Page 44 of Scion of Chaos

“I think…” I trail off, my stomach churning and my vision blurring. “I think I need food.”

He disappears, and I blink at the space where he stood, wondering if my delirious brain conjured him. It’s too much of a challenge to remain upright with the room spinning, so I flop back on the pillows with a sigh. I guess I’ll have to figure this out myself.

How the hell do I have a hangover? I didn’t drink a drop of alcohol yesterday. I rally after a moment, manage to sit up and swing my legs over the edge of the bed, and wait for the throbbing to subside.

The floor is a smooth, matte black, and I experimentally press the soles of my feet to it, then move them. The surface glows with faintly purple footprints before fading back to black. The room itself is a strange mix of luxurious and spartan. There are no rugs, and very little furniture; the huge four-poster bed, two simple tables for nightstands, and the ornate divider screen are some of the most beautiful pieces I’ve ever seen. Not to mention the bedding felt like sleeping on a cloud.

But something is missing, and it takes me a moment to realize what’snotthere. A bathroom. There’s no bathroom here. So… where the fuck do I pee?

I ponder this question, trying to gauge the level of need in my bladder. Maybe this is some medieval realm and they use chamber pots? I peek under the bed, but see nothing—not even a dust bunny—then decide I can probably hold out long enough to find an answer. I spy a large onyx-colored glass on one of the nightstands and peek into it, sniffing. It smells like nothing, so I down the entire glass of what turns out to be delicious, cool water in several gulps.

Oh fuck, was I thirsty. But I probably need to find that bathroom sooner rather than later now.

My stomach is still achy from a lack of food, but at least the room is no longer spinning. I rise and pad around looking for my clothes, locate my boots at the foot of the bed by the footlocker Vesh sat on last night, but the rest of my clothes have disappeared.

“Seriously? You guys stole my clothes? What the fuck?”

Miffed, I start toward the wall blocking the door. Halfway there I stop, stalk back to the bed, and yank the sheet off and wrap it around me, then stomp back toward the doorway. I round the wall and smack face first into a giant, muscular chest.

“Oof,” says the enormous man I rammed into. I stumble back, stunned, then crane my head back as far as it will go to peer up at the beast blocking my path.

He’s tan and beefy, with features just outside the realm of human. He has a broad, square jaw and wide mouth with full lips, above which rests a wide nose struck through with a thick golden hoop dangling from his septum. His forehead from his hairline down to his eyebrows has an intricate patterned texture like he’s been branded with the most ornate brand. And his heavy, ornamented brows shade deep-set eyes filled with faint surprise. But the most breathtaking of his features are the horns that rise from either side of his skull. The patterns on his forehead continue halfway up the length of the thick, majestic ivory coils, tapering to dark points, and come close to grazing both sides of this hallway we find ourselves at a standoff in.

Even though I saw his features superimposed over Vesh’s last night, that image doesn’t hold a candle to the minotaur in the flesh. I stagger back, more from awe and fascination than fear. He steps back too, one heavy cloven hoof thunking hard against the floor behind him.

“I’m so sorry,” he says in a voice even deeper and more resonant than the one I heard last night. “I was only coming to bring you breakfast. Erebus said you were awake and hungry.” He holds up a basket that appears absurdly dainty dangling off one finger, even though it’s about double the size of my satchel.

“Oh, uh, thanks? I was just going to find a bathroom. Doesn’t this guy, you know, poop?”

He frowns and glances past me, then slowly shakes his head. “Primordials don’t defecate. But if you need to relieve yourself, you are welcome to use my lavatory. It’s on the lowest level, by the kitchen.”

I pull the sheet tighter around my torso and meet his gaze. “Any idea where my clothes wound up?”

He peers down at me. “The laundry, most likely. We can visit it after your other needs are seen to. Follow me.”

He gestures to the doorway with the basket and I exit, eyeing him warily, but he only stands back, dropping his gaze as I slip past. It’s almost as if he’s embarrassed by the way he talked to me last night. Assuming that was really him.

The savory aromas of whatever is in the basket fill the corridor between us as we walk and my stomach lets out an unholy growl that surprises us both.

He chuckles. “Vesh should have fed you something more substantial than his seed. I will have to reiterate the importance of proper nourishment for human guests. We didn’t exactly have much time to prepare for your presence, though, so my apologies.”

My cheeks warm, but I’m not sure whether to be embarrassed or correct him, because Vesh is the only one whodidn’tcome in… or at least near… my mouth. In fact, Pan’s and Erebus’ cum was theonlything I imbibed last night. Could that be the cause of this unholy headache?

“So I guess you’re the lucky one who got saddled with taking care of me? Is Vesh prepping for my training or something?”

“Most of the guards are busy chasing a lead on Hyperion and his brothers. Erebus is overseeing the prison, and I am overseeing you. I haven’t been informed about any training, though.”

I don’t respond, distracted by the scent of food, the ache in my head warring with the clench in my belly and the discomfort in my bladder as he leads me down a winding staircase with a dizzying view of the bottom of the tower. We’re about ten stories up, I think, and the view is more spectacular than what I’d envisioned when I sketched the place. Every landing has a gate leading to a bridge that connects to tall spire, with arcing bridges fanning out that link to still more spires in a vast network that extends as far as I can see. Every jutting black structure is a precarious, spiraling spire of void glass, with mesh grates in the sides covering what I realize with a shock must be cells containing inmates. Far below us, the ground is a honeycomb of pits covered in obsidian grates, each of which gleams with violet light.

I can’t even fathom the scale as high up as we are. The tower we’re currently descending seems to rest on the peak of a mountain of more dark glass with perfectly straight, smooth slopes.

“This is all him, isn’t it?” I marvel, sliding my palm along the smooth railing that borders the stairs as we descend, Asterius just behind me.

“If you mean the prison, yes. Tartarus and Vesh are one entity, and many. All the residents are part of him while we are here. Symbiotes, after a fashion.”

“So how did anyone escape if they were part of him? Wouldn’t he have known and been able to stop it?”

“If it were that easy, he wouldn’t need guards.”

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