Ch. 78: Talos Past / Fragments Of A Broken Heart
“We should head back, if you’re up to it,” I said after a long pause, carefully weighing my words. I didn’t want to seem like I was exploiting her, didn’t want her to think she was only a means to an end. Though, in truth, maybe I was wishing to change my actions for my own sake. Maybe I was hoping she would change, too, in the process.
Talos didn’t respond immediately. She slid down the wall, sitting heavily on the ground, knees drawn up. Her gaze drifted skyward, though whether she was looking at the stars or just lost in thought, I couldn’t say. We had moved outside, away from the cold confines of the factory complex. The air was clear, and a soft, soothing wind caressed our skin. A strange peace settled over us, but it felt like the calm before a storm.
She sighed deeply, and I sensed the weight in her chest, pressing her down. “I share your sentiment, Talos. I grew up in an orphanage too, shunned and haunted by those around me. I cursed my parents for abandoning me,” I said, trying to connect, hoping my words could soften the walls she’d built around herself.
She didn’t turn to look at me. Her voice, when it came, was distant. “Is that so? Who would have thought the god of the underworld was an orphan?” There was a bitter edge to her words, but her face remained impassive, detached, as if she were observing from somewhere far away. “Tell me, Hades, are there any stories about me in your world?”
I hesitated, then sat down beside her, not wanting to tower over her in that moment. “Not that I know of. Does that bother you?”
For the first time, her gaze seemed to meet mine fully. Her eyes reflected the sky, deep and endless. “I don’t know. I guess knowing I mattered somewhere would’ve given me some sense of self- accomplishment.”
I studied her closely, wondering what kind of life she must have lived to bring her to this moment. There was something raw about her now, a vulnerability I hadn’t expected. The powerful automaton who once seemed indomitable was teetering on the verge of collapse.
“Yeah?” I murmured, unsure of what to say, how to respond to such deep uncertainty.
Silence hung between us for a while, as thick as the night air. Finally, she rubbed her temple, her voice quieter now, more strained. “Your mind’s still on the cursed mark, I can tell.”
I stiffened. She was right, of course, but she probably didn’t understand in the way she thought. A part of me was concerned for her, but a larger part still viewed her as a tool. I needed her, and perhaps I hadn’t fully shaken the notion that she was a means to my end. Maybe that’s what she sensed.
Talos continued, her voice steady but laced with a tremor of something darker. “My memories started in blood. Everything was dyed red. There were corpses all around me, and I remember a man in red, just standing there. I think I was supposed to die then, but he left me. When I saw him again on the day we met, I felt something cold in my chest. I think it was fear.”
I stayed quiet, allowing her to unravel her story. It wasn’t my instinct to comfort or console. I wasn’t good at carrying other people’s burdens. That was always someone else’s job, and I had learned to ignore the suffering of others in order to keep moving forward. But now, something inside me knew this was different. I couldn’t ignore her.
“I don’t think I got the curse from my father. I think I was born with it,” she said quietly, her voice becoming more hollow. “I didn’t even realize how different I was until Hephaestus took me in. He gave me a home. He gave me a reason to keep going. But I gave him nothing in return.”
She paused for a moment, her expression unreadable. “I never knew how to show emotions like others did. I remember him laughing at me sometimes, when I didn’t react the way he expected. I think he was a good man. A better father than I was a daughter.”
The confession hung heavy between us, a raw wound left exposed to the elements. I couldn’t look away from her now. I could see how much she had been keeping inside, her entire sense of self built on a foundation that was crumbling beneath her feet.
“Children are supposed to love their parents, right?” she asked, her voice more fragile than before. “But I don’t know how to love. I’ve never felt that. All I knew was how to serve him, to be useful. I tried to be the daughter he wanted, but it always felt like I was just… acting.”
She exhaled slowly, the weight of her words visibly draining her. “When the time came, I left. I needed to explore the world on my own terms, to find something that felt real. I craved mysteries. Something that could challenge me.”
A bird passed overhead, casting a fleeting shadow across the moonlit ground. The sight felt oddly symbolic of the fleeting nature of her memories.
“I knew about the curse for a long time,” she continued, her voice tightening with emotion. “But I could never understand it. I would sit at my desk, almost losing my mind, trying to figure it out. In the end, I had to rely on stimulants to keep myself sane. My curse… it’s a curse of knowledge, I think. The more I know, the more I forget.”
The enormity of her admission left me speechless for a moment. My head swam with the implications. Her curse was even more dangerous than I had imagined. It wasn’t just the loss of her memories— it was the erosion of her very identity. How could someone live like that, knowing that every truth they uncovered came at the cost of losing another part of themselves?
“When you said you understood what I felt, do you really mean that after hearing my story?” Her voice cut through my thoughts, cold and sharp.
I was forced to confront her question head-on. Her feelings of rejection, abandonment, and emptiness were all too familiar. She was searching for a purpose, a reason to exist, much like I had been for centuries. But her curse made it impossible for her to truly grasp that meaning, and I realized with a sinking feeling that this was why she seemed so emotionless. Her curse had stolen her ability to feel.
The wind gusted, brushing against my face as I pondered her question. I wanted to tell her that I understood, but did I? Could I?
“Why are you telling me this?” I asked instead. “You don’t seem like the type to just open up to someone.”
She turned to face me, her eyes shimmering under the faint light, her breath slightly uneven. “This is probably the most irrational decision I’ve ever made. So maybe I do have feelings, in some strange way.” She wasn’t dodging the question; she was searching for something in me, looking for a mirror to her own pain.
Her words settled deep within me. She had trusted me enough to share this dark secret, but what did that mean? She was the one I had been watching, and now I realized she was doing the same to me. “Remember when I said we were alike?” she continued, her voice softer now. “It’s not just that. It’s why I felt drawn to you. I guess… some stories have to be told. You get to decide which ones matter.”
Her words rang in my head, looping back to the moment I had saved Eris. Did she mean that? Did she think that act had revealed something real about me?
“I don’t know how to help you,” I confessed, my voice low.
She didn’t answer right away, her eyes drifting back to the sky. “You don’t have to answer now,” she murmured. “I know it’s a lot. My memories of my father are fading, but somehow, my memories of you… they’ve stayed.”
I sat in silence, my mind spinning. Could it be that the real person she resented was herself? Could she be rejecting her own existence because of this curse? She didn’t need saving from the world. She needed saving from herself.
But how could I help her when I was just as lost?
“I’ll wait with you,” I said, my voice steadying. I wasn’t sure what else to offer, but I knew one thing. I couldn’t leave her alone with this weight on her shoulders.
The night stretched on, and though the wind was cold, we stayed there, waiting together for something neither of us could name.
Author’s Note: The pace of the story might change from here and shift more into different characters POV.
If I revive a magic castle I will mass release 10 chapters
