whispered, her voice like a mere murmur of air, but it cut through that air like a knife. "You carry the burden of forgotten gods. and the echo of a past even you cannot recall.".
Zypher furrowed his brow, trying to get a grip on what she was talking about. "I don't understand. What do you mean by. echoes?
She motioned toward his sitting down. Her gaze never stopped on him. "Your blood is not just ordinary, Zypher Nyx. The gods you seek are not unknown to you. They are within you, within your memories, hidden in the shreds of your soul. You, along with many others running in this city, are one of the Demi-Techs, a descendant and carrying the breath of the ancient gods in your veins.".
It hit him like a wave. He'd heard the stories; he never thought it could be true—that is, he never had until now, when the Oracle's unyielding gaze seemed to hold him transfixed.
"My blood…," he whispered barely above a breath, the weight of those words sinking slowly into him. "So. the blueprint, this whole journey… it was all fated?"
The Oracle smiled—a sad, knowing smile. "Fate is a curious thing, Zypher. The gods knew their time would wane, that technology would consume their essence until only fragments of their power remained. And so, they prepared… leaving pieces of themselves in the bloodlines of their followers, scattered across Neo-ilka." She paused, her eyes intense. "But you—you carry more than most. You are closer to them than you know.".
Zypher spun his head around in the attempt to keep up to the words. Gods were no myth; they were sorts of ancestors, and he belonged to them somehow. "But why now? Why is this happening now?
"Because the gods are waking now, stirred by forces that look to drain their power, to bend it to their own wills. They smell the town's greed, its lecherous reach for more and more and more.and they call to theirs.to you, that some small bit of their remnant might be saved.".
Zypher rubbed his hand through his hair, wrestling with the enormity of it all. Everything he had ever thought he knew about himself fell from beneath him and became replaced by something ancient and vast, beyond his control. "If I… if I am one of the Demi-Techs, what do I do? How do I answer their call?
The Oracle touched him once, her hand fell on his, her touch warm without being expected to be so. "First, you must remember. Your memories hold pieces of them: glimpses of their world and bits of their strength. Listen well, Zypher, and perhaps you'll hear the gods in there.".
As words enveloped him, Zypher closed his eyes and let himself sink into silence. There was the far-off hum of the city and the rustle of the marketplace but then a faint, ancient music, like the echo of a forgotten song.
Sounds began to grow, merge, blend into whispers that poured through his mind, hard to hear but unmistakable. He had seen flickering images of great mountains, their peaks hiding in clouds; golden rivers running under violet skies; a sprawled-out temple overflowing with light, laughter, and power. There is a feel of presences—tall, bright figures whose gazes are both tender and fierce, seem to see right into his soul like the Oracle did. And they stretched out to him, open-palmed, and there was something warm, familiar in his chest.
And then a voice-a low, supple voice that sounded almost like a past memory-broke through the photographs inside of him.
Zypher. " It was the voice of a woman, old and sonorous, full of strength that hurt his heart. "You carry the legacy of Olympus, the blood of Titans. We are with you. but your journey is only beginning.".
Then, the vision vanished from before his eyes, and when he finally opened them, Zypher's heart was racing as the silent whispers again diminished into stillness. There stood the Oracle, stern and serene. "I. I saw them," he stuttered. "I saw the gods. And they. they called my name.".
The Oracle nodded, her face relaxing. "The gods are stirring in you, Zypher. They will guide you, should you allow them to. But warned: their path is not an easy one. Power begets power, and those who wish to command it stop at nothing to possess it.".
With a deep breath, the reality of it all crashed in upon him. He was a Demi-Tech, one of the last links to the gods themselves, and the blueprint was his way to finding them, to rekindling their power. But the road ahead was uncertain, and he knew forces far darker than he'd imagined were already moving against him.
She leans forward, her eyes fixed intently. "There is something more you should know, Zypher. You are not alone who has heard their call. Throughout Neo-ilka, others like yourself are stirring, feeling the whisper of their ancestry that lives in these very halls. Some will help you. others will seek to destroy you. Trust carefully.".
Others…" said Zypher, his mind full of a hope mixed with trepidation as he spoke the words. He was not alone. There were others out there— others who might understand this burden, who could fight with him—or against him. The possibilities were both exhilarating and terrifying.
He received from the Oracle a small, silver pendant, with the winged creature from the blueprint in the center. "This will help you find them, those that remember the old ways still. When the need for direction comes, it will show itself to you. The symbol, Zypher, will guide you to find your allies.".
He took the necklace and felt its cool weight in his palm as if it carried with it the power of centuries. One that united him to his people and to the gods of whom their whispers had stayed with him.
He stood, his eyes locked with the Oracle's, the weight of the charge pressing heavily down on his chest. "Thanks," he said, voice good and strong with new purpose. "I won't fail them. I'll protect their power."
She watched him, a glimmer of pride in the Oracle's eyes. "Go, Zypher. Under these neon skies, the past awaits, and the future will be shaped by those bold enough to listen to its whispers.".
The pulse of Neo-ilka, however, had something different about it as Zypher stepped back out into the marketplace. Whispers from the past wafted around him in a silent promise: the gods were watching, guiding him, their lost descendant. And through the dark alleys on his way back into the public square with the pendant in his hand, he knew his journey was only just beginning.