Chapter 2

The centuries passed on slowly, the war savagely taking many lives from both sides. But this did not deter the outcome, both sides still remained strong and able; their army’s only becoming stronger as the world became darker. After a millennium of fighting Atlas continued to refuse the peace for the people of the heaven dimension, his fight continuing. Eventually he found a mate; a young woman as powerful as himself, he found the match strategic and married her almost immediately.

Many thought that his mate Atnya would sway Atlas’ temper and a truce would be made, but they were wrong. Atnya was as dark hearted as the ruler and soon convinced him that they should fight more and throw everything they had into destroying Darkous. She also stood by him in every decision, believing that they should not follow the mortal world’s technological advances. Atlas believed that the heaven dimension should remain as it had for centuries, banning all technology that he deemed pointless. As the human world developed overtime, so did their weapons. This being something that the despised ruler followed, employing mortal men to create and uphold the advanced weaponry. Together Atlas and Atnya had five children, four boys and a girl.

The first born was Peter, and he like his father had many gifts and powers. Though his mother’s powers were not passed onto him, like Poseidon he gained the ability to manipulate the fresh springs and oceans. This made his father proud; though Peter looked just like his father his conscience often stopped him from doing as Atlas wanted. The young prince often angered easily, causing his judgement and conscience to lapse. Although he cared greatly for his siblings and parents, Peter preferred to be fighting in battle. He personally organised and commanded many raids along with his father and brothers, the adrenalin fuelling him in every battle. Peter had never hesitated to kill, although his heart was corrupt with hate. He wasn’t a monster, at least; not to his family. The first born prince believed that the war helped his family, protected them. And yet, it had also caused them a great deal of pain.

The second born was Jake, he was the noble child. Often trying to find reason where there was mostly chaos, he was more like his mother than his father gaining mostly her power to manipulate the four primary elements. But the curse of soul draining still remained in his blood, like all the other members of the family; his soul was one murder away from blackness. He was skilled in most manmade weapons, though like his father; he preferred hand-to-hand combat. He was both agile and sensible in battle, never failing to control his emotions and fear. Jake was the sensible member of the family, the one who asked for peace though peace was never an option. He cared for his people where his father only wanted their death. The young prince cared for his younger sister more than anything, often comforting her when Atlas used the lash. Jake also suffered at the hands of his father’s brutality, though quickly grew to avoid the punishments. In his spare time, Jake took into learning many types of music. He managed to convince his father into allowing the prince instruments and modern stereos, Jakes passion for music only growing along with his age.

Next came Percy, he unlike his brothers avoided any conflict and despised the thought of fighting. He gained both his mothers and his father’s ability’s, although he rarely practiced or used them. He relied mostly on his brothers in battle and his place as a prince to get what he wanted. Although Percy was loyal he would rather run from battle than face it with his father. Atlas often used the prince as a spy, sending him along with a battalion of men on scouting missions. He left on missions regularly, his time away greater than what he spent with his loved ones. Like Atlas, Percy helped with his father’s punishments, enjoying the brutality his siblings suffered.

The last son was Timmy, his love and passion rising above the family curse. He was the innocent son, the one who gained the brunt of his father’s punishments. He gained his father’s ability’s and Hades’ ability to manipulate and change a person’s thoughts, though barely used them as the hatred never took hold. Timmy was a brave and noble prince who helped the wounded, attempting to aid anyone, whenever he could. He was the prince that the people adored and cherished more than the others, the one they admired. Timmy would throw his own neck on the line for his family, often using it in practice when they became wounded in battle. The last born son rarely visited the palace, his time focused mostly in the barracks along with the soldiers. Timmy cared for all of his brothers, though most of his affection lied with his little sister. His visits to the palace beginning and ending with seeing her.

The last child they had was a girl, Elika. She was the only girl born to the bloodline in generations, her existence baffling many. Elika was brave and strong, although she also feared and angered easily. The princess was curious, her ambitions and wills often ending in a brutal punishment administered by either Percy or her father. Being the youngest she had to deal with all that her brothers did, and being the only girl she had even more to prove.  Elika looked nothing like her mother and her father, her hate of the war displeasing them greatly.  The princess had many abilities of her own and was skilled in hand to hand combat, Atlas giving her no choice but to learn. She attended weekly meetings with her parents to go over how she had been spending her time, along with any punishments that may be administered for her misdeeds. Her mother showed no love to the princess, the meetings consisting only of judgements and new ways to cage Elika further. Elika retreated into books, using them as her freedom, her escape. She preferred the company of nature to people, breaking her father’s rules to rush of into the vast forests.

Atlas’ kingdom was full of yet more soldiers, raring to kill those who stood in the way of their next mission. The people of the heaven dimension cowered away in their homes, knowing that once they left they could also be called to fight as their fellow citizens were.  Atlas stood looking down at his people and at the trained solders ready to fight for him, he knew that most of them would die in this battle to cripple his brother’s forces, but this did not deter Atlas. After all his people were only pawns that he used to get what he wanted, their lives meant as much to him as his brothers did. He looked back proudly at his wife and four sons all ready to walk into battle with him, each trained and skilled with their own weapons. These lives meant something to Atlas, they were his family, his next in line to take over after he either died or renounced his claim to power. Atlas’ eyes scanned the elegant throne room; as usual there was no sign of his youngest child. His daughter Elika, she was his only daughter and soon she would be stood by her brothers ready to spill blood. Atlas had high hopes for his daughter, for if she turned out anything like his wife he would be most pleased. But so far she had shown no interest in the war or the countless raids Atlas had prepared her for; she never came to the throne room to wish them of safely or beg to come. As usual she was nowhere to be found in the whole palace, Atlas turned to his stunning wife Atnya.

“Where is the princess, she should be here to watch how everything works. She turns of age in only a few days and then she will fight along with us.” Atlas asked, his anger just below the surface.

“My love, she is more than likely in the study. You know how she loves to please you.” Atnya explained her voice like silk, and yet as sharp as a snakes tail. “I’m sure she will appear in our presence before we leave.”

“Send someone to fetch her, this time I wish for her presence.” Atlas commanded, seconds later the sound of feet scurrying away could be heard from all around the palace. “It is about time our daughter learned.”

Meanwhile deep in the forest of the heaven dimension...

Elika sat alone in the dense wood; using it as her escape from the masses of troops preparing for yet another raid on the hell dimension. Her father was sending more over confident and bloodthirsty men to murder and destroy another colony of hell. Elika sighed, leaning back against one of the bulky oak trees. She may be Atlas’s youngest child and only daughter, but she was nothing like him, or the others that layered and corrupted her family tree. She behaved nothing like the ignorant king who stood by as his people suffered and died in a pointless war. It was as though her father was brainwashing them all to believe that the war was a good and noble task, like being a part of it would bring some sort of eternal glory. But it was all a lie, the only thing that the war brought was pain and death. Elika saw no logic in the countless raids or the meaningless deaths of the people from both dimensions. She believed that it only continued because of the hatred her father and uncle Darkous shared, the very same hatred that consumed and destroyed their father before them, and that now devoured the world.

Atlas was a cruel and brutal man, someone who should never have become a father. He loved the war, loved killing. But he also caused Elika a lot of pain, his punishments both savage and untamed. The princess’ body was coated in scars, the long white lines acting as evidence of her father’s brutality. And yet, the princess couldn’t help but love him. She wanted her father to be proud of her, to stop injuring her. But, Elika couldn’t bring herself to care about the war; to want to fight.

Elika saw all the deaths as pointless and the destruction that followed more so, both kingdoms murdered each other’s people with no logical reason behind it. Both kings were completely oblivious to the suffering of their own people, it was like they both needed the war, even craved it. Her father constantly organised brutal raids which he then sent to murder the citizens of hell, while Darkous organised the same raids and sent them to kill the people of Elika’s kingdom. Both Atlas and Darkous were responsible for hundreds if not thousands of deaths; it was as though they loved the murdering and the deaths that surrounded the kingdoms. She had come to believe that they both needed the chaos to survive. For centuries those born in either dimension lived and breathed war, all children were raised on the battlefield and in the shooting ranges. The war had changed the very way that the people of all dimensions lived, breathed and thought. The people of her kingdom all raised their children to kill and despise others, generation after generation of her people and the people of the hell dimension died in a pointless war. Men and women fought for a useless cause and killed for their immortal rulers. The true reason behind the endless battles lost and mouldered into myth, the people of both kingdoms created their own reasons to right. They kept the war alive through lies and hard truths, it was their way of keeping the flame of hate alive it the hearts of their people.

Elika looked up at the trees towering over her and sighed once more, she just couldn’t understand the need for so much death. The stench of rot layered the kingdom like a blanket and violently collided with the scent of trees, and yet it was as though only Elika could see the damage that the war caused on the land itself. She could feel the world’s pain just as much as the peoples, she saw the damage that the kings had caused and yet she was powerless to stop it. Her ability to connect with the world and all that was in it took its toll, what use was she if her ability to heal couldn’t cleanse the land? What would happen to the creatures that dwelled in the dark if she couldn’t help? The land was just as tainted as its people, the heart of the world just as black and dead as her fathers. The wind squealed and cried with the restless voices of the dead, their souls forever damned to walk the earth restless and alone. The people they once were lost in the wake of battle, the sky coated in the blood and ashes of the fallen.

Elika glanced down at the ancient book in her hands; it was the only recorded history of the days before the war. The real truth of how this life came to pass, a past that Elika longed for with all her heart. Maybe it was foolish of her to dream of such a life, of peace, but it was all she had ever wished for. A time when she could live with the knowledge that her people are safe and happy, when she no longer had to look over her shoulder in fear that when she turned 16 her father would call her to fight in the senseless war. Killing and destroying the citizens of hell along with her brothers. The ancient writings told of how her grandfather had neglected and despised his people, of how he was consumed with power and hate. Chronos’ heart was that overpowered with hate that he would beat and torture his youngest son Darkous, to the point of mental breakdown and insanity. Elika couldn’t imagine how Darkous had lived with the pain, of how he had survived. The writings also spoke of Darkous’ coming of age festival and of how her grandfather had brutally murdered the one that Darkous loved, and then in finer detail it spoke of how the demon inside Darkous was released.

The war had begun that night with the death of a mortal girl that had mean so much to one innocent young immortal prince, whose pain had lived and turned into a deep gut retching hate. That night Darkous sought his revenge and ripped his father limb from limb in a brutal massacre, his heart lost forever in a pit of pain and anger.

From that night on wards her father Atlas and Uncle Poseidon had declared war, while Darkous was slowly consumed by his demons. Elika wrapped the ancient text back in a simple white cloth, concealing it within the overpowering roots of the oak tree. It was high treason for Elika to steal and then conceal the ancient text, but she had needed to know the answer of how the dreadful war had started, she has even craved it ever since she was a child. The princess now knew the answer behind why her people were suffering and dying, but it had not made the decision she had to make any easier, like she had originally hoped. It had only made her heart take one more step towards the hatred that consumed all those on her family tree. She had never truly realised how alone she really was, not until now. Elika knew now how different she was from the rest of them, how different she had always been.  The princess felt bad for Darkous; even after all of her people he had killed. The dark lord had been through so much suffering a foul and savage past. The princess always wanted to search for the good in people, the people they could be if given the chance.

Elika rose from her safe haven under the tree and began her journey home, her long brown hair trailing on the moss covered ground. She delicately lifted her long black gown as she stepped over an old fallen log. She flexed her bare feet and continued through the dense wood, lifting her face toward the sky silently observing as the sun set. Trapping Elika in yet another night of her endless solitude, doomed to stand by as a silent witness while those she cared for died all around her.

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By the time Elika returned home night had completely fallen, her father’s men furious that their raid was delayed because of the absent princess. Elika entered the palace steadily, careful of her training in both self defence and princess like stances, her father believed that a princess should be seen and not heard; so she remained painfully silent. The princess remained wary as she made her way through the endless halls, knowing that once she reached her father the blows would come. The punishments were always the same, painful and seemingly endless. Though Elika had no other choice but to remain silent and still, one noise or tear made the blows come faster and more brutal. She breathed deeply before silently nodding to the guards, announcing that she was ready to enter the throne room and take her punishment.

When the doors opened Elika placed both hands neatly crossed in front of her and entered the throne room with her head bowed, exactly as her mother had always taught her. When she reached the centre of the large room she looked up at her father who was stood just beyond the steps leading to the large golden throne. His face twisted and moulded in anger as he looked upon his youngest child. She knew that she was all but a disappointment, but she couldn’t help herself. She had always felt at peace in nature, even if it was forbidden she would go back to the wood, no matter the consequences or the pain that followed.

The large throne room was skilfully designed with several pillars at either side of the walkway leading up to the throne, delicate carvings lining the brick. The floor was made from fresh white marble, the servants polishing and mending it daily. Tables lined the outer walls, each wonder structure below a rectangular window. The windows were created with frosted glass, making it impossible to see out of the room, or for anyone to see inside.

“Daughter, where have you been?” Her father said slowly, noticeably controlling his temper as he strolled further away from the marble steps. “The hour is late.”

Elika choose her words carefully before speaking, knowing that one wrong move on her part would all but ensure pain. “Father, I attended a simple walk. I forgot my place and left without escort; I must apologize for my actions.” Elika spoke with the grace and manor of a queen; just like her mother had always made her. “They were rash and unplanned.”

Atlas’ eyes softened slightly, as if taken back by her manner. “Your mother was beside herself with worry of your safety; you must not leave the grounds without escort you know this.” He sighed before continuing, his tone dulling as he voiced his disappointment in her. “We delayed the raid; your brothers and I are most disappointed in you my daughter.”

Elika raised her head slowly and glanced at her father, his blood red eyes glowing in the dim candle light. His short brown hair neat and presentable under the simple golden crown, he stood over a foot taller than Elika reaching 6 foot 4. Atlas wore all black with a simple gold armoured breast plate he wore in battle, the scar along his right cheek noticeable against his pale skin.

“Father I am wounded to hear such a thing, I must be punished for such a misdeed. You must know that I only wish to make you happy.” Elika produced her best and most gentle voice, attempting to soften her father. “To make you proud.”

Her father sighed loudly, rubbing the centre of his forehead with two fingers. “You must try to follow the rules daughter, this brings me no pleasure.” Her father stated before turning away from her.

Elika knew all too well what came next; she mentally and physically prepared herself for the pain. Atlas turned back towards her a long metal pole in hand, the pole that had scared and broke the skin on her back since before she knew the reasons. This was the way her father punished his children, the pain almost unbearable. The princess took a shaky breath, looking into her father’s blood red eyes pleadingly.

“Turn around Elika.” Atlas commanded his voice screaming power.

Elika did as he commanded and turned, her back now facing her father. The princess’ hands were still placed neatly before her, attempting to control her trembles as she prepared for the first blow.

“Five strikes are your punishment.” Her father stated; his voice flat and uncaring.

Elika remained silent, knowing that if she spoke now; the strikes would rise higher on her back, shredding more skin than was needed for her offence. The first blow came with a shock of pain that shook her whole body, the skin on her back tearing and splitting under the weight of the pole. She stifled a cry when the second blow came, her legs losing their balance as she crashed to the floor. The princess made no sound when the third blow came; the sound of the metal pole hitting her back was the only echo throughout the palace. Blood began to flow free from the wounds on Elika’s back, tears sliding down her cheeks as she gasped in silent pain. The fourth blow forced her onto her hands and knees, the sound of skin breaking sickly and painful to her ears. When the fifth blow came she was numb, the pain in her back only serving as a reminder of her solitude. She was doomed to live a life of silent objections, her will to survive forever being challenged by those around her.

“The raid will leave before dawn; I hope you attend with the family’s of those leaving to fight. Now, go and clean yourself up daughter.” Atlas commanded once more, Elika silently obeying.

Elika slowly rose to her feet, her agony hidden under a mask of obedience. She would not show her father how he had hurt her; she couldn’t allow him the satisfaction of that. The vast winding hallways were eerie silent as the princess strolled towards her chamber, each step agonisingly painful. She kept her head low as she was taught, forcing herself to remain strong. She would not cry, not in front of the guards. Elika always hid her emotions, holding them in until she was alone; until she could drown in her solitude. She prayed for the day when she could leave, but it never came. Her brother Jake had tried on many occasions to get her out of the city. And yet here she was, her father always finding them. Always forcing them back into his clutches. Elika returned to her chamber silently, she would attend the send off as told. After all as a princess her duty was above all selfish intentions.