Beyond The Impossible

Boreas, 3.000 light-years from Earth

The Winter Castle has not changed for thousands of years: no matter who rules the Winter Kingdom, everything within its walls must remain the same as a testament to the unbelievably old tradition it represents. But now that a human sits on the Ice Throne for the first time in history, two ice blocks on each side of the throne have been added to this sacred room.

Leiko Tanaka, the current Ice Queen, pays little attention to the divine frozen bodies of Tyche and Dionysus. Her mind is entirely focused on her council, which is analyzing the latest movements of the Apollo Oracles.

<As you can see, Your Majesty> one of her advisors explains, pointing at the holographic map of the Olympian Galaxy <Many Oracles have been dispatched to the Zeus sector, where they seem to have encountered almost no resistance. So far, Ares and Athena have not taken action; based on their past behavior, we believe they are waiting to see if Zeus or Hera respond. We are not sure why they have not moved their troops in response.>

<It’s very simple. Apollo, Ares and Athena have been locked in a delicate balance for thousands of years. Since Apollo has changed his position, the rumors about the disappearance of Zeus must be true. If they act now, they risk facing both Apollo and Hera at the same time; better wait until there is less competition.> the Ice Queen explains. She may be a novice in galactic politics, but she’s an expert in having others fight battles for her.

<A wise analysis, Your Majesty. It would also explain why Adrestia has stationed several battalions above the galactic plane just outside of Apollo’s border, but she has not attacked yet.>

<She expects Apollo to fight Hera and either lose or be wounded. I understand that, as the goddess of retribution, she has limited precognition powers. What is our analysis on a potential confrontation between them?>

<Inconclusive. Shall we run strategical simulations for a potential surprise attack? Apollo is well outside our capabilities, but Adrestia might be vulnerable at this moment.>

<We are not attacking any Olympian. I will not take any action that leads us to war unless we have a clear way to win it. Now, what is the current status of…> she pauses, noticing the blinking light on the gauntlet of her armor.

<Leave.> she orders. She doesn’t have to raise her voice: as the supreme ruler of the Winter Kingdom, her words are absolute law.

Once she’s alone, the helmet retracts to show Leiko’s face. She holds out her armored hand, and a small cube is teleported into her hands: the Black Box that her daughter Noriko discovered on Earth is suddenly active.

The device projects a hologram of a Lar woman, which Leiko recognizes as quite ancient: modern Lar have smooth grey skin, but this one still has the scaly texture that the species lost ages ago.

<I have been extracting information from this device for months and it never manifested an interface. I assume this wasn’t triggered by me.> Leiko says, her voice no longer distorted by the helmet. To her surprise, the hologram responds in Japanese without the use of a translator.

<Confirmed. The Legacy emergency protocol was initiated by a confirmed activation of one of the Keys of Heaven.>

<The keys of what?>

<Elaborating visual representation.> Legacy says, projecting the images of Lampyria’s teleportation.

Leiko leans forward, clasps her hands, and smile starts to creep on the Ice Queen’s face.

<Interesting. This looks like something that could win a war.>

 

Null Tower, New York City

It’s been a long day for Noriko Null, even more than usual: despite her success in making Null Technologies a self-sustaining enterprise, there doesn’t seem to be an end to the amount of things that demand her attention.

It’s almost midnight when she retires to her bedroom, which is actually pretty early for her standards. She’s not tired, just in a hurry to end the day: she takes off her green leather jacket, pants and socks, leaving everything on the floor.

<Lights off.> she orders, and the building obliges once she lays on the bed. Normally she would have a hard time sleeping, but she doesn’t remain conscious for more than a second after closing her eyes.

She’s not here to sleep. It’s time to get to her new second job.

 

The Mindscape

A door that doesn’t exist, leading to a place that isn’t real, opens to let Noriko Null get inside her own mind. Of course it’s just a mental projection of herself, but it feels like her real body.

It still looks like a beach, but the infinity symbol that shines in the sky like a weird sun has been replaced by a similarly bright Ø symbol.

The place is surrounded by walls of mirrors, which make it very hard to judge its real shape or size.

There’s a man there, wearing a white skirt and drawing a map of the galaxy on a blackboard.

<Diomedes. Finished building up the mental barriers?> she asks him.

<Yes, your portion of the Mindscape is now sealed off to the other ghosts.>

<Should we really call them “ghosts”?>

<They’re the intangible yet living remains of dead people. How would you call them?>

<Fair enough. At least I won’t have to worry about the Scribe taking over my mind, or the Monk annoying me again, but I’m still coming to terms about the fact that other Nexus hosts existed, let alone the idea of having them inside my head. No offense, Diomedes.>

<None taken, Null. I’m grateful for the chance to interact, but I have to ask: why give me access to your Mindscape? I saved your life, yes, but you don’t know me.>

<It’s simple, really: you’re the only former host I know that isn’t insane, delusional, creepy, or who has a hidden agenda.>

<How can you be certain of that?>

<I am Null. Figuring out stuff is kind of my thing. Besides, I like the idea of being able to talk with someone who is almost as smart as me.>

<“Almost”, uh? A strong claim from a girl who has held the Nexus for just a few years.>

<Remind me again, Diomedes, how many gods did you kill?>

The Greek hero smiles at her response, placing his hand on her shoulder.

<You’re one of a kind, Null. I wish I’d met you when I was still alive.>

<Uhm, thanks? I guess?> she answers nervously, not moving away but obviously feeling awkward.

<I cannot access the information the Nexus absorbed while I was its host, but I can give you some insight on how to deal with the history of your predecessors. Discovering you’re not the only Nexus can be overwhelming. It can make you feel less special, but it’s the beginning of a journey to learn what makes you unique.>

<I appreciate it, Diomedes. But right now I’m more focused on the future, rather than the past.> Noriko says, looking at the map of the galaxy; in addition to the physical borders of the various divine sectors, it also identifies the position of the Covenant ships.

<Apollo dealt us a serious blow. His Oracles are a problem, and Apollo himself is stupidly overpowered. I’m not even sure if the Vanguard can defeat him.> she admits.

<Can you kill him?> Diomedes asks.

<Probably. But now that the disappearance of Zeus is common knowledge, I have to take into account how the other gods will react.>

<You know where this leads, right? Zeus was the reason why nobody has tried to conquer the entire Olympian Galaxy for ages. If he’s gone, there is going to be a war.>

<Yeah. All it takes is one god doing something stupid.> Noriko concurs.

 

Asphodelus, 50.000 light-years from Earth

Given their potentially infinite lifespan, gods don’t experience time the same way mortals do. But even they can suffer boredom, and these days Ilithyia is as bored as anyone can be.

Ironically, the Goddess of Childbirth is stuck waiting for the birth of her own child: her mother Hera has exiled her on Asphodelus until she’s ready to give her the grandchild she expects.

Even if a divine pregnancy lasts roughly a century, Ilithyia doesn’t find that a particularly long wait. But Asphodelus is the planet of her grandmother Rhea: a pre-industrial paradise without wars or intrigue or anything fun. There’s nothing for her to do here except wait, and it’s driving her mad.

Right now she’s sitting on a wooden chair in what Rhea considers her palace and Ilithyia thinks is just a glorified hut, with the elder goddess humming while fixing Ilithyia’s white hair.

Of course Rhea doesn’t look old: she’s the spitting image of her daughter Vesta despite being a thousand times older. Acting like a ditzy airhead doesn’t help.

<Oh my Gaea you look so cute, Ilithyia! Let’s take a picture together!> she exclaims, walking away two steps before slapping her forehead.

<Silly me, they don’t have cameras here! We’ll just have a portrait for us, then when it’s done we’ll make a portrait for your mother, then another for all your siblings… it’s a lot of drawings to do in a row, so just stay really really really still, okay sweetie?>

<Sounds like a colossal waste of time. Can’t we just do one and then conjure up the others?>

<Why, do you have something to do?> Rhea asks innocently.

<I’d rather do anything else that waste away on this stupid planet! I should be ruling my own sector now, but that idiot Helios just had to get himself killed before the birth of our child! Now I’m stuck here, mom is back to her kingdom, and the only goddess I can talk to has an IQ in single digits!!!>

<Who is she? If she’s a single digit maybe we can hook her up with another one! Whatever a digit is, I can never remember the names of species. Is it some kind of mammal? Because…> Rhea pauses, looking down at her chest: beneath her tight-fitting top, something is glowing.

<Uh. They don’t usually glow. Hold on a sec.> she says, awkwardly plunging her hand between her breasts and pulling something out: a key.

<Ooh, I wondered where I put this! I’m always losing stuff down there.>

<Can I see?> Ilithyia asks, fascinated by the glowing object.

<I dunno, dear, you’re a little too old for breastfeeding. Although Zeus does still stare at them…>

<I meant the key, grandma. It’s neither Drylon nor Lar, but I sense it holds immense power.>

<Really? I thought Zeus gave it to me because it looks great on my boobs. I wonder if I still have the necklace it came with.> Rhea says, ready to search beneath her clothes again.

<Did my father tell you what it was?>

<He called it the Silver Key of Heaven and told me I shouldn’t give it to anyone. Because it could destroy the galaxy or because he didn’t want Hera to get jealous, I can’t remember which one.>

<There must be a reason why it’s glowing now. It could be my way off of this planet, maybe even a way to fight Apollo. Give it to me.> Ilithyia says, trying to snatch the Silver Key from Rhea.

<No, I can’t possibly do that. I swore to my own son that I would protect this for all eternity; it’s my most prized possession! There is nothing you can say to me to convince me to give it away, no, absolutely nothing, I swear. That’s my final word.>

<I’ll pose for your stupid portrait if you give me the Key.>

<I said no, Ilithyia. You will not convince me with something so petty.>

<And I’ll let you pick the name of my child.>

<Well… I should say no… oh what the Hekate, what’s the worst that could happen?> Rhea says, handing the Silver Key of Heaven to Ilithyia.

<What indeed.> the Goddess of Childbirth answers, feeling the power in the palm of her hand.