Holding his Celestial Bronze sword up for light, Travis carefully sneaked down the dark, spiral-like stairs, made of the same smooth stone as the rest of the lair. The steps were very small, and he nearly fell down multiple times, giving himself mini heart attacks. He didn't make a sound with his footsteps, which was impressive, with the echo and all. He was, as you know, the son of the wing-footed god. The sound that did rebound around the corridor and trail off towards its edges was his breathing, sounding like a wind that inhaled and exhaled and it slightly creeped him out.
Finally, he reached the bottom of the spiral staircase.
About time, he thought, I was starting to get dizzy.
He looked around and saw a stone door in the faint bronze light.
Alright, no guards on the outside, he thought, let's not jinx it.
He tried to pull on the doorknob but failed. It was stuck. Or locked.
Now what? he wondered. He tried pulling harder but to no avail.
He tried twisting the doorknob and shaking it, but nothing happened.
Gods, he thought, what do I do?
He thought of the prophecy.
As two sons of the wing-footed god protect them with their own true blood.
Was it possible that he hadn't actually struck his end of the bargain?
It was just Connor's blood, but, technically, as he had thought before, Connor's blood was his as well, as they were 100% siblings, on both godly and mortal sides.
Maybe he had to slice his hand and put his own blood on the door.
At first, the idea seemed logical: empousai drink blood, it made sense. But the more he thought of it, the more it got weird and illogical. Why would the empousai waste their food source on doors? Plus, he wasn't a fan of the idea of having to stab himself.
He tried pulling on the door again and failed.
He sighed and leaned his back against the door—
And it swung open under his weight and he fell straight onto his behind with a grunt of pain and surprise. His sword clanged against the ground.
"Oh," he said.
I was supposed to push. Not pull. Looks like I was wrong about the blood thing too. Phew.
He looked around himself to find seven pairs of scared eyes staring at him in a mixture of shock and hope.
Each of them was behind bars in cube-shaped cavities o the walls. There were five prisons, and two of them held two little kids. The walls were lined with flickering torches.
Travis, shocked, slowly got to his feet, his sword in hand. He looked around at them without saying a word.
The youngest had to be around 6 years old, the oldest maybe 11.
He found this absolutely barbaric and evil.
All seven kids were deathly pale, they had sunken cheeks and hopeless eyes, although a spark had appeared in them when Travis stumbled through.
"Good gods," Travis muttered.
The quiet was unbearable. One of the kids, a little, possibly eight-year-old, african-american boy with curly black hair and bright blue eyes, spoke up quietly.
"A—are you here to save us?" he said.
The boy's eyes were so terrified, so scared, so hurt and so hopeful at the same time, Travis felt his heart breaking.
YOU ARE READING
He Stoll My Heart - Connor Stoll.
Fanfiction"Looks like I Stoll your heart, huh, Rosie?" "I hope Aphrodite makes you fall in love with a blood-sucking mosquito." "Ouch." - - - Rose Louloudi, daughter of... Demeter? All her powers correspond. All her talents. All her qualities. Everything ab...
