Demigods Vs Magic.

The consequences of War.

Hollow footsteps fell on the shattered Earth, each step shaking what was left of the decrepit land. Rivers of red flowed around him, dripping into the depths of the wastelands. Blazing fires lit up the dark sky, unbothered even by the bludgeoning of rain. Torrents of water unleashed themselves remorselessly, much like what had happened below. Boots caked in mud, blood, and bones walked alone on a stained path,  taking with them rage, misery, and desolation. A pair of jeans shredded too much to be considered ripped loosely hung off a tired frame, as one who was walking stopped in front of another who was not. 

Two men who were so similar yet so different. One stood up, head held low as he stared at the lifeless visage of the other. His chest moved, heaving up and down as muscles coiled themselves, while the other remained static. Burning sea green eyes stared at lifeless emerald ones, while both their raven black hair swept with the breeze. A spider web of cracks spiralled outwards of the center of the dead man's cracked lenses, rivulets of blood slithering down his chest and into the ground. Tattered robes and caked boots adorned his lithe and agile frame, as his chosen weapon, a wand, lay broken at his feet. The weapon betrayed its master, and once gone, nothing could have saved him from the wrath of his opponent. 

"It's over." A woman with blond hair spoke, her voice carrying power and authority. Stormy grey eyes spread over the battlefield, searchlights scanning for all those left to listen to her. A dagger hung loosely on her belt, and a glittering golden bronze sword was gripped in her right arm. She watched the survivors come closer, a group of nearly two dozen people from their side. They had come into the war with not many more, but the outcome had been sealed since the very beginning. A massacre had been what called them, and a massacre was what they received. 

"Over?" The man standing taller than anyone else growled, and the Earth trembled with his steps. He turned in a flourish, his fierce green gaze fixed on the ashen visage of the woman, his wife. "Can any of you call this "over" ?" He asked the crowd around them, all of whom bowed their heads in front of him. He looked around, searching for anyone who was willing to answer his question. 

"We're not done yet. I'll make them all pay, whatever it takes." He growled, and the rain barrelled down onto him. Every single drop in the sky seemed to crash into him, and his green eyes glowed through the haze, malevolent and hungry. A thunderclap sounded overhead, and the raindrops finally stopped, taking the haze away with them, leaving only the unbridled fury of a broken man behind. 

"There's no one else left, Percy." A guy that was almost as tall as him told him. His muscles rippled under a purple shirt too small for him. He sighed, dropping his bow to the ground. "We've done all we could. We can only count our dead now." 

"No," Percy answered, kicking the corpse of the final foe he had fought. "They took everything from me. Until I make them feel that pain, I'll keep fighting, and I'll do it alone if I have to." 

"Percy, you need to calm down, you're not-" The blonde spoke placatingly, but it did not work. Her words stopped in her mouth, and try as she might, her voice wouldn't work. 

"Don't you dare finish that sentence!" He yelled. "Of all the people present here, I didn't expect you to be defending these scum. They deserve worse than anything we could ever give them, Annabeth, and you know that." He said, turning around. Annabeth fell to her knees as soon as he turned, her voice finally returning to her. 

"Percy, it's not the right thing to do," Annabeth said. "The civilians haven't done anything to us, we're better than this. We don't have to kill innocents." She pleaded, but it fell on deaf ears. 

"Better?" Percy asked, a tear sliding down his cheek, carving a ridged path down the dust that covered his cheek. The drop slithered down, vanishing into the Earth, and taking the rest of his sanity with it. "Are we better than them, Annabeth? Then tell me, why did we evacuate Camp Half-Blood? Why is New Rome in flames? Tell me Annabeth." He knelt in front of her, looking deep into her bright grey eyes, and she stared back into his dull ones. Eyes were the windows to the soul, and Annabeth could slowly see his fading away.