Discover Top Posts Tagged with #zagrius

Spoken, Not Said

Rating: T (for now)

Pairing: Theseus/Asterius/Zagreus

Warnings: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Banter, Bickering, Theseus being Theseus, Slight spoilers

CH: 2/?

WC: 5K~

Read on AO3

The multitude of reasons for why this is perhaps the foolhardiest thing Theseus has ever done in both his life and afterlife are made obvious the moment he exits his chambers to “face” his opponent in Elysium Stadium.

During their last battle, the daemon would find moments to speak with him, detailing a plan to aid in their escape from Elysium and find the Bull, Asterius. It is a basic order of events; that of which Theseus easily could have concocted in his sleep, no less! Were that he a horrible trickster, such as Zagreus, that is.

Zagreus stands on the opposite end of the stadium, his daemonic sword at his side once more. Theseus has felt its blows too many times to count, and even now he raises his chin, having no intention of making his victory an easy one.

“So you have returned again!” he calls boisterously. The crowds rise, cheering at the sound of his voice. Theseus grins wide with a practiced ease. “You really must enjoy being bested by me to have come so far so quickly. Well, by the power of the gods, we’ll see to it you remain yet in death!”

“Not even going to give me a chance to say hi?” Zagreus says, sounding bored. Truly, even though it may be within their shaky, agreed-upon truce, he is still but an uncouth, blatantly disrespectful creature. “Let’s get this over with. I’ve got to get to the surface by noon to share lunch with my mother, and I’ve no idea what time it is.”

Often his speech is constantly riddled with peculiar sentiments and senseless asides. Asterius had once remarked at how he could be humorous even not the worst of times. Ha! Theseus sees no humor in him.

“On your guard!” Theseus roars, wasting no more time.

For all his preparedness, and despite knowing the truth lurking behind their shared façade, Theseus isn’t able to maintain much of a façade in the face of all of Elysium watching him. He fights the daemon dashing about the hallowed grounds with everything he has, as he always does and always will, because he knows no other way. To lose is to fail, and to fail on purpose?

Even so, he is not the only one giving it his all. Zagreus wields his enormous sword as though it weighs nothing; he slams it against Theseus’ shield hard enough to rattle his core, and he is incredibly light on his feet. In a single instance, he is able to step away from him and appear behind, delivering onto him blow after blow until the blood pooling in Theseus’ mouth overflows.

Still, he cannot bring himself to yield. Asterius may be his most important and dearest friend in this undying life, but he is King; he is King Theseus of Elysium—

Suddenly, his internal monologue comes to a thundering halt. Theseus looks down in shock, finding a sword thrust straight through his chest, mere minutes after they began. His grip loosens, going slack, and his spear slips from his fingers.

When he wakes up, he is in his chambers again.

The fury he had felt just moments ago feels distant and faded. It will be minutes before it returns and he feels himself, as is to be expected. The river Lethe washes away their aches and pains, but so does it dull their senses—their very memories if they allow it.

Theseus takes a few moments to stare at the architecture above his bed, admiring the intricate greenery surrounding figures in combat, as he so often does after losing a battle.

Movement out of the corner of his eye catches his attention. Since he was here last, a few butterflies have sneaked into his chambers and flutter by his bedside, surrounding the half–eaten apple resting on the end table.

He sits up and slides to the edge of bed. There are several apples in a basket nearby, untouched thus far. He had gathered them himself to give to Asterius on their next win. Asterius is fond of the taste of a fresh apple, nearly as much as nectar when they happen upon it.

Something in his chest constricts, binding him to the spot until he can make himself stand and head for the door.

The daemon is standing outside his door when he steps outside. Theseus is immediately struck by the oddness of the situation.

By the gods, he thinks, taking a moment to drink in the sight of him before he notices his presence. Are we really to do this?

“Oh good, you’re awake,” Zagreus greets him cheerfully upon noticing. His sword is free of blood and ichor, as though it were never there in the first place. “I made it look like I was going on ahead, then I came back around and bothered a few shades until I found your chambers. Is there a reason your doors are so big? Is it a test of strength to see if you deserve to lie down and sleep or something?”

“You insult the great architects of Elysium!” Theseus yells, nearly as loud as when they are in the stadium. Zagreus winces, raising and lowering his hands in a gesture meant to imply he be quiet. Fool! As if he can contain him, as if he has any right to even stand within five feet of him, with his muscled arms and nimble fingers.

“Are you going to do that the whole time?” Zagreus bites, keeping his voice low. “And I’ll have you know I’m very familiar with those who’ve worked on this place. They’re not all they’re cracked up to be, trust me. And we should probably get out of here before one of your service shades or whatever comes to check on you.”

Theseus makes a sound of discontent. To hold a conversation like this with someone who offers little to no respect to those greater than him should not be well within these halls. His fist closes around air, aching for his spear.

I gave you respect, and you threw it in my face. How’s that for respect, King?

Theseus grits his teeth and turns to march back into his chambers for his spear and shield. Moving beyond the fields into the unknown realms is unthinkable, but having Asterius taken from him even more so.

“Don’t enter my chambers,” he tells Zagreus before he steps away, who has not moved an inch. Once his position is assured, he finds his weapons and returns, eyeing his unwelcome companion with obvious distaste.

Was he always slightly taller than Theseus? Had his height always escaped him, or is this another feeble attempt to gain one up on Theseus?

“You are pathetically short, for a god,” he says upon approach, without thinking. He adds immediately after, “So are your false claims thus far, though I’ve a mind not to believe a single word that comes from your lying lips!”

Zagreus looks at him then, and Theseus feels inexplicably exposed.

“Listen, Theseus. If we’re going to do this, you’re going to have to try your best not to insult me every chance you get. I don’t like bullies and I’m not going to put up with it like Asterius will. Darkness knows why he does. He deserve so much better.”

Theseus’ grip tightens around his spear.

How is it that the daemon is able deflect everything Theseus says back at him, and much more painfully so? He is nothing; no, worse than nothing, and yet he would find ways to gnaw at Theseus’ insecurities.

Unbeknownst to his internal struggle, Zagreus carries on.

“We’re headed to Asphodel first. Though Tartarus is our resident torture realm, it‘s a little too close to the House. Asphodel is filled with magma and lava. He‘s got all that fur, so.” Zagreus shrugs. “If any place was going to cause Asterius the most suffering, it would be Asphodel.”

He continues to speak, but Theseus is barely listening, too consumed by his own thoughts. He opens his mouth to deliver a tirade on who exactly is putting up with whom, when the sounds of shades walking the path near his chambers echo around them. They are not far off; seconds within seeing the pair, and Theseus flounders for a moment, panic settling in.

If he is seen with Zagreus, it will truly spell the end.

“Come on!” Zagreus hisses at him. He gestures in the direction opposite to the approaching shades and then takes off without waiting to see if Theseus has followed. Theseus is then forced to really consider their foolhardy quest.

Is it worth risking his position? Is this truly worth risking everything he has worked so hard for his entire natural born life?

His mind unintentionally draws up the memory of Asterius shortly after he was promoted to the realm of Elysium. He had knelt on the ground in front of Theseus, gazing up at him with something akin to wonder. Even kneeling, he was frightfully tall.

“What have I done to deserve this chance, King Theseus?” he had asked.

Sometimes still Asterius would ask him that question, or allude to it, and Theseus’ heart would be plundered.

How could he not see?

Theseus steels himself with a breath and moves to follow the direction that Zagreus went.

“Gods, blood and darkness, gods, what am I doing? Why am I—?”

Zagreus lifts his head from where he’s worrying it between his palms when Theseus rounds the corner to the secluded spot. They are surrounded by lush greenery, obscuring other shades from peering in easily.

“Oh, good, you’re here,” Zagreus says, sounding like he means the opposite. “Come on let’s just—follow me. We need to move quickly.”

For once, they are in agreement.

Zagreus leads him through tunnels and passageways long forgotten by most of the shades that wander the fields. Elysium is still recovering from his most recent thrashing, so the way is quiet and undisturbed. By the time they reach the passage, that is when reality begins to crash over him again.

Zagreus looks back at him. He looks nervous–frightened, even—casting him glances as if Theseus will turn around and pummel him with his spear. He would readily admit he is tempted, but his palms have become unreasonably sweaty despite the cool temperature of the realm.

“It’s just through here. Your pesky warriors won’t have come back just yet, so this is our best chance. I’m hoping the Hydra hasn’t reformed yet either.”

“Lernaean Hydra?” Theseus gasps. He has always been aware that it guards the passage to Elysium, but to know they are knowingly trespassing through its lair is another thing entirely!

“Know this, daemon—“

“Zagreus.”

“—If you are attempting to lure me into a trap, you will not succeed! Should you slay me, I will only return to my chambers, as healthy as I ever was! Nay, better than ever!”

“I know,” Zagreus drawls. “I’m risking a lot here, too, you know. If my father finds out I’m leading the King of Elysium on a rescue mission—“ he breaks off, then barks a laugh. “I’m not sure he’d believe it, if I’m being honest. I can’t quite believe it.”

“Your mind does seem remarkably unsound.”

The looks Zagreus shoots him is withering. He turns around, hefts his sword over his shoulder, and without another word stalks away towards the passage, disappearing past its glowing splendor.

Theseus hesitates, sweat pooling in every orifice. This is—this is blasphemy. The daemon Zagreus will lead him to ruin should he follow.

Then he thinks of Asterius, suffering from a torment unknown, and he lifts his chin, moving his feet until he passes through himself.

“Make no mistake, fiend!” Theseus calls the moment he catches sight of Zagreus. He’s standing at the center of a room with large pillars scattered about, staring at the lava as if he expects it will come alive. “I journey on this quest for Asterius and Asterius alone! Do not let my presence inflate your overimaginative ego.”

“Oh, blood and darkness, you don’t have sandals!” Zagreus cries when he’s close, ignoring his prior words completely.

“Sandals?”

“I didn’t even think about sandals.” He makes a motion as if to rip the hair from his head. “Look around us, King. I hope the shades of Elysium are fireproof. Or resistant.”

Theseus lifts his head and gazes at their surroundings. They are on an island—one of many —surrounded by lava and more islands. The molten liquid pools and drips over every orifice, and oh, the heat.

He no longer lives, nor breathes, but by whatever mechanism allows his body to continue with its existence has endowed him with the ability to sweat. The heat sinks into his skin quickly, and after a few minutes its oppressiveness threatens to steal his breath away.

“You look well,” he tells Zagreus. “It would suit your daemonic nature to find solace in this terrible heat, I am sure!”

Zagreus leans on his sword and regards Theseus. “I am Prince of the Underworld, you realize. If I can’t stand a little heat, I’d make a poor Prince. Besides, it’s not like I’m fireproof. Just fire resistant.”

He lifts one of his flaming feet into view and Theseus does not admire its structure, nor how the flames create a gradient much like a flower in full bloom.

He scoffs, casting his gaze about until it lands on a structure far off their current position. A coliseum, it looks like.

“Tell me, what lives on in that structure,” he demands, pointing.

Zagreus follows his finger and then nods. “That’s the coliseum. I’ve only been there once or twice; mostly I stick to the lava pools. It’s much faster. That’s the first place I think we should go. Giant pool of lava, no escape, etcetera. If Asterius is anywhere in Asphodel, he’ll be there.”

The coliseum is foreboding in size even without the lava cascading around it. Theseus walks along the island rock to find a better angle for viewing, and he hears Zagreus sigh.

“At least you’re not burning up on these rocks. Well” he pauses, and when Theseus looks at him, his eyes are glancing up and down his figure, taking in his sweaty appearance “no more than usual.”

His cheeks do not burn. “Your appreciation of me is noted. I, too, sometimes cannot help but marvel the way sweat gleams on these fine muscles.”

“Oh, for the love of Aphrodite—" Zagreus shakes his head and starts walking. Theseus has no choice but to follow.

That is not to say he is willing to stray behind like a lamb following its mother; he strides to Zagreus’ side, then even further, following whilst leading, as any King would do.

For most of the walk, there is silence. The Hydra has yet to reform, as have several of the souls Zagreus evidently dispatched prior to his trip through Elysium. Zagreus does not attempt to make conversation, and due to the heat and how carefully he must walk to avoid the hotter patches of magma infused rock, Theseus is quiet as well.

Eventually they reach a larger island that does contain a number of shades. Witches, Zagreus calls them. They wield dark magic that they send flying in their direction, but with Zagreus on the left and Theseus on the right, they are dealt with quickly.

“We’ll have to avoid the shades if we can,” Zagreus says. “We don’t want to risk any of them getting back to my father about all this.”

Theseus says nothing in reply, for once. His thoughts cling to the image of the wretched witches’ still dissipating images. Watching his spear fly through the gut of one of the witches made an odd unease settle over his spine. These shades may be wretches sent to live in this unpleasant place, but they are shades all the same. He is not their King, but he feels something tug at him to destroy them so readily.

For Asterius, he reminds himself firmly. For Asterius, I will stop at nothing.

After they have fully dissolved into nothing, an odd glowing object appears before Zagreus’ feet. His face lights up, and then he presses his palm to the surface of it, revealing the symbol of...of Ares.

“What is that?” Theseus demands, walking up to peer at it more closely. “What is the Boon of a god doing here? Were these witches able to somehow gain their favor?”

Instead of answering, Zagreus faces the Boon and says, “in the name of Hades! Olympus! I accept this message.”

The Boon glows brighter, and shortly after the voice of Ares booms in the cavernous space around them.

“Greetings, my death-inflicting kin. I see your fighting spirit hasn’t left you yet.”

Theseus watches in absolute bafflement as Zagreus is gifted a Boon of choice. He deliberates, whilst Theseus loses his mind.

“He has gifted you a Boon!” he belts, at length. “Ares, the god of war, gifting you—you—”

He flounders, a rare occurrence on its own, and Zagreus looks at him as though he is the one acting strange.

“They all have at some point or another. They want to help me reach the surface,” Zagreus tells him, as if it makes sense. “Though they don’t know I can’t survive up there for long.”

It makes no sense. The gods were generous enough to grant Theseus their favor, but only once he had proved himself a valiant and honorable warrior. He is the king of Elysium; he is deserving. This fiend; this wretch; this monster knows nothing. His supple flesh and his soft gaze know nothing.

I’m a god, in case you forgot.

“You are no god,” he says lowly. “In case you have forgotten, the reason Asterius is currently being tormented is due to your neglect!”

“Who have I been neglecting?” Zagreus replies, blinking in response to his sudden aggression.

“Your duty! Your honor! You act like no god I have ever known, traversing around the realms without a care for those you hurt in the process. Asterius—my dearest friend, my brother in arms—he is far more worthy than you!”

“Don’t act like you know me,” Zagreus says, his tone shifting from agreeable to threatening. “I feel bad about Asterius, but that’s my father’s doing. He doesn’t have to stand in my way, but he does. He doesn’t have to send you all after me, but he does.” Zagreus points a finger at him. “And anyway, you don’t know anything about my father, or me, or any of the other gods. Have you ever wondered why I’m trying to escape? Has it ever crossed your mind?”

“Ignorance swine, I think of you not! You are but to smear the filth trapped in recesses of my mind. Would that I could, I'd kill you where you stand!”

“Blood and darkness, I have never met someone so full of themselves in my life, and I lived surrounded by the worst shades mortals have to offer.” Zagreus’ fist curl at his side, and Theseus is suddenly aware of the slight glow of red coursing along his skin. His single wretched eye seems to glow even brighter under the dim haze of Asphodel. “I can’t believe that Asterius puts up with you! Even at your best, you’re just a self-righteous ass.”

“You dare bring Asterius into this! Have I not said you shan’t invoke his name?”

“I am helping you find him!” Zagreus snaps. “His name is going to come up!”

“Then try to restrain yourself! After all, he is missing because of you!”

“I am not my father!” Zagreus thunders. Theseus’ grip on his spear loosens as the world shifts, trembling underneath. Magma bubbles from open pockets in the ground. Zagreus is glowing with a dim, reddish light, and Theseus can feel Ares presence in the room, as though he is there.

Fear worms its way into Theseus’ chest. In that moment, gazing at Zagreus endowed with the gods’ favor, he is…

He is beautiful.

Then, mere moments after the display, Zagreus’ fierce expression softens into concern. He backs away from Theseus, concern transforming into guilt.

“I—I’m sorry. The magma, the...I didn’t…” Zagreus scratches the back of his neck, taking an aborted step towards Theseus. He raises his hand, then lowers it. “Ares’ Boon always keeps me a little more on edge. I didn’t mean to—I wasn’t trying to hurt you. You didn’t even say that I…” He shakes his head, sending petals from his laurels floating into the air. “Darkness, you really do know how to get to me. I didn’t mean to do that.”

Theseus is still brandishing his shield in front of him—an instinctive and defensive action—and behind it his arms are trembling.

He really is like no other god.

“So you claim,” Theseus says. The sensation in his chest has formed into a hard knot; he will not name it guilt. “In this instance, I forgive you.”

The silence thereon after is distinctly uncomfortable. At length Zagreus sighs and motions for Theseus to follow him up the path towards the magma-drenched coliseum.

“Let’s just go. The sooner we find Asterius, the better.”

“Fine by me!”

Theseus slams his spear into the ground and then they’re off.

On the way, more shades rise to fight them. And on occasion, a Boon will be made available for Zagreus to take. There is always a message attached, and Theseus listens as each and every god and goddess expresses gratitude or interest in Zagreus’ well-being.

It’s nothing like he expected. In the face of the mounting evidence contrary to what he’s always believed, Theseus doesn’t know what to think.

Zagreus will sometimes look at him while he absorbs the Boon’s power, the expression on his face unreadable. Nothing about him changes physically, but Theseus can sense the difference now that he is so close. He feels like a fool for not noticing it before; for thinking that had somehow cheated his way into being granted their Boons.

Why? he wants to ask. Why do the gods help you?

Because they find me more worthy than you. Is that what you’re afraid to hear? that traitorous voice answers.

He angrily wipes sweat from his brow and charges ahead, past Zagreus and up the ramp leading to the coliseum.

Once they enter the coliseum grounds, Theseus understands why Zagreus claimed he could not do it on his own. Since embarking on their journey, he had his doubts—so far, they had met little resistance—but in seeing the enemies awaiting them, he is more convinced.

“That is…a lot of witches,” Zagreus says, peering around one of the pillars. From their position, they can’t see much of the magma pool, and Theseus is aching to get a better view and spot Asterius there. “Hypnos mentioned the witches were gathering their covens somewhere, but I didn’t realize it would be here.”

“Hmph.” Theseus squeezes past him and peers around the same doorway. “I can see now why you were so desperate for my aid.”

Zagreus shoot him a look. “Desperate is not the way I would put it.”

“Stand aside, daemon. I’ll vanquish these foes posthaste!”

“Would you please stop calling me that?“ Zagreus grumbles. He lifts his sword and starts inching towards the doorway, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He’s never still for long, Theseus has noticed. Always moving, always eager to face the next enemy. Quite the opposite of Asterius, who stays calm and collected even in the face of certain death. “I’ve dealt with these before. Stay far away, and keep your shield up!”

His advice soon proves to be sound. Zagreus dashes forward, sprinting with that same swiftness that Theseus in many instances has found dizzying. He hops from molten rock to molten rock, avoiding lava while slicing through the dark magic their enemies form and toss their way. Though Theseus has been forced with time to admit that Zagreus is an opponent to be feared, still he can’t take them all, and several pockets dark magic surge past him and bounce off the pillars towards Theseus.

His shield stands firm, as does he. When he isn’t strategically crouched behind its girth, he tosses his spear at witch after wretched witch. Several times Zagreus bears the full brunt of the witches’ magic, and they burn him just as surely as they would a mortal. Zagreus however, is the son of a god, so he keeps going, until they have managed to work their way through the worst of it.

There are just so many. It’s difficult for Theseus to find openings when there magic constantly cascades in his direction, nd Zagreus can’t move in close on the largest grouping of witches due to the enormous lava pool blocking his way. Were he with the Bull—

The thought stalls in his mind.

Such strategies are reserved for Asterius, he thinks firmly. Asterius may weigh more than two of him combined, but when they work together, tossing him towards Zagreus—or any enemy for that matter, is too easy.

And yet.

Asterius isn’t here, so you’ll have to make do with me. You want to die here and pretend that none of this ever happened, or do you want to win?

His fist tightens around his spear.

What’ll it be, King?

Theseus lowers his shield to look at their surroundings. Zagreus’ shoulders are scorched, and his chest is heaving as he fights nearly single-handedly at this point.

For Asterius, he thinks.

“Fiend!” he bellows, but Zagreus does not turn.

“Daemon!” he tries, but all that Zagreus does is crouch and burst forward, slicing through another swathe of magic. His shoulder muscles gleam with sweat—evidence of his efforts.

Swallowing down a curse, Theseus tries again. “Zagreus! To me!”

Zagreus’ entire body jolts. He turns to face him, eyes wide, but there isn’t time to marvel at his generosity. Once he recovers, he dashes to Theseus, and then, as he approached in range, Theseus calls out again:

“Dash into my shield! I shall propel you to the other side where the witches are!”

For a moment Zagreus expresses confusion, then his expression hardens with fierce determination. He speeds up, as fast as Theseus has ever seen him, and when the pounding of his feet is close, Theseus heaves his body forward at the same moment that Zagreus lands on his angled shield.

He is heavy; it is a wonder that Asterius is able to toss Theseus across the stadium as easily as he does. And truthfully, this is the strategy that he and Asterius had planned to employ later. He’s not certain he’s strong enough on his own.

But he will do it. He will not fail.

Theseus heaves him with a roar, hefting his shoulder against the weight of Zagreus pushing into him in preparing his own jump, and when he is released, he lifts his head over his shield so he can watch Zagreus sail across the lake of lava and land at the edge of the other island.

Theseus bursts into motion, getting as close as he dares while they prepare their next round of magics. As their attacks grow focused, he stabs as many with his spears as he can, taking out the ones that aim for Zagreus while he is otherwise occupied.

Several long minutes pass, and then finally, finally, they achieve their goal and vanquish them all.

“Haha! Yes!” Theseus booms, dropping his shield. He raises his fist triumphantly, and without a second thought he sets his shield into the lava and sends it towards Zagreus so he can make use of it as a makeshift boat.

This is what it is like to feel alive again. Surrounded by danger, circumventing certain death to achieve a goal and prove his merit—he can feel his blood burning in triumph.

Zagreus returns to him grinning and bouncing on his feet; hardly the picture he should be covered in burns and dust from their magic. He walks up to Theseus and Theseus to him, and together they clasp their right hands, as brothers in battle would.

“That was amazing!” Zagreus says. Both of his eyes burn into Theseus. The green one is a beautiful, shining emerald, but the other—

Realizing just who he‘s embracing, Theseus scrambles backward, still out of breath and sweating fiercely.

“You should not forget why it is we are here!” he says loud enough to drown out the pounding in his chest. “Whilst my skill is impressive, don’t let it get to your head.”

“Of course not,” Zagreus says. He cocks his head to one side and regards Theseus, still smiling a joyous, disarming smile. “I wouldn’t dare, King.”

There is an odd fondness in the way he says his title. “See that you don’t,” Theseus replies, relieved his voice remains even, since his heart refuses to.

He ignores the fluttering in his chest and moves to pick up his shield, only to pause once he realizes it still glows from the lava’s heat.

“I can hold onto that for a while,” Zagreus says behind him. “If you’d like.”

Theseus stares down at his shield, hands on his hips.

“I would never leave my precious shield in your hands, fiend,” he says, but it lacks the heat usually reserved for Zagreus. “Since we are already in a rush to find Asterius, I’ll overlook it this time.”

With that settled, he grabs his spear and glances around.

“Now: where is he?”

Zagreus sighs and reaches down to pick up Theseus’ shield. Though it still glows from the heat, he merely adjusts the way the handle rest in his hands.

“I thought he might be in the center of all that lava—father has punished a few people by leaving them there—but maybe he’s… Somewhere else in here.” Zagreus bounces from foot to foot, revving himself up. “I’m going to take a look around the more lava-ridden bits. You circle the outer ring and I’ll meet you up top.”

“Make it quick,” Theseus says. Zagreus nods, distracted, and hefts the shield over his shoulder. Then he jogs in the opposite direction, leaving Theseus to his own devices.

They search high and low, but due to the coliseum’s open passageways, it’s obvious very quickly that Asterius is not being housed there. There are several shades living in the coliseum, minding themselves, but when Theseus probes them for information, they have nothing to offer.

The hope that had been slowly flitting inside him is quickly dashed. He makes his way to the top of the coliseum, feeling like a fool, and when he arrives, Zagreus is already there. He appears pensive, and at the sound of Theseus approaching, he turns to face him.

“Well, it looks like he’s not here. There are few more places in Asphodel I’d like to try, but if he’s not there…” Zagreus trails off uncertainly.

“You brought me to the sorry place just inform me that Asterius is not here?” Theseus places his hands on his hips. “You claimed you knew, yet you’ve dragged me to this place and not a scrap of him to show for it! I should have expected as much.”

“I said I know where he might be. There’s more to Asphodel than this coliseum, Theseus.” Zagreus frowns. “We have a few more places to check.”

He doesn’t say what he expects to happen in the event that Asterius is not in Asphodel and they must confront other realms. Theseus also doesn’t want to consider its implications, so instead they agree to continue their search. After all, what choice does he have? He has set in motion events that he cannot back away from. Even though his body aches and he is covered in sweat in a way he hasn’t been since he was alive, he will not falter.

He will find Asterius, and they will go on from there.

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