Echoes of Olympus; The Return of the Forgotten Gods

Chapter 5

- Not Today - BTS -

We won't ever die today
You want a new world too?
Oh baby yes I want it

Dorian's POV

As I walk along the dusty path toward our hangout, the familiar surroundings of our village come into sharp focus. The once lively streets are now marred by the heavy hand of The Operators, or more accurately, Ezekiel Rainhoff. The name alone sends a wave of fury coursing through my veins. Rainhoff—a pathetic excuse for a man who lounges in opulence while his policies force others to struggle and scrape by. He's like a bloated tick, feeding off the lifeblood of the people, indifferent to their suffering.

The sight of children playing in the dirt, their laughter hollow and tinged with resignation, twists the knife of anger deeper into my gut. They play with stones, makeshift toys in a world that has stolen their childhood. The thought of their innocence being crushed by Rainhoff's greed makes my blood boil, a fire igniting within me that demands justice.

As I scan the area, my eyes fall on a small child, no older than five, who trips over a loose stone and falls to the ground. The child's cry pierces the air, a sharp reminder of the fragility of their existence. Without thinking, I rush over, my body moving before my mind can catch up."Hey, hey, it's okay," I say gently, kneeling beside the child. My hands, calloused and strong, carefully lift them up. The child's small frame feels so light, so vulnerable, it makes my heart ache.

The child's wide eyes, filled with unshed tears, meet mine. They sniffle, wiping their nose with a dirty sleeve, looking up at me with a mix of fear and curiosity. "Did you hurt yourself?" I ask, my voice soft, trying to offer comfort.They nod, pointing to a scraped knee, the skin raw and bleeding. "It hurts," they whisper, their voice trembling.

I reach into my pocket, pulling out a clean handkerchief. "Here, let's take care of that," I say, wrapping the cloth gently around the wound. "You're brave, you know that? Falling down is just a part of life, but getting back up—that's what makes you strong."The child's eyes brighten slightly at my words, a small smile tugging at the corners of their mouth. "Thank you," they say, their voice barely above a whisper but filled with genuine gratitude.

As I help the child back to their feet, I can't help but feel a surge of determination. This small act of kindness is a stark contrast to the cruelty of Rainhoff and his regime. It's a reminder that, even in the face of overwhelming oppression, there's still room for humanity, for compassion

"What's your name?" I ask, smiling down at the child."Elias," they reply, clutching my handkerchief like a prized possession."Well, Elias, you take care, alright? And remember, no matter how many times you fall, you've got the strength to get back up," I say, giving them a reassuring pat on the shoulder.As Elias runs off to join the other children, I stand there for a moment, watching them with a mixture of hope and determination.

 The path ahead is fraught with challenges, but moments like this remind me of what we're fighting for. With renewed resolve, I continue on my way, my heart set on doing whatever it takes to bring about the change we so desperately need.

As I stride towards our meeting spot, my eyes burn with a fire of determination, the intensity of my purpose seeping into every step I take. The familiar faces of my comrades come into view, each a cornerstone of our defiant little group. Zephyr, with his dirty blonde hair tousled by the wind and those striking heterochromatic eyes—one a vivid green, the other a deep amber—immediately takes notice of the fire in my gaze. He stands there with an air of perpetual mischief, a cunning smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.