𝒅𝒆𝒑𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 ☽⚫︎☾ 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒄𝒚 𝒋𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒔𝒐𝒏

𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆

☽⚫︎☾

To Alastor, dreams were tricky. They often warned him of things before they happened. Like a cute guy in his dad's shop or a monster disguised as a new girl in class ready to chop off his head (This has happened more than once).

 Sometimes he dreamed of the past. Of heroes and tragedies. Sometimes the dreams were completely unrelated to anything at all. Like this past winter, when he witnessed a blonde-haired girl carry the sky on her back, or the summer before that, when he saw a half-goat, half-man in a wedding dress.

This time, though, Alastor's dream was different. It felt more realistic than usual. The surrounding area was damp, dingy and dense, dragging out the primordial fear of the dark that all children had. A woman stood at the edge of a river that ran dark with pollution. As she turned to face him, Alastor saw she had blond hair, the same shade as his, twisted into an ancient Grecian style. Her dress was as gloomy as the cave around them, and the hem seemed to disappear into the mist settled by her feet. Her skin is pale, like death itself, nothing like Alastor's tanned skin.

"Alastor," she had a small smile, it was like she was trying to hide it behind the sternness of her face, "I'm so happy to see you."

She looked so young, younger than his father, no different to the photo Alastor's father kept in the alcove of their living room. Surrounded by candles and a small bowl, his father used for offerings to the gods.

Alastor had never met his mother, but he could tell this was her. They looked too similar for it to be a coincidence.

"Hello," Alastor replied, his face twisting. The two stared at each other. Neither knowing what to say nor what to do. When he was young, his father spoke of his love for her and the time they had spent together. Alastor could see the eyes his father spoke so fondly about. The eyes they shared. But now all he could think of was years of heartbreak, watching his father pine for a woman out of his reach.

"Why don't we sit?" She waved her hand, and a table appeared, formed from the shadows and mist surrounding them. Moving through the dream, Alastor trudged to the seat provided, staring at his mother, waiting for her to continue, "I'm -"

"I know who you are, no need for introductions", Alastor interrupted, not wanting to hear her call herself his mother. She had lost the right years ago.

"Yes, well," She continued to stare at Alastor, unblinking. She was unnerving to look at. There was something off about her, like she wasn't all there. Something in her face was shifting. Like she couldn't decide what it wanted to look like. "I assume your father has talked about me."

Alastor scoffed. Rolling his eyes and turning slightly, not wanting to stare at his mother any longer. Her face saddened at his display, she reached across the table as if to comfort him before changing her mind and settling back into her seat.

"My child"

"Alastor. My name is Alastor. You wouldn't know, seeing as you abandoned me on my father's doorstep without even naming me." He was glaring now. Not caring about the uneasiness he felt. How dare she? He thought, calling me her child, if she knew anything about him. As if she cared.

"Alastor, you know I couldn't".

"Oh yes, blame the rules. How noble. Leaving your children to be raised by mortals who wouldn't know a chimaera from a hydra." Although his father still regarded the gods with respect and a healthy dose of fear, He had failed to instil those same emotions into Alastor. She looked away from him. Alastor swore he saw something flash behind her eyes, guilt, sadness. Alastor couldn't be sure but, he thought, she was a god; they don't care for silly human emotions like guilt.