A white soul..
A silent river..
A charon..
A boundary..
A flow of water between the world of the living and the world of the dead.
Silence consumes the dead as they wander through these waters with no goal.
Some drown and some float, with no meaning left with their lives as they are left to succumb to their own regrets and somber.
Black souls try to climb the boat that the white soul boards, but they simply cannot as they are pushed back by some ethereal black smoke wall.
These souls cry from their memories. Their voices, muffled.
The charion rows the boat gently through the somber river styx. Its breath as cold as ice and its gaze as empty as darkness. It doesn't utter a single word.
Its skeletal hands clench the wooden oars with a tight grip, making the oars creak from its strength.
The white soul looks around, surveilling the area in curiosity. Its thoughts filled to the brim with memories from its life. All from birth and til death.
Eleven Years ago..(After Thalia's Death)
We see a tall young boy with fluffy black hair, Scarlet eyes, covered in black cloth consisting of a black shirt and black pants.
The boy wanders through the desert with heavy fatigue as he had just used an overwhelming amount of power to completely and utterly kill those that harmed him, but in doing so...
He had gotten rid of any trace of civilization along the way, angering those who took him in. The body of Thalia was no where left to be seen, not a single trace of her very being was left as proof that she existed. The boy had burned everything away.
In retaliation, Atlas and Cratus who were related to Thalia completely abandoned the boy. They were consumed by pain, sorrow, and anger.
The boy knew no better, he was not in control. He knew that yet, he still blamed himself for the death of the one who was going to become his adopted mother.
The boy walked along the burning sands barefoot. With heat clashing against his skin, the boy's head becomes a spiraling mess as he succumbs to the numbing of his legs. His eyes barely open, he falls face first towards the ground.
He drools as he grows thirsty for having traveled for gods know how long.
The boy's body just barely able to move, he takes it upon himself to push both of his arms upwards and crawls so desperately to wherever the road may lead.
He would spend countless days, nights, and even weeks simply crawling through the desert with no food or water in sight.
His lips now completely shattered with bloodshot eyes due to no sleep and his body becoming skinnier with each passing day along with sunburns scattered throughout it.
YOU ARE READING
Woe of the chosen
FantasyWoe of the chosen is an original story based greek mythology. It follows the journey of a young boy that goes by the name of Pluto whose memories have been scattered as small fragments throughout his mind. Unfortunately for the boy, his fate had alr...
