//------------------------------// // Chapter 23 // Story: Odysseed // by AuroraDawn //------------------------------// Their hooves rumbled upon the table, the cacophony coming in before a new wave of darkness had cleared. In view now was the same triangular table, though only seven of them were seated there. Eumelia was crying, her sobs unabated by Hesperos’s absentminded back rubbing. The stallion was staring away from her, glaring towards the door where Plesippus and Akakios were now. Akakios was almost nothing more than bone now. His mane reached down to his knees, greasy and grey to match the brilliant white coat revealed by a discarded cloak. Despite his apparent frailty, he was stood over Plesippus, staff held firmly between his forhooves on the younger sage’s chest, pinning the equine to the marble. “SPEAK!” “I-I, it’s all a misunderstanding, really, you must believe me—!” “To betray the trust of your colleague? Your elder? Your friends? A simple misunderstanding? You cast a forbidden spell, wantonly traversing through Eumelia’s mind at a moment of weakness! I should destroy you alone for this crime! You could have killed her, Plesippus! One wrong look, one forgotten ward! And her mind would be shattered and lost. I cannot express the incalculable levels of disgust I am filled with when I say we are all lucky she only feels sullied!” “Please, Akakios! Mercy, please, I meant no harm! I only wished to assist, to do more—” The elder slammed the staff down into Plesippus’s sternum, silencing him. “I asked not for excuses, only explanations! Have you been possessed? Overcome by stupidity? By the stars, boy, what were you thinking?! Speak!” A hush fell instantly, the usual echo cut short by magic or rage alone, and all eyes fell upon the whimpering Plesippus as he cringed beneath Akakios’s assault. “I was tired, wise one, frustrated by the endless petty requests by kings and queens for us to aid them in their woes. Every year, a new summons disrupts work and study, only for us to learn it is some creature upon a throne wishing to rule through pure magical might instead of leadership and good rule and dismiss their case. I felt… If perhaps we unified them all, if we put an end to border squabbles… we would be done with it.” Isocrates spit. “Do you have any idea of the chaos that would be unleashed if you simply undid all the governments of our world? Removed the identities of every sapient creature within them with a snap?” “I was so frustrated, I just… We weren’t doing enough, we should have been doing more, but there’d never be a consensus! And so—” His voice cut off with a yelp as Akakios whipped his staff around, cracking the stallion on his lower jaw. “And so you tricked a fellow member of the order into visiting you under the guise of companionship, drugged her, and waltzed into her brain to find the location of her temple and therefore her key.” He stepped off of the whimpering equine and walked towards the table, seating himself abruptly. He was shaking, not from frailty, but anger, disgust, disappointment… With fear. With a great sucking of breath he steadied himself and then met eyes with the other members, a single flow of tears running down his muzzle. “Order, I call upon you.” “You are heard, Akakios.” “No!” Plesipuss cried, rolling over and reaching a hoof out towards them. “No, forgive me, elders! In weakness I made wrong but I can atone, I can- ugh!” Akakios flipped a hoof and a blast of energy silenced Plesippus again. “I motion to invoke the origin,” he said, through harrowed breath. “Explain your reasoning and plan, Akakios,” Hesperos said, jaw set and eyes firm. “We have been given a great revelation today by Plesippus. I may yet find him to be the wisest one of us all,” Akakios said, glaring at the trembling body near the door.  “...No,” Plesippus whispered. “Were it not for his actions, we would be unaware that we all are subject to the corruption of the Origin. The Order cannot be sustained, no matter the precautions.” Eumelia sniffed once, bringing her head high.  “I motion we invoke the origin on three counts. Count one: this temple and our personal safeholds shall be locked away for all eternity. Only when the earth itself has turned cold and dead may the Origin be free from its prison. Count two: our order be disbanded, and all recorded knowledge of its existence and purpose be ripped from existence, so none may know to search for our folly. Count three,” he said, turning to look at Plesippus. “...Please, Akakios. I am sorry.” “Member Plesippus be stripped of his status and expelled from the order.” Wordlessly parchment was scribbled on, and almost immediately all eight ballots had been handed to Akakios. The elder clenched them together, taking no care to roll them and fold them up before storming towards the agate altar. Plesippus sobbed hard, pleading and begging he stop, crawling towards the table, when Akakios slammed the parchment into the stone, punching the altar and forcing the ballots in. There was a pulse of light, and then a scream. Plesippus writhed and shrieked in place while the eight members watched on solemnly. Eumelia was the only other noise, her cries issuing almost as loud as the issues of pain coming from the stallion on the floor. As they looked on, black smoke blasted forth from his eyes and nose, ejecting forcefully into the air while the body decayed and shrivelled like a timelapse of rotting meat. As Plesippus was ripped from existence, the vision faded and cracked, before finally collapsing in upon itself, leaving nothing.