Atrius's hand held her aloft, and it was no longer Agape who writhed in his grasp.
The laughter deepened—rolling, layered, a chorus through a single throat. The sound crawled along the stone and into the marrow.
Her skin rippled. Black veins spidered beneath Atrius's fingers, writhing like serpents. Her eyes were voids now, swallowing light.
The forge groaned. Flames guttered. Chains clinked as if answering her mirth. The air clotted with the scent of ash and crushed roses.
Hyppolita staggered back, composure fraying.
"By Hera…" she breathed.
Agape's mouth split wider, corners tearing, black ichor threading her chin. When she spoke, honey and venom laced the rasp.
"You should have left her buried in fear, Golden Son."
Atrius's grip hardened. A wet choke hitched in her throat—gkh——followed by a ragged, whistling inhale.
"Name yourself," he growled.
The mortal shell cracked like porcelain. Pale flecks sloughed away, flashing glimpses beneath—horns, wing-shadows, a thousand forms fighting for dominion.
Hyppolita's blade came free with a hiss. "What sorcery is this?! What have you done to my Amazon?!"
"Daemonic possession," Atrius intoned, voice tolling like a war-drum. "What I feared."
CRACK—
The head twisted toward Hyppolita, vertebrae popping.
"Hellooo, queeeennn…" the daemon crooned, savoring the title.
Hyppolita's breath snagged.
The thing inhaled sharply against Atrius's palm—khh—khaaah—a hot, sour breath misting the metal.
Heracles edged away. "I don't know what this is—and I don't want to. I'll be on my way."
"Stay."
The word thundered from Atrius's chest, cold and commanding, halting Heracles mid-step.
"You shall stay," Atrius repeated.
The son of Zeus grumbled, dragging his feet to a discarded slab of iron. He slumped onto it, resting his cheek against his palm, eyes narrowed as though pondering some twisted riddle of existence.
Atrius's gaze returned to the writhing figure in his hand.. "You have no purpose in this body. Depart before I erase you from existence." His words reverberated with absolute certainty
The daemon tilted Agape's head mockingly, voice sweet with venom."That is too heavy a threat, don't you think? Do you truly wish for her to perish with me?"
"It matters not if she lives or dies. You shall die." His fingers cinched.
The throat in his grasp collapsed a fraction; the sound that answered was animal—kk—kk—kkh!—followed by a broken gasp that barely reached the lungs.
"Wait—don't harm her!" Hyppolita cried, panic shredding the queenly tone.
"Ahh~~ harder, squeeze harder," the daemon moaned—then broke on a cough, hkh—hkh——wet and ugly.
Heracles couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the scene unfolding before him.
"That's... oddly arousing." he muttered to himself
Atrius's eyes went nova—gold searing the dim. Pressure rolled out from him like an invisible tide. The daemon's breath sealed in her chest; a high, reedy wheeze skittered through her windpipe as the null field collapsed the warp's influence.
"No... don't do it, I beg you."
Hyppolita cried, rushing forward, hand outstretched—yet no matter how close she moved, Atrius seemed impossibly distant.
"Stop!—kkh—stop! I shall leave her!" the entity choked, patting at Atrius's wrist with frantic, slapping taps, clawing at his hand. Sweat sheeted Agape's brow; spit-flecked strings pendulumed from her teeth.
Atrius did not immediately release her. His restraint was deliberate, merciless. Yet he did not crush her throat—though even he could not explain why.
Atrius held. The throat quivered in his grip, veins beating visible beneath his fingers—thum—thum—thum. He simply denied air.
At last he released.
Agape fell like a cut rope
—whump—
she rolled to her side, gasping. A great, tearing inhale ripped through her chest
—HAAAH——
then another, shallower,
—hah—hah—hah.
She coughed.
kh—kh—KH—KHKHKH—
Once, twice—then the fit seized her:
Black phlegm and bile splattered the stone floor. She retched, dragged a breath, and coughed again until red threaded the black. When it passed, she lay trembling, ribs sawing under the skin, breath whistling on the edge of a wheeze.
"Do not think of escaping me," Atrius said, voice glacial. "The moment you try—you die."
The daemon, panting through Agape's lips—haa… haa…—pushed to a knee. She wiped her mouth with the back of a shaking hand, then, perversely dainty, patted dust from the tunic.
"How wonderful," she said, smiling in euphoria.
"I searched when I came through," she said, voice still silted with breath-catches. "There was no warp energy present. How could I descend here… unless someone opened the way? How did you bring this taint upon her?"
"Falsehood," Atrius answered, eyes flaring. "You corrupted this mortal."
"I am not lying," she blurted—then hacked, kh——palms to her ribs until she found wind again. "Her corruption gave way for me to enter this materium."
The gold in Atrius's gaze brightened. The daemon's chest fluttered—two short inhales, a swallow—defiance mounting with breath restored. A slow, cruel smile returned.
"You don't know, do you? Hah…" She savored a long inhale—haaah—and let it out as a whisper. "How wonderful."
Hyppolita steadied, shoulders squaring. "Know what?"
The daemon's dark eyes glinted.
"He… is the source of the corruption. The reason I inhabit this body."
Silence pressed in. You could hear Agape's shaky breathing: hah—hah— a damp rattle at the end of each exhale.
Then, with obscene grace, the entity knelt before Atrius, never breaking eye contact, smiling until her gums glistened pitch. Her breath fanned his gauntlet in shallow, eager bursts. Her posture mirroring a worshiper before a god.
Her gaze never left him, her grin stretching wider as madness spilled across her face.
Atrius's expression darkened, but confusion cracked through his iron mask. Hyppolita turned her eyes to him, desperate for answers.
"What is this treachery?"
Atrius demanded, his voice carrying—for the first time—not wrath, but doubt.