TORIN YOUTH – CHAPTER 08: THE SON

Water rushes violently within the maelstrom surrounding Helicon Island.

A clawed hand bursts from the swirling tide…

…followed by Cadmeia breaking the surface, the giantess’s torso emerging as she gulps in another breath. Her long scarlet hair blankets her face as she tries to keep her upper half out of the water.

The Vixen peeks toward the side of the island and gauges her distance.

With determination etched across her face, she erupts from the water.

Her claws dig deep into the island’s stone foundation as she slams into it, as if hurled by the raging current.

She grimaces, exhausted, yet is driven to climb. Leaping from one outcropping to the next, she ascends rapidly, the sheer power of her massive form on full display.

Meanwhile, at the summit, Helia, Gale, and the members of Team Three are being interrogated by a winged centaur clad in golden armor.

“What kind of welcome is that?” Helia asks, flicking her eyes toward the golden spear in the centaur’s grasp. “Is that how you greet all your guests?”

“Your lack of sincerity is duly noted,” the centaur replies, her gaze shifting beneath her helm to the other members of the team.

“We’re here to save a friend,” Bia shouts. “He’s being brought here by a giant fox woman. Likely to be sacrificed.”

The centaur raises an eyebrow beneath her helm.

“Sacrifice, you say?” she asks.

“Yes,” Bia answers, glancing around. “Did we arrive before them?”

“I have not seen them,” the centaur replies. “But if they are here, they would be heading toward the Temple of Death, where the Transmatrix lies.”

“The Temple of Death?” Gale says, her voice heavy with concern. “That sounds awful.”

“It needn’t be. The Oiriopata believed death was necessary for growth,” the centaur explains. “We protect their legacy.”

She turns her equine body toward the jungle and begins to walk.

“I am Andromeda,” she adds. “You may follow me.”

On another side of the island, Cadmeia’s hand slams down as she reaches the summit.

The fox giantess hauls herself up with shaky arms, breathing heavily through her nostrils.

She crawls forward until she is safely away from the edge and then collapses, utterly spent.

Her mouth opens, and her tongue spills onto the ground, revealing Atreus and Sophean huddled back to back within.

They slide down her tongue onto the ground. Cadmeia barely has the strength to pull it back into her mouth.

She lies still, panting heavily.

“You made it, Mother,” Atreus says, smiling to encourage her. “That was amazing. No, better yet—you are amazing.”

Cadmeia manages a faint smile.

Sophean adjusts his robe and trousers, laughing with delight.

“The Will of Utalle is mighty indeed, even without mastery of her full power,” he says proudly. “To make such a journey—it is a testament not only to the strength of your body, but of your spirit.”

“It probably wouldn’t hurt to let her rest here for a while,” Atreus says, taking in how exhausted she is.

Cadmeia laughs softly. “I only need a minute. I didn’t come this far to stop now.”

As Atreus and Sophean wait for Cadmeia to catch her breath, the harpies and the other members of Team Three navigate the jungle with the centaur as their guide.

They emerge into the ruins of a time-worn city, illuminated by braziers kept burning by vigilant centaurs. Dawn’s first light makes the ancient structures unmistakable.

“We, the centaurs of Helicon Island, were charged by the Oiriopata with preserving their ancient knowledge and artifacts,” Andromeda explains as she leads them through the ruins. “There are some relics, however, from which we keep our distance. The Transmatrix is one such artifact.”

Helia’s and Gale’s expressions darken.

Helia’s steps slow, and she looks as if she wants to turn back.

Gale wrestles with her curiosity. As fascinated as she is by this history, she begins to suspect that she’s wandering someplace she shouldn’t go.

“Why is that?” the brown-feathered harpy asks the centaur.

“The Transmatrix is a dark, seductive force,” Andromeda answers. “The Oiriopata eventually came to fear what they had created and left it here, where they would not be tempted by its power.”

“So where is it now?” Rhea asks, still seated atop Helia’s head.

Andromeda points toward the distant ruins of an acropolis on the edge of the island, isolated from the rest of the city. The braziers there do not burn as brightly, giving the impression that the centaurs do considerably less to maintain the ancient temple standing there.

“The only reason it has never been destroyed,” she continues, “is that none have been able to resist its seductive whispers.”

As the words leave the giant centaur woman’s mouth, Cadmeia bursts into the ruins, sprinting on all fours. Atreus and Sophean cling to her head, gripping her scarlet hair for dear life.

She spots the two harpies speaking with the centaur and slows her pace.

They wear items that are unmistakable to Cadmeia. The violet headband on Helia’s head and the gold choker around Gale’s neck are clearly made by human hands.

“Those are Torinian harpies,” she murmurs apprehensively.

Atreus recognizes them instantly and calls out as Cadmeia draws closer.

“HELIA! GALE! What are you two doing here?” he shouts.

“Are these friends of yours?” Cadmeia asks.

“Yes,” Atreus replies. “For most of my life, they were my only friends.”

Cadmeia breathes a sigh of relief, though she is saddened to hear that Atreus didn’t have many friends.

She rises upright and carefully lifts the two tiny passengers into her hands for the harpies to see.

Helia’s golden irises fix on the vulpine woman in shock.

“It’s her—it’s the Scarlet Vixen!” she shouts, calling everyone’s attention to the three-tailed giantess.

Gale sees the two tiny people held in the palms of the Vixen and gasps.

“In her hands…”

“Atreus!” Helia says, grinning widely. “There’s my little booger!”

“He’s alive!” Leon cheers. “Look, Bia!”

“I see!” Bia replies excitedly.

Her eyes well with tears as the memory rushes back—the moment she thought she had lost Atreus to the Scarlet Vixen.

“I thought… he was gone for good,” she sobs.

Rhea’s expression hardens as she looks at the young man, her brow knitting.

Andromeda approaches Cadmeia, studying the tiny figures cradled in the fox giantess’s hands.

“Have you come seeking the Transmatrix?” the centaur asks.

“Y-yes,” Cadmeia answers hesitantly.

“I will not forbid you,” Andromeda says, “but I will warn you. Its power comes with a price you may find too costly.”

“I—I’m aware of the cost,” Cadmeia replies.

“Most believe they are,” the armored centaur says, leveling her golden spear toward the distant acropolis, “until afterward.”

She turns and trots away.

Atreus watches the equine giantess go with a puzzled expression.

“A price?” he asks quietly. “I knew there had to be some kind of catch. But what is it exactly?”

He looks upward into Cadmeia’s eyes, searching her face.

Cadmeia meets his gaze with an awkward smile. She appears very uncomfortable under his stare, and the sight only deepens Atreus’s unease.

“Mother, what’s the cost?” he asks her.

“Please, trust me, son,” she pleads with him.

The giantess kneels and gently sets Atreus on the ground, keeping Sophean in her hands.

“Don’t you want to catch up with your teammates?” she asks. “I promised you they would be okay, didn’t I?”

Helia suddenly remembers the humans perched on her head.

“Oh—right. His tiny friends…”

The two harpies stoop low, allowing the humans to move to their shoulders and slide down along their wings to the ground.

Rhea follows Leon and Bia reluctantly, descending with care, one arm secured in a sling.

Atreus and Leon walk toward each other and clasp hands.

“BROTHER!” they happily shout in unison.

“We must perform together again,” Leon says.

“I can’t wait,” Atreus replies. “And you must teach me to play the lu—”

While the word “lute” is still on his tongue, Bia tackles him before he can finish.

She lifts the taller boy clean off the ground and squeezes him tightly.

“Atriiiiiiiiiiii!” she squeals.

Atreus turns blue, wheezing, “…Too… strong…”

“WHOOPSIE!” Bia says, releasing him.

Atreus drops to the ground, gasping for air and wrapping his arms around the ribs that the girl might have unintentionally broken.

Once he catches his breath, he sits up and gazes at the black-haired girl with warmth in his eyes.

“Bia… I missed you,” he manages to say, smiling weakly through the lingering pain.

“Huh, me?” she asks, her violet irises meeting his hazel eyes.

“Yes,” Atreus confirms shyly. “You.”

Bia’s eyes light up, reading the sincerity on the boy’s face.

“Did you hear that, Leon?” she says suggestively, waggling her eyebrows. “He said he missed me!”

Cadmeia smiles warmly at the tiny girl celebrating so enthusiastically. Her nerves finally ease as she watches her son’s reunion with his friends.

Amid Bia’s excited jumping and cheering, a sandaled foot laced up to the knee slams down beside Atreus.

The boy turns in surprise to see Rhea looming over him. His eyes travel upward, finally landing on her frowning face.

“Why do you insist on making me suffer your existence?” she asks.

Atreus inhales sharply when he sees her injuries.

“Rhea…” he utters as he rises to his feet in a hurry.

“I don’t recall telling you to stand up,” Rhea says coldly.

“I know—you didn’t,” Atreus replies, his eyes tracing the many bandages wrapped around her.

For a brief moment, Rhea’s hardened expression falters. Uncertainty flickers across her face. She steps back, pressing her arms tighter against her chest.

“Don’t you dare look at me with pity in your eyes, Atreus Speros!” she demands.

“Rhea… I wasn’t pitying you,” Atreus assures her. “I was admiring your strength.”

Rhea gasps and freezes, her face flushing brightly.

Atreus slowly reaches toward her.

“May I?” he asks, gently brushing the strawberry-blonde hair away from her face to get a better look at her.

“W-what are you try-trying to do to m-me?” she asks, visibly flustered. “W-why aren’t you… like b-before?”

Atreus pauses, considering her words, his gaze drifting aside.

“Like before?” he repeats.

“I suppose… life is what happened,” he says lightly. “Are you still the same girl I knew before?”

Rhea bites her lip as it begins to tremble, uncertain how to respond. Her heart pounds against her chest.

Then she catches herself.

Her jaw tightens. Anger surges back to the surface.

“BAH! How does anyone put up with this... LOSER?”

Concern ripples through the group as Rhea storms away from Atreus.

“Hey, what’s your problem?” Helia calls after her.

“It’s okay, Helia,” Atreus says to his white-feathered friend. “It’s my fault. I invaded Rhea’s space.”

Rhea spins back toward him and shouts, “THERE CANNOT POSSIBLY BE ENOUGH SPACE TO PUT BETWEEN ME AND YOU.”

A heavy silence settles over the others at the girl’s furious outburst. Atreus quietly searches his memories, trying to understand where he went wrong.

“What did I ever do to you… to make you hate me so much?” the boy asks.

Rhea exhales, calming herself.

“The truth is…” she mutters, forcing the words out. “We… we simply cannot coexist in this world—you and I.”

“Why not?” Atreus asks, bewildered. “I’m not even asking you to like me anymore, Rhea. I’m only asking you not to push me away!”

Bia watches quietly in sadness. Her eyes, welling with tears, remain fixed on Rhea.

Rhea hesitates to answer Atreus’s question, wiping away a tear that slips down her right cheek.

“It’s… it’s because…” she says, her voice faltering. “You bring out the worst in me.”

Atreus exhales, his chest heavy. “So, that’s it?”

Rhea turns away from him, lowering her head to wipe away tears again.

“Yes.”

“So just… stop.”

“…please,” she mutters.

Atreus turns away as well, honoring her request.

“Understood,” he says softly.

Cadmeia breathes her son’s name, her heart aching. “Atreus…”

Sophean calls out from the palm of her hand.

“Will of Utalle—I understand that this is a difficult moment, but now is your opportunity,” he gently reminds her.

Cadmeia’s eyes widen as realization strikes.

She straightens, cradling Sophean, and breaks into a run toward the Temple of Death atop the acropolis.

The others exchange bewildered looks at the fox giantess’s sudden dash.

“Hey—where’s she going?” Gale asks, alarmed.

“To the Transmatrix, looks like,” Bia says. “Could she be about to sacrifice that wolf-eared man who was with her?”

“SACRIFICE?” Atreus repeats in shock.

“Yes,” Leon answers. “A drider named Khariklo told us the Transmatrix requires a sacrifice for its power to be used.”

Atreus lowers his head.

“That’s what the centaur was warning her about,” he says, disappointment heavy in his voice.

He looks up at Helia with determination surging within him.

“I need you to get me there—now. I can’t let her go through with this.”

At the island’s edge, Cadmeia climbs and leaps, ascending toward the temple crowning the acropolis. The structure has three enclosing walls, its front left open with a row of pillars supporting the ceiling.

She rushes inside, searching desperately for any sign of the Transmatrix within the ancient sanctuary, its interior lit by braziers tended by the few caretakers who still venture here. She steps hastily on the uneven stone tiles where the long-gone civilization of elven giantesses once worshiped their deity.

At the far end of the temple lies an enormous circular pit, just wide enough for a giant to enter. She gazes into the darkness but sees no end to its depths.

Cadmeia gently sets Sophean down so they can search the seemingly empty ruins together. However, it is all the desperate giantess can find in this place. There are no secret doorways. No levers to pull. Just a time-worn floor with an entrance to a black void.

“There’s nothing here…” she cries, her heart sinking. “I came all this way!”

“I would assume what we’re looking for is in this abyss,” Sophean says, gesturing toward the pit.

“What kind of cruel trick is this?” Cadmeia asks. “Am I meant to cast myself into a bottomless pit now?”

As Cadmeia becomes despondent, Atreus’s voice echoes through the sanctuary.

“Don’t do it, Mother!”

The fox giantess turns toward the open front where the enormous pillars stand. She sees her son being carried by his harpy friend Helia into the sanctuary. Both giant harpies lower themselves to allow the humans they carry to climb down to the temple floor.

“Atreus?” Cadmeia gasps.

The boy gestures to his friends to remain at the entrance, just inside the sanctuary.

“Please, let me speak to her alone.”

Helia, Gale, Leon, and Bia all nod in agreement, allowing Atreus to approach Cadmeia and Sophean on his own.

He looks the fox-eared giantess in the face. Her three tails sway in nervous agitation behind her.

“I understand what the cost is now,” he tells her with disappointment in his voice.

Cadmeia gives a subtle nod of acknowledgment.

“Yes. And Sophean would be glad to do this for us,” she assures the boy.

“Mother, I can accept everything that has happened in the past,” Atreus says with sadness weighing heavily on him. “But if you went through with this…”

Agony washes over Cadmeia’s face as if an arrow had pierced through her heart.

“No…” she breathes. “I was hoping you would understand. Just think—we could have what we both lost back. I would be able to embrace you in my arms… like before. Don’t you want that?”

Atreus fights back his tears as he shakes his head in refusal. “I’m sorry, Mother, but I don’t think I would be able to look at you the same again.”

“And if I let you do it,” he continues, “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

Cadmeia collapses to her knees and slumps forward, sobbing.

“Please—how is this so terrible? Do you have any idea how many people… how many humans I’ve eaten since being trapped in this… monster’s body? What is one sacrifice, willingly given, compared to that? Don’t you think it’s worth it?”

Atreus considers her words as he wipes the tears away from his face.

“I can’t imagine how hard these past twelve years have been for you,” he says gently. “And I can’t pretend I have the answer. I only know that, from my experience, life is about finding ways to endure suffering… without letting that suffering define us.”

“I didn’t ask for this,” Cadmeia sobs.

“No,” Atreus says softly, reaching out to touch the fur on the giantess’s arm as she hides her face in her hands. “You didn’t ask for this… but you were a woman willing to sacrifice her own life for others. That woman was a hero. She is still a hero. And I’m very proud to be called her son—no matter the cost.”

Cadmeia looks down at the tiny young man beside her, deeply moved.

“My boy,” she whispers, touching his face with a single finger.

Atreus wraps his arms around her finger, hugging it tightly.

“I love you, Mother.”

Cadmeia smiles through her tears.

“I love you too, Atreus.”

Sophean gently interjects, his voice calm and reverent.

“A journey not taken cannot be known. Now, you both understand what lies at the end of this path.”

The giantess exhales.

“And yet, I can feel myself becoming someone else if I remain in this body,” Cadmeia admits. “I don’t know how much time I have left, and I don’t know who that person will be. That frightens me.”

“That’s okay,” Atreus says gently. “Sometimes, we have to embrace the things we can’t control. Try not to be afraid of change. I will do the same.”

Cadmeia wipes away her tears, settling herself.

“I promise I won’t forget you, Atreus,” she says.

“If you do,” the boy replies with a faint smile, “I’ll find a way to jog your memory.”

Sophean watches with a warm smile, his tail wagging happily behind him.

“Well then,” he says, “shall we be going?”

Atreus and Cadmeia nod in agreement.

“You two can go ahead—I’m going to talk with my friends for a minute first,” Atreus says.

“Perhaps the centaurs here will provide us a place to rest before the journey home,” his mother suggests, lifting Atreus and the Laiko man gently before turning toward the sanctuary’s entrance.

They approach Helia and Gale, who remain inside the sanctuary near the front pillars. Both harpies are sobbing uncontrollably.

Cadmeia smiles at them, appreciating that her son has such kind friends of her own size.

She carefully sets Atreus down beside his teammates before continuing outside.

“We heard everything,” Gale mumbles with a runny nose.

“Stop it, you big cry-birdies,” Atreus says, smiling. “You’re going to get me started again too.”

Bia beams at him, admitting, “I know that wasn’t an easy decision to make, but I believe you made the right choice.”

Leon pats Atreus on the shoulder. “As do I. Nicely done.”

Atreus nods a little, embarrassed by their praise. “Thanks. I can only hope that I’ll always feel that way too.”

“There’s no such thing as a clean victory, my mom always said,” Helia says, trying to encourage him. “Wait—was that appropriate for this situation?”

The harpy looks unsure of herself as she ponders the meaning of what she just said.

“I think I got what you meant to say, Helia,” Atreus laughs softly.

Bia and Leon prepare to climb onto the harpies’ shoulders as they lower themselves toward the ground.

As Atreus waits, the feeling comes over him that something is wrong. He soon realizes what it is.

Someone is missing.

“Where’s Rhea?” he asks.

Everyone pauses, sharing confused looks. A moment later, Bia’s eyes widen as she looks past Atreus, back into the temple.

“THERE!” she shouts, pointing a finger.

Leon gasps as his blood turns cold. “Rhea… NO!”

Atreus pivots and looks back into the temple, wondering what the others have seen. He can hardly believe his eyes.

Rhea stands at the edge of the abyss, staring down into the darkness.

“She wouldn’t…” he says with dread creeping into his voice.

Rhea turns to face her teammates as they rush toward her.

“Don’t move, Rhea!” Leon shouts.

Outside, Cadmeia halts mid-step, alarmed by the sudden cries. She turns and looks back inside the temple.

Rhea stands there, wrapped in bandages, her body battered and broken—mere seconds away from her teammates reaching her.

“I can’t…” Rhea says softly, desperation trembling in her voice. “I can’t go back.”

Atreus reaches for her.

But he is too late.

Rhea falls backward into the abyss, swallowed by darkness.

(NEXT CHAPTER)

Leon concept sketch