#i have risen from the dead bc of this good LORD

[palms-upturned]

I’m not gonna jump in ppl’s notes over this bc lord knows I do not want to have a debate about it but seeing someone say “I have qualms about people calling Jean ableist for trying to fire Harry and in the same breath saying Harry is unfit for cop work” is really getting to me. I am practically on my knees begging people to actually engage with what disco elysium has to say about disability and addiction and ableism and policing and social murder because it’s not even subtextual, it’s as blatant and hand holding as it could possibly be. The 41st is an awful environment for Harry not bc him being disabled makes him incapable of doing his job, it’s bc the job is fucking hostile to his existence. Like, no one is “fit” to be a cop because they shouldn’t exist, firstly, and even Harry himself will say as much in the Ruby bad ending. But talking about Harry’s case specifically, we know that this job is part of what landed him where he is to begin with.

From the start of day 2:

ELECTROCHEMISTRY — You mean why are you so tired? Too tired and *down* to even think? It *is* worrying, isn't it. You can't be a detective like this -- detectives need to be able to think.

YOU — Why is this happening?

ELECTROCHEMISTRY — It's just that your heart has finally pumped all the *speed* out of your system, buster. Time to get some more.

YOU — Wait. What *is*... speed?

ELECTROCHEMISTRY — Speed is a potent central nervous system stimulant. It kept you propped up all day yesterday despite your debilitating hangover. How else did you think you even got up from this floor?

VOLITION — You got up from this floor because of a holy vow you made sixteen years ago. With *me*. To wake up exactly 07:30 every morning until the day you die.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY — Don't be silly. There was no vow. You were high on speed. That was the only reason you got up. You can't *detect* without it, it's that simple.

YOU — No. I can take this. I am not going to go looking for speed.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY — Are you sure? Ready to live as this pathetic shell of yourself for days? Basically a week? Let's be honest -- two weeks, maybe three? You won't make it. Half the town will be dead by then. You will be fired.

YOU — That's a lie. I can do this without the speed. Half the town won't be dead... (Opt out.)

ELECTROCHEMISTRY — Suit yourself, slow, sad shell-man. See how you do without your spark.

And from this talk with Kim in Klaasje’s room:

KIM KITSURAGI — "Amphetamine -- does it make you a better detective?"

SUGGESTION — Be honest. He's not grilling you, he just wants to know. Ask if he's ever wanted to take it too.

YOU — "Honestly, it makes me the detective I am. Have you thought of taking it too?"

KIM KITSURAGI — "Maybe I should?" He lets out a little pensive hum, rubbing his shoulder...

DRAMA — It's not insincere. He's actually giving it thought.

KIM KITSURAGI — "Doesn't the... pupils and the gurning jaw, the sweating... doesn't it become tiring after a while?"

YOU — "I understand it's unbecoming but if I don't perform this job well I am nothing. It's the price I pay."

Harry knows that the cost of getting sober would be that the precinct would let him go. They’re not going to have the patience to deal with him slowing down from the combo of withdrawal and no speed to “keep him propped up.” Not when the reason that he’s stayed on the force this long and risen in the ranks is most likely because he manages such a massive caseload, as we find out from Kim:

YOU — "Is two cases a week a good case load, lieutenant?"

KIM KITSURAGI — "Huh?" He raises his nose from his notes. "Two *complex* cases to undertake is a lot, yes. You *really* have to push yourself. I would not suggest it. Lest you start making mistakes."

YOU — "Two cases a week appears to have been my load, lieutenant. I'm not sure I completed them though."

KIM KITSURAGI — "Two?" He raises both eyebrows. "That's a lot. I didn't mean to say you're making mistakes, by the way. That was presumptuous of me."

And later:

KIM KITSURAGI — "This next row -- the one that wraps all the way around -- is your number of closed cases. *Closed* is good. It means finished. You've got, let's see..."

KIM KITSURAGI — "Wow, more than 200!"

YOU — "Is that a lot?"

KIM KITSURAGI — "It's *quite* a lot, even for someone who's been on the force for nearly two decades. Usually clearing more than 10 cases a year puts you in the 90th percentile of *all* RCM officers..."

Despite the trouble Harry makes, he’s considered an asset so long as he closes cases. To the point where he wasn’t punished for drunkenly beating Burke unconscious and then injuring his knee so badly that he can’t walk anymore just because this allowed them to close the “unsolvable case” of Leslie and Burke. 41 and the RCM as an institution don’t care about Harry’s or anyone else’s wellbeing, they care about whether the pros of having him around outweigh the cons.

From the lazareth call with Gottlieb:

YOU — "Isn't there *anything* you can do for me?"

NIX GOTTLIEB — "What, you want me to do blood work for you again, tell you just how bad things really are *across the board*? You want another rundown of everything collapsing inside your body?"

YOU — "Yes. I want the truth!"

NIX GOTTLIEB — "You want the real, honest-to-god truth? Stop drinking, eat magnesium and vitamin D. Our station is not a retirement home. We don't have the funds to deal with *rock stars* past their prime."

RHETORIC — So it's political! You're being *neglected* because of political reasons...

NIX GOTTLIEB — "And no, I *don't* want to hear a *political commentary* on the topic. In fact -- I've got work to do."

If I were to quote every time Gottlieb was notably uncaring or said something blasé about how you probably didn’t have long to live, I’d have to quote pretty much every word of that dialogue. That’s the whole joke with Gottlieb. That’s just how it is dealing with doctors when you’re in Harry’s position.

From talking to Kim about Uuno:

KIM KITSURAGI — "We could take him to Remedie or Saint Batiste, but he doesn't have money for medical services. The Almshouse would turn him down..."

KIM KITSURAGI — "They don't do charity for people who're trying to kill themselves. Besides, he'll be dead in a few..." The lieutenant stops, listening to him.

RHETORIC — ... years? Months? Weeks?

“They don’t do charity work for people who’re trying to kill themselves” really sums up the absurdity of Harry’s situation and institutional responses to it. Harry isn’t seen as the kind of person in crisis who deserves intervention. He’s treated as a lost cause who deserves to suffer the consequences of his self harm, even though the unending crisis and the lack of response to it is what drives him to harm himself and hope that he “gets worse.” If he weren’t a cop, it’s unlikely that Kim would care about him any more than he cares about Uuno and Cuno’s situation. Harry’s job is killing him, but it’s also the only thing that gives him access to anything resembling a community or support network (at least at the start of the game). Again, that’s just the way it goes when you’re disabled.

From the second tribunal:

TRANT HEIDELSTAM — "Well -- here is my theory: What if this is an absolutely normal reaction to the world we're living in? What if this is *not* a significant anomaly at all, something to be explained, approached as a defect? Look at the sensory input here..." He gestures toward the scenery.

TRANT HEIDELSTAM — "Look at the ruins, the neon, listen to the radio, the multitudes. The people. Live here for forty years... As a police detective, he's like a magnetic reader on the world-tape -- to borrow a known metaphor. Harry's been pushed *flat against it*. Total input."

TRANT HEIDELSTAM — "Hard-wired to the free market..." He nods confidently. "He just needed for it to end."

JEAN VICQUEMARE — "Okay, Trant, thank you. That's... absolutely meaningless. I'm glad we brought you. Will he or will he not be able to work in the Major Crimes Unit? Is he a cretin now? I want to know *that*."

TRANT HEIDELSTAM — "He is *not* a cretin. And he *is* able to do work -- if not in his previous leadership role, then as a line detective."

YOU — "Line detective is good for now."

JEAN VICQUEMARE — "For *now*?" He looks at you, then at Trant. "I misphrased my question. It should have been: Is he able to put his clothes on, and use the potty, or do we need to get him on a disability pension?"

Or, alternatively:

YOU — "He's wrong. I'm too far gone for work."

JEAN VICQUEMARE — "Agreed, Harry." He nods. "Just don't expect us to get you a disability pension. Cops who actually gave a shit are waiting in line. You're not gonna hog their seat."

Trant, who, notably, is technically a civilian consultant rather than a cop, (edit: and maybe even more notably, as someone pointed out in the tags, has had experience with addiction, too) suggests to Jean that Harry’s breakdown is a basically inevitable result of his circumstances and the systems that created them, and Jean’s response is that he doesn’t care and all that he wants to know is whether or not Harry can work or if he’s going to be “hogging” resources from other people who are more deserving of help because they “actually gave a shit.” He’s a mouthpiece here for the institutions that he represents and his ableism is blatant and heinous to drive the point home. He denies that Harry’s case is as serious as it is and accuses Harry of faking it, despite the fact that it’s happened (at least) twice before, and very recently:

JEAN VICQUEMARE — "I believe you *drank*. People do that -- you especially. What they don't do is forget their *whole life* because of drinking."

JUDIT MINOT — "But, Detective Vicquemare," she interjects. "He *has* blanked out before."

YOU — "I have?"

JUDIT MINOT — "Yes, a couple of times. After some of the more... serious benders." She pauses, remembering. "One was after the Two Drunks case, the other when we looked into that mural."

REACTION SPEED — The two cases... in your ledger. The Unsolvable Case and the Next World Mural. Those were recent.

And despite the fact that even Gottlieb doesn’t seem shocked about it:

YOU — "I've lost my memory. All of it."

NIX GOTTLIEB — "With all the damage you've been dealing yourself with drugs and alcohol, I'm not surprised."

AUTHORITY — There is no surprise in his voice. Only careless superiority.

DRAMA — It's hard to say if he doesn't believe you -- or doesn't care.

(Considering that Gottlieb’s PSY stat is so high (he’s even eating one of the PSY boosting candies during the call), along with his uncaring responses to all your other problems, it’s more likely the latter.)

Jean also won’t believe that you’re sober even if you haven’t touched so much as a cigarette for your entire playthrough, and even when Judit points out that he’s wrong, he’ll double down and say that it doesn’t matter because you’re going to relapse:

JEAN VICQUEMARE — "Even the insect -- I don't care. But you're an *alcoholic*. And you've been drinking -- again. I won't let my life unravel because of this."

JUDIT MINOT — "Jean -- I think he hasn't. I can see it on his face..."

ENDURANCE — The bloating *has* gone down since you woke up that morning...

JEAN VICQUEMARE — "Okay, so he's stayed clear for what? A week?" He sighs.

TRANT HEIDELSTAM — "It's tough. One of the toughest addictions to overcome. Comparable *only* to heavy synthetic opiates. Even morphine is easier to kick than alcohol -- statistically. The odds are against him. Especially at his age."

JEAN VICQUEMARE — He nods. "He's too old. He's been like this for too long. I've seen him try many times. It's a farce by now."

SUGGESTION — They're leaving. They're all turning away from you.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY — No. You can figure it out. *Replace* it! Replace the alcohol with amphetamine. Or GBL! Fuck it -- morphine! Graffito removal agent! Anything. It'll buy you time. All you need is time.

Electrochemistry brings up yet another facet of Harry’s struggles with substances, which is the idea that some of them may be replacements for alcohol. He doesn’t have time or space to try to quit in any way that is remotely healthy. What he has are substances like speed that keep him from collapsing from the strain of it all so that he can keep showing up to work, and other substances that might (he hopes) help him wean himself off the alcohol.

The game explores all of these different factors of Harry’s struggles with addiction and the circumstances that keep him trapped in them exhaustively (and the fact that Robert Kurvitz apparently was recovering from alcoholism during the development probably contributed a lot to that). The structure and culture of the RCM are hugely responsible for Harry’s situation. He’s mocked and berated for being an alcoholic and told repeatedly to get his shit together without actually providing him with the means to do that. Instead, he’s not only enabled but practically forced to keep using just so that he can show up to work at all and not risk losing the only support network he has (even if it’s the shittiest and most unhelpful network imaginable). As Luiga (iirc) said, Harry’s biggest tragedy is that he’s incapable of quitting the force. Many of the reasons for that are genuinely just due to Harry being a class traitor and an asshole, but it’s also true that even if he did want to quit, there is no safety net to catch him.

And then Harry comes to Martinaise, a town that has been “orphaned” by the RCM and neglected by Revachol at large, left mostly to their own devices. It’s not like policing doesn’t still exist in Martinaise, and things are pretty dire for everyone in the community, but at the very least you can see that it is a community. Isobel houses you for free. In Kim’s absence (and after Gottlieb stitches and ditches you), Cuno and Garte take care of you when you’re shot. Acele responds to your breakdown on the ice by saying it’s okay to cry and that you can talk with her about it when you’re ready. Idiot Doom Spiral and co run to your aid when they see you drive your car into the sea and invite you to come drink with them just to stop you from doing it again. Harry discovers that life, while very painful and bleak at times, isn’t necessarily hopeless for the marginalized. You can still find solidarity and support outside of the system.

Meanwhile, if Harry in the end has no one to vouch for him and hasn’t stayed sober, that system will abandon him, a well-known suicide risk with at least one bullet hole in him and severe amnesia, with the promise of nothing but getting served a station call slip. The point is not whether or not Harry “deserves” to be forgiven or even whether he’s a danger to himself and others (to be clear, he is). The point is that this is a system that doesn’t care whether Harry and people like him live or die. That is why, even in a “good” ending where Harry is welcomed back to the 41st, the work won’t be sustainable. It’s going to kill him because that’s what it’s designed to do. The miracle of Martinaise was the realization that he doesn’t have to die. There are people who will help to keep him on this earth. They’re just not members of the fucking RCM.

It’s not a “gotcha” to say that if Jean (and the RCM, and the institutions of Revachol on the whole) is ableist for wanting Harry fired, then saying that cop work is unsustainable for Harry is also ableist. I won’t even say what I personally think of that logic because I’m trying to keep the tone of this post polite. Jean’s dialogue during the tribunal is meant to parrot every bit of ableist rhetoric that the system is built on and that keeps Harry trapped in this hellish feedback loop. He’s a mouthpiece for the general culture of the RCM, just like Gottlieb is a mouthpiece for the shit that addicts and the disabled have to deal with from the medical system. He thinks Harry should be fired because he’s a drunk and therefor a lost cause. The truth is that Harry needs to quit this job because it shouldn’t exist and because it is actively killing him.

In one of Martin Luiga’s articles about the process of creating the game, he brings up the concept of social murder, which is a term coined by Engels:

When one individual inflicts bodily injury upon another such that death results, we call the deed manslaughter; when the assailant knew in advance that the injury would be fatal, we call his deed murder. But when society places hundreds of proletarians in such a position that they inevitably meet a too early and an unnatural death, one which is quite as much a death by violence as that by the sword or bullet; when it deprives thousands of the necessaries of life, places them under conditions in which they cannot live – forces them, through the strong arm of the law, to remain in such conditions until that death ensues which is the inevitable consequence – knows that these thousands of victims must perish, and yet permits these conditions to remain, its deed is murder just as surely as the deed of the single individual; disguised, malicious murder, murder against which none can defend himself, which does not seem what it is, because no man sees the murderer, because the death of the victim seems a natural one, since the offence is more one of omission than of commission. But murder it remains.

None of this is subtext. And all of it is intended to make players actually spare a thought for what it’s like for people in Harry’s situation in real life. For God’s sake, please engage with it. You have to try and understand what it means to be trapped in a life that is made unlivable and to know that your death will be ungrievable. That’s what this whole game is about.

Edit: I’ve seen some ppl say in the tags something like “yeah, I like to imagine a happy ending for Harry, but…” and listen. I am laying a very gentle hand on your shoulders. The point of this post was never to say that there’s no happy ending for Harry. The point is that the first step toward that ending is conceptualizing a life outside of the RCM. In Martinaise, he got a glimpse of what that might look like. Hell, in the bad ending, you can even say to Jean, “fine then. I’ll just live here.” There’s hope for him and for us. I promise.

[moseslikellamas]

Thorn of Winterfell

Pairing - Stark!OC x Benjicot Blackwood

Summary - The prince of Dragonstone has arrived in Winterfell to negotiate a pact with Cregan Stark, the lord of Winterfell. Syana Stark the sister to the Lord weasels her way into joining them when they march off to war.

Warnings - some depictions of violence but mostly nothing crazy right now.

Word count- 2k

This is sooooo rushed bc I got sentenced to opening shift at work. So sorry for any spelling mistakes or errors I missed. Anyway, enjoy my slow descent into madness for benji.

Syana Stark watched her brother pack his horse for the journey north. Creagan was taking the crown prince Jacaerys Velaryon to see the wall. Her brother got on well with the prince, and she found herself more endeared to him after his long stay. Her brother had agreed to honor his pledge to support Rhaenyra’s claim to the iron throne. After he had struck a deal of course, to marry her cute little nephew Rickon to a future daughter of Jacaerys. Creagan had tried to betroth her first to the prince. She had bared her teeth at her brother and drawn a dagger, threatening him to try. But the prince had stepped in looking concerned and assured them it wasn’t an issue as he was already betrothed to the lady Baela. Since then, the three of them had spent many weeks together.

Her brother's wife had died in childbirth and he was lonely. Their own brother was long dead, his bones resting in the crypts. A stone likeness of him all that remained to them. It was not easy to live in the north. The weather was harsh and the people were stern as a result. They took their responsibility of guarding the north seriously. Syana's father had always claimed the Starks had wolf blood in them that kept them warm through the long winter when others would die. She couldn’t deny the Stark proclivity for sticking their noses where it didn’t belong if it seemed an injustice was occurring. But she figured it was likely the hot springs that flowed through the walls of Winterfell that kept them alive in the cold. Their father was also long dead and she could remember the day Creagan had risen up to take his rightful place as heir.

It had been no easy feat. Their greedy, slovenly uncles hadn’t been keen to turn over the power of Warden in the North. But in the end her brother had defeated them both, leaving them to rot in the cells under Winterfell. Their bones remained where they fell, no likeness of them carved in the crypts. Syana had been ready to hang them then but she remembered the way her brother had taken control immediately. And her uncles were forgotten in the dungeons below. That was three years ago and now her brother was only twenty one, still a young man and she thought it was him who ought to be looking for a wife. Syana was only two years younger than him but in Creagan’s eyes she was ready to marry. Hence him trying to sell her off to the crown prince.

“Try not to fall off the wall, my prince. Tis a very long fall.” She called out before he could mount Vermax.

“Ah Syana, Vermax would catch me before I hit the ground.”

“Tis not that long my prince.”

“Could you stop bothering the heir to the throne sister?”

“Could you stop trying to sell me off to strange men?” She countered.

“I said I was sorry!”

Jace and Synan laughed at Creagan’s frustrated rebuttal.

“Have fun brother! Tell cousin Elric his last carving was delightful, baby Rickon has covered it drool at least a dozen times.”

Their cousin had been chosen at random to join the wall, a Stark tradition no one was exempt from. Elric took it upon himself to become a ranger but he’d ended up working as a lumber workhorse. As a result he had become exceptionally good at wood carving.

“Stay inside.” Her brother had commanded simply in return as way of a reply.

She stuck her tongue out at him, watching as they left the gates and grabbing her sword the moment her brother was out of sight. He hadn’t expressly forbidden her from revealing that she was sword trained but she didn’t want to start swinging it around the crown prince. So she had been itching to get to it, when Jace had asked to see the wall she had almost jumped with joy. He’d been here for weeks and while she enjoyed his company, she was relieved to have her home back to herself. She expected at least a week of solitude and planned to spend that time honing her sword skills. War was upon them and she did not intend to be left behind.

She’d already had that argument with her brother. It was one of the worst they’d ever had. Both screaming and throwing things. That was not like her brother, who was mostly a level headed man. But she had promptly promised him she would follow him to war. No matter where he tried to ship her off. She’d grab the first sword in her reach and slay any guard that stopped her. He had raged for days calling her a reckless, simpleton but given up in the end. She suspected he was still plotting ways to keep her out of it and was probably asking the prince if he knew of any single lords looking for a pain in the ass. That was another reason to hone her sword skills. She wasn’t going to marry any man who couldn’t best her in a sword fight, and that was to say she did not intend to marry at all.

It was ambitious of her or perhaps foolish, to think she could avoid marriage forever. A daughter of her name, it was a shock to anyone she wasn’t already betrothed to some lord or another. It wasn’t for lack of trying on her brother's part. He would invite them in and threaten her to treat them well. And she would walk intellectual circles around them and then knock them over in the yard. None of them wanted to marry her after that routine. It continued to work and her brother continued to seethe about it. She did feel bad for her brother, he was so young to have to deal with so much. But she wouldn’t get married just to lighten his already heavy load.

Syana eventually managed to talk one of the guards into sparring with her. They were routinely forbidden by her brother from engaging with her unsupervised. But she knew what made northern men tick and extended taunts always worked to goad at least one of them.

“Well Wyllem, are you ready to have the grass rise up to meet you?”

“Tis bad luck to boast my lady.”

“Gods I hope so. A little bad luck might make things interesting for me.”

***

Syana did not get her week of solitude. Instead ahe was granted three very nice days before the raven arrived bearing the seal of Dragonstone. Her heart had sank as she opened it to find the most horrible news back to back. The prince’s brother Lucaerys was dead and the first battle of the war had broken out in the Riverlands. Rhaenyra was summoning all of the great lords to Harrenhal which had been seized in her name by her husband the King consort, Daemon. Syana had ridden out herself to deliver the news against a chorus of voices that warned her against it.

The prince had known the moment he saw her, that much she felt in her bones. Jace had wanted to fly out right then but they’d managed to convince him he would be a better asset helping them guide the northmen to the rendezvous point.

It had only taken them a day to pack up and ship out. The men in Winterfell had been pledge more than a moon and were eager to get out. Autumn was fast approaching and there were too many mouths to feed as always. This would thin them out. A morbid concept to feel alright about but Syana had seen starving men. The desperate guilty look on their faces before they wandered out into the snow to freeze to death. It was better to let them die in battle with their blood roaring and the taste of glory in their mouths.

Syana had cursed the Blackwoods and Bracken for their pathetic feud. It was their fault the war had kicked off so soon. And it likely had nothing to do with the Black queen’s claim. The bloodthirsty riverlanders were always warring. Always had some petty complaint to brawl over. She thought it was probably all of that thick humid air. Summer was a miserable affair in the riverlands, like wading in soup and trying to breathe riverwater.

The march was long and terrible. Every little late summer storm caught them, throwing wind and rain sideways into her eyes and ears. Today the rain stung like tiny needles as it hit her face. Her hood was pulled tight around her but it did little to keep her from getting soaked. They were camped in the neck while her brother talked to the head of House Reed. They’d been camped here in the raging storms for days. Greywater watch moved through the swamp and found you, not the other way around. So when her brother had finally disappeared in the night, she had assured the prince he was having the meeting and not to worry.

Most of the great houses didn’t care for the Crannogmen but Syana had spent her childhood growing up with the supposed “mudsuckers” and loved them deepy. Myrian Reed had been fostered at Winterfell with Syana from the tender age of eight to twelve. And she hoped to see the girl again now before setting off to a war she might not return from. Her hopes were answered early that morning when she had woken to a queer sound near the sunken bog their camp was set around. Quiet and swiftly she had risen from her bed roll and crept towards it, bow pulled taunt. She looked everywhere around her, taking care to thoroughly scan the trees.

That’s when the water had exploded outward beneath her, knocking her on her ass and causing her to drop the bow. Frightened momentarily by childrens tales of swamp monsters who ate human skin, she lay there shocked. Then Myrian had started a booming laugh that had her doubled over.

“Oh that’s too rich. Seriously.” She gasped in between laughs, tears streaming down her face.

Syana scowled before launching herself at Myrian. The two women fell to the mud, fighting like a band of cats. After getting muddier than seemed possible, they were falling over each other trying to stand. Now both of them were laughing much to the displeasure of the camp who had been woken by the commotion and had come to defend the Winterfell girl from whatever swamp creature had grabbed her. Only to find her wrestling the mud with a Crannogman. Mass grumbling went on but Syana paid it no mind.

It wasn’t long that her brother showed up, the afternoon sun was trying its best to bake them all and Syana envied a frog basking in the swamp water. The Crannogmen did not officially declare for anyone, ever. House Reed did not command the people of the neck but Harry, the current lord of Greywater watch, had spread the news through the swamp. And soon they were inundated with small, slippery Crannogmen coming and going. That’s when Syana’s luck began to look up again. As Myrian pledged to follow them into war and she was glad to have her. Myrian was the best spear fighter she’d ever had the pleasure to know and her skills with camouflage were legendary.

They had camped in the neck another week, waiting for all of the various swamp peoples to have a chance to join their host. Next they would stop by the twins before heading to Harrenhal. The Frey’s had already added their numbers to the King Consorts, a lucky break for them as the needed to pass through the twins to reach the riverlands. If Forest Frey had declared for the pretender, the Crannogmen would’ve had to sneak them through the neck. A most unpleasant experience even to Syana who loved the Crannogmen. She gazed around the camp, soaking in the quiet conversation and the sometimes raucous laughter that broke into the night air. And her brother had thought to deprive her of coming. What an idiot.

[loregoddess]

So, I started thinking a bit too hard about this post here, wrote something up, let it sit in the drafts for a day bc I wrote most of it half-awake before work early in the morning while suffering IBS pain, and wanted to check it later, and decided I did in fact need to get this out of my system bc I've spent an unfathomable amount of time thinking about 3H and enjoy writing in-depth analyses for fun, and then I wrote the rest of it half-asleep late at night, still suffering from IBS pain, rip. (I did at least take time to edit at a later time though).

Anyhow the initial post that got me writing was talking about how insane the eastern/northern houses in the AM route were, since Houses Fraldarius and Gautier (and a few other minor houses of the eastern/northern Faerghus territories) were able to stave off the Empire's attempts to conquer them for a whole 5+ years resulting in a deadlock. Like, with all the resources Edelgard has at her disposal (both from the Empire, and from the Agarthans), she cannot squash the last resistance in Faerghus. And then I was like, "I get the joke here, but actually this reminds me of something from The Art of War, and might actually be good writing."

(full analysis continued below bc it's basically a short essay)

I actually think the writing for this specific part of the story is kind of ingenious since it takes historic military strategy into consideration for how the last of the Faerghus lords should have acted to best optimize their chances of survival. Sun Tzu explains how soldiers tend to act in dire situations in The Art of War, Chapter XI:

23. Throw your soldiers into positions whence there is no escape, and they will prefer death to flight. If they will face death, there is nothing they may not achieve. Officers and men alike will put forth their uttermost strength. 24. Soldiers when in desperate straits lose the sense of fear. If there is no place of refuge, they will stand firm. If they are in hostile country, they will show a stubborn front. If there is no help for it, they will fight hard. [...] 58. Place your army in deadly peril, and it will survive; plunge it into desperate straits, and it will come off in safety. 59. For it is precisely when a force has fallen into harm's way that is capable of striking a blow for victory.

(quotes cited from here)

By this logic, we can assume it is because the last of the Faergus lords have everything to lose if they're defeated (their lands, their lives, their peoples' safety, their way of life and culture) and everything to gain if they manage to win, that they fight as if they're already dead, because in a sense they are.

Sylvain actually displays a different, but similar mindset in his monastery dialogue during Chapter 22 of Verdant Wind:

[image transcript: "Sylvain: I mean, I'll still fight like I want to die because that's worked so far, and why change at this late date, right?"]

(for context this is said in reaction to the prospect of fighting against the risen Nemesis's army, you can read the full conversation here)

So we know that the idea of the "my choices are to fight like hell or die, so I might as well fight" mindset is present at least in the Gautier house, and considering the military history of Faerghus it would make sense that all the major houses teach and utilize military strategies. The Art of War also has an entire chapter dedicated to the importance of spies, and it's implied or outright stated several times in both Houses and Hopes that House Gautier has one of the most expansive information networks in all of Fodlan, on par with House Vestra's, Judith's, and Yuri's spy networks.

Therefore it makes a lot of sense actually that even if it's just Houses Fraldarius and Gautier, and a few other minor lords, that they'd be able to hold out, since they were the military powerhouses in Faerghus and also the "best" equipped (decent home resources as compared to Galatea's territory, best spy network of Faerghus, long military history, more military experience, a strong reason to fight to the death, etc.) of the remaining Faerghus noble houses to put up a last-ditch resistance and actually manage to hold out.

Actually I want to expand on my "more military experience" note there. Insofar as I can tell, the Empire actually has the least amount of recent military experience, while Faerghus probably has the most. I say this because it's made very clear that Faerghus, specifically House Gautier, has been fighting off invasions from Sreng for decades, if not several generations of Gautiers (according to the account of Laetitia Gautier fighting off the first invasion from Sreng, from Hopes). Furthermore, the attacks from Sreng are frequent and recurring, enough so that Lambert led a campaign against Sreng. So all the eastern/northern houses of Faerghus have had constant military praxis for decades.

The only other major family to have similar and recent military experiences would be House Goneril, which often repels attacks from Almyra. It was an invasion from Almyra which prompted the formation of the Officers Academy, and yet no such response was ever made to Sreng. In fact, Sreng and Faerghus's struggles with them seem to be entirely unknown to the rest of Fodlan, or at least ignored. Which means that while Holst Goneril gains fame for his might on the battlefield, no one in Fodlan really knows about the strength of the eastern/northern houses of Faerghus.

The only major military conflict the Empire had to deal with in recent events leading up to the start of the game's story was the Dagda and Brigid war, which was resolved within a year's time and resulted in the complete destruction of House Nuvelle, which is far from a clean victory. The only notable person associated with that war is Count Bergliez, making him the foremost expert on military strategy in Edelgard's army. Edelgard herself started a multi-front war in her late teens with literally no actual military experience. (Not to say the training at the Officers Academy was useless, but military education and a handful of field battles are not the same as prolonged warfare).

Sure, Edelgard has the Agarthans, but even if we assume that the same major Agarthans have been cybernetically transferring their souls from one host body into new host bodies when needed, they don't technically have "war" experience since their MO is to act in the shadows, sowing chaos and discord. They don't know how to manage an army (and even if some of the Agarthans, like Thalas, had survived from the initial war with Sothis, and would technically have knowledge of warfare, that war ended with the near-annihilation of the world, so it seems foolish to assume they have any practical knowledge of military strategy).

So, Edelgard starts this multi-front war, and has to divide her resources between the Faerghus front and the Leicester front, and since everyone in Fodlan knows of Holst's battlefield prowess, she decides to have Count Bergliez hold down the Leicester front, leaving Faerghus to be dealt with by the Agarthans through Cornelia. And sure, Cornelia succeeds in winning the western lords to her side and toppling the capital, executing Rufus and attempting to kill Dimitri, but neither she nor the western houses have the same sort of experience with war the way the eastern/northern houses do because of Sreng. And everyone consistently underestimates the strength of the eastern/northern houses, possibly especially Cornelia bc she's an Agarthan and thinks herself above humans to begin with.

So between the fact that Cornelia (and technically Edelgard) didn't start off by taking the eastern/northern houses seriously, and the fact that Houses Fraldarius and Gautier and the surrounding territories were backed into a corner with everything to lose and everything to fight to the death for, it really does make sense that a deadlock would result on that specific battlefront, and not just solely because of the military culture of Faerghus.

(To be entirely fair, Edelgard is more or less doomed to lose the war she started in every timeline except CF, where the key variables are significantly different, because of her lack of military experience, mismanagement of resources and assets, and a general lack of understanding and knowledge of the rest of Fodlan, paired with the fact that her and the Agarthans are at odds from the start, so there's a ton of internal rifts and clashing objectives within her forces. Like, she really wasn't going to win from a strategic perspective. Why the Agarthans never use their orbital missiles to deal with Fraldarius and Gautier is beyond me, and why Edelgard didn't sieze Garreg Mach and use it as a strategic stronghold is also beyond me--on a Watsonian level at least. The writing for the Agarthans is consistently lackluster, so with the writing for eastern/northern Faerghus's military might being logically solid, I'll take my wins where I can).

[orthodoxydaily]

Saints&Reading: Sun., Feb., 21, 2021

Sunday of the Publican and Pharisee the Beginning of the Lenten Tradition.

Two men went to the Temple to pray. One was a Pharisee who scrupulously observed the requirements of religion: he prayed, fasted, and contributed money to the Temple. These are very good things, and should be imitated by anyone who loves God. We who may not fulfill these requirements as well as the Pharisee did should not feel entitled to criticize him for being faithful. His sin was in looking down on the Publican and feeling justified because of his external religious observances.

The second man was a Publican, a tax-collector who was despised by the people. He, however, displayed humility, and this humility justified him before God (Luke 18:14).

The lesson to be learned is that we possess neither the Pharisee’s religious piety, nor the Publican’s repentance, through which we can be saved. We are called to see ourselves as we really are in the light of Christ’s teaching, asking Him to be merciful to us, deliver us from sin, and to lead us on the path of salvation.

The First Lesson Before the Beginning of Great Lent: On the Sunday of the Publican and the PhariseeStrange thing: we are preparing for Lent, but all next week we do not fast at all, not even on Wednesday and Friday! This is not in order to fatten up before the fast, as some may think, but in order to set our minds and hearts straight, in order to help us understand the most important thing about fasting: a fast is not a diet, it is a medicine to cure an illness other than gluttony.

In the Name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit!

Dear in Christ brothers, sisters, and children,

Today, we begin the cycle of services from the Lenten Triodion.  The Holy Church is preparing us for Great Lent.  In these weeks before Lent begins, the Church, our loving Mother, offers to us the treasure of the Gospel reading about the Pharisee and the tax collector, the parable of the prodigal son, and the words of Christ about His second coming.  It is easy to see that these passages are connected to each other and that together they carry a message: in the story about the Pharisee and the tax collector we learn about humility (Lk. 18:14); only humility allows us to see our true state on our knees at the pig trough of sin, as did the prodigal son (Lk. 15:17), and urges us to return to the Father (Lk. 15:18); and our choice to get on the correct path, to return home, puts us in the Father’s embrace (Lk. 15:20) and allows us to be counted among his flock (Mat. 25:31-33).

But let us listen carefully, let us ponder: the very first lesson we are to learn on our path to Great Lent, the very first example that the Church offers us before the beginning of the fast, is not that of Saint Mary of Egypt, who exercised prayer and fasting in the wilderness, or that of Saint Anthony the Great, who is known for his severe asceticism.  Rather, we are offered the example of a tax collector, a publican, who probably did not fast at all, at least not as much as did the Pharisee, but who “went home justified before God” (Lk. 18:14).  Strange thing: we are preparing for Lent, but all next week we do not fast at all, not even on Wednesday and Friday!  This is not in order to fatten up before the fast, as some may think, but in order to set our minds and hearts straight, in order to help us understand the most important thing about fasting: a fast is not a diet, it is a medicine to cure an illness other than gluttony.  Without the publican’s humility, without his realization that we are not even worthy to lift up our eyes (Lk. 18:13), without the words “God, have mercy on me, a sinner!” (Lk. 18:13) becoming not just the publican’s prayer, but our prayer, our fast will be worthless and even dangerous, as our pride leads us to assume the Pharisee’s foolish stance: “I thank you, God, that I am not like other men…” (Lk. 18:11)

Let us then “flee the vaunting of the Pharisee and learn the humility of the Publican” (Kondakion), let us remember this lesson as we enter into Great Lent in just a few weeks.  Let us not boast to ourselves about the lack of oil in our potatoes if we equally lack the oil of forgiveness for people around us, or about the small size of our meals if our pride flows as if from the Horn of Plenty.  The goal of fasting is humility and a clearer vision of our true fallen state, “for he who exalts himself shall be humbled. Let us humble ourselves before God, and with fasting cry aloud as the Publican: ‘God, be merciful to us sinners’” (a verse for “Lord, I have cried…”).

Amen!

Homelie by Piest Sergei Sveshnikov ( feb. 2009)

The Prophet Zechariah ( 520 BC)

     The Prophet Zechariah (Zakhariah) the Sickle-Seer from amongst the 12 Minor Prophets was descended from the Levite tribe, called in the Book of Nehemiah-Ezra the chief priestly lineage. He was called to prophetic service at a young age and became, in the wondrous expression of churchly song, "a spectator of supra-worldly visions". In particular within the Book of the Prophet Zechariah there is contained inspired details about the coming of the Messiah (6: 12); about the last days of the earthly life of the Saviour, and about the Entry of the Lord into Jerusalem on a young donkey (9: 9); about the betrayal of the Lord for 30 pieces of silver and the purchase with them of the potter's field (11: 12-13); about the piercing of the side of the Saviour (12: 10); about the scattering of the apostles from the Garden of Gethsemane (13: 7); about the sun's eclipse at the time of the sufferings on the Cross of the Saviour (14: 6-7). "Enlightened by dawnings all above", the Prophet Zechariah "saw the future as the presently existing". According to tradition, this "most true God-proclaimer" lived to old age and was buried not far from Jerusalem, alongside his illustrious contemporary and companion the Prophet Haggai. The title "Sickle-Seer" given Zechariah is connected to one of the revelations to him, in which he saw a scroll flying in the air, curved to the likeness of a menacing sickle (5: 1-2).

Luke 24:1-12 

1Now on the first day of the week, very early in the morning, they, and certain other women with them, came to the tomb bringing the spices which they had prepared. 2 But they found the stone rolled away from the tomb.3 Then they went in and did not find the body of the Lord Jesus.4 And it happened, as they were greatly perplexed about this, that behold, two men stood by them in shining garments. 5 Then, as they were afraid and bowed their faces to the earth, they said to them, "Why do you seek the living among the dead? 6 He is not here, but is risen! Remember how He spoke to you when He was still in Galilee,7saying, 'The Son of Man must be delivered into the hands of sinful men, and be crucified, and the third day rise again.'8 And they remembered His words.9 Then they returned from the tomb and told all these things to the eleven and to all the rest. 10 It was Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women with them, who told these things to the apostles.11And their words seemed to them like idle tales, and they did not believe them. 12 But Peter arose and ran to the tomb; and stooping down, he saw the linen cloths lying by themselves; and he departed, marveling to himself at what had happened.

2 Timothy 3:10-15

10But you have carefully followed my doctrine, manner of life, purpose, faith, longsuffering, love, perseverance,11 persecutions, afflictions, which happened to me at Antioch, at Iconium, at Lystra-what persecutions I endured. And out of them all the Lord delivered me.12 Yes, and all who desire to live godly in Christ Jesus will suffer persecution.13 But evil men and impostors will grow worse and worse, deceiving and being deceived.14 But you must continue in the things which you have learned and been assured of, knowing from whom you have learned them,15 and that from childhood you have known the Holy Scriptures, which are able to make you wise for salvation through faith which is in Christ Jesus.

[lamentsof-bee]

one ghost king to rule them all

ALRIGHT SO - i finished my self indulgent character analysis of our little gay lord and savior, nico di angelo. 

and let me tell you. THE PAIN really just makes him more gothy and i’m here for it. 

under the cut if y’all wanna read it. your choice. except wendy, she has to read it bc i said so. 

Summary: 

There were many boys at one point. Boys with flames on their skin. Salt water in their hair. Lightning in their veins. And they all mattered…

The one with the animal heart and the one with a halo made of sun.

Each and every single one mattered.

But not like the boy born of shadows.

Never like him.

[Nico di Angelo would never walk a straight and narrow path, Hestia promised him that much. His would always be a journey marred by sadness, distrust and destruction. But sometimes, beauty can be born of hate. And acceptance can be found in even the darkest of nights.]

[An in-depth look at Nico's journey from the cliff of Bar Harbour to the Battle of Gaea]

Read it on AO3. 

There were many boys at one point. Boys with flames on their skin. Salt water in their hair. Lightning in their veins. And they all mattered…

The one with the animal heart and the one with a halo made of sun.

Each and every single one mattered.

But not like the boy born of shadows.

Never like him.

Nico di Angelo remembers the death of his mother.

He was young but still, there is an imprint of the year 1941 on his brain, and the crash that came with Zeus destroying the ceiling.

The faint glow of his father’s power still wakes him at night. A black force field that could only be described as suffocating. The warmth that the Lord of the Underworld could create was never quite inviting though. It licked at you, like hot flames whose only goal was to singe. He had shielded Nico and Bianca from the physical harm, they had survived, but he left them torn.

River Lethe was strong, strong enough to wipe even a Titan’s memories Nico would later find out, but no power was stronger than a mother’s love. The memories of vows of vengeance that Hades swore had faded, the white marble of the Washington D.C. hotel had withered. But Maria di Angelo’s red lips and olive skin will never leave Nico’s mind. Nor will the first moment his father chose to protect him.

For a long time Nico would think it was the last. If only he knew back then how wrong he’d be.

They travelled some with a dark haired lawyer that asked but never listened. And they ended up in the Lotus Hotel.

Nico, even at his young age, heard whispers of The Child of the Eldest Gods and a prophecy to end all prophecies. It was drowned out by the lights of Las Vegas and the inviting doors of the Lotus Hotel.

A month passed for Nico and he and Bianca were swept away by a new lawyer with the same habit of questioning and ignoring. The world outside had changed. Washington D.C. had new subway stations, motorized vehicles had more efficient and ugly, everyone seemed to have something called a ‘cell-phone’.

They were taken to Westover Hall, a military academy in Bar Harbour. Things had changed, Bianca wore a hat and learned everything about this new, modern world that she could. Nico picked up Mythomagic and found himself loving something for the first time since his mother died.

There was so much heartbreak since then.

So many deaths. So many losses.

Nico swore he wouldn’t lose anyone else. Not after his mother had gone so suddenly. So he made Percy Jackson promise to keep Bianca safe.

Percy could do it! Nico insisted to himself. Percy was strong and experienced and he’d been on a quest before. His hair was dark and his eyes sparkled, Nico liked that a lot. Nico knew Mythomagic, he knew what kind of points the monsters would have that his sister would be facing. And she needed someone to watch her six. Someone who knew how.

Percy could do that.

He tried his best to keep his spirits up after the group’s departure.

It was still cool, that Camp Half-Blood was like Mythomagic brought to life. The lava climbing wall and real life land mines made for an interesting stay.

But still…he felt quite lonely.

He’d never been without Bianca before…

He’d never been alone…

On his first lone night, Nico stood apart from the campers gathered around the fire. They sang together off-key and toasted marshmallows as if they didn’t have a care in the world. Everyone seemed happy, everyone seemed at home.

Except Nico.

And that one young girl in a mousy brown dress with eyes like fire.

She stared into the blazes, her gaze softening as it grew with the intensity of the love around the hearth. She seemed so ordinary. Without thinking Nico drew towards her wanting to get a better look at her face. When he did, he noticed it was all together unremarkable. Freckles on the bridge of her nose, brown hair to match her dress but she had flames in her eyes. 

She looked at him and said nothing. Still, there seemed to be an invitation in the air.

He took a seat next to her and stared in the blazes.

‘Your hearth,’ she said quietly. ‘It’s so small.’ Sorrow clouded her voice.

Nico felt vulnerable and naked. His hearth was practically empty. His father would feed him to the dogs, his mother had passed before he could grow old enough to remember her and his sister had left him behind. The coals of his hearth were barely glowing. He felt as if there was only one left and its ember was extinguishing.

‘A small hearth is still a home.’ His voice was as quiet as hers. His eyes never leaving the fire.

‘And home you will always return.’

The smile she gave him was small and the wisdom in her eyes seemed far beyond her years. She looked of Nico’s age but her demeanour betrayed her.

‘You have far to travel, Nico di Angelo.’ Her tone sounded sombre again. ‘You have much to face. But for your kindness you will be rewarded. You shall always find a place at my hearth.’

He wanted to ask her how he knew his name and what exactly she was talking about but a warmth filled his stomach. A sense of calm and serenity washed over him and suddenly it didn’t matter so much that his hearth was small or he had been left behind. This fire was warm enough and a hearth could be rebuilt with time.

His life had been touched by a goddess.

Since his time at Camp Half-Blood, Nico’s powers had grown. He felt the souls passing on, meeting the ferryman at the River Styx. He felt the marble shake with his father’s anger and watched as the flowers wilted when he walked.

But nothing quite made him feel like the Son of Death than when Percy came back without Bianca and only a Mythomagic figurine to make up for it.

Nico had wondered before why his father had such rage built up inside him. Why he couldn’t just accept the life his siblings chose for him? But in that moment, Nico understood.

With every step Bianca took towards her hearing, Nico felt the pang echo in his chest. As if he were standing there with her, he could see the gold masks leering down at him. He felt the ringing in his ears.

The rage exploded inside him like a volcano and sizzled the pity Percy tried to shovel on him. The hero he had in his mind, the greatness Percy Jackson encompassed, had disappeared. The fluttering in his stomach, the butterflies that took flight when he looked at Percy, they withered and died as Bianca was sentenced.

The amorous feelings, as amorous as a ten year old kid could feel, he had towards Percy were marred with darkness and stained with hate. Still… when the skeleton warriors pounced Nico couldn’t help it.

He saw Percy get disarmed. The ringing in his ears increased. He brought his hands to his head, trying to shake away the sound. The darkness grew inside of him, like a ball of energy ready to combust until he couldn’t take it anymore.

‘No! Go away!’

The ground split open and the skeletons were swallowed by flames and earth. One crunch later and not a single bone was left to be found.

Panting, Nico’s eyes moved from the fissure in the ground to Percy. He looked back at the kid, wide-eyed and awestruck. Bianca may have died but Darkness has just risen.

One step forward was all it took for Nico to shout a curse at Percy and run into the shadows of the woods. With this he would leave behind any feelings that Percy Jackson awoke in him.

- 

The road to Daedalus is dark and messy. Minos whispers in his ears with a voice as smooth as silk and provided both comfort and education. The things Nico learned with Minos he will never forget. Shadow travel, raising of spirits, conferring with the dead. It took some practice but eventually Nico made it back from his accidental trips to China and succeeded in summoning a soul.

Theseus’ words were muddled and unhelpful. His gaze drawn constantly to Nico’s ghostly guide, unsettling the young boy. He senses your power. That was what Theseus had said but he hadn’t said who. Darkness closed in again and Nico was alone, no one but Minos and an empty pit.

When he faces Percy next, Nico is disappointed to find that his heart still skips a beat. He likened it to a minor heart attack first and thought perhaps he’d be able to find Bianca that way but when the sensation passed with Percy’s eyes still on him, Nico only looked back coldly.

Your soul is worth nothing to me! He wanted to shout at Percy. How dare he think his soul could be exchanged for Bianca’s? Bianca’s soul was worth thousands of Percy’s. No amount of good looks and boyish charm could save him from that.

‘Let’s ask Bianca.’

That was what Percy had said. As if her appearance would rectify the wrong he had caused her. As if she would appear in front of Nico simply because Percy willed it.

If it were true, if Bianca showed this time, Nico would wring Percy’s neck.

He poured the root beer into the pit and let the words come from the deepest part of him. The chant brought about a mist and spirits followed it to kneel by the depth.

The chanting became forced and as Minos lowered himself and drank.

‘Be gone, Minos!’ He ordered.

The ghost flickered, hesitated and tried to stay. Nico’s voice strained as his power fluctuated and the ghost obeyed, albeit reluctantly.

The figure that followed formed into the glowing spirit of Bianca di Angelo. Silver snowboard jacket, olive skin and sad eyes.

She gazed at Percy and rejected his apology. ‘I made my own choice. I don’t regret it.’

Watching her raised, the words spilled out of Nico. ‘Why didn’t you answer me sooner? I’ve been trying for months!’

His heart breaks when she says, ‘I was hoping you would give up.’

‘Give up?! I’m trying to save you!’

Her hand stretches towards her little brother. He’d grown since they’d seen each other last. His eyes were colder, surrounded by dark rings. He’d become taller too. ‘Don’t do this.’ She said quietly. ‘Percy is right.’

‘You must listen to me,’ she implored, ‘holding a grudge is dangerous for a child of Hades.’ Her hand evaporated as it got close to his face. ‘It is our fatal flaw.’

She cocked her head, asking him for understanding.

‘You have to forgive. You have to promise me this.’

He shook his head like a child refusing to let their parent leave before they fell asleep.

‘You are close to the truth now,’ she told him. ‘It is not Percy you’re mad at, Nico. It’s me.’

The wound he had been trying to cover broke open. The scab felt raw and wet. He felt the hurt leak from his heart through his body until even his toes were drowned in sorrow.

‘You must overcome your anger. Or else it will be your doom.’ She insisted. Don’t do this her soul begged.

‘No! I am the son of Hades. I can.’

 For the second time, a dead demigod spoke of Nico’s power before disappearing. It hurt all that much more because it was Bianca. When the mist cleared there was nothing left in the pit but a leftover smell of root beer and bad barbeque.

It rattled him to his core. The strength he felt surge inside of him. The orb of darkness that pulsed, sometimes so strongly that it forcefully pushed out of him and dark tendrils followed him when he walked. Souls cowered where he went, even nature couldn’t seem to thrive in his presence. Maybe he was destined for a life in the labyrinth. A life filled with darkness and solitude.

He yearned for laughter and peace. He wished he could imagine a life happiness. He thought, if he could picture it, which he can’t but if he could, maybe Percy would be there. Maybe he’d hold out his hand towards Nico and all would be forgiven. Maybe he would know that Bianca would give him her blessing and he would finally rest knowing that he was okay. That he was not deviant. That he was only human…

But he wasn’t.

He felt the darkness move inside of him like a pool of ink staining a white shirt. Noticeable and inevitable. When the dracanae captured him, his only thought was that he hadn’t found Percy yet. Minos betrayed him – not that Nico was surprised. He’d played enough Mythomagic to know who King Minos had been and his power over Darkness was strong enough to know who Minos had become.

The battle started and Nico was pushed to the ground. The iron on his chains bit into his wrists but as he watched the people he knew – his friends? – fight, he felt helpless. Annabeth duelled with her knife, Percy sparring with his sword. They weren’t holding their own. The emotion rammed into his chest and made the Darkness surge. Like iron against fire, the chains melted into smoke as they left Nico’s wrists. This is not how he would go down.

Percy would not die before he had atoned for his sins, not before Nico could understand why his heart still skipped a beat when the dark haired boy looked at him. Minos would not rise again to call himself the ghost king. Luke would pay for his treachery.

He starred at his ghostly former companion.

‘You do not control me, young fool.’ Minos sneered. ‘All this time, I have been controlling you. A soul for a soul, yes. But it was not your sister who will return from the dead. It is I!’

Spirits shimmered around Minos as his body solidified. The whirling energy inside Nico forced his entire body to awaken. His gaze hardened, his look one of ice.

You dare speak to Son of the Dead that way?

‘No.’ Nico insisted. ‘I am the son of Hades. Be gone!’

If looks could kill, Minos would have returned to the grave again.

‘You have no power over me. I am the lord of the spirits! The ghost king!’

A crazed look fell into Nico’s eyes as his dead tilted. He drew his stygian sword with intention and stared Minos in the face.

‘No.’ He held up his sword. ‘I am.’

He plunged the sword into the floor and ran through it like butter. He called to all the spirits that clawed at his feet and his mind. He ordered them to take back Minos and put back where he belonged, under the rule of Hades. The windows cracked and the ground boomed and suddenly the spirits around Minos veered towards him. When the fissure opened in the ground, much like the one that had appeared in Camp Half-Blood, Minos could not struggle against the souls holding him down. He could do nothing but disappear into the depths of the Underworld where he would forever walk with Nico’s shadow over his head. Spending an eternity knowing he had challenged the wrong Darkness.

The energy he needed to banish Minos sucked more out of Nico than he’d like to admit. His olive complexion turned pale, his sword hand could barely lift the weight of his blade. Still, he followed Percy, Annabeth and a strange red-haired girl called Rachel when they fastened him into make-shift wings.

They stopped at a gift shop, attempting to find a way back into the maze.

‘Daedaulus isn’t dead.’ Nico told them when they wondered if the labyrinth was even still alive. ‘That I know for sure.’

Percy thanked him as Annabeth and Rachel walked ahead. For a second it felt like pure adrenaline running through Nico’s body. He pushed the feeling away and muttered something about being even for the fight on the ranch and raising Bianca.

‘Minos was right.’ Percy looked at him confused. They walked in silence for a while. ‘Daedalus should die. To cheat death for so long. It’s not natural.’

‘So you were going to trade Daedalus’ soul for Bianca’s?’ Percy voice doesn’t sound accusing, more like the pieces are finally falling into place and he can see the big picture.

Nico walks in silence wondering if he should bare his soul. He looks at Percy and sees a glimmer of the boy he admired. The one that makes his blood pump faster than usual. He figures, now is as good a time as any – since he’s not coming back.

‘It’s not easy, you know. Having only the dead for company.’ His words are quiet and his eyes downcast. ‘Knowing I’ll never be accepted by the living due to my heritage. Having only the dead respect me, if only out of fear.’

‘You could be accepted.’ Percy answered. And there it was, that naïve optimism that made Percy so attractive. His blind desire to help and save and foster. But good intentions not a good life make.

Look at what happened to Luke. 

- 

Kronos strode towards them, shimmering gold eyes, Luke’s short cropped blonde hair and scythe in his hand – ready to take whatever path he deemed worthy.

Nico knew the only escape would be to venture back into the labyrinth but Kronos’ domineering voice giving orders shook him to his core.

As it always did when he was afraid, the Darkness within him pulsed.

‘NO!’ Nico yelled as Kronos ordered his cronies to target them. He clapped his hands together and pushed his energy outward. If it would have been visible, people would have seen a shadow fall over the fortress. A spire of black rock erupted and tore the building to pieces. Kronos and his servants were left under piles of debris.

And Nico had outed himself. Well, not outed as… he couldn’t even think that. But outed as one of the Big Three.

When Percy had said as much, all Nico could do was shrug. ‘Big deal.’

What was one more person on his tail.

- 

They find their way back into the maze and into the cave of the Nature God, Pan. Nico’s life had been touched by the Gods before but this time, this time it was different. The shimmering form of Pan sat before them, glistening off the ruby and sapphire walls.

His pull so strong that even Nico fell to his knees in respect. Yet, there was something eery about the whole thing. Like Nico could feel the energy being sucked out of the cave and towards nothingness. As if it were only a fragment of a life, a well-kept memory of something already passed…

Only once did the god acknowledge his presence.

‘Dear Grover,’ Pan said, ‘you must accept the truth.’ His gaze moved towards Nico’s bowed head. ‘Your companion, Nico, he understands.’

Nico nodded slowly, looking up at the god. His answer hesitant. ‘He’s dying.’ Grover made a strangled sound. ‘He should have long ago. This…this is more like a memory…’ As Nico said the words, the world seemed to make sense again.

The god had held on long enough for his disciple to find him but still, the years had waned his strength and he was but a collection of hope left over. Fading was a god’s punishment for not staying relevant in the modern world. And the modern world had no place for nature the way it had in the past. The times of forest foraging and daylight dwelling was over, it was replaced with technology and skyscrapers and time running out.

Nico could feel the sand in Pan’s hourglass running out. It was about to let the last granule drop.

He gave each of Nico’s companions a message, a gift of wisdom. Only Nico was ignored. What could Pan teach Nico about nature that he didn’t already know. His power was the most natural of all – to watch life end and return to its birthing place.

Still the god’s words struck a chord with Nico.

The only salvation you must make for yourself. Each of you must.

Some souls have escaped the claws of death but that day, one long over due returned. When the lights faded, the cave was dark and the moss on the walls had receded. As had the holy presence that lured them there.

Nico felt the essence of the god disappear, until not even a whisper of it remained in the undead realm.

There was no time for rest or mourning. Though it seemed Grover would take time for the latter eventually. It took only one uncomfortable pegasus ride for Nico to fall back into his thoughts about Percy. The sea demigod was always protecting him, always bargaining with him, trying to make sure that Nico was safe. It was a selfless act, stupid, but still selfless. And for that Nico had to give him credit. The way Percy had chastised him for revealing his powers to Kronos made him aware of the fact that Percy had kept his secret. He hadn’t told anyone about Nico’s birth right or his heritage. And he had done it to try to save him.

- 

The battle wasn’t over though. Luke’s plan, Kronos’ plan – whatever, had succeeded. They had infiltrated camp and were running rampage on the grounds.

It was quite a sight to see – all the demigods coming together to fight for their lives. A dozen dracaenae were heading towards the cabins when Percy alerted Nico of the threat.

Taking a deep breath, he raised his hands, straining as if an invisible force was resisting their pull upwards. ‘Serve me!’

The earth trembled and parted in the midst of the dracenae. Undead warriors, all answering to Nico, rose from the depths and engaged the enemies. He pushed as much of his power as he could into the corpses, daring them to oppose his will.

He sunk to his knees as the soldiers drew more and more of his energy to stay aboveground.

He gave and he gave and he gave. He watched the lady dragons get pulverized until his vision started to fade and blackness surrounded him.

When he woke, a figure was standing above him with a canteen of nectar. The people in his vision slowly started reforming from their three-fold selves and his sight cleared. Percy was hovering over him with more people fanned out.

His eyes landed on Daedalus.

‘I came to correct my mistake.’ The words struck Nico. The labyrinth could not continue, that much was clear. The only thing left to do was offer up one last sacrifice, a last trade to compensate for the damage the old inventor had caused.

Annabeth protested. ‘You won’t get a fair trial! The spirit of Minos sits in judgement –’

The inventor smiled at her ruefully. ‘I will take what comes.’ He turned to Nico. ‘And trust in the justice of the Underworld, such as it is. That is all we can do, isn’t it?’

Nico’s dark look didn’t waver Daedalus’ spirits. The boy nodded in agreement.

‘Will you take my soul for ransom, then? And use it to reclaim your sister?’

Nico’s eyes lowered and for a second he wished he could act like the boy that he was. But he knew he could not. Instead, he had to act like the son he was born to be.

‘No,’ His answer was firm. ‘I will help release your spirit. But Bianca has passed. She must stay where she is.’ Thus is law of nature.

Daedalus looked at him with reverence. ‘You are becoming wise, son of Hades.’ There was a pause. ‘I am ready to see my son…and Perdix. I must tell them how sorry I am.’

Getting to his feet, with much effort, Nico turned to the old inventor with his sword. He raised a hand towards the forehead of the old man and whispered ‘Your time is long since come. Be released and rest.’

The inventor smiled with relief and released as sigh so deep it seemed to have been held for eons. Slowly his skin became transparent until the gears behind it became visible. The machinery halted its whirling and the old man turned to ash and blew away with the wind.

Nico shared the relief the inventor had felt. Releasing a soul so long overdue and feeling it return to the depths of the earth had granted him some freedom. The souls bound to the mortal plane that evaded the clutches of Thanatos weighed him down more than he had realized.

- 

Post-battle Nico spent a short time in the Apollo cabin’s med-bay where the head councillor prodded his bruises and poked his scratches with very little comment. The councillor seemed wary of him.

Nico felt the vitality in the cabin. There were plenty of campers running around and plenty of patients to be treated. Nico felt the life of each being in the room. There was a plump blonde boy at the back of the room. There was a small gathering around him, a kid maybe slightly older than Nico stood with his head bowed. The kid in the bed was dead. Nico felt his life extinguish on the battle field, still the medics tried to breathe life back into lungs and jump-start his heart with compressions.

It was no use.

Nothing good was going to come of the Son of Death hanging around in a place meant for healing.

Nico got to his feet, using his knees to push himself upwards. He spared a glance at Castor, the fallen demigod, a son of Dionysus if he remembered correctly. He had liked Mythomagic and had a twin. In another life, if Castor had lived and Nico weren’t shunned for his heritage, perhaps they could have been friends.

A sigh escaped Nico’s lips as he turned. He briefly caught the eye of the small boy standing at Castor’s bedside. A mop of blonde hair almost covered his blue eyes but still, they looked into Nico’s, wide eyed and wondering. As if to ask why are you leaving?

The implication of the question stopped Nico short.

He shook the blue eyes out of his mind and turned.

Nico had a lot of work to do. On himself. On discovering who he really was, where he came from and what his purpose was. Camp Half-Blood couldn’t help with that. There was a reason why Hades didn’t have a cabin on the grounds. It was best to keep death as far away from a haven as possible. And Camp Half-Blood was a sanctuary if Nico ever did see one.

He left camp with a short goodbye to Hestia. The goddess didn’t bless his travel or his journey but she did give him some advice.

Wisdom will come to you when you least expect it. And someday you must face your own shadow. Beware, Son of Hades, the path you walk will never be straight but it will lead you home.

He didn’t know what to make of her words but he chose to guard them closely and maybe soon they would become clearer.

He travelled the underworld and began to feel more at home amongst the souls that transcended through the realm. Sometimes Ms O’Leary joined him, more often than not though, he travelled alone. Daedalus’ hearing took place and although Minos pushed for a malice filled punishment, the Lord of the Underworld had other ideas. It was the first time Nico saw his father enact any type of power within his realm. Minos stewed quietly behind his golden mask and obeyed his master. He visited his father at court and found nothing but malevolence boiling below the surface of their relationship. Questions about his mother and the life he led before the Lotus Hotel remained a mystery.

Time passed quickly and before he knew it, days had turned into months.

He became familiar with the happenings of the Underworld and the created a map inside his mind. He placed all the rivers in his model and added in Asphodel and the Fields of Punishment. It was only when he got to the River Styx that he discovered something that may change the way his wind blew.

A plan formed in his mind.

A bargain made with his father.

And then, he went off to return to the one person that scared him the most.

He watched Percy from the bottom of the fire escape . The demigod gently placed a sprig into a small planter box and sprinkled it with nectar. The look on Percy’s face was almost melancholic, it pulled at Nico’s heartstrings. He took a breath and stepped into the shadows, and tried to leave any feelings for Percy at the bottom of the stairs.

‘Nice plant.’ He said, stepping out of the shadows.

Watching Percy Jackson jump was one of the few pleasures Nico had left in life.

‘Sorry.’ He said, not meaning it. ‘Didn’t mean to startle you.’

Percy’s eyes looked greener in the moonlight, the sprig that had grown in the plant box and the way he had handled it made Nico wonder if he’d ever be able to treat something with so much care.

For a mere moment, he wondered if he might, someday, be able to treat Percy with such care.

A compliment was on the tip of his tongue. Instead he said ‘I want to make you an offer.’

All business, all the time.

Over blue cake and soda, Nico explained to Percy what he was proposing. How Percy could save the world, how the tide of the upcoming war could be changed. It was risky and really, really stupid, still Nico was convincing.

But Percy was scared.

For that, Nico could not blame him. Still, he had to push.

He decided what Percy needed was time. And what he needed was answers. So he left Percy in New York to stew over his plan with the intention to return within the month.

It took him much longer than that. Almost a year passed before Nico next contacted Percy to set their plan into motion.

It brought him back to his time in the Underworld. Back when he thought there was no place a son of Hades couldn’t see. He should have stayed home, even if home was a ghastly castle made of black marble that provided a highway for souls to transcend their mortal lives. 

There had been some comfort there though.

There had been Bob…

The most gentle of giants, the friendliest Titan in the world.

‘Time passes quickly.’ Bob had said to Nico as he cleaned the stairs of the palace. Though how that was possible for an immortal Titan, Nico did not know.

Nico sat on the marble staircase and watched the giant.

‘Never quickly enough…’ Nico had muttered under his breath. He had meant not quickly enough to forgo the suffering he was enduring but Bob had misunderstood.

‘You’ll see your friends soon.’ His tone was light.

‘Friends…’ Nico hesitated.

‘Bob would like to have friends.’ The Titan’s expression was thoughtful, melancholy even.

‘You’d need a friend like Percy.’ The worlds rolled out of Nico before he could stop them.

‘Percy…’ Bob looked at Nico curiously.

‘Yeah, you know…’ He swallowed his pride. ‘Someone who looks out for you when you’re in trouble. Who comforts you when you’re down and tells you no matter what it’s gonna be alright.’

‘Your Percy… he does this?’

Your Percy.

It shouldn’t have struck a chord with Nico but it did.

‘Yeah.’ He swallowed hard. ‘He does.’

-

He took the breadcrumbs his father gave him about his mother’s birth and followed them to Olympus. While he was in the area, he headed to Mount Othrys. Any chance to eavesdrop on a Titan was a good chance to take. While he was there he sent a dream vision to Percy, this was the time to push. Time was running out and he was running out of leads.

‘You see Percy?’ His voice barely a whisper. ‘You’re running out of time.’

A change in the air told him to return to his father’s realm. A shift was about to take place.

He followed his impulse back to Styx where he went to speak with Charon, the ferryman of the Underworld. Before he could greet the Spirit of Boundaries a presence drew his eye. Between a small group of people he found the head of tall dark familiar person. Beckendorf looks at him with recognition and regret.

Nico walks up feeling a little numb.

Beckendorf had been the best of them. Always the first to take the lead, the first to sacrifice, the first to comfort. He was in the wrong place. And yet, Nico knew that Beckendorf’s mortal life was over.

‘Hey.’ Beckendorf’s low voice was still comforting.

‘Hey.’

‘Nice place you got here.’ Beckendorf raises an eyebrow in jest.

Nico snorts. ‘Thanks.’

He sobers and turns to his tall companion. ‘Follow me. You don’t have to wait in line.’

Beckendorf walks behind Nico, who leads him to Charon and passes the ferryman with a nod.

They speak little on their journey to the hearing. Beckendorf asks if Percy survived the fall from the Princess Andromeda and for one awful second Nico needs to go searching for his soul and hope to Gods that he doesn’t find it. He breathes a sigh of relief. Percy’s soul has not passed on. He survived the explosion.

He tells Beckendorf as much and mentions that for his heroic sacrifice he will be granted admission to Elysium. Nico brings up rebirth but Beckendorf only smiles and shakes his head.

‘I’m waiting for someone.’

His stance is resolute. His eyes are clear.

‘If you see Percy…’ Beckendorf smiles ruefully. He will never see Percy again. ‘Tell him it wasn’t his fault. That he shouldn’t beat himself up over this. I’m good here. I’ve got something worth waiting for.’

Watching Beckendorf pass through the gates towards the court of judgement made Nico feel dizzy. He had seen demigods fall before, he had felt souls pass on a-plenty but this was different. Beckendorf had been the most competent soldier amongst their legion. And still, he had fallen. It hit close to home.

He needed to protect what little he had left.

He needed to protect Percy.

And he would.

After he found out about his mother.

The plan wasn’t thought through. He doesn’t know why he trusted his father and betrayed Percy. Tricking a guy into an audience with your undead Lord of the Dead father is the best way to get someone to fall in love with you – not. Still, there were some things that took precedent. And the di Angelo history was one of them. One of the few. Okay, the only thing.

The look of betrayal on Percy’s face had Nico looking away in shame.

The throat pin in the cell was definitely deserved.

‘I swear on the River Styx, I didn’t know what he was planning.’ Nico heard the rush of water in his ears as the oath was sworn.

‘You know what your dad is like!’

The anger was real and justified. Nico hadn’t given Percy any reason to trust him in the past and he may have just marred any chance he had of getting Percy to trust him in the future.

But Percy bathed anyway.

Even when Achilles told him to turn back.

It will make you powerful. But it will also make you weak.

Nico watched Percy stare in Achilles’ face and say no. If Luke had bathed, then Percy must too. It is the only way he would stand a chance.

Let the gods witness I tried.

The boys shivered as the wisdom of the greatest mortal hero to ever live rolled down their backs. Achilles disappeared and the river kept churning.

The minutes Nico spent on shore seemed endless. He counted the pebbles at his feet and tried to ignore the river that had swallowed his friend. A son of Poseidon couldn’t drown…right?

This was the only way. This was the right choice.

Nico repeated the words in his mind like a mantra. This will save him. This will set him free.

There was no doubt in Nico’s mind that Percy was the hero of the prophecy. That knowledge both hurt and healed him. He knew the object of his affection was going to be a great hero, was an honourable half blood but the same hero’s hubris may come at too high a cost. Nico would never be the child of the prophecy. It had nothing to do with his father’s taunts of Your sister would have done a better job. And more to do with the fact that Percy was just cut from hero cloth. He inspired loyalty and trust…and love.

And if he took this dip. If Percy came out of the river alive then he would be able to survive the prophecy and he would be saved!

Then we would thank Nico!

Then maybe…

Maybe they could start over.

-

After that night the trust was broken between Nico and Percy and maybe that was for the best. He stayed in the Underworld and attempted to persuade Hades to join the fight.

It was futile.

Their relationship, what was left of it, was strained and strenuous at best. Nico tried to implore his father but to no avail. He couldn’t understand why Hades would rather watch the world burn and him with it than protect what he loved by serving the greater good.

Only when he dug up Persephone’s flower beds and called upon his mother did he begin to understand the god he called his father.

‘Why? What is he hiding?’ Nico had asked Bianca when she took her mother’s place.

‘Pain. Hatred. This knowledge will only hurt you. Remember what I said.’

He clawed his way through her image, it was replaced by a series of scenes like something out of a movie.

He watched his own mother’s death and the destruction of life as he knew it. He felt he couldn’t take it all in until a girl entered the picture and Hades began to chant.

His eyes fully black, Hades looked possessed by an otherworldly creature. ‘I swear as long as my children remain outcasts, as long as I labour under the curse of your Great Prophecy, the Oracle of Delphi will never have another mortal host. You will never rest in peace. No other will take your place. Your body will wither and die, and still the Oracle’s spirit will be locked inside you. You will speak your bitter prophecies until you crumble to nothing. The Oracle will die with you!’

The screams of the girl would make Nico wake up in cold sweat for many years to come. So chilling was it, watching his father enact his rage on an innocent bystander.

Now Nico knew why Bianca had warned him. Grudges were fatal to the children of Hades because they had been fatal to their father. A curse born of hatred had caused the world to fall into chaos and it was their duty, no, only Nico’s duty now, to atone for the sins his father had committed.

 It must have been a miracle that Hades decided to join the war, that Luke woke up at Annabeth’s injury, that Olympus didn’t fall at the hands of Kronos that day.

Hades was welcomed into the throne room with pats on the back and words of welcome. And Nico sat at the foot of his make-shift throne feeling like he might finally be worthy of his father’s attention. The Curse of the Oracle had been broken. Or so it seemed…

The next few weeks are something out of a dream. Nico is welcomed the same way his father was and for a while things seem to be looking up. He built his cabin with style. Obsidian walls and green fire torches. No cabin would compare.

He spent a little time in the med-bay again. This time his wounds were minor but his health had deteriorated due to his shadow travel. He would need to get stronger to shadow travel more often. The head counsellor was nowhere to be seen. The kid he had seen at Castor’s bedside treated his wounds instead. His bright eyes and sunny disposition were jarring. Still there was something calming about the guy.

‘Solace. Will Solace.’

After the blonde, Will, had covered Nico’s wounds in nectar and band aids, he held out his hand.

‘Right uh, Nico. di Angelo.’

He hesitantly grabbed Will’s hand, standing up. To his surprise, Will didn’t shiver or back away from Nico. He grasped Nico’s hand softly and gave it a shake.

‘Nice fighting and all that.’

‘Oh uh thanks.’ Nico, who had never really interacted much with people, became aware that it might be normal to compliment Will as well. ‘Nice… um.. healing and stuff.’

If Will thought his reaction was strange, he didn’t show it. He simply flashed Nico a blinding smile and threw up a peace sign.

‘Thanks.’ He gave Nico a wink. ‘See you round.’

With that he turned and exited.

The people he met – Annabeth, Grover, Rachel … Percy… they all became his friends. They became his reason for continuing his journey. Maybe the curse of Hades really had been broken. Nico finally felt like he had something worth returning to.

-

There were so many experiences that led Nico to becoming the person he was destined to be.  Meeting Percy at Camp Jupiter had shaken him but he had remained strong. His father’s will would undoubtedly win. And his word’s rang true. Go to them. It is important you make this connection. The path was never going to be easy. Hestia had all but promised him that much. Whether Tartarus had always been part of that destiny, though, was unclear. But Nico knew if he could give it back – he would.

The pull of the pit had been too strong. It sucked him in like a black hole and left him feeling naked, empty and helpless. Still, he followed it. He knew he would find the Doors at the end of the burning road. Nevertheless, he drank the fire water and faced the Goddess of Misery, Akhlys. She had congratulated him on his sorrow and whined ‘Child of Hades, what more could I do to you? You are so perfect. So much sorrow, so much pain.’

He could add it to the things that kept him up at night. Her blood streaked face, his distress mirrored in her tears on the shield of Hercules. He would never forget the true face of misery and how it had welcomed him home.

In a way it seemed right for him to be overwhelmed in Tartarus. Overrun by Gaea’s minions. In a way, he had seen it coming. He had prepared for the worst.

The pomegranate seeds he ate had been a last resort. As the air in the bronze jar thinned and his pomegranate supply dwindled, he wondered if this was all he had been meant for.

To be a puppet in another god’s game.

He had been so close. He had found the Doors of Death. He almost saved them.

He had only just gotten Hazel back and now he would be the one that needed finding in the Fields of Asphodel.

He thought suffocating under Rome in a bronze jar would be the worst thing to happen to him since losing Bianca.

And then…

And then he watched Percy and Annabeth fall to their doom.

Lead them there! Percy had begged him. Promise me!

He saw them fall into blackness and almost jumped after them. He clawed at the rocks and bellowed and cried. Not again. Nico screamed until his lungs gave out. Bring them back! Bring them back! Bring them back! He was inconsolable.

Not again!

None of it seemed to matter anymore. He knew Percy could survive Tartarus, especially if Annabeth was with him. Nico just didn’t know who Percy would come out as at the other side.

Gaea didn’t want to give him time to dwell on it but he did so anyway.

He’d stay up late at night and watch the shadows dance against the walls as Coach Hedge walked up and down the hallway making sure everyone was in their own cabin. Not that Nico had anywhere else to go.

The last battle ran through his head like a movie. Some parts were marred by dizziness and fog because he hadn’t completely recovered from the asphyxiation in that moment but still, the outlines of the figures were clear. Percy was standing over him again. Percy was saving him again.

And all Nico could do was lay there trying to catch his breath.

The Death Trance had taken plenty out of him. The black clothes he wore seemed to slowly become one with him as he faded in and out of the shadows. It took his upmost control to not sink through the lumpy mattress he was sitting on in that moment.

He needed to be stronger.

He always needed to be stronger.

Bu there was no time. Every minute Percy (and Annabeth, he reminded himself) stayed in Tartarus was a minute longer they stood in hell. They needed a way out and Nico had to make it to the Doors of Death when they found it.

Nico would make sure that Percy and Annabeth survived their walk through the abyss. But it would be a whole lot easier with an army by his side…

Chasing the Sceptre of Diocletian brought Nico face to face with a demigod he thought he’d never see again. Jason Grace.

He looked different than Nico remembered.

His close cut hair had grown slightly, the glasses on his face (also new) seemed to be permanently askew. His strength hadn’t waned though. Jason still emanated an intense aura. Like that of a lightning storm coming to pass. Close, suffocating and inevitable. Still, he didn’t look so Roman anymore.

Nico had extended a challenge. Go with me to Diocletian’s Palace if you dare. And the son of Jupiter was never one to back down from a fight.

Maybe Jason had become a little more Greek than he’d like to admit.

‘I just can’t imagine how weird that must be, coming from another time.’

It almost made a shiver run down Nico’s spine. You have no idea.  

‘No, you can’t.’ He wanted to end the conversation there but sometimes you have to take one for the team. Jason wasn’t trying to be hostile or interrogative.

‘I don’t like talking about it… Honestly, I think Hazel has it worse. Me…’ a beat. Not just him. ‘Me and Bianca, we were stuck in the Lotus Hotel. Time passed so quickly. In a weird way, that made the transition easier.’

‘Percy told me about that place. Seventy years but it only felt like a month?’

A hitch in Nico’s stride and a darkness that seemed to fall over them.

‘Yeah. I’m sure Percy told you all about me.’

If Nico had known who he would meet in the Palace, he would have never entered in the first place. Let alone taken Jason with him.

What Favonius said wasn’t cruel but it may as well have been because it felt like a sword sharper than his stygian iron one was being pushed through Nico’s heart.

‘I knew eventually you would return to look upon my master’s face.’

What little blood Nico had left in his cheeks drained.

‘The one you care for most … plunged into Tartarus. Still, you will not allow the truth?’

Panic rose in Nico until he felt the gall all the way at the top of his throat. His heart rate quickened and the grip on his sword loosened as his hands became sweaty.

No.

‘We’ve come for Diocletian’s sceptre.’ He struggled to keep his voice level.

The words Hestia spoke to him years ago came back to haunt him.

‘Your trials will be much more difficult.’ Favonius looked amused. ‘If you want the sceptre, you must face the god of love.’

Favonius almost ripped Nico apart by taking him to see Eros. But the grass that wilted at his feet and the blackness of his shadow that snaked out wasn’t only due to unforeseen air travel.

‘I don’t blame you for being nervous, Nico di Angelo. Do you know how I ended up serving Cupid?’

A knot tightened in Nico’s stomach, for a second he regained his stature and stood. ‘I don’t serve anyone. Especially not Cupid.’

 What came next was anyone’s guess. Nico would have never thought that the god of love and the god of death were so intimately connected. But Cupid had been right, sometimes Death was kinder.

Blood ran down Nico’s sword arm, the red arrow lying at his feet dissolved with his wound. Nico’s fear was replaced by frustration.

He watched Jason get thrown around. First hitting the columns, then almost swallowed by a crumbling wall.

‘Stop it! It’s me you want. Leave him alone!’ He stretched out his arms as if standing in front of Jason and covering him would stop the god from attacking his friend.

Still, the taunting continued.

‘And you – what have you risked in my name?’

Anger burned in his stomach.

‘I have been to Tartarus and back,’ Nico snarled, his eyes icy. ‘You. Don’t. Scare. Me.’

For a second it seemed like Nico had found his fight again. ‘Give us Diocletian’s sceptre, we don’t have time for games.’

 An invisible hand rapped against Nico’s cheek. He went flying into a granite pedestal. Head cloudy and throbbing, Nico tried to sit up.

‘Tell him, Nico di Angelo. Tell him you are a coward, afraid of yourself and your feelings. Tell him the real reason you ran away from Camp Half-Blood and are always alone.’

Something inside Nico broke. His eyes were shaking and he lost control. He let loose a terrifying scream as he realized that there was nowhere left to hide. Nowhere that Cupid wouldn’t find him. The ground split open and bodies of passed soldiers clawed their way to the surface until they surrounded Nico.

The darkness rolled off of Nico in waves so powerful Jason almost couldn’t withstand it. Every pulse of energy that Nico released, seemingly unintentional, brought with it a wave of hatred, shame and fear.  

The images his power brought to the surface were ones he tried his best to supress. Percy’s smile, the clap on the shoulder he received after the Battle of New York, the way his stomach flipped when they were together.

To his horror, he realized Jason saw all the same things.

He looked over at the blonde in horror and urged his soldiers forward.

They grappled with the invisible god until he released a cruel, low laugh.

‘I wasn’t in love with Annabeth.’ Nico’s confession is hollow, his eyes downcast. He looks as if he has lost all his strength. The fight, the denial, it all left his body at once.

Nico crumbled to the ground with his soldiers and the darkness around him subsided. All that was left was a boy drowning in his own shame and misunderstanding.

Jason couldn’t believe how young Nico looked in that moment.

‘I hated myself.’ Nico confessed quietly. ‘I hated Percy Jackson.’  Because I loved him.

Cupid’s shape became clear, the white wings and black hair that belonged to the god were startlingly magnificent yet Jason couldn’t help but hate him. Love was cruel and Cupid was a monster.

‘Happy now?’ Nico demanded.

Cupid’s gaze changed, for a moment he seemed to almost pity Nico. ‘I wouldn’t say Love always makes you happy. But at least you’ve faced it now. That is the only way to conquer me.’

With the next gust of wind, the god dissolved and in his place was the sceptre of Diocletian.

It suddenly dawned on Jason that Nico’s story was not an ordinary one. He finally understood why Nico’s past weighed on him so much. To be born in the 1940s, during a time of war, a time where feelings such as Nico’s would have been shunned. It’s no wonder Nico battled so heavily with his secret.

The modern world that he lived in now, where acceptance was more wide spread than before, was not his home. Nico had always felt out of place. And the acceptance that the queer community got nowadays did not feel inclusive to the kid from World War II. 

‘Nico,’ Jason said gently, ‘I’ve seen a lot of brave things. But what you just did… that was maybe the bravest.’

Jason was unsure if Nico’s battle with Cupid had changed anything within the son of Hades but over the next days he saw Nico firm up. His once starved body became taut with muscles though his skin stayed as pale as ever.

And waiting in front of northern coast of Africa was making everyone antsy. Especially Nico.

‘Any word from the king?’

‘Every day, he calls for me later and later.’ Jason sounded frustrated.

‘We need to leave,’ Nico insisted. ‘Soon. Percy is close to the Doors.’

Jason had his doubts. The king of the South Wind was uncooperative, the ship was no where near ready and now with Leo gone…

‘I promised I’d lead you to the House of Hades,’ Nico said, his voice hard as if sensing Jason’s uncertainty. ‘One way or another, I will.’

‘You can’t shadow-travel with all of us.’ Jason had already considered that idea but it was worthless if Nico wouldn’t survive the trip.

Bringing up Nico’s inability somehow made the orb on the sceptre glow. Hanging on Nico’s belt it somehow seemed to throb.

‘Then you’ve got  to convince the king of the South Wind to help.’  Nico sounded angry. ‘I didn’t come all this, suffer so many humiliations…’ He trailed off but his intention was clear.

I did not suffer all these trials and forcefully out myself to you for you to NOT make it.

The dark energy that swirled around Nico and blackened the floor was unsettling. For the first time in his life, Jason thought this may be a foe he couldn’t defeat in battle. And he didn’t want to find out, if he was truly honest.

Jason wanted to be Nico’s friend but he wasn’t exactly making it easy.

The conversation shifted, for an uncertain amount of time it was always going to be about Nico’s coming out. Until he accepted his own feelings, that is.

‘It’s not like you’ve got a choice. It’s just who you are…’ Jason’s sympathetic voice sounded accusing to Nico.

‘Just who I am... What would you know about who I am? I didn’t choose any of this.’ He lashed out with his hands, swiping through the wind. ‘My father, my feelings.’

There was a pulse of energy.

But for some reason Jason began feeling just as frustrated as Nico.

‘I get it, what do I know. But Nico, you choose how to live your life. You want to trust somebody? Take the risk. Find out if I’m really your friend and if I’ll accept you. At least that’s better than hiding.’

The floor cracked, Nico’s eyes were cold and his aura seemed to be sucking in all the shadows from around him.

‘Hiding?’ It was barely a whisper.

Jason’s instincts told him to run, to grab his sword, to fight this threat. But he stood his ground.

‘Yes, hiding. You’ve run away from bot camps. You’re so afraid they’d reject you that you won’t even try!’ He pushed just a little further. ‘Maybe it’s time you came out of the shadows.’

Hestia’s words echoed in his mind.

And someday you must face your shadow. Beware, son of Hades.

 For one unbearable moment, Jason felt like his bones were being pulled towards the Underworld and then it passed. Nico dropped his eyes and the fissure in the floor closed. The ghostly light around the son of Hades faded.

‘I’ll honour my promise,’ Nico’s voice was barely a whisper. ‘I’ll take you to Epirus. I’ll help you close the Doors of Death. Then that’s it. I’m leaving.’

For a second Nico wonders if he and Jason were always mean to butt heads. After all, it was Zeus who had smited Maria di Angelo. How could Nico be sure that Jason was any different than his father? This olive branch was nothing but rotten.

 The journey to the House of Hades was nothing but unsettling, even for the children of the Underworld. Nico marvelled briefly at Hazel’s ability to crumble a house sized boulder into nothing before they continued their journey.

They reached the chalice filled with dark green liquid. Nico felt he was at a crossroads. Hecate was watching. Nico drank and offered it to Jason.

‘You asked me about trust. Well, here you go, son of Jupiter. How much do you trust me?’

Jason’s eyes glinted but he didn’t hesitate grabbing the cup from Nico. Jason drank never breaking eye contact as if to dare him. Next question. He all but threw the goblet at the others.

Nico hid his shock. An olive branch if he ever did see one.

The group continued downward.

A shudder made his way through Nico’s heart. He kept walking. It happened again. He saw Hazel pause too, ever so briefly. He briefly recounted the time. Twelve minutes. The Doors of Death were opening every twelve minutes.

Then Frank saw a ghost and the plan Nico had in his head went down the drain.

They were surrounded. On all sides.

‘Nico, the sceptre!’

He raised it and the dead with it. Not that it was much use though, Jason couldn’t command them and neither could Frank.

‘My rank,’ Frank realized. ‘I’m only a centurion.’

Nico carved through a gryphon with his stygian sword.

‘Well, then promote him!’ He shouted at Jason as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Jason didn’t hesitate.

‘Frank Zhang! I, Jason Grace, praetor of the Twelfth Legion Fulminata, give you my final order: I resign my post and give you emergency field promotion to praetor, with the full powers of that rank. Take command of this legion.’

Then, the battle changed and Nico couldn’t help but smile.

Watching Frank take control of the legion of undead soldiers had Nico thinking: maybe this guy wasn’t so bad after all. Maybe he could trust Frank with Hazel.

They won. Nico could barely believe it but they won.

A glimmer of hope ran through him.

Until, he staggered. His heart panged and he knew something changed.

‘The Doors,’ Nico said. ‘Something’s happening. We need to go now.’

Hazel and Leo were in full battle mode when they arrived. And Clytius was a terrible foe, even Nico had to admit. They attacked as a group. Even Annabeth and Percy had their weapons raised. Every time the giant attempted to tackle them with his dark smoke, Nico stood guard and absorbed the dark energy. For the first time in his life, he understood what it felt like to inhale and feel true air in his lungs. The substance Clytius released did nothing but agitate Nico’s hunger for darkness more.

Still, watching the giant burn to death had been awful but nevertheless, Nico felt a sick sense of relief.

There was hesitation in his step. Being so close to Percy after almost losing him. He couldn’t help but feel slightly paralyzed. He managed a ‘I’m glad you’re okay,’ and kissed Hazel’s forehead. ‘The ghosts were right,’ he said. ‘Only one of us made it to the Doors of Death. It was you, it was always supposed to be you. You would have made dad proud.’

She noticed his eyes were bloodshot and his face was wet with dried tears. Something had broken inside her brother recently and it was all flooding to the surface now. She wished so badly she could give him some peace of mind and some comfort. But she didn’t understand what was going on. And he wouldn’t tell her.

He got goose bumps as he realized Percy was standing behind him holding up Annabeth. Hazel suggested shadow-travel and Nico winced. ‘Hazel, I can barely manage that with only myself. With seven more people –’ I would die. He thinks.

I don’t want to die.

It’s an afterthought, the first time he had ever thought such a thing, but still it rang true.

‘I’ll help you.’ She’s insistent. And so he believes her.

The pain in Nico’s chest intensified as they sat in a circle and traded war stories. He watched Percy lace his fingers through Annabeth’s and felt like the loneliest person in the world.

Jason caught his eye, his gaze sympathetic. Nico couldn’t do anything but turn away in shame.

Later, when the commotion had passed and Nico was rigging up the statue, Percy found him.

‘Thank you.’

Nico stops. ‘What for?’

‘You promised to lead the others to the House of Hades, you kept your promise.’

Nico’s words are curt and guarded. They have Percy hesitating and rubbing the back of his head in discomfort.

‘Also…’ Percy said, ‘you visited Bob…You convinced Bob that I could be trusted, even though I never visited him. I never gave him a second thought. You probably saved our lives.’

Nico’s face darkens. ‘Yeah, well, not giving people a second thought. That can be danger.’

Confusion joins Percy’s discomfort. ‘Dude, I’m trying to say thank you.’

Nico’s laugh is humourless, there is something icy in his gaze. ‘I’m trying to say you don’t need to.’ You’ll never need to.

He made the one decision that made the most sense. The Athena Parthenos needs to go west, so he will take it there. Along with Reyna and Coach Hedge.

 -

The trip was hard.

Not as hard as surviving Tartarus but still, by all means, hard.

There was no comfort to be found on their journey. His gang slept in their tent on the outskirts of a road that seemed endless.

Maybe he would have felt warmed by the fact that Jason prayed to his dad every time he burned an offering. And that Hazel begged for his safe return. He plagued the thoughts of the Seven.

Reyna lent him her power in their moment of need which was good because he barely had any left. With every jump, he felt the darkness spread. It wasn’t like the darkness he had felt with Clytius, that darkness had strengthened him. This one tried to consume him. Until he was nothing left but shadow.

‘It’s not mind-reading,’ Reyna had said about her gift. ‘Not even an empathy link… just a temporary wave of exhaustion. Your pain washes over me.’ Hesitance. ‘I take some of your burden.

Shame and embarrassment washed over him.

‘You should rest,’ was the only thing she told him.

There was a lot of time spend unconscious for him. A lot of time for him to mull over the last few months. Sometimes he saw Akhylis, the Goddess of Misery, other times a vague picture of his father floated around his mind. Most often though, he was tethered down the thoughts of the Seven. He waned past all the usual painful memories and always landed back on his friends. Hazel’s face, Jason’s intense eyes, Frank’s look of determination.  

He had plenty of grief during his waking hours too though. He wished he could find some peace in his sleep.

The most peace he got was when Clovis dragged him off course and into Hypnos’s dreamscape. The detour was annoying but nonetheless helpful. He watched Will Solace, the lanky boy from the med-bay, diffuse a row between Clarisse and Rachel. The combat medic had something of Jason in him. Brave, loyal but the eyes were different. The eyes… bore right into your soul. Even in the dreamscape, Nico had to look away.

When he awoke he had no choice but to follow the burning man into his father’s chapel.

He felt his father’s presence before he saw him. Like a cold shadow that falls over you.

Nodding at the skull lined walls he asks his father dryly ‘Getting some redecorating ideas?’

‘I can never tell when you’re joking.’

‘Why are you here, Father?’

A pulse of embarrassment rushes through him as Hades mentions the sceptre of Diocletian and it’s… exploded state. It had been enough to rouse the god from his confused state. Still, that was not why he had come.

‘So tell me, Father. What do you want?’

‘Can you entertain the notion that I might be here to help you? Not simply because I want something?’

Nico suppresses a snort. ‘I can entertain the notion that you might be here for multiple reasons.’

It turns out Hades can be useful. He tells of Orion, the fallen archer who gave in to bitterness and anger after being scorned by love. ‘You can understand that.’ Hades had said to Nico.

What do you know about what I understand?

‘Still there is more,’ Hades said, ‘Your sister.’ He falters. ‘Your other sister. Hazel. She has discovered one of the Seven will die.’ Nico’s heart stops. It couldn’t be… ‘She may try to prevent this. In doing so, she may lose sight of her priorities.

Would Hazel be safe? Would Jason?

Nico barely notices that now, Percy is an afterthought.

‘Who will die?’

Hades’ eyes face the floor. ‘Even if I were certain, I could not say. I tell you this because you are my son. You know that some deaths cannot be prevented. Some deaths should not be prevented. When the time comes, you may need to act.’

Great, more responsibility.

A softness enters Hades’ face and his tone. ‘My son,’ he said, ‘whatever happens, you have earned my respect.’ Nico swallows hard. ‘You brought honour to our house when we stood together against Kronos in Manhattan. You risked my wrath and guided that Jackson boy to the River Styx.’ For a second Hades reverts back to his old self. ‘Never before have I been so harassed by one of my sons. Percy this and Percy that. I nearly blasted you to cinders.’

There’s a hollowness in Nico’s chest. That feels like a lifetime ago.

‘I didn’t do it for him,’ he insists. ‘I did it because the whole world was in danger.’

Hades allows his son this lie and gifts him the faintest of smiles. ‘I can entertain that you acted for multiple reasons.’

Nico can’t stop his eyes filling with tears. There was something under the surface there, something close to acceptance.

‘You and I rose to the aid of Olympus because you convinced me to let go of my anger,’ Hades reminded him. ‘I would encourage you to do the same.’ Sadness twinges his voice. ‘My children are so rarely happy. I… I would like to see you be an exception.’

‘My son, what you are attempting – shadow-travel across the world, carrying the statue of Athena – it may well destroy you.’ Nico thought he imagined the pain in his father’s voice. But there was nothing to be done about that.

‘I will see you again,’ Hades promised. ‘I will prepare a room for you at the palace. Perhaps your chambers would look good decorated with skulls of monks.’

‘Now I can’t tell if you’re joking.’

Hades’ eyes shimmered. ‘Then perhaps we are alike in some important ways.’

- 

Lycaon followed just as Hades had said he would. And Orion did too. Their escape led them to Old San Juan. It led Nico to realize that maybe Reyna was as lost and bitter as he was. The only memory left of that part of their trip was a Hawaiian shirt and the glowing figures of Reyna’s past.

‘I can’t,’ she pleaded, as if asking the spectres for forgiveness. ‘Please, I can’t.’

Nico raised his hand and stood in front of her. The ghosts dissipated but they both knew they would never truly be gone. He would shield her from this.

‘I don’t want to talk about San Juan.’ She said when they arrived at their next destination.

For the first time, Nico found himself giving out advice. ‘You should,’ he said, ‘That’s the thing about ghosts – most of them have lost their voices.’ He turns to her and shrugs. ‘In Asphodel, millions of them wander around aimlessly, trying to remember who they were. You know why they end up like that?’ She gave no answer. ‘Because in life they never took a stand one way or another. They never spoke out, so they were never heard.’

She takes in his words. And he does as well.  

‘Your voice is your identity,’ he continues, ‘without it… you’re halfway to Asphodel already.’

Damn, he needed to take his own advice.

‘I don’t like talking about it either,’ he said, looking into her eyes, ‘but sometimes, you have to.’

What Nico learned about Reyna that night thoroughly changed his opinion of the praetor. She was strong and resilient and came from such a broken home. Nico listened attentively, rarely commenting, only taking in.

In the end, the PTSD got to Reyna’s father and he became ‘a mania…’ Nico speculated. ‘I’ve seen it before. A human withering away until he’s not human anymore.’

It didn’t help. Tears filled Reyna’s eyes as she confessed her sins to Nico.

‘I killed my own father.’

He shook his head.

‘No. Reyna, no.’ Nico’s words were firm. ‘That wasn’t him. That was a ghost, a mania. What you did, you did out of self-defence. You were protecting your sister.’ And he would never blame her for that.

‘You don’t understand.’ But he did, she just didn’t know it. ‘Patricide is the worst crime a Roman can commit. It’s unforgivable.’

‘You didn’t kill your father.’ Nico insisted. ‘That man was already dead. All you did was dispel a ghost.’

Her tears awoke something in Nico. A protective instinct that usually only flared up around Hazel, and more recently Jason, came to the surface. He knew a little something about pretending to be strong and putting on a face for everyone around you. And then secretly crumbling away inside like a rock slowly being eroded.

If there were ever a moment when Nico would have imprinted on someone like a duckling, it would have been that moment.

And then, Bryce Lawrence decided to threaten his duckling.

‘I am a descendant of Orcus, the god of broken vows and eternal punishment. I’ve heard the screams of the Fields of Punishment first-hand.’ He stared at Nico crazed. ‘And they’re music to my ears.’

Nico was paralyzed as undead soldiers clawed their way up from a grave that he had thought previously was empty. It was the first time someone had used their own power of the Underworld against him.

The skeletons grabbed Reyna and only then did Nico regain his senses.

‘Nico, take the statue and go!’

He looked down at his hands. They were transparent and smoky. Had Bryce been right? Was he losing his grip, literally?

His energy was waning. Even standing in direct sunlight couldn’t hold his molecules together anymore.

His eyes met Reyna’s and a warmth spread through him.

She shared with him her strength and her drive.

Bryce laughed as if he were invincible. ‘I hope they’ll execute you in the ancient way.’ He nods at Reyna. ‘I’ve always wanted to see that. I can’t wait until your little secret comes out.’ He flicked his pilum across Reyna’s face. A trail of blood poured down.

A beat. Silence.

And then Nico exploded.

The air dropped to freezing temperatures and the grass on which they stood withered and died. With a single, glass-shattering cry the darkness poured out of him leaving every living creature to experience exactly what pain and anger were.  

Bryce had challenged Nico. And Nico would teach him.

You want secrets? HERE.

Bryce’s soldiers disintegrated into dust until all that was left was a shivering Roman falling over his own feet. Tortures of Tartarus and Akhlys, a suffocating bronze jar and modern world that didn’t make sense transmuted through the air.

Nico ripped the probation tablet from about Bryce’s neck. ‘You. Are not. Worthy of this.’

It took all his self-control not to hit Bryce across the face with it. Nico’s eyes were black and he didn’t blink as the rocks split and Bryce sank down to his waist.

‘You took an oath to the legion. You broke its rules. You inflicted pain. You killed you own centurion.’

They weren’t accusations. There was no defence. This was not going to be a fair trial.

‘You should have died for your crimes. That was the punishment.’ Nico cocked his head. ‘Instead, you got exile.’ The crazed look Bryce had carried was now mirrored on Nico’s face. ‘You should have stayed away. Your father may not approve of broken vows but I know another god who does not favour escaped punishment.’

The Underworld had no mercy. It only had justice.

‘Please!’ Bryce whimpered. But his beg fell on deaf ears.

‘You’re already dead.’

Bryce’s eyes widened in horror.

‘You’re a ghost with no tongue, no memory. You won’t share anyone’s secrets anymore.’

‘No!’ Bryce sunk deeper into the ground. ‘No! I’m Bryce Lawrence! I’m alive!’ He recounted it as if it were a mantra but his body turned dark and his skin became translucent.

Nico’s cold eyes gazed down at him.

‘Who are you?’

And Bryce couldn’t answer. Bryce was no longer alive. He would forever be a spirit with no voice. Just a nameless spectre amongst millions of others.

Nico swiped his hand through the ghost’s body. ‘Begone.’

And with that, he collapsed.

-

Three days.

That’s how much time they lost with Nico unconscious and his body barely a shadow.

He had been in a shadow coma. And it scared him.

Am I dying?

He expected them to recoil. To feel threatened and paralyzed by him after the show he had put on. He wanted to feel angry towards them for knowing they were judging him. But his anger wouldn’t materialize. He just felt… tired.

‘Why didn’t you leave me? You knew I couldn’t help you anymore. You wasted three days watching over me. Why?’

Reyna looked at him sympathetically. ‘I trust you, Nico. You lifted some of my burden. Your not the only one who lets out the darkness every once in a while. You shared your painful experiences; how could we not support you?’ Her face opened up. ‘We’re friends.’

‘Two days. The Romans will attack Camp Half-Blood in two days.’ Nico shook his head. ‘We have to hurry. I have to get ready.’ Even if it kills me. He realized.

But Coach Hedge relieved him of his burden.

Instead, they took to the sky with pegasi. And then they took a ride with Jules-Albert, Nico’s undead chauffeur.

He bid Reyna farewell with a grip on the arm.

‘It’s been an honour questing with you, son of Hades.’

‘You’re the most courageous demigod I’ve ever met, Reyna.’ The look in her eyes was almost too much. ‘I won’t let you down.’

Nico made it to the battle with two legionnaires and Jules-Albert at the wheel.

‘Leila, Dakota, Jules-Albert will drive you to the legion lines. Get out, talk to your troops, convince them to follow your lead. I need a distraction.’

‘I’m not hurting any of my fellow legionnaires.’

Nico supressed a growl. ‘No one is asking you. But if we don’t stop this war the entire legion will be wiped out.’ He looked at them, his orders clear. ‘I’m counting on you.’

They nodded at him.

‘I’m going dark,’ Nico said and faded into the shadows. 

- 

The second he jumped the shadows he began to dissolve. It wasn’t setting a great precedent for the battle. The voices called out to him Help us. Remember us. Join us.

He did his best to keep them at way and as he faced the sunlight, he answered. No! I am the son of Hades. I control the shadows. They do not control me. He rested his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.

A brief look at Octavian’s tent had Nico wondering if maybe an assassination might solve their current problem. He didn’t have time to test his theory though. Will Solace tapped him on the shoulder instead. Nico jumped and almost took his head off.

The son of Apollo muttered through clenched teeth. ‘Nico, what are you doing here?’

‘Me? What are you doing here? Getting yourselves killed?’

He surveyed Will and his two companions, dressed in black with matching face paint.

‘You’re dressed in black with the sun coming up. You painted your face but didn’t cover that mop of blonde hair. You may as well be waving a yellow flag.’ He scolded. Will’s ears turned red.

Nico inquired about Coach Hedge making it in time for his baby’s birth. The group nodded.

Will grabbed Nico’s hand unexpectedly ‘My hands are still shaking. See? But I delivered it. A very cute little satyr boy.’

Nico pulled his hands away, ignoring the electric current that ran through his body.

He was going to go back to his assassination plan until Will spouted some nonsense.

‘No more shadow-traveling. Doctor’s orders.’

Nico wanted to make a comment about how Will’s ‘doctor’s orders’ didn’t really mean much since he went into the OP with his a scrub shirt, khakis and flipflops but it didn’t seem like the right moment.

Not worth it.

‘Whatever. You follow my lead.’

Nico revised his impression of Will on their way to manipulating onagers. Talented, yes. Cool-headed, yes. Stubborn, double yes. Aggravating, unbelievably so.

In the next minutes Nico learned he could add reckless to that list too. Will, with the intention of creating a diversion, sprinted off and engaged six Romans at once. He needed an assist.  

‘Six at once, not bad.’ Will punched him in the shoulder.

‘Not bad?’ Nico asked blandly. ‘Next time I’ll just let them run you down, Solace.’

‘Ah, they’d never catch me.’ He shoots Nico a blinding smile.

They were moving towards to last onager when they were spotted.

‘Do we run?’ asked Lou Ellen quietly.

‘No,’ Nico said. ‘Let’s give them what they want.’

He raised his hands and called upon five skeletons. Watching the look on the Roman’s faces was almost worth his falling back and being caught by Will.

‘Idiot.’ Will held him up. ‘I told you no more.’

‘I’m fine.’

‘Shut up. You’re not.’

The spat with Will caused him to miss the entrance of the entire First Cohort. Octavian at the helm. His purple robes shone in the sun, jewellery glittering around his neck. On his head he wore a crown of laurels.

He watched Will let out a piercing taxicab whistle and suddenly Octavian didn’t seem so high and mighty anymore.

‘My – my elite guard!’ Octavian spluttered helplessly like a complaining child. The dog-men crumbled at his feet. ‘Did you see what he did to my elite guard?’

Regaining his posture, Octavian marched right up to Nico and to his credit he didn’t seem the slightest bit scared. Nico felt Will tighten his grip, staring Octavian down over Nico’s shoulder.

Up close Octavian looked sickly and bare. A descendant of Apollo but only evident in the shade of his hair. The arrogance and lust for power, that wasn’t a child of Apollo. Octavian was nothing but a watered down copy of Will Solace. Whatever it was that made a child of Apollo special, that made them glow the way Will did, Octavian didn’t have it.

‘Tell me son of Pluto,’ hissed the augur, ‘why are you helping them? What have they ever done for you?’

Nico’s hand itched to reach for his sword. He could do it now. Assassinate Octavian. He could probably even manage before the First Cohort intervened… it would be worth it.

Still, he hesitated.

If he committed this act of murder and died – he wouldn’t mind so much. For the good of the world and all that. But Will, Cecil and Lou Ellen… they would become casualties of his plan.

It wasn’t right.

Octavian intervened in Will and Nico’s quarrel. ‘What do you mean you’re leaving camp?!’ If they lived long enough, they would be able to hash out whether Nico should stay at camp or not.

‘I see ruthlessness in you,’ Octavian encouraged. He looked greedy. ‘And I appreciate that. Step aside and allow the Romans to win.’

‘Don’t do this, Octavian.’ Will shook his head. ‘Don’t force your people to choose. This is your last chance.’

There was sympathy in Will’s eyes. As if the gift of prophecy had been granted to him again, as if Apollo’s head had finally cleared.

The clearer Will’s eyes got, the more crazed Octavian’s seemed in comparison.

‘I will SAVE ROME!’ He explained. ‘Now, Romans, follow my orders! Destroy these Graecus scum!’

‘Don’t be stupid!’ Will yelled, his voice almost as loud as the second taxicab whistle he’d let ring to stop the Greek armies from waging against the Romans.

He pointed to the sky. Nico couldn’t believe his eyes.

Reyna was flying on Guido with six pegasi hauling the Athena Parthenos behind her.

Reyna’s voice boomed. ‘Greek demigods, Behold your most sacred statue. I return it to you now as a gesture of peace.’

An intense energy emanated from the statue all across the Greek camp. Everyone stood dazed. The statue seemed to be speaking out to each of them individually.

Nico felt his throat close as the voice whispered. ‘You are not alone. You are part of the Olympian family. The gods have not abandoned you.’

Reyna asked for the help of the demigods. Unite, please, so that we can all thrive.

‘Listen to her!’ Nico insisted, marching forward. ‘Reyna risked her life for all of you! We brought this statue half way across the world, Roman and Greek working together. We must join forces –’

And then Gaea woke. 

- 

When the battle started, it didn’t seem to end.

Nico found the Seven or well… Six (Leo was no where in sight) on the hill. Nico hadn’t felt his soul pass… still, there were too many casualties to be sure.

‘He’ll be fine.’ He met Jason’s eyes.

‘Sure.’ Jason sounded unconvinced.

‘But…just in case… For Leo.’

Jason nodded. ‘For Leo.’

Fighting with Jason was almost like a dance. It seems although they were made from separate cloth, their threads were very much intwined. They fought in harmony like they had been doing it all their lives.

And then Will Solace ran up to Nico. He said one word into Nico’s ear.

‘Octavian.’

On their way to the augur they felt the Earth shake. Festus snatched up Gaea and soared away with her. Stunned only for a moment, they continued on their way.

As they got closer, Nico saw Octavian furiously messing with an onager’s levers. He kept glancing up at Festus. It seemed his intention was to shoot the bronze dragon out of the sky.

‘Octavian!’ Nico yelled.

With a start, the augur turned, not noticing his flowing purple robe getting caught on the trigger. He looked crazed, hungry.

Will walked forward with his hands raised. ‘Octavian, get away from there. It isn’t safe.’ He spoke in calm, quiet words. As if psst-ing at a frightened kitten.

Nico nudged Will and looked at Jason soaring toward Festus with Piper in his arms.

‘If you fire the onager, you’ll kill Jason and Piper and –’

‘Good!’ Gods, it was hard to reason with him. ‘They’re traitors. All traitors!’

Will tried again. ‘Listen to me. This is not what Apollo would want. Besides, your robes –’

When Mike Kahl showed up, a bruised bump on his head, Nico thought he’d have to draw his sword. The soldier only surveyed the scene and looked at the Centurion.

‘Are you certain, Octavian?’

‘Yes!’

‘Are you absolutely certain?’

‘Octavian, don’t.’ Will pleaded.

He stepped forward only to be stopped by Nico’s hand. ‘Will, we can’t stop him.’

He saw the dread in Will’s eyes, the pain of causing another human being harm. But Hades had been right, some deaths cannot be prevented. And some…should not be prevented.

Octavian cut the release and disappeared into the sky. The flaming fireball landed in the middle of the storm and exploded.

He had achieved his goal. He had saved Rome.

The only sound that Nico registered was Will’s shark inhale.

Nico felt a new soul join the ranks of the Underworld and it wasn’t Octavian.

No.

- 

There was no time for rest and recovery. At least not for Nico.

He watched over the dead and honoured them with the proper funeral proceedings. So many casualties…

Many would be remembered as heroes. Even Octavian would have his place in the stories. But Leo was going to be the hero that no one forgot. The greatest sacrifice.

An oath to keep with a final breath.

Nico wondered who Leo had sworn to and if it was worth it.

They recounted the tales of bravery. Nico never thought he would see the day that Greeks and Romans sat around the campfire singing together. Even if it was a song of mourning.

Reyna stepped up and looked at the faces in front of her and thanked them. For their bravery, for their loyalty, for their loss.

‘We could have chosen hatred and war. Instead, we found acceptance and friendship.’

She turned to Nico with the warmest look he had ever seen and pulled him towards the flames of campfire.

‘We had one home,’ she said. ‘Now we have two.’

Nico didn’t notice but if he had, he would have seen Will’s approving gaze on the two of them. And even a little ways behind him stood Hestia. Disguised as a teenager, she looked out from under her headwrap and nodded. Your path has led you home, don’t you see?

Maybe staying wouldn’t be so bad after all…

- 

At midnight, still awake, Nico saw a blonde tiptoe. His heart jumped but settled when a framed face came into view.

‘Jason.’ Nico greeted.

Nico knew he came to ask about Leo. There was no comfort Nico could give him. They hung their heads together. Jason wanted to convince him to stay. The more he blabbered on, the more endearing he became. ‘I probably can’t change your mind about leaving but I have to try –’

Nico’s ‘I’m staying,’ had Jason blinking so hard that he had to shake his head to clear it.

The joy was so prevalent in his face that Nico even granted him a hug. Soon, Jason was off talking a mile a minute about sharing a table and teaming up and, and, and. The fact that it was midnight didn’t seem to wear on Jason’s enthusiasm.

There was a tiny sense of peace that settled in Nico’s heart.

A true friend.

So that’s what it felt like.

- 

Lucky.

That’s what Nico thought when Will ordered him to the Apollo cabin to rest.

Someone to look out for you. That’s what it seemed like.

In the midnight moon, Will’s hair seemed to shine brighter than usual.

‘I told you, no more Underworldly stuff, doctor’s orders. You owe me at least three days of rest in the infirmary.’

Will held up three fingers with an insistent look on his face.

Nico agreed self-consciously. Still trying to wrap his head around the fact that Will had asked where he had been. That he had been looking for him, that he had wanted to see Nico…

‘I hope you got over all that nonsense about leaving camp.’

Nico looks up with a start. ‘I – yeah. I did. I mean,’ he shrugs, ‘I’m staying.’

‘Good. So you may be dense but you’re not a complete idiot.’

Nico wants to threaten Will or say something back but he doesn’t get the chance.

‘You make yourself an outcast.’ Will told him. His tone would have been accusing if his demeanour hadn’t  changed. He looked tired now, worn. Like someone that had seen hardship and wished it away.  ‘How will people ever accept you if you don’t let them know you?’ It was the first time Nico had ever seen something resembling anger on Will’s face. His eyes were hard and his ears red.

A bout of confusion hit Nico. ‘Who would want to ever be around me?’ His voice is quiet, as if he were truly asking himself that question because he couldn’t comprehend it.

‘Me.’ This time Will’s eyes look open and honest. And a little hurt.

Nico felt reprimanded.

‘I don’t understand.’ Nico whispered, looking confused.

‘Then learn.’ Will insisted.

‘…okay.’

Will huffed as if a weight had been taken from his shoulders. ‘Okay.’

[troybeecham]

The Good Shepherd

The Gospel reading this morning finds Jesus back in Jerusalem, this time for the Feast of the Dedication, the religious celebration which we now, in the centuries after the destruction of the Temple, call Hanukkah. Hanukkah commemorates the rededication of the Temple in 164 BC by the triumphant Maccabean victors who had overthrown Antiochus Epiphanes, the ruler of the region, and re-established the sovereign nation of Israel.

Again, as so many times before, a dispute had broken out between Jesus and the team of the aristocracy of Jerusalem and the corrupt High Priest of the Temple. At first, the dispute centers on the healing of a blind man, but soon the debate is revealed to truly be about which of them has the authority to speak and act for God, and therefore to whom the people must choose to give their obedience.

The Sadducees controlled the temple with its God-given feasts, ceremonies and rituals, while the Pharisees controlled the synagogues, where attention was focused on obedience to the law and keeping the commandments. If Sadducees and Pharisees both felt they had legitimate claims to be the shepherds of God’s people and to speak for God, both resented each other as well as the upstart from Galilee with his claim to be THE good shepherd, the living manifestation of God’s nature, God’s truth, and God’s own life. Jesus’ claim to the allegiance of the people was based on his claim to oneness with God, sharing God’s own inner life, made plain when Jesus said to them, ‘Very truly, I tell you, before Abraham was, I am’”.

This is a claim that has echoed down through the eons of human history for many who would draw all power and authority to themselves. In this, Jesus is not unique. But in Jesus, this is uniquely true. But how do we know that to be true? How do we trust his claim to be the Son of God among so many pretenders? Certainly, the Sadducees and Pharisees are in violent disagreement with him on this point. In this Gospel reading, Jesus makes the claim that his sheep will hear his voice, recognizing the truth of who he is, and will follow him into eternal life, the very same life that he shares with his Father.

It was winter, John tells us, when this conflict erupts. Either this is mentioned for the benefit of us readers who are unfamiliar with the Jewish calendar or to explain why “Jesus was walking” under cover “in the portico of Solomon”. The “portico of Solomon” was a relic of the original Temple. It was on the east side of the Temple area, overlooking the Kidron valley. In Acts 3:11, it is there that Peter and John heal a lame man. The question that “the Judeans” ask the disciples at this later miracle, and ask Jesus this morning, was about having authority to speak for God. Their question is understandable because so far Jesus has only claimed to be the Christ to the Samaritan woman and to the man born blind. Their question is one to which neither he, nor his disciples later, could give a simplistic answer: he cannot deny that he is the Christ, the Son of the Living God, but claiming the title openly would invite misunderstanding, since he is not the kind of Christ the people have been taught to seek by those whose allegiance they would themselves own. John says in chapter 7:13 that “... no one would speak openly about Jesus for fear of the Judeans”, because speaking for God was their province of authority.

And here is Jesus once again claiming that authority uniquely for himself. And he, like Peter and John in Acts, backs up this claim by performing a miracle of creation.

Jesus says “The works that I do ...” and “The works that the Father has given me to complete, the very works that I am doing, testify on my behalf that the Father has sent me’”. By comparison, God has not sent the Judean authorities. In this parable, Jesus raises the stakes, calling them hired hands. He also says that the people know this to be true, that rather than being true shepherds of God’s people, the Temple and Jerusalem aristocracy were fleecing God’s sheep, and no one was being fooled. It was an open sham, and the poor resented it but had no power to make it change. Jesus says “the sheep hear his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out”, and “I know my own and my own know me” and “the sheep follow him”. The Judean hierarchy are terrified this might prove true.

Worldly powers are still terrified that his sheep will follow him rather than them. Jesus promises “eternal life”, that his sheep will “never perish”, and that nothing and “No one will snatch them” from his care. In contrast, Jesus says: “The hired hand, who is not the shepherd and does not own the sheep, sees the wolf coming and leaves the sheep and runs away – and the wolf snatches them and scatters them”. The Judean hierarchy are furious, and they take their vengeance. The worldly powers did, and continue to do, the same to any who would call people to sole allegiance to Jesus.

The prophecy that the wolf will come and snatch away the people sadly comes true in the horrific aftermath of the Judean led revolt against Rome starting in 64 AD and ended in 68 AD that leadS to the destruction of Jerusalem, the Temple, and the wicked murder of tens thousands of Jews, and the deportation and enslavement of hundreds of thousands. The same is true today around the world, where choosing to follow Jesus has serious, even deadly, consequences.

Politics are at work in the background of this parable, the age-old struggle for power, and the matter was not finally resolved until Calvary, when the Good Shepherd, both in fact and in fulfillment of his words spoken that winter morning in the Temple, laid down His life for His sheep, and then, ultimately, gloriously, on the morning of his Resurrection, when Jesus is raised from the dead, bursting forth from the tomb, transformed, the triumph of God the Son over all earthly powers, of death and hell, thus proving his claim that he and the Father are One, and that all those who in faith turn to him to be their shepherd will live forever with him in the life of his Resurrection.

On that morning, a morning like this, everything changed – with the discovery of an empty tomb and a risen Lord. The disciples realized that, in the Risen Savior Jesus, God’s power was being set loose in the world, such that human wickedness or death could not deny or destroy God’s loving purpose and intentions for humankind and all creation. That same power is present here among us today, along with the same choice of whom to follow. Jesus, our Good Shepherd, promises to be with us in the Sacrament of his most precious Body and Blood and by the power of the Holy Spirit within and among us. His promise to care for those who receive him by faith, through grace, is as true today as on the day he spoke those words. The powers of this world continue to call for our faith in them, or, failing that, to live in fear of them.

Will we be found to be able to hear the voice of Jesus, having chosen to come to him and to receive him in truth? Will we rise renewed in grace to go forth from this holy place in all courage to bear the good news, the glad tidings, that God has redeemed us in Jesus Christ and is calling us to become his children through faith in his Son, who forever lives to intercede for us and to draw all peoples, of every land to become his disciples?

My prayer is that the answer from each of our hearts will be a resounding “Yes! I will rise renewed in his love and grace! I am one of his sheep, and I will go out in love to bring all people into loving relationship of the Risen Lord. I will no longer be afraid of the powers of the world that mock this hope, or seek to subvert it, or to destroy it. I will live in the promise of Jesus, free from all fear, living by faith and through love, proclaiming the good news of our Risen Savior to all the world!”

I am reminded of that glorious anthem. May it be our theme:

All people that on Earth do dwell
Sing to the Lord with cheerful voice
Him serve with fear, His praise forthtell
Come ye before Him and rejoice.


The Lord ye know is God indeed
Without our aid He did us make
We are his folk, he doth us feed
And for His sheep he doth us take.


O, enter then His gates with praise
Approach with joy His courts unto
Praise, laud, and bless His name always
For it is seemly so to do.


For why? The Lord our God is good
His mercy is forever sure
His truth at all times firmly stood
And shall from age to age endure.

To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost
The God whom heaven and earth adore
From men and from the angel host
Be praise and glory evermore


Amen.

[inexorableagape]

Jesus in Revelation (32)

jesussimplified.com/blog post published 12-26-2020. Send Questions » Dan@jesussimplified.com The seventh trumpet continued. God revealed well in advance not only when and how the Messiah would be born but also where. Through the prophet, Micah God told His people that the Messiah would be born in Bethlehem, the town in Judah. Micah 5:2. God, through prophet Daniel, revealed to the people when the Messiah would be crucified. Daniel 9:24. Jesus was born probably 6/7 BC and was crucified sometime between 26 CE and 36 CE. Pilate, the Roman governor, ruled from 26 CE to 36 CE. Daniel, at 9:24, indicates that the Messiah would be crucified in the middle of one week, which is the 70th week in the prophecy in Daniel 9:24. Therefore, God’s mystery was accomplished during the reign of the Roman governor Pontius Pilate (26 – 36) CE. The mystery of God is that in the body of Jesus Christ on the cross at Golgotha, He removed humankind’s sin. He thus restored it to Himself as his children. In Jesus Christ, God has destroyed our sinful life forever and replaced it with the Messiah’s perfect and eternal life. The faithful will study the mystery of God throughout eternity and will never exhaust all the knowledge about it. That is why the angel announced to the shepherds that the Savior’s birth, the Messiah, is the good news of great joy for all people. The Cross of Christ is a joy for all people because all died in Jesus Christ on the cross. 2 Corinthians 5:14. The excellent assurance for the people is that the Savior, Jesus Christ, has risen. Therefore, eternal death, the second death, has no power over those who accept Jesus Christ as their Savior and the Lord. The yielded believers have eternal life in Jesus Christ. “Now if we died with Christ, we believe that we will also live with him. For we know that since Christ was raised from the dead, he cannot die again; death no longer has mastery over him.” Romans 6:8,9. When the seventh trumpet sounded, john heard voices in heaven proclaiming that the world’s kingdoms have become the kingdom of the Lord and his Messiah. Revelation 11:15. Jesus defeated the prince of this world and has restored it to God’s Dominion. “Now is the time for judgment on this world; now the prince of this world will be driven out.” John 12:31. The twenty-four elders expressed their joy by falling on their faces and give glory to God. The entire heaven joined in praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.” Luke 2:14. The heaven also rejoices for each sinner who repents. “‘I tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who do not need to repent.”’ Luke 15:7. Satan, when the seventh trumpet sounded, did not like what has just happened. Perhaps he saw the writing on the wall, so to speak, and was angry. He determined to destroy the child Messiah and thus ensure he will retain the world as his principality. Read the next blog.

[pepperbox]

Tell me about your DnD campaign? My group is on a hiatus so I'm living vicariously through other people :(

THE WORST we just came off a month hiatus from the main game, tho last month we were doing slayers take style sessions w/ the party split while we did bounty hunting things

it’s the phoenix fields!! i post some stuff on my art blog @hydrae and there’s a tumblr our dm made @thephoenixfields that has inspo, occasionally session summaries, all that jazz

THE PCS bc why the heck not

sariel is a sun elf from a magically closed off elven city called alanar, who HAD been a wizard once upon a time but one night she sort of. exploded. literally. and awakened as a (homebrew class) fury, tho she still doesn’t know wtf that is. she ran away from home and eventually met the rest of us losers. we ended up heading to alanar for help dealing w/ a revenant problem we kiiiinda had and she reunited with her family. she was named grand enchantress while we were there but not without losing her mentor in the process :( sariel felt abandoned by the sun elf god corellon larethian, but while in alanar and then in the northdark, she started having visions of corellon (and lolth’s) daughter eilistraee, who eventually blessed her. sariel now prays to her and we’re all kinda EYES EMOJI at where it’s going. during their slayers take games, sariel, julian & rowan went back to some woods called the northern wilds that she has some Bad memories in aaaand the fury side to her took over?? so that was a thing. julian punched it. it liked it. WELP. but sariel is basically the leader of our group of disasters and everyone kinda looks to her a lot for what to do

julian is a human rogue who’s an absolute disaster. OKAY BUT NO REALLY he’s gr8. the party doesn’t know much about him yet, except for sariel which was sparked by her finding a wanted poster for him 👀👀👀👀 julian’s from a city called gilead, the same city with the bounty on him from the count, rhys, who julian has some History™ with. sariel found out that someone (rhys) carved a binding rune into julian’s chest, and that someone he cares about (a woman named isolde) is in the shadowfell. julian became the accidental AND VERY RELUCTANT dad to the group, who tends to reel sariel back from just murdering people who piss her off lmao. he tries to be broody and sad but he’s also super weak to fen and rowan–which was unfortunate when dominate person was used on him and compelled him to nearly kill fen, it’s cool it’s fine. also fun fact he’s super bad with animals and has failed every single animal handling check. help him

rowan is a lightborn human life cleric of pelor, lightborn being a variant where she is. very glowy. also when she’s killed, she automatically casts heroism around her and comes back at 1 hp. SHOUTOUT TO THE FIRST TIME THIS HAPPENED AND SHE DIDN’T TELL US, SO WE SAW HER STAB HERSELF SO SHE’D GIVE US ALL THE BUFF BEFORE A FIGHT AND WE WERE JUST LIKE UM!!!!! /BREATHES it’s fine it’s cool. but rowan is a good egg and also the only lawful good one in our band of chaotics and neutrals. she’s super empathetic and second guesses herself a lot esp when we’re being uh. us. had a Time in the northdark bc she couldn’t reach pelor down there. oh and also? first one of us to die for real. sariel and julian of the main crew were the only ones there, but so was the (former) thief king raphael, an npc we helped (and crowned!) during our first quest who rowan had a small thing?? with. THEY BROUGHT EACH OTHER BACK FROM THE DEAD AND KISSED, IT WAS A WHOLE THING. has a loaded dice from nemo that he gave her so she wouldn’t forget him

fen is a human druid–mostly. she’s from a place called the witchcombe and left home after a freaky dream that she eventually found out was of tharizdun. gods kept popping up in her dreams and she found out through sariel’s mentor that her mind is basically an open window, and told her about some monks of ioun in the desert who’d be able to help her close herself off again. things got bad in the northdark tho ‘cause they down there for a WHILE, and tharizdun marked her apparently bc he’s a dick so now she’s just kinda giving off his aura. cool. he gifted her a dagger for her to use for a shiny new (homebrew) class called avatar (not that one), so that’s fun. also fen has an accidental Thing w/ a revenant named salome that was risen for the purpose of raising tharizdun. TURNS INTO A DIRE WOLF 99% OF THE TIME, 1% CAT WHEN SHE WANTS TO ESCAPE A CONVERSATION. also fen has holes in her memory for?? some reason???? has no clue if it’s due to the god fuckery or something else. has the bag of holding and is a magpie. also can’t stealth for shit despite having a +3 dex modifier, why

nemo is a human umbramancer who we know literally NOTHING about except that he’s a disaster and he revealed as a trade of secrets that he doesn’t have a shadow and he’s “cursed.” he didn’t deign to mention that he makes people forget him, which ONLY rowan just found out (rowan, sending to an npc from a past city: hey do you know nemo?/ them: who?? / rowan: K!!!!). we also don’t know that nemo himself has no memories, yikes!! for magic reasons, nemo also uh. did a ritual to remove his own eyes. for new powers. he kept casting minor illusion on himself to make his eyes look normal literally until he was forced to explain why he had a pair of eyes in his pocket, THANKS NEMO (he’s not actually blind tho, he uses his new shadow powers to see, cool cool). nemo tried trading his eyes to the raven queen to get her to help us but since they were something he’d given up already and were meaningless, it just ticked her off. nemo gave her the memory of his brother linus instead bc it’s all he had and none of the party knows this :( during a side quest with fen, they fought a lord of hell named sammael who could tell what was done to him??? nemo also has a sort of not really boyfriend named lysander, a cleric of the raven queen. THE TRULY STEALTHY ONE OF OUR PARTY, TRIES TO CRIME BUT HECKS IT UP A LOT. has a mace with bees in it, has been described as “horny eldritch raccoon boy” 

[1iamhis]

#middaybabymidday

Beginnings (?–1440 BC)

The Bible opens with the words, “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.” The first two chapters of Genesis tell how God made the world in six days and rested on the seventh.

The crown of creation is humankind. Adam, the first man, was placed in a garden paradise called Eden, where he was to care for the garden. The animals were created in pairs, but Adam was alone. So God made him a woman and told them to have children and to populate the earth.

The Garden of Eden was theirs to enjoy—with one exception. They were told not to eat of one tree called “the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.” But Eve gave in to the temptation of Satan, God’s adversary, and ate of the forbidden fruit. So did Adam, and they fell. They were driven from the garden: Eve to have sorrow and pain in childbirth, Adam to a life of hard toil to produce food from the earth. 

Sin had entered the race and would be part of all humankind. Yet God promised salvation through the seed of woman and pictured that salvation through the provision of coats of skins.

So Adam and Eve began to live outside the garden. The tragedy of the fall was demonstrated early when one of Adam and Eve’s sons, Cain, killed his brother Abel. As the race increased in number, it became more and more wicked. Finally, God destroyed it in a great flood. Only Noah found grace in God’s eyes, and through the building of an ark he and his family were spared.

From those eight people, the race again multiplied. At Babel, man sought to defy God by building a tower to heaven, but God scattered them and gave them different languages.  

Genesis 12 marks a change in God’s dealings with people. The Lord singled out one man, Abram, who lived in the city of Ur in Chaldea, and designated him and his offspring as His special people. God would make Himself known through them. Abram’s name was changed to Abraham, and he was instructed to journey to a land God would later reveal to him. That land was Palestine, and God gave it to Abraham and his children forever. 

Abraham and his descendants—Isaac, Jacob, and Joseph—lived as nomads, much as the Bedouins of today. Their homes were tents. They raised cattle and sheep. The sense of family was strong, with the oldest living male member serving as patriarchal leader and family priest.

For a long time it seemed that Abraham would die without a son—in spite of God’s promise. But in their old age, Abraham and Sarah miraculously had a son—Isaac. Isaac’s son Jacob continued the family with 12 sons, men who became the heads of the tribes of Israel. The family stayed in Palestine until a famine drove them to Egypt. One of the 12 sons, Joseph, had risen to prominence in Egypt, and he became their protector and benefactor. 

The family stayed in Egypt 430 years and multiplied rapidly. Gradually, however, they became enslaved. The future of the family, now a sizable nation, was threatened by a royal order for all male children to be killed. God called a man named Moses, who had been raised in Pharaoh’s court, to lead Israel to freedom. After a bitter contest with Pharaoh, they marched across the Red Sea (which God parted miraculously) and into the wilderness, heading for Canaan, the Land of Promise. 

On the journey, Moses received the Law of God on Mount Sinai, as well as instructions for building a tent of worship. They arrived at the edge of Canaan and sent in spies. But the courage they had when they confronted Pharaoh left them, and the people refused to undertake the conquest of the Promised Land. Because of their unbelief, God sentenced them to wander 40 years in the desert wilderness until the entire generation had died. 

As the first five books of the Old Testament (the Pentateuch) conclude, Israel is assembled on the banks of the Jordan River. Moses, their great leader, is dead; but a new leader, Joshua, is ready to lead the march into Canaan.

Seeing God. 

Now that we have reviewed the history recorded in the Pentateuch, let’s go back for another look. Remember, our goal is not merely to know the story of the Bible but to know the God behind the story—and to see ourselves in relationship with Him. The first five books are packed with information that helps us know God, so let’s look at one representative incident: the story of Noah in Genesis 6–8. As you read the account of Noah’s rescue from the flood, you will see these truths about God: 

He is a God to be feared.

He is able to create and to destroy.

He is patient with sinners, but His patience has limits.

He is not just loving and kind; He is also a God of righteousness, justice, and anger.

He is concerned about what is happening in His world.

He has complete control over His creation.

He has the power to interrupt history.

He is the God of new beginnings.

He rescues those who trust in Him.

He makes and keeps promises. 

Seeing Ourselves. 

In the early chapters of Genesis, we are told of Adam and Eve’s decision to disobey God. In that act we see our own willfulness and our readiness to break His commandments. Here are several other ways we may see ourselves in the first five books of the Old Testament and in Job:  

In Cain’s jealousy, we see our own sense of competition (Genesis 4:5).

In Noah’s need for an ark of salvation, we see our own need of rescue from God’s judgment (Genesis 6–8).

In Abraham’s faith in following God, we see our own potential for belief (Genesis 12).

In Jacob’s scheming, we see our own inclination to trust in ourselves (Genesis 25, 27).

In Joseph’s kindness to his brothers, we see our own responsibility to forgive (Genesis 42–45).

In Israel’s unwillingness to enter Canaan, we see our own weakness of faith (Exodus 14).

In Job’s response to suffering, we see our own feelings when things turn against us (Job 3). 

 

💛💛💜💜💛💛💜

#middaybabymidday

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[ziskandra]

@ryderxkosta this is like five weeks late, oh my lord. i kept rewriting it bc i wasn’t happy with it, and then mebb happened and now i’m procrastinating and decided to string together what i had. i went with shaynor because how could i not! (also sorry this isn’t in a proper answer and all, the text field kept eating my formatting!)  16. “Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

Shepard’s getting real tired of coming back from the dead. This time she doesn’t wake up on a research facility bed but she’s still disappointed that the harsh bright light that fills her eyes isn’t welcoming to her the afterlife. Everything fucking hurts but you know what, she’s used to that, too.  

She wishes that the universe would have just let her rest in peace.

*

“You have a visitor,” the nurse tells her, several months into her recovery.  Shepard raises an eyebrow because she’s never heard that before. Not here, at least; with repairs still underway on the Mass Effect relays, travel in the galaxy is anywhere between slow and impossible, depending on where one’s going and where they’re coming from.  

Even Before the Reapers, as Shepard now thinks of that time of her life, visits had usually been from Alliance brass, ushering along her recovery between insincere lines of don’t push yourself and take all the time you need. Once upon a time, when the Alliance had asked her to jump, she would’ve asked ‘how high’?

Now, she thinks she’s done enough. The idea of a life free from the auspices of the Alliance terrifies her, but still. The idea of living in general seems ethereal at times. She realises now that she had never expected to survive the war. That’s how it worked, right? The hero always dies in the end.

Except for the times when they don’t.

That’s when the door opens and Shepard hears a voice she hasn’t heard in what feels like a lifetime.

Samantha.

*

There’s a part of Shepard that had never expected to live this long, the part that’s risen to the forefront of her being ever since she watched Mindoir grow smaller and smaller out of the window of the Alliance evac shuttle, knowing she’d never see her home and family again.

She’d thought she’d left behind those parts of herself that hoped for a life outside of war and death and misery, dreams buried with her parents on her homeworld.  

But when she wakes up to the sight of Samantha curled up in the chair by her bedside, feet tucked up beneath her legs, fast asleep, she finds herself wanting all the things they’d talked about just before the final push on Earth. The two dogs, the white picket fence.  

A future.  

*

The wheelchair they release Shepard from hospital in is state-of-the-art, the very pinnacle of mass effect technology. They might have lost the relays at the end of the war, but they’ve done their best with what they had, and the species of the Milky Way are rebuilding, blooming into something stronger, more united, than what had come before.  

“We still need to decide where we want to live,” Samantha demurs, and Shepard bites back a laugh because God knows she’s been useless throughout this whole process. While Sam stresses about whether her hotel accommodations will be satisfactory enough for Shepard, Shepard finds herself not caring about the where.  

*

They decide to stay with Sam’s folks for a while, give themselves some time to figure out what they want to do next. It’s been a while since Shepard has found home in anywhere other than a starship, worries that living on a colony again will bring back memories better left forgotten.  

“I can’t wait for you to meet my parents,” Sam tells her. “They’ll love you.“

A smile curves on Shepard’s face. “Can’t say I’ve had anyone say that to me before. I’m assuming this is more than just a routine, ‘here’s the hero who saved your life’ meeting?”

“Oh don’t be a prat,” Sam scolds, “I want them to meet the woman I love.”  

She finds that the old nightmares don’t come.

The only memories that return to the surface are the good ones.  

*

Getting to wake up every morning next to the woman she loves will never lose its novelty. Shepard runs a hand over the swell of Samantha’s hip, rejoices in the adorable way her eyes blink as she’s slowly roused from sleep.  

Everything has worked out perfectly, better than Shepard could’ve ever dreamt.   There’s just one small thing that’s bothering her. Samantha can see it in her eyes, mouths her name as Shepard hesitantly leans in towards her.  

“Why haven’t you kissed me yet?” Shepard asks, bracing herself for rejection even though it feels ludicrous to anticipate it when they’ve planned for the rest of their lives together.

Samantha laughs, then smiles. Shepard could drown in that smile.

Already has.  

Sam’s fingers trail over the shell of her ear. “They told me not allow you to do anything too strenuous,” she starts, and Shepard grumbles in return.

“That was months ago.”  

“You’re right,” Sam agrees, eyes full of adoration intermingled with apprehension. “But you can’t blame me for being over-cautious.”  

She presses her lips to Shepard’s then, soft and gentle, like she is precious and fragile and worth protecting.  

Shepard might have saved the galaxy, but Samantha has saved her.

*  

It’s been a long time since she’s gone to sleep hoping that she won’t wake up.  

As it turns out, she doesn't have to die in order to find her peace.  

[trinitiesblog]

the "Functional Polytheism" accusation

At the apologetics blog Ad Lucem young apologist Vladimir Šuši? ventures to argue that biblical unitarianism should be given the polemical label “Functional Polytheism.”

Biblical Unitarianism can be broadly defined as belief in a Unitarian, Biblical God, who is a singular person, The Father, who is alone eternal. By its proponents, the belief is championed as bastion of Biblical Monotheism, in the light of “Polytheistic” Trinitarian beliefs of the Church.

Correction: not all of us tar trinitarianism generally with the “Polytheism” label. I have always held that some Trinity theories to do not imply polytheism, while others do. It depends on what the trinitarian says exactly about the “Persons” in his theory.

This article will seek to demonstrate that the doctrine of Biblical Unitarianism as held by its proponents, at the very least constitutes Functional Dyotheism (Polytheism).

I think he means “Functional Ditheism.” One would think this means that the position requires its adherents to act (“Functional”) as if there were two gods (“Ditheism”). But this is not what he means.

I omit here his needless definition of “Ontological Dyotheism” – but this is just belief in two gods, two (fully) divine beings. Here’s how he defines the label he wants to hang on biblical unitarians:

Functional Dyotheism can be defined as a belief in 2, distinct beings, such that one of them is Ontologically Divine, that is, possesses a divine nature, as defined above, while the other exists primarily in some other form of nature, but has been endowed functional divinity by the aforementioned being. Functional divinity can be defined such that, the being possesses attributes, does actions and has powers fitting only of an ontologically divine being, which however has such by a process of delegation of such powers onto that being by an ontologically divine being. This does not change the primary nature of this functionally divine being; I.e. does not make it ontologically divine, but functionally.

So “Functional Dyotheism” is belief in a god and a non-god, and the god has given the non-god being “actions and has powers “fitting” only of an ontologically divine being.”

“Fitting?” Is this “Functional Dyotheism” being defined as impossible, so that this god gives about powers and enables actions which in principle can’t be had or done by a non-god? Or does he mean only that these “powers and actions” are typically found in a god, not in a non-god – this case being an exception, due to the generosity of the god in this scenario? I don’t know! The first accusation, we of course deny on biblical grounds. And the second claim, we would not object to. Our accuser proceeds:

Are, Biblical Unitarians, therefore “Functional Polytheists”? Well, the question can be more precisely stated by asking some other questions, number of which is extensively large, however, for purposes of the article, I will limit myself to 5: 1. Does an Omniscient being fall into a Functionally Divine Category (FDC)? 2. Does an Omnipresent being fall into FDC? 3. Does a being with authority above all authority fall into FDC? 4. Does a being upon which believers call for salvation fall into FDC? 5. Does a being worshiped by all creation fall into FDC?

What on earth is he driving at? He seems to be arguing that Jesus, according to biblical unitarinas, has properties which in principle only the one God could have. Thus, biblical unitarians think Jesus is “Functionally Divine,” which means that they are “Functional Polytheists.” Rather than coining these new and controversial terms, our author might just simply state his accusation like this: biblical unitarians think Jesus is not God, and yet has features that only God can have.

Next he cites a lengthy text to show that God is omniscient (all-knowing). This is a waste of words, of course, because biblical unitarians agree. He then tries to establish that Jesus too is omniscient (all-knowing).

Is Jesus then, omniscient? Perhaps the most striking example is found in John 21:17: “He said to him the third time, “Simon, son of John, do you love Me?” Peter was grieved because He said to him the third time, “Do you love Me?” And he said to Him, “Lord, You know all things; You know that I love You.” Jesus said to him, “Tend My sheep.”

The author evidently think that this asserts that Jesus is literally (and essentially?) omniscient. But it need not be read that way, and should not, in light of Jesus’s straightforward statement that he does not know something which God (aka the Father) knows – which, conveniently, our young apologist ignores.

He then quotes a text which implies that the exalted Jesus can hear believers’ prayers. But this is not relevant; that ability doesn’t come anywhere close to requiring omniscience. Think about it it. Would this ability require you also to know, say, what was happening in Australia in 10,000 BC? Of course not. So, it doesn’t require omniscience.

Furthermore, Christ is said to know all things, including the hearts of men, something ascribed only to God, (1 Kings 8:39); (Revelation 2:23). He is also said to be the only one who knows the Father and reveals him (Matthew 11:27). Many more examples can be brought, but it more than suffices to demonstrate Christ’s divine omniscience.

None of this implies or assumes that Jesus was or is omniscient. He is nowhere taught to know all things, and is in two places directly said not to know something. And we might cite also many other statements about him and portrayals of him that assume that he learns new things and does not know all facts or truths. Frankly, our author doesn’t seem to have a good sense of a what a strong argument is.

Is Christ, therefore omnipresent, as God is?

Here, he quotes texts that say that the exalted Jesus will be with believers. Does this imply omnipresence? Nope! These claims are consistent with Jesus being omnipresent, but don’t imply that he is omnipresent – but this latter is exactly what our author needs to prove his point. It is a waste of time to cite texts merely consistent with the truth of X in an attempt to prove X.

3: Moving to the third point, Christ is said to have a name above every name and authority above all authority.This is exemplified in a plethora of verses: Matthew 28:18 says;  “And Jesus came up and spoke to them, saying, “All authority has been given to Me in heaven and on earth.”Matthew 11:27 says; “All things have been handed over to Me by My Father…”

Right, so obviously God, not Jesus, here is the highest authority, the one who gave this exalted position to Jesus.

Philippians 2:9-10  says;“For this reason also, God highly exalted Him, and bestowed on Him the name which is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus EVERY KNEE WILL BOW, of those who are in heaven and on earth and under the earth.” (Read Isaiah 45:23)

Here he omits what Paul immediately says (Philippians 2:11) which is that this is to the glory of God, the Father, which shows that Jesus is someone else, and someone in a lower position that the God who exalted him! God is not worshiped to the glory of any other. (The reason he cites Isaiah 45:23 is because he thinks that since it is being referenced here, this must imply that Jesus is God himself. But it does not; this is an obvious mistake in reading the NT, which I’ve called the fulfillment fallacy.)

Colossians 2:9-10 says;“For in Him all the fullness of Deity (theotetos, what makes God be God) dwells in bodily form,  and in Him you have been made complete, and He is the head over all rule and authority.”

Our author seems to read this as implying that Jesus has a divine nature and so is God. But just read the rest of the book, which throughout distinguishes Jesus from God. For instance, Jesus “is the image of the invisible God” (1:15) – so, not God. An image of a thing is not that thing.

In NT christology, the risen Jesus has been exalted, yes above all authorities except God. Jesus is still under God. As before, our author ignores obvious counter-evidence. Thus saith Paul,

For “God has put all things in subjection under his feet.” But when it says, “All things are put in subjection,” it is plain that this does not include the one who put all things in subjection under him. When all things are subjected to him, then the Son himself will also be subjected to the one who put all things in subjection under him, so that God may be all in all.

1 Cor 15:27-28, NRSV)

4. Moving to the fourth point therefore, Christ is the being upon which Christians call for salvation. [Romans 10:8-13 – more fulfillment fallacy]… Acts 7:59-60 states that Christ receives the spirits of dead Christians…(Read Ecclesiastes 12:7) …1 Corinthians 1:2… (Read 1 Kings 18:24).

Sigh. This young apologist seems to think this is a valid form of argument:

Passage 1 says F about God.

Passage 2 says F about Jesus.

What Passage 1 says is true and what Passage 2 says is true.

Therefore, Jesus is God.

4 doesn’t follow from 1-3. Our would-be apologist ought to learn some logic. None of these passages says, assumes, or implies what he thinks.

5. Moving onto the fifth and last point, Jesus is a being worshiped by all creation. [Revelation 5:11-14] [And also angels: Hebrews 1:6 – and by “everyone” Philippians 2:9-10 – fulfillment fallacy: Isaiah 45:23]

In the NT, however, Jesus is worshiped not “as God” (i.e. in the belief that he is God himself). Rather, he is worshiped in addition to God (see Revelation 4-5), and this is to the glory of God (Philippians 2:7). And evidently the reason he is worshiped, is because God has exalted him into a worship-worthy position, as it were “at his (God’s) right hand.”

Conclusion… The purpose of the article was not to demonstrate Christ’s deity…

It’s a good thing! As the author has utterly failed to prove that point, and has demonstrably misread many passages. But what, then, is his point?

…rather, to demonstrate that attributes, actions and powers Christ has are those that would perfectly fall into the definition of a Functionally Divine Being as outlined above, which would make Unitarians, Functional Polytheists, rather than Unitarians. As such, it is my proposition that Unitarianism be properly renamed, “Functional Polytheism” in light of the material presented. May the Triune God be Glorified!

So is Mr. Šuši?’s point is that we biblical unitarians are committed to someone who is not God, Jesus, having powers that only God could have, and doing actions that only God could do?

To that point our answer is: no, we’re not. We’re committed to NT teaching, and no NT passage teaches that in principle only God himself can, e.g. hear prayers, judge the world, or receive worship. To the contrary, it is explicit that someone other than God has been empowered to do these things. It is only catholic traditions which say that only God himself or only a “Person” with a “divine nature” can do such things. And when they clash, we prefer scripture to catholic theological traditions.

But the above seems not to be his main point. Remember that his main point is, for polemical purposes, to hang the bad-sounding label “Functional Dyotheism” on us. But we saw that this was unclearly defined. If this means that we think that God has given to another powers such that he couldn’t possibly give them to another, then we just deny this based on straightforward NT teaching. That label would not fit our actual views. If it just means that God has authorized his human Son to do things which, otherwise, we would assume that only God would be able to do, then we agree with that. But then, there is no kind of “Dyotheism” or Ditheism in this – that’s a silly label.

He might say, “Ah, but it is Functional Ditheism that I meant!”

Well, in the above sense, this is not any sort of polytheism! To believe in one God who gives another some surprising powers is by definition to believe in one God, so it is by definition a variety of monotheism.

In sum, this article is just a clumsy and ineffective attempt to pin bad-sounding words (“Dyotheism,” or “Ditheism,” or “Polytheism”) onto biblical unitarian views. It is no more effective than calling trinitarians “Functional Hindus” because some Hindus also talk about something sort of resembling a Trinity (the trimurti). Mind you: I am not giving this label to trinitarians – I am saying that it would be silly to do so! Trinitarians are by definition not Hindus!

Let me help out Mr. Šuši?. Leaving aside the attempt to pin an unwelcome word on us, which is silly, I think he wants to argue like this:

Only God can X.

The exalted Jesus can X.

Therefore, Jesus just is God.

This is a valid argument. But is it sound? For many Xs, we agree with him about premise 2. However, we know there is an serious NT problem with the conclusion 3 (so 1 or 2 must be false). But if Mr. Šuši? wants to make an argument like this, he needs to convince us that 1 is true. What sort of evidence might there be for 1? 1 could either be self-evident, obviously true (a claim that does not need to be argued for) or it could be taught or implied by scripture. Now he ought to agree with us that no premise 1 (such that the same X makes premise 2 true) is self-evident. So, he’ll need to show us from scripture that 1 is true.

Good luck with that!

https://trinities.org/blog/the-functional-polytheism-accusation/

[truthaeekingwriter-blog]

GOD’S TRUE STORY OF REDEMPTION. Bible Connection For Mind, Heart and Soul

the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. The earth was without form, and void; and darkness was on the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters. Genesis 1:1-2 NIV

The Bible is a narrative, but even more precisely we can say the story of the Bible is a drama. The Books come together to tell God’s true story and his plan to set the world right again. A drama is an activated story. The Bible was written so we could enter into its story. It is meant to be lived.

All of us, without exception, live our lives as a drama. We are on stage every single day. What will we say? What will we do? According to which story will we live? If we are not answering these questions with the biblical script, we will follow another. We can’t avoid living by someone’s stage instructions, even if merely our own.

The drama begins (in the first pages of the book of Genesis) with God already on the stage creating a world. He makes man and woman, Adam and Eve, and places them in the Garden of Eden to work it and take care of it. God’s intention is for humanity to be in close, trusting relationship with him and in harmony with the rest of creation that surrounds them. In a startling passage, the Bible tells us that human being are God’s image-bearers, created to share in the task of bringing God’s wise and beneficial rule to the rest of the world. Male and female together, we are significant, decision-making, world-shaping beings. This is our vocation, our purpose as defined in the biblical story.

Tension and conflict are introduced to the story when Adam and Eve decide to go their own way and seek their own wisdom. They listen to the deceptive voice of God’s enemy, Satan, and doubt God’s trustworthiness. The disobedience of Adam and Eve – the introduction of sin into our world – is presented in the Bible as having devastating consequences. Humans were created for healthy, life-giving relationship: with God, with each other, and with the rest of creation. But now humanity must live with the fracturing of all these relations and with the resulting shame, brokenness, pain, loneliness – and death.

We see the direction of God’s redemptive plan when he calls Abraham, promising to make him into a great nation. God narrows his focus and concentrates on one group of people. But the ultimate goal remains the same: to bless all the peoples on earth and remove the curse from creation.

“He is the god made manifest… the universal savior of human life.” These words, referring to Caesar Augustus (found in a Roman inscription from 4 BC in Ephesus), proclaim the gospel of the Roman Empire. This version of the good news announces that Caesar is the lord who brings peace and prosperity to the world.

Into this empire a son a David is born, and he announces the gospel of God’s kingdom. Jesus of Nazareth brings the good news of the coming of God’s reign. He begins to show what God’s new creation looks like. He announces the end of Israel’s exile and the forgiveness of sins. He heals the sick and raises the dead. He overcomes the dark spiritual powers. Jesus renews the nation, rebuilding the twelve tribes of Israel around himself in a symbolic way.

Jesus is the fulfillment of Israel’s story and a new start for the entire human race. Death came through the first man, Adam. The resurrection of the dead comes through the new man, Jesus. God’s original intention is being reclaimed.

God wants the victory of Jesus to spread to all the nations of the world. The risen Jesus says to his disciples, “Peace be with you! As the Father has sent me, I am sending you.” According to the New Testament, all those who belong to Israel’s Messiah are children of Abraham, heirs of both the ancient promises and the ancient mission. The task of bringing blessing to the peoples of the world has been given again to Abraham’s family. Their mission is to live out the liberating message of the good news of God’s kingdom.

Forgiveness of sins and reconciliation with God can now be announced to all. Following in the steps of Jesus, his followers proclaim this gospel in both word and deed. The power of this new, God-given life breaking into the world is meant to be shown by the real-world actions of the Christian community. The Bible is the story of the central struggle weaving its way through the history of the world. And now the story arrives at our own time, enveloping us in its drama.

God’s saving action continues. We are all invited to take up our own roles in this ongoing story of redemption and new creation. God himself is calling you to engage with his word.

So the challenge of a decision confronts us. What will we do? How will we fit into this story? What role will we play? God is inviting us to be part of his mission of re-creation – of bringing restoration, justice and forgiveness. We are to join in the task of making things new, to be a living sign of what is to come when the drama is complete.

Here are three key steps to finding your place in the drama:

Immerse Yourself in the Bible: The more you immerse yourself in the script of this drama, the better you will be able to find your own place in the story.

Commit to Follow Jesus: Turn from your wrongdoing, acknowledge that Jesus is the rightful ruler of the world, and commit to follow him and join with God’s people.

Live Your Part: Life’s choices can be messy, but God has given us his word and promised us his Spirit to guide us on the way. You are God’s artwork, created to do good works. May your life be a gift of beauty back to him.