Aries Mars's Arc

Chapter 7 of 8

The chamber feels smaller now. Aries stands with the anvil in his hands, the weight pressing into his palms. Pisces Rising watches him from beside the fountain, her expression unreadable. The symbols still burn on the walls—proof of what he was, what he abandoned. A guide. A leader. Not a fighter. He needs to see it. The dark instrument from the vision—the thing he carried before fists replaced purpose. Aries steps toward the fountain and plunges his hand into the water. The surface ripples, then goes still. Nothing happens. He pulls back, frustration building in his chest. Pisces moves closer and touches the water beside where his hand broke the surface. The fountain erupts with light. A scepter rises from the depths, its ram horns curving from blue crystal. Aries reaches for it, but Pisces grabs his wrist. "You can't just take it back," she says. "Not without accepting what it means." He looks at the scepter, then at the anvil still clutched in his other hand. The weight doubles. To hold both means admitting he became something else by choice. That every fight was running. Every victory was distance from this. Aries sets the anvil down at the fountain's base. The stone monument that rises beneath it is black, embedded with crystals that catch the chamber's light. He takes the scepter. The handle fits his palm like memory. On the fountain's edge, a carved head appears—alien features merged with ram horns, a teal emblem burning on its forehead. His face. From before. He turns the scepter over, feeling its balance. It's not a weapon. It never was. And now he has to learn what that means.