Hero Chasers (Book 1)

Issue 37 - The Hourglass Of Truth

I don't remember much of my life before Asgard Village, before Bealdor and the people I call family found me. No matter how hard I tried, it was of no use; everything was a blur. It's a puzzle with too many missing pieces. I, at first, didn't let it bother me; I tried to make the life I had worthwhile, and that was something I would remember for a long time.

Dauoi, they called me. Norse for death, fitting considering how they found me.

But truth be told, I never felt like I fitted in; I was always the odd one out, the one Deity who didn't belong. My mind would always drift to the what was, never the what if. I'm a firm believer that your past defines who you are; it's the building blocks of our very DNA. So, I'm always wondering just who I am, what my purpose is, and what I strive to believe. If I had listened to Bealdor, I might have been many things: a noble warrior, a caring friend, and a loving husband.

In an ideal world, maybe I would be just one of those things. It's a nice thought, but I can't be something for someone else; I need to be my own person, not tied down by the haze of my past. Bealdor and Freya fought against all of Hell to convince me otherwise, but I just knew without the knowledge of my past, I would always be an empty shell. I wanted to know it all, from the grand memories I took with my friends of old. The faces of my loving family, and the little things like my first Christmas and my first day at school. I wanted to treasure them all. I had thought Super City was the answer. The city of new beginnings is where you put the super in Super city. At the time, it all seemed so simple.

I met an array of out-of-this-world people, I made friends, I made enemies, I made something a little more. I wanted to mark my print on the world, I wanted to be seen and heard, I wanted answers, and I wasn't leaving until I got them. I got so caught up in the moment, so fixated on a dwindling dream, that I never once stood back and questioned what I really wanted. Maybe Bealdor was right all along; perhaps it was for the best. Truth be told.

Some things are better left forgotten. 

****

The windows shattered, the echo of explosions being heard all across the city. Forced into the open, the four of us scattered free, falling into the streets below. The city sprawled out before us, a labyrinth of towering buildings and bustling streets. Neon lights flickered overhead, casting an otherworldly glow on the chaos that was about to unfold. I could feel the hum of energy, the anticipation of the impending clash. Focusing my gaze above, Beelzebub glared down at us, hourglass hovering over her right hand as her left was consumed with a conjured blast of blood. Her eyes glowed with an evil crimson, and the air itself seemed to thicken as she flexed her control over blood and magic. The cityscape transformed into a battleground, and we dove headlong into the fray.

Miley conjured weapons with a flourish, ethereal blades materializing in her hands. Zara, agile and deadly, twirled her katana, its blade crackling with electricity. Izanami strode forward, her mere presence instilling confidence I had never seen before; gone was the lifeless girl with no ambition. I reached out to the shadows, weaving them into a cloak of darkness around me.

The chase began, a tumultuous whirlwind through crowded streets and bustling alleys. Beelzebub's crimson tendrils danced like vipers, reaching out to ensnare us. Miley deftly deflected the blood with her conjured weapons while Zara weaved through the chaos, her katana slashing through the air. 

Izanami, seemingly impervious to the chaos around her, pressed forward. But Beelzebub, with a flick of her hourglass, conjured illusions that disoriented the unyielding girl. In the blink of an eye, Izanami stumbled, a fatal opening Beelzebub exploited. The once-immortal fell, only to rise again, determination etched across her face as she lunged for the hourglass. "Miley, on me!"