They were calling him home.Īcheron stood up on the railing. The voices he heard in his head were louder now.
He'd lived beyond his years and wanted no more pain. The only reason his so-called family cared whether he lived or died was because if he died, their beloved Styxx died too.Įven though he was only one and twenty, he was as tired as an old man. Even when he was in a crowd, surrounded by people, he was alone. At least this year he wasn't celebrating the anniversary of his birth in prison.Įver alone. But Artemis, she cut him on a level no one else could touch.Īnd like everyone else, she didn't care how much she hurt him. So careful he'd been to shield himself from the callousness of those around him. He hated the fact that she alone could give him so much anguish. Why? Because she was afraid someone would see her with him.Īcheron turned his head and winced as pain cut through him. Not even Artemis could be bothered to celebrate with him. "It's my birthday too," he shouted, knowing no one could hear him. For the first time in weeks, he laughed at the thought of Styxx dropping dead in front of the gathered nobles and dignitaries. That would definitely fuck up his brother's birthday celebration. But if he were lucky, he might yet tumble from his perch to the rocks a hundred feet below and die horribly there. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough to kill him. He wasn't sure how much he'd imbibed at this point. His back was pressed against the building while his legs were stretched out before him in a precarious balance. Acheron sat on the railing of his balcony completely drunk as he watched the elaborately dressed guests arriving for the birthday party in the palace below.
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