Chapter 49: Goren: Pandemonium

  When Goren opened his eyes, the entire world was upside down.

  He shut them immediately, a wave of nausea hitting him. He was about to throw up.

  “Adjust,” a whisper sounded inside his mind.

  Thanata’s voice.

  “Adjust?” he muttered. “I feel like my brain is crashing against the inside of my skull, begging to get out.”

  “It’s normal for this foul place,” Thanata whispered again. “You need to open your eyes and accept this realm’s rules. Adjust.”

  “E-easier s-s-said than d-d-done!” Goren stammered, the pain worsening, but did as Lady Death told him.

  With his eyes open again, he gazed into the distance. The sky in front of him was the ground, and the ground – a desert – was the sky. It made no logical sense. He was crouching on the dunes, so even if the world were inverted, he should still see the sky as the sky and the ground as the ground.

  “Focus on something you see,” Thanata said. “Something specific. Make it your anchor.”

  “S-something…” The pain spiked until it felt like his skull would split.

  His eyes searched but there was nothing. Just an endless, bare desert.

  “Quickly, Goren Shein,” Thanata pressed. “You don’t have much time. If you don’t adjust, you’ll die. Permanently this time.”

  “Fuck!” Goren snapped, locking onto a patch of sand where the sunlight made it slightly brighter that the rest. It wasn’t perfect, but it was the best thing he could find under the dire circumstances.

  The headache slowly began to ease.

  “Delightful,” Thanata said. “But you’re not out of harm’s way yet. Now focus on your breathing. Up until now, you’ve been breathing out of human instinct. But this realm’s air will burn your lungs from the inside in the next thirty seconds if you don’t adjust to it.”

  “How?” Goren rasped, still staring at that spot in the sand, afraid that losing focus would bring back the headache and nausea.

  “Deep breaths,” Thanata replied. “It will burn, but you must fight it.”

  He obeyed, taking his first deep breath.

  She wasn’t lying.

  Goren’s entire respiratory system burned, from his nose all the way down into his lungs.

  He coughed violently, thick smoke spilling from his mouth. It was mortifying to see.

  “Don’t cough,” Thanata ordered, adding another wild request. “Keep it inside you. Adjust.”

  If he survived this, Goren swore he never wanted to hear that word ever again.

  He fought the coughing reflex. The burn only worsened. His throat felt dry. He forced another deep breath. And another. Each one worse than the last.

  Then, suddenly, the burning stopped.

  He blinked, and suddenly the world stabilized as well. The ground was the ground again, the sky the sky.

  “You’ve adjusted,” Thanata said. Her tone was its usual bored drawl, but Goren could’ve sworn she sounded impressed.

  He nodded, slowly standing up and scanning his surroundings. He was alone in an empty desert stretching miles in every direction.

  “Where the hell am I?” he asked.

  “It’s not hell. It’s much worse,” Thanata said. “Goren Shein, welcome to the realm of chaos – Pandemonium.”

  ***

  After Goren "adjusted", Thanata didn’t answer his questions. Instead, she told him to find shelter from the scorching sun then went silent.

  Alone in a distant realm, with no idea how to survive a desert – his home, Tepan, didn’t have any – there was no point trying to read cardinal points by the sun. For all he knew, Pandemonium might not even have a conventional north or south. So he just picked a direction and stuck with it.

  He walked for what felt like an hour, through a haze of heat that felt almost physical. Sweat stung his eyes and his skin burned. His lips were splitting, his breath ragged.

  At one point, he was tempted to take down his chest plate – to reduce the weight he carried – but he quickly decided against it. What if someone attacked him? He couldn’t get careless.

  Then, finally, he saw something. A change in the scenery.

  A wooden ship – more like a skeleton of one at this point – half-buried in the dunes at an angle.

  'I’m hallucinating…' was his first thought. But when he approached and reached his hand to touch it, it was solid. Real.

  An idea sparked – this would be his shelter.

  He circled the wreck, peering through jagged gaps in its hull, searching for shade. The ship’s name was still faintly visible in flaking paint along the side: SV Patriot.

  ‘Not the weirdest name for a ship…’ he thought, before spotting the shadow he needed.

  He climbed through one of the breaches and dropped into the hull, collapsing onto warped planks. Most of the deck above had caved in, but a small section – the only one – still clung to the frame. It was just enough to block the sun.

  Shade was a start, but it wasn’t enough. His throat felt like sandpaper. His head spun.

  He needed water.

  But where could he even find any in this place? There was nothing but sand, sand, and more sand in every direction.

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  Goren sighed and pushed himself upright, back resting against the ship’s hull.

  “Thanata?” he called, his voice hoarse, ending in a dry cough.

  “You don’t need to speak to communicate with me,” she replied in his mind. “Thinking is enough.”

  Goren coughed again – he couldn’t help it; his throat was killing him – before responding. “I lost the ability to keep my thoughts to myself after your father tried to destroy my world and I had to die – brutally – one hundred and twenty times to save it.”

  “If that were true, you wouldn’t be able to keep your and Aureon’s plan hidden from Chronos,” Thanata said casually. “Seems to me you’re just looking for excuses to justify your behavior.”

  Goren remained silent for a moment.

  “Yeah, I’m not doing this with you. You’re not my psychiatrist.” His tone hardened. “Instead of talking about my mental state, explain why I’m here – and more importantly, why I’m still alive.”

  A short silence stretched before Thanata spoke.

  “You’re not alive, Goren Shein. Not anymore.”

  He froze. “Wha – what do you mean? I clearly am.”

  “No,” she said flatly. “You squandered your second chance at life the moment you decided to return to Dolos’ realm.”

  Goren’s failure to stop Dolos – the revelation that Dolos had been using him as a mole all along – twisted in his chest, deepening his confusion.

  “But, right now – “ he pinched his arm. “I can feel this. I have to be…alive?”

  “Goren Shein,” Thanata’s voice slowed, each word deliberate, as if explaining the world to an ant. “As the sole sovereign of death across all times and realms, trust me when I say you’re not alive anymore. You made sure of that. And you can check your wound if you don’t believe me.”

  “Wound?” he echoed, bewildered, his hand instinctively moving to his chest.

  He unbuckled his chest plate, pulled off his shirt – then froze.

  Where Dolos’ spear had pierced him was a large gaping hole. No blood. No exposed flesh. But not something any living being could've survived.

  “What you’re experiencing now is a state I call ‘Borrowed Time’.” Thanata continued.

  “Borrowed Time?” Goren repeated, disbelief heavy in his voice.

  “Yes. Every person who ever chose to end their life prematurely leaves behind the life they could have had. I collect these remains in the form of…life currency, if you wish. Then, if I desire, I can delay someone’s death by lending them this life currency – hence the name – in exchange for…certain favors.”

  “Certain favors?” Goren echoed, his confusion replaced by anger. “You damn gods…I didn’t agree to anything!”

  “Then do you wish me to end your life right here, right now?” she asked. “Just say the word and it’s over.”

  Goren remained silent.

  Another deal with a god – how had he ended up here again?

  “I thought as much,” she said, taking his silence as surrender.

  “What do you want?” Goren said, his voice sharp now.

  “Delightful,” Thanata said, appreciating his cooperation. “What I want, Goren Shein, is to end the Battles once and for all. And you’re going to help me do it.”

  “What?” Goren asked, his brow furrowing. Then he recalled her meeting with Chronos and everything clicked into place. “Wait…was this your plan? Was I part of it all along?”

  “Indeed. I can tell when every being in existence will die, you know? When I saw your death was just a breath away, it wasn’t hard to connect the dots and understand how it’ll happen. Then, I only had to wait patiently.”

  The revelation hit him like a punch. Dolos had played him, yes – but so had Thanata. Gods truly were a vile breed when it came to human lives.

  “You bitch!” he snapped. “If you knew our plan would fail, why didn’t you stop us?! I could’ve still been – “

  “What? Alive?” she cut in, her bored voice turning icy. “No. No, you wouldn’t. You would've found a different way to discard of the gift Chronos had given you.”

  “But I – “

  “You have a death wish, Goren Shein,” she said, overrunning his words again. “An unshakable pull toward the end. I know why. I’ve seen your life. I know what you’ve lost. Don’t mistake my bored tone for lack of empathy – I understand. I even pity you. But that doesn’t excuse your actions.”

  Goren opened his mouth to retort, but nothing came out. She was right.

  Thanata continued. “When you stopped my father, you swore to serve Chronos for years to come, to atone for your vile deeds. Yet only one point twelve Battles later, you were already looking for a way out – telling yourself that killing Dolos would fulfill that oath earlier. You didn’t believe in your own plan. You were chasing a heroic death, but you forgot one thing: you are not the hero of this story.”

  Her voice sank into a final verdict. “Lie to anyone you want, Goren Shein. Lie to yourself, if you want to. But you cannot lie to Death. I will always read you like an open book.”

  Goren shoulders sagged. She was right – on all counts.

  His failures as a human still haunted him. His family forgetting he’d ever existed was a wound that could never heal. And Pixelle…she was too sweet, too bright. He’d always feared he’d drag her into his mud and ruin her.

  So chasing a quick death while doing the right thing had felt like the best call.

  “I know the truth can be a harsh mistress, Goren Shein,” Thanata said suddenly. “It was not my intention to break you. I only wished to open your eyes. To help you understand that there are no easy paths to atonement. You may be dead, but all is not lost. You can still do the right thing.”

  Goren gave a dry chuckle. “Everything I touch turns to shit. If you think I can be useful to you, you’re wrong.”

  “You’ve already done something few humans ever have,” she countered. “You reached Pandemonium.”

  “How did that happen?” Goren asked, genuinely curious.

  “The spear,” she said simply. “For millennia, Dolos has been secretly sponsored by the beasts of Pandemonium. Now, they’ve given him a weapon to slay the divine. Which means…we are running out of time.”

  “I told you: whatever plan you have, I’ll ruin it,” he muttered.

  “So you just give up? You’d let Dolos slay Pixelle, Balthor, and even Chronos?” Thanata’s voice sharpened. “I offer you a chance to achieve your original goal – to save countless lives for years to come by ending the Battles for good – and you turn away? My plan is guaranteed to succeed, Goren Shein. If you pull your weight.”

  His chest tightened. He knew he couldn’t let Dolos succeed. He couldn't let him kill his friends.

  Despite everything, he found the power to fight again. “What’s your plan?”

  “Delightful,” Thanata appreciated his returning resolve. “It’s simple: we turn Erebus’ gaze to Pandemonium. Instead of devouring human worlds, he will devour Pandemonium. We rid the universe of the Battles, Pandemonium, and Dolos all at once. Three birds with one stone, as you humans say.”

  Goren shook his head. “But doesn’t that break Erebus’ divine function? Chronos always said that, in his own way, Erebus governs existence. That Erebus believes that by devouring old worlds he paves way for new ones to be born, or some bullshit like that.”

  “True,” she admitted. “But by devouring Pandemonium, Father would still be fulfilling his divine function. Less Pandemonium, less Chaos, more new worlds.”

  Goren rubbed his chin. The logic tracked. But something still didn’t fit.

  “But Pandemonium…it’s just one realm, right? Wouldn’t he devour it and then move right back to us humans?”

  “This is where you’re wrong,” Thanata said. “Pandemonium is not like other realms. It is…alive – in every sense of that word. It is infinite. And it is ever-expanding. Erebus could never finish it. The process would never end.”

  Goren’s eyes widened. The plan actually sounded solid. There was just one thing that didn’t add up.

  “If it’s so simple…why hasn’t it been done before?”

  “Pandemonium is invisible to the gods – even to me,” Thanata said. “I’ll spare you the tedious details and just say it wasn’t possible before. Not until things aligned exactly as they have. Not until you came along.”

  Goren fell silent again.

  His mind reeled from the weight of it all. Thanata was using him – that was a fact – but Chronos trusted her. Maybe…he could too.

  Either way, with a hole in his chest, his options were limited: die here in the sand like a fool, or finally do something that mattered. Something he’d always wanted.

  “Alright, I’m in,” he said. “What do I need to do?”

  “Delightful.” Her satisfaction was almost tangible. “You will reach the heart of Pandemonium. Only then will I reveal the next step.”

  Goren nodded, but a sudden thought jarred him. “Wait! Dolos was using me as a mole – he could – “

  “Relax,” she cut in. “I’ve taken away the shard from your soul. You’re free of him now.”

  Goren breathed in relief. “How much Borrowed Time can you give me?”

  “As much as you need. The pool is infinite and ever-replenishing. Just keep yourself intact. I can delay your death forever, but if Pandemonium’s dangers reduce you to nothing but a talking head, our plan would fail.”

  “I see,” Goren muttered. “So I’m practically immortal now…”

  “You are,” she said. “But not only that.”

  Before he could ask what she meant, a white aura flared around his body, lingering for a moment before disappearing.

  “Goren Shein, you are no longer Chronos’ assistant,” Thanata declared. “From this point on – you are mine.”

  Somewhere far away, Erebus’ blight on Chronos withdrew.