The Odysseus

Annabeth had fallen asleep at the chair on her porch, the first true sleep she had gotten since the siege from Venus had begun and finished, she had arrived at the Cabin, and unable to rid herself of the tense energy began working around the cabin. Chopping firewood turned out to be difficult with one arm, so she had cast a spell to allow the firewood to chop itself and hop into the firewood pile by the old beaten furnace. She had then went on a quest looking for food in the lake, fishing with the rod handle between her knees was also difficult but she was able to reel in a few fish. She set those off to get smoked before taking a water jug, and filling it with the lake water before using a spell to purify the water.

At that time the old decrepit Station Wagon had pulled in, and both Claudia and Nicodemus got out.

Annabeth moved to go and help with the groceries, but Claudia stopped her.

"You, need to get some rest, considering you haven't already," Claudia said, she looked far more care worn than she had years ago, her black hair had flecks of silver and wrinkles around her eyes. She and Annie looked close to twenty years apart now. Annabeth uncomfortably thought about the fact that she may be able to age now, but she still had the body of a robust 26 year old while Claudia was far older than that. They would grow old together, but Annie knew Claudia might inevitably go before her.

"How bad is it?" Annabeth asked. Both of them frowned.

"Well, martial law has been declared, a good portion of the world's military is in shambles, once more most of the nations are leaderless, and there is no real contact with much of the rest of the world." Claudia sighed. "I'm honestly surprised we're still alive. We've survived three apocalypses in a row. Plutos, Abzu, and Astaroth. Though I guess the last one was both Plutos and Astaroth combined..."

"I would put more of the blame on Quasar," Annabeth said, "but no one will really know that Quasar ever existed." Nobody would know that since the universes inception it had been watched with hate by the King of the World that Was. Fighting not to be destroying by the awe inspiriting power of the Big Bang's explosion. That such a being had been responsible for Plutos, which had infected the universe with a viral cancer. Nobody would know that infection had taken hold of the already twisted Astaroth, who was unknowingly following Quasar's plan to destroy this universe and be reborn.

Nobody would know that Astaroth had sacrificed herself.

It was something that had left very mixed feelings in the pit of Annabeth's stomach, her sire had done so much wrong to Annabeth's family, had hurt so many people in order to try and reverse the faith change. But she had pitied Astaroth, felt sorry for the situation the former Goddess of Love an the Sky had found herself in. And there had still been a glimmer of Inanna in her. Enough to throw herself into the Dream of the Gods, destroying herself, breaking the curse on all demons, turning them back into spirits, and breaking both the Faith Change and the Ring of Plutos, the infection on their world and universe.

"What about the spirits? What's happening with that?" Annabeth said.

"The gate to Teer'mam's been opened, and magical beings have been coming out, and the spirits that returned back to Earth are helping in the rebuilding. It's safe to say that Magic has returned to Earth in full." Nicodemus said, he had been trapped in the body of a child for close to twenty years now, but he had started aging again, much more quickly than Annabeth was now that Astaroth's hold over him and his soul was gone. "So then why are we hiding?"

Annabeth thought for a moment. The words of the Queen of the Moon after the final battle, when she took Annabeth to look out over the very Earth.

"This is your realm," she had said, the white haired Aosidhe's pale eyes glanced to the demigod. "And the heart of the greater realm that shall be. This age of the world has ended, and a new one begun, it is your task to order it's beginning and preserve the knowledge of what is. For in this age, Man's wisdom will be based on the experiences of the past, and you will endow this wisdom onto them." Before Annabeth could protest she had been brought to the shores of the inland sea created when Plutos had ripped North America in half, Claudia waiting for her.

"I don't want to lead," Annabeth said. She opened the door for the two, there had been little groceries to truly get. "And I know if I show my face that is what will be expected of me."

"I think you'd make a great leader," Nicodemus said. "You were a good mom." Annabeth paused, remembering the resentment Nicodemus had held towards her and her eldest son. The things he said under the influence of Astaroth. She swallowed and it felt like a stone was going down her gullet.

"We can't hide forever," Claudia sighed. "Because here's the thing, the spirits won't listen to any formal government, but they will listen to you. Honestly, for all intents and purposes, you are the one true king."

"Tell that to Arthur and MacFinn," Annie scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"I think they'd find it funny," Claudia said. "And agree. They can only really influence England and Ireland." There was a pause. "Well, if you don't want to be the ruler of the Earth, why not act as an advisor, you know, Merlin's whole shtick."

"Sure, I'll go find a sword to put in a stone so some kid who's got the right personality attributes can pull it out," Annie said. She said down in her chair, her hand clasping her staff. "I'm...actually feeling tired right now, can you watch over the fish and things? They're smoking by the furnace." Claudia nodded, and kissed Annabeth. The witch looked up at her, she felt if anything the signs of age had made Claudia more beautiful.

"Alright, love," Claudia said with a nod. "Have a good nap."

"I love you," Annabeth told her, before feeling all of the tension in her body finally give way, and after everything she had gone through, she was finally allowed to rest.

The moment Claudia and Nicodemus went inside both her and the chair disappeared.

In a ship that was dark, flourescent lights flickering, wires strewn about and sparking like bolts of lightning, Annabeth was still asleep, sitting on her throne of wood, with a golden staff in hand, looking like some sleeping queen in Avalon.

America's interstate highways were once the envy of the world, an essential system of travel that connected the entirety of the domestic United States. But during the outbreak as things went to hell, the highways had become death traps, accidents, jams, hordes of infected and roving bands of survivors and military convoys battled every day to get to their desired destination highways became a scene out of hell itself few dared to go near them save for only the most dire of emergencies. But those days were long gone all that remained now was a graveyard scattered remnants of ruined cars, corpses and the occasional moaning shambler wandering the streets after being separated from their herd.

The danger still remained but in an odd fashion the highways once against served as a road but now they were markers that served as a path for those who still dared wandered. On Interstate 30 outside of Dallas, Texas the road was calm and quiet interrupted by the sound of thundering hooves. A group of riders atop horses galloped swiftly crossing the land as they followed the road they moved close every rider scanning the horizon for any sign of danger. But today was a quiet day for some it would even give the false impression it was peaceful.

The riding band came to a halt as the leader, a man wearing an iconic white cowboy hat raised his hand. The riders came to a stop and another man rode forward to join the leader climbing off his horse kicking his aching legs from the long ride.

"This is as far as we go," The leader said. "Any further than this we haven't cleared yet its the wilderness. But follow the interstate it'll take you to Arkansas and get you back on the right path. If you need ammo or a weapon check the cars this is Texas they'll have em."

The disembarked man looked toward the road taking in the sight of the ruined abandoned vehicles and wrecks as he scanned the horizon for landmarks and noted a large forest in the distance.

"I understand... Thank you."

He presented the reigns of the horse to the Texas cowboy who sighed as he accepted it.

"You can keep the horse York, you've earned him."

York shook his head. "He'll do better with your people, I'm not that good a rider anyway."

"Can't say I'm happy to part like this partner," He said. "I know what you gotta do but all the same... Never mind, you're a good man, York, I'm sure you'll find who you're looking for. When you do head back our way you've got a home and friends in Texas."

York paused a moment before reaching out a hand.

"I appreciate that Ken."

Ken wasted no time taking York's hand and the two men shared a strong grip for a long moment.

"God bless and god speed my friend... Alright everyone let's get back to the camp!"

Ken's steed reared up and began marching away with the rest of the riders a few waved and said their goodbyes to York until their horses them carried them into the distance and silence followed in their wake. York watched until the moment he was alone once again. He took a breath before pulling out his gas mask and slipping it over his face along with his hoodie the virus wasn't airborne but he had been wearing it since he had received the mask during the battle to contain San Fransisco, it provided an extra layer of protection and in a way it provided a constant companion.

York took in a huff of filtered air getting used to the sensation and ensuring his mask wouldn't fog. He stretched and flexed a few times before reaching toward his back and pulling out a large fireman's axe and started walking into the unknown alone in the wilderness.

Some time had passed hours of walking and York had made considerable ground into the forest. Nature was starting to reclaim the road. Plants growing out of cracks between the concrete, fallen trees, leaves and growing plants were consuming vehicles on the side of the road and blanket the road. Still the dusty remains of white and yellow paint served as a guideline. York marched forward inspecting every vehicle with a glance as he passed. For the moment at least he was alone the only companions singing birds, chirping rodents and the occasional cry of a large animal.

The journey was almost peaceful until a rancid scent filled the air detectable even within his mask. The smell of death, York gripped his axe tightly as he crept forward around a turned over semi-truck when he found the source. A deer, a large buck with horns lay on its side belly torn apart. York looked around and sighed before approaching. He had to check the corpse, it could be an animal kill.

"Alright what killed you buddy."

York knelt down the corpse was old at least a day or so which was a good sign. He checked over the wounds for signs of damage when his eyes settled on the wounds whatever had killed the deer had clawed at it then chased it down before pulling what it wanted from the corpse and dragging it away as evident by a trail of dried blood caking the road.

"Damn it..."

Only one thing killed so elaborately and it was ahead. York walked forward when he saw what he feared, a tunnel partially collapsed but with just enough space between a crashed RV where something could quickly crawl out. They loved the darkness and often occupied areas like that during the day but there was always a look out, he needed to find it quickly before-

"raaa...."

York wheeled around as out of the bush a woman on all fours crawled out. Her eyes blood red looking around wildly tears streaming down her face as she cough and gagged. Her arms and legs were long unnaturally long extending from the tatters of whatever clothes she had been wearing when she died. York reacted instantly, he reached toward his hip producing a pistol and shot rapidly emptying the entire magazine. The infected woman only managed to make the beginnings of a cry before she collapsed on her own weight twitching from the bullet wounds.

York looked back at the entrance and saw shadows moving, a large man with similarly extended limbs jumped on top of the RV and let out a howl which was joined by a chorus of ravaged voice boxes and choking coughs. They started running and sprinting toward the disturbance.

"Fuck... FUCK!"

York ran into the bush an unfamiliar forest was better than an empty road with that many infected. He could fight but not that many, not all at once. He ran sprinting as fast as his legs could take him. Another howl rang out as they closed in chasing after him.

***

York laid still not daring to move he had been running, dodging and killing infected when he found a reprieve a crashed train with an overturned freight car with an open door. He had dove into it and closed the door, he could hear them outside howling, choking and spitting as they searched for him babbling and ranting in incoherent voices before finally there was a distant howl and he could hear running feet leaving.

He still laid still a moment breathing slowly, he wouldn't be able to return to the highway until he bypassed that tunnel. His journey would be delayed once again. Getting to Arkansas would take longer than he thought, it would be all that longer to return home.

York sighed. Sitting up he reached into his backpack producing a portable stove and turned on the fire as providing him with light. He leaned back against the wall of the car cradling an AR-15 to his chest ready to swing it forward and kill anything that tried to break in to his temporary shelter. He would wait for the infected pack to go dormant tomorrow, they would be hunting now searching for him. The heavy doors of the car could be breached but the banging would awake him, then he would fight.

He stared at the fire his sense sharp but his mind dulled there was no time to think just wait and hope. He started blinking slowly, he adjusted his grip on the rifle and his axe in case anything got close. If they came, he would be ready. He couldn't die here, he had to get home.

Home...

York's eyes closed and the exhausted wanderer drifted away into his dreams...

In his sleep he didn't noticed his portable oven disappearing and the shifting of the material making the wall that sheltered him. Any on looker would see an heavily concealed figure armed to the teeth laying against a wall with a stance like a hunter preparing to strike at a moment's notice already shifting and twitching in his rest as his alert body reacted to the presence of unfamiliar air.

Many hours passed before Annabeth finally woke up.

Her burning coal eyes flickered open and she noticed how dark it was, and how she could no longer heard the sounds of nature. only the buzzing of static and a deep rumbling noise. She was in a hallway, though it was hard to make out many details, her only light was a waning flourescent light, or lightning from exposed wiring in broken walls. She used her great staff to raise herself.

The staff was thin, and made of twisting wood that climbed up before creating a pair of outstretched wings. But this wood was not dead, but living, as vines and flowers grow from the apex of the staff, from which prismatic fire flickers like a flame on a candle, the flame flickers like a beautiful star. She whispered coaxingly to the small flame and it illuminated the hallway further. She was astounded to see a corpse slumped over, humanoid, though not human. The corpse seemed to only be dead for a day, the eyes were closed, the humanoid had a hole in his chest, and dried violet blood caked his corner.

Annabeth prayed to the slumped over figure, but continued on. If need be, she'd have to give the corpse a proper burial.

The question nagged to her, that was no martian, nor any of the alien races that had visited Earth, what was it? Had she been abducted by aliens? She looked over to her favorite rocking chair. Then why the hell would they leave her in a hallway still on her rocking chair. Though everything around her stunk of plans gone awry. The next figure confused her even more, human, pale skin, blonde hair, in a strange uniform, slumped, his black eyes wide. Annabeth checked the pulse: Nothing. She closed his eyes and continued on.

This technology was advanced, more advanced than even something like the Albatross or the interstellar ships that were being built before Abzu, or the Mars Ship. At last she came across something that...didn't quite fit in.

It was a man, judging by his slumped form, taller than Annabeth, with a gas mask on that obscured his face, and a thick hoodie hid his hair, baggy fatigues that's original color might've been green but they were so worn with travel and dirt that they were now a grey. His brown combat boots blended in with the mud and dirt that stained them.

His chest slowly rose and fell, and he twitched in his sleep. On his lap and all around him were many different firearms, knives, and other weapons. He was armed for a war with no chance of survival.

Annabeth felt a pang of sympathy, watching the man sleep, the tenseness about his movement showed that even his dreams were troubled, and that even the slightest noise would wake him to alertness, ready to fight. This was someone who might never know peace.

Annabeth made purposeful footfalls as the one armed woman approached, the butt of her staff tapping the ground carefully. She held the staff with her thumb and raised her other fingers in a gesture of surrender.

"Are you hurt?" Annabeth asked.

As Annabeth had expected York immediately awoke at the noise. His eyes snapped opened and his rifle rolled forward but discipline and shocked stopped him from making the mistake of immediately attacking. Something was off this wasn't where he had fallen asleep that much was obvious from the lack of his stove and the strange hallway. He was guarding breathing hard shaken but a guard discipline made him realize the person in front of him was speaking and holding a staff two things that were impossible for infected beyond the fact she wasn't trying to eat him alive.

He paused eyes studying his surroundings he noticed she had one arm but was otherwise dressed in normal rugged clothing not abnormal for any survivor. Tall, looked fairly young but something was off about her. The flaming staff and her dark eyes were unlike anything he had seen before. She wasn't infected...But was she even human? York questioned whether he was dreaming but if this was a dream it was his strangest one yet. He lowered his rifle but kept a steady grip on both of his weapons he stood up slowly.

"I'm...okay..." He said voice muffled by his mask but he spoke loud enough to be heard. "Who...is...is this Arkansas?"

Annabeth's eyes glowed like a fire, hot coals revealed piercing pupils that gave her the eyes of a hawk. She was as beautiful as she was deadly, like a colorful viper, or a jaguar. Those eyes revealed...curiosity and confusion. She stilled herself as the firearm was pointed at her, such a wound would be fatal now, especially since she was still exhausted from the battle. She then relaxed again when he withdrew the AR-15

"I hope not," she said, glancing around. "I fell asleep on my rocking chair in South Dakota before I woke up here. I came across some bodies earlier, a few humans and humanoids. Probably some form of alien we haven't met yet. I don't know where this is either, but it's more advanced than even the interstellar ships the US were building." She had hoped this man would ahve some insight, but he was just as out of place as she was. She glanced down the bend in the hallway where there were more corpses, these ones had faced a far more gruesome death. She closed her eyes, shaking her head. "Whatever had happened here, I think it might have happened before we were brought here...otherwise, we would be dead too."

She let go of her staff, but instead of falling, it stood straight up, stiff, not at all wobbling, despite being balanced on the tiniest of a point. She extended her hand to pull the man up.

"I'm Annie," she said.

York was struggling to keep up with his conversation partner. Aliens and Interstellar spaceships were the talk of science fiction and conspiracy theorists, the only ships he could remember being in construction were the private rockets of billionaires before they all disappeared into their bunkers or died. But York was so out of his element he remained quiet, despite how insane the situation was a quick lesson learned in survival was never freezing or allowing yourself to get overwhelmed.

"I'm York..." He said slightly stammered unsure what to say.

That is until he saw the dead bodies around them. Instinctively he jumped again dead bodies that weren't destroyed or wounded were ripe for infection it was standard practice to burn or destroy the head of any body no matter who the deceased was. Still Annie didn't seem to be concerned about the bodies was the infection not on this...ship? Whatever they were on. He accepted her hand and let her help him stand as steadied himself grabbing his gear.

"Did...Did you check these bodies? For infection? If they get up we're cut off."

Annabeth paused, puzzled.

"Infection? I didn't know there was an outbreak of anything, then again, people were probably focused on the demon invasion..." Annabeth trailed off. Then she processed his last words: If they get up, we're cut off. The genuine fear in York's voice made the witch frown. Something was upsetting him, he was afraid of the bodies a way men of his demeanor normally weren't. She grabbed her staff from the standing position it had been left in and started chanting words. Something started to fade into visibility for York, he noticed that there was a strange inferno that radiated around Annabeth, the flame tongues licked towards him, but he only felt a gentle warmness as these tongues would form into the feathers or the branches of trees. Atop her head was a horned crown of flame, the wings of fire, branches and feather extended towards the bodies. The strange vision faded from view, but Annabeth's eyes glowed like a furnace, as she stepped towards the bodies, cautiously. She touched each one, holding her staff with her thumb and pressing her middle and index finger against each one. She got back up.

"I can't sense any infection about these bodies, nothing necrotic in nature..." Annabeth turned to York. She was starting to feel as though York was out of place within her own home as well. She didn't like the prospect of mutilating the bodies the way that York described, but if they really were a safety issue... "How do you check?"

York was attempting to focus on the bodies but it was hard to take his eyes off the fact that Annie was glowing. He'd seen plenty of things that didn't seem real to him, the dead had started walking after all and the infected twist their bodies into mind numbing parodies of the human form. He'd seen his fair share of cultist, pagans and shamans who each coped with the apocalypse in their own way embracing beliefs that were not the norm. But never what he was seeing now, glowing eyes, dancing flame that seemed to move at her command. Yet...He was not afraid, despite everything it was clear to him that Annie was human and she was not trying to hurt him.

He had seen monsters with human faces. Not all of them infected, Annie wasn't one of them. At least for now, his caution relaxed a moment before he recalled the bodies, he was beginning to have doubts but he needed to be sure of something at least.

"Eyes..." He said. "Check their eyes. They'll be blood red from burst veins, dilated pupils with black stains over the irises and tears... Universal signs of infection."

There were other signs but the eyes were the quickest way to tell. The instructions had been drilled into his mind repeatedly back during the battle to retake San Fransisco, back when they still had rules...When there was still a fight at all.

Annabeth nodded to York before opening the eye of a humanoid with green skin and tusks. None of the signs that York pointed out. She shook her head before going to check the next and the next.

"None of the ones in this hallway are infected," Annabeth said, she sighed. "Poor souls. There's a lot more throughout this place. I think there was a firefight of some kind. Though some of the corpses were absolutely dismembered or ripped apart. No sign of whatever did this to them." She paused at another body, this one a nine foot tall humanoid, crimson red skin, tusks and horns. Annabeth checked his eyes, nothing, he had a massive gun in his hands that looked like it belonged on some scifi set, it glowed with a hum and was about as long as Annie was tall. He also had a sets three of massive Japanese swords. She checked how he had died. "This one just...doesn't have an injuries whatsoever. He just...dropped down dead." She backed away from the goliath humanoid. "As much as I hate the prospect of leaving the bodies here...we should find out what's going on before we even think of finding a way to give them a proper burial."

York relaxed somewhat at the confirmation but remained guarded. He slowly approached the bodies as Annie investigated them and the realization off what he was truly looking at was settling in. It was like a scene out of an old movie a menagerie of aliens and beings from the imagination all with weapons some recognizable and others entirely unfamiliar. He noticed the large swords on the back of the fallen giant, the survivor within him made a mental note to keep track of every piece of equipment that was littered around them salvage was valuable, clothing, loose items especially essentials like weapons, ammunition and food was the new gold among survivors. He wasn't entirely numb to the plight of the fallen but it had become practically second nature to give bodies little regard and keep moving, endless funerals were impossible.

He shook his head regaining focus there was nothing more to gain staring blankly. He needed answers and by the looks of it so too did Annie.

"If we're moving I'll take the lead," He said. "We should keep our guard up, it might be clean but something did all this. Stick close."

He returned his axe to the strap on his back and cradled his rifle. It wasn't much compared to the strange looking weapons on the ground but it was better than nothing.

Arseny’s head throbbed in time with the club's pulsing lights. The dance floor was a pulsating mass of limbs and fluids churning and thrashing to the beat of a song that was more bass than anything else. This was supposed to be a new years party… or maybe it was labor day, was it sports related? He could barely remember where this club was or whether or not he’d had his keys when he got here.

He tripped over his own feet and barely managed to catch himself on the edge of the bar counter. Getting his phone out of his pocket was more of a struggle then it had any right to be but befor an overly embarrassing amount of time passed he was squinting at his phone screen. Evidently it was a sunday night in mid April and there was no earthly reason for the club to be this busy.

But more importantly Sunday meant work tomorrow, there was a thing at the research library he was supposed to be on time. 20 minutes, a closed bar tab, and an extremely chatty Ryde driver later he was back at his apartment building. A towering highrise with over 300 tenets, he’d been living in this building for three years now and he’d never spoken to a single one of his neighbors.

His headache had only gotten worse since he left the club and he was starting to feel dizzy. He braced himself against the elevator wall as it rode up to his floor. His vision was swimming at this point and he was panting by the time the elevator door opened. He stumbled blindly through the hallway and fumbled at his door before he got it open. At which point he promptly threw up in the hallway.

That was tomorrow Arseny’s problem, or was it later today Arseny at this point. Either way right now’s Arseny was going to bed. As soon as his body hit the mattress he was unconscious, he hadn’t even managed to kick his boots off. Not 10 minutes later his apartment was again left empty.

Arseny came to gasping against a metal floor. This feeling was blessedly familiar, fatal alcohol poisoning was a hell of a drug. But it was over and done with now and surprise surprise he was no worse for the wear.

Of course once he had a moment Arseny would realize that the surface he was catching his breath against was the floor of a not quite empty hallway.

York had taken the lead as Annabeth and himself decided to investigate the ship further. Bodies still littered the hallway which despite reassurances he still gave each one a lingering look using a flashlight mounted on his rifle too illuminate things beyond the firelight of Annie's torch. Old habits died hard especially when they were critical to survival, he had become used to see the strange uniforms they wore when something caught his eyes in the near distant a slumped over figure ahead that was wearing distinctively different clothes. Fancy black leather clothing, a kind he hadn't seen in years. Despite what movies would have one believe most survivors opted for more rugged fabrics no matter how cool it made them look. York became guarded when he noticed sudden movement, he nearly aimed again but he had already pointed a gun at a living person today, he didn't feel inclined to do it twice.

He sighed attempting to relax before he spoke out loudly and clearly through his muffling mask.

"Hey buddy," He said. "You alive? Say something if you can understand me."

York's caution caused Annabeth's muscles to tense up, every time he moved his flashlight to a corpse, she would gather her will around her, ready to loose a single word to incinerate the corpse if he told her she needed to. It was a signal that a fellow survivors understood, keep alert to danger.

Then the flashlight on York's AR-15 illuminated a corpse that seemed a bit more out of place. Most of these people had uniforms on of some kind, blue, formfitting, Annabeth during a few inspections of the corpses had touched it and it felt almost like kevlar. There were members of the crew that didn't wear these, and for a moment Annabeth thought this corpse must be another one of those. The punk leathers made her miss her own leather jacket and her motorcycle, the position looked less like a last death throes, and more like he had passed out drunk. Annabeth knew that well, remembering the years and years of alcoholism that were behind her, waking up after a night of drinking in a stranger's home, or her own if she was capable of getting there.

The corpse then gasped for breath and Annabeth's body gave a quick twitching jolt, before she regained her footing. She gave York a glance, then back to the corpse that had come back from the dead. Annabeth was certain the man had just woken up with a hangover, but she could sense magics around this man, terrible and strong ones too, bound with his very soul.

She squatted down, watching the person groan and breath heavily, ready to help him up the moment she heard confirmation that whatever magics afflicted him were not this infection York feared so much.

Coming back to life in front of people was bad form. He entertained the thought of paramedics before everything else about this situation clicked into place. This was not his apartment building, it wasn't even a hospital or a morgue. On reflex his hand went to his necklace, still in place the only thing he had that mattered.

"Look I'm sorry but, what's going on? Where is this?"

"Sadly, friend, we're in the same boat you are," Annabeth said, she let go of her staff, which stayed in place instead of clattering to the ground, and using her only hand to lift the man in leathers up an astonishing ease. "We just woke up here, wherever this is, the crew seems to be dead, and this place is heavily damaged. If we can find something like a control bridge, we might be able to figure out where the hell we are and how to get out."

The Cambion moved around behind the newcomer, there was a door, the other doors had led to cabins where some of the crew had made last stands, but this door was different. She pressed the button, and the doors hissed open, there was an alien, curled in a ball, blood dripping out of it's nose, however it had died, she hoped it had been painless. It was a strange circular chamber, with a map of where they were the words: ODYSSEUS in bold letters were ontop of it. Sections of what...she realized now was a ship were lip up, while others were blacked out.

"Please choose a destination..." An automated voice said on an intercom.

None of this seemed right, regular people didn't just wake up on spaceships. Shuttle tickets were expensive and there was the waiting period and you couldn't even go anywhere without security clearance. It was unbelievable, completely unbelievable and yet there was no denying it.

Illegal space travel aside Arseny knew for a fact that no one had ever encountered non microbial alien life, so he was at a loss as to what these corpses littering the hallway were supposed to be. His thoughts were spiraling a mile a minute he barely registered the voice over the intercom.

He wandered blankly into the room still absorbed in his thoughts when he saw something out of the corner of his eye. There was a lone screen lit up on a terminal that was otherwise completely inert. The screen was opened to a page labeled 'Crew Registry' the page had two lists, a collapsed one titled 'Inactive' and an open one called 'active'.

"Annabeth Demeter

York Hope"

They were probably the two people who'd been present when he'd first woken up here, he'd only been halfway listening. He finally reached the thing that had caught his attention in the first place, three names down on the active list of the crew registry printed in plain text.

"Arseny Diomuyr Jurgen Clay Gauthier"

It was his name, his real name. The one that no one alive would know, the one he hasn't heard for thousands of years. Why was his name on this list, it wasn't possible for his name to be on this list people didn't even believe Cilia was a real place anymore. The 'cursed prince of Cilia' is a scary story for children and he doesn't have a name. He reached towards the screen transfixed when something else caught his eye. Below his name on the list there was another entry.

"[Crewmate Identity Error]"

Was there supposed to be a forth person here? If that was the case why was it that this registry which had reached beyond living memory for his name run into an error on theirs?