𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐑, 𝐏𝐎𝐄𝐓, 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 --pjo

𝖎. 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐎𝐍

Since his birth, the Fates told me to keep an eye on the child; leaving to inform the father of child of the cruel fate that they have destined for him to have. I, myself, have caught a glimpse of his future, and I pitied him. But with this, I have no choice but to observe and record every step, breathe, word, and action. His downfall would be his own, and I grimace. His future is unkind. He is scorned——not by the father who loves him dearly, but by and the words the child spun himself, creating the illusion that his father did not wish for him to succeed.

There had been a glimpse of hope, but the actions of the father only extinguished it; solidifying his fate. I wish I could alter it; to give him a better future, but it's a fixed point. No matter what decision he makes, good or bad, only ends in that one tragic ending.

I FELT EVERYTHING SHARPEN ONE EVENING, and something clicks into place as I sense that the future of a child is taking another step. That child had always been resentful due to his absent father, however the absent parent was what gods were known to be, at best. He had run away when he was a child and traveled around for years, gaining companion upon companion. He had visits from his father, which only ended in arguments. Upon his arrival at Camp Half-Blood, he had sought to prove that he would be great, and as an act to comply with his sons' wish, his father offered him a quest at the age of seventeen. The quest had been fairly simple: to seek a Golden Apple at the Garden of Hesperides from the tree. A feat that was accomplished by Hercules, the son of Zeus. The child, no, the now teenager had smiled brightly at the time, honored that the quest was offered——the glimmer of hope soon turned to doubt as he found out that the great hero Hercules had done it; his decision wavered and he couldn't understand nor did he wish to go on a quest someone had already done and succeeded. He wished for something more... original. A quest that he did not have to complete under the shadow of one of the greatest heroes in Ancient Greek history.

However, he agreed to do it, believing that he could rise from his shadow and accomplish more than the son of Zeus had ever done. Yet, he arrived back home, covered in blood decorating his face as he clutched the side of his face, a sense of defeat coursing through his body. He had failed to retrieve a Golden Apple, scarred by the dragon, Ladon, that guarded the tree with ferocity. I believed that he should have held himself high in regard for he had been able to injure the creature and steal a claw——something that no hero had done.

In his bloody defeat, he was treated with pity by the campers, and the sense of shame of defeat only strengthened the grudge that had been planted since he was a child.

Curiosity winning over, I take a peek at the throne room from my abode, watching only in sadness as the young adult walks closer to a pure platinum throne——Grandfather's throne; beside his throne, lay the Master Bolt, crackling with power. He hesitates for a moment, watching the sparks glow in the night before he takes it just as quickly, flinching harshly. Next, he approaches a simple stone chair, Lord Hades's chair, eyes locked on the Helm of Darkness. I chew my lip as I realize that this is what my great grandfather had asked of him to prove fealty to him.

I feel three presences in the room that I was in, and I stop recording for a moment, slowly turning to see  three ancient women with silver hair and bony arms smiling gleefully as they watch everything unfold. They wore their usual cotton dresses and had their hair tied back in a white bandanna.

"Interesting," one hums quickly. "Are you seeing this our darling Sophia?"

"Yes," I reply, nodding hesitantly as I see various things happen at once.

"Look at him leave," another pipes up.

"The gods shall wake up soon," the third comments, looking at me. "What do you think will happen, hm? Of course, all three of us know, who are we to not know Fate?"