A Throne Built On Lies

The Cage of a God.

Caelion was long seated in the throne hall of the underworld. The voices had now died away. The shadows did not call him by his name.But the silence didn’t feel safe.Waiting was like waiting.

Caelion turned his head slowly out of the throne.

“I must get out of this place, “he thought to himself.

He didn’t know who he was talking to.Maybe himself.Maybe the place.

He started walking. The hall responded instantly. There was movement in the shadows on the floor, which did not stop him, but followed him. Caelion turned a blind eye and continued.

“I am not staying here, “he said more decisively.

He got to the verge of the hall where the darkness was as thick as a wall. No door was in sight. But he was able to feel it--an exit outside it.

He raised his hand.

“No more deceptions, “he said to himself. “Open.”

The instant his force was given impulse, the whole space answered.The shadows surged. Not attacking. Restraining. They went round his arm as he moved and pulled him back.

Caelion stumbled. “Let go.”

The shadows made no reply. He pulled harder. Even the air changed. The whole underworld appeared to be pushing him down. Some burning sensation burst out in his arm.

Caelion flinched violently. “What—”

The spots on his skin glowed. Dark lines ran swiftly beneath his skin like cracks filled with molten shadow. He fell at once upon one knee.

“Stop, “he said sharply, attempting to draw his arm out of it.

The pain increased. It wasn’t physical injury. It was rejection. The kingdom itself was responding to his effort.

Caelion gritted his teeth. “I said stop.”

The shadows narrowed a little.

Then released him. He leaned forward, and caught himself. Now he had an uneasy breath.

“Where the hell am I, “he asked himself.

A voice answered.

Not this time out of the shadows.

From behind him.

“You are not permitted to leave.”

Caelion turned sharply.

Three men were standing on the fringe of the hall. Not fully solid. Fashioned out of wandering darkness and dim divine residues. Underworld spirits.

Caelion slowly stood. “Explain.”

One of them came forward. Its voice was overlapping, as though the speech of several beings. “This domain is bound to you.”

Caelion frowned. “Bound to me?”

Another spirit spoke. “You are the ruling will.”

Caelion shook his head instantly. “I don’t rule anything.”

The ghost leaned a little. “Incorrect.”

“Whose domain is this?”Caelion asked.

“The God of deceit and trickery.” The ghost replied.

Caelion averted his gaze a little. “So where is he?”

Silence.

Then…

“You are him.”

Caelion’s jaw tightened. “I have already told you..”

The second ghost came in. “You fill his ship, his power, his kingdom.”

Caelion shook his head, more sharply this time. “No. I did not take over anybody.”

The ghosts were not responsive. They merely gave facts.

The first spirit answered, “You died and woke up in his body, so you are him.”

Caelion gazed at them. “That’s not how death works.”

And at last the third spirit talked, in a more subdued tone than the others. “In the underworld it does.”

That silence struck more than was anticipated. Caelion glanced down his hands. The very hands that were too strong. Too unfamiliar. He tensed them a little.

“Then what did they do to him? “he said.

No immediate answer. The shadows in the room moved a little, as though they were afraid. Then the first spirit talked again.

“He was removed.”

Caelion frowned. “Removed by who?”

The ghosts replied not to that. Caelion stepped forward. “Answer me.”

The air constricted once more.

A warning. He stopped. The pains in his arm died away gradually, yet the admonition was unmistakable. This place would not allow force. Caelion exhaled slowly.

“Fine,” he said. “I understand the rules now.”

He turned his eyes round the hall.

This is my place, he said, trying out the words.

The shadows reacted instantly. They walked together.

Not aggressively. Respectfully. Acknowledging. Caelion responded. And there was a change in the expression of his face. Not understanding. However, dawning on realization.

So I did not merely survive, he said to himself.

The ghosts never told him right.

Caelion said, voice lowering. “I didn’t come back.”

He gazed at the throne. Then on the shadows. then at a dark reflection of himself. His reflection looked back at him.Not Caelion Vireth.Something else.

He uttered it gradually, as though he was putting the thought into a mold.

“I replaced someone.”

The hall remained quiet.

But the shadows did not deny it. That answered. Caelion’s breathing slowed. He wasn’t angry yet. Not fully. But something in him had changed. The comprehension was beginning to sink in.Then.A voice behind him.Close. Then…A whisper came from behind him.Soft.Close.Clear.

“The one you replaced was also killed the second you were killed.”