Echoes of Olympus; The Return of the Forgotten Gods

Chapter 12

Zephyr's POV

As we exited the warehouse, the tension hung heavy, like a thick fog suffocating everything around us. The silence was oppressive, punctuated only by our ragged breaths and the distant hum of the city. My body ached with every step, a grim reminder of the beating we had just endured. But what weighed on me more than the physical pain was the image of Dorian seared into my mind.

I glanced over at him, his shoulders hunched and fists still clenched, bloodied and raw. He walked beside me, his expression distant and unreadable, like a man possessed by some dark force. I couldn't reconcile the boy I had known for so long, the one with a gentle touch and kind eyes, with the feral, brutal figure I had seen just moments ago.

In that warehouse, Dorian had transformed. His normally soft, green eyes had turned into glowing orbs of emerald fury, the whites replaced by an inky blackness that seemed to swallow the light. He had moved with a predatory grace, each strike calculated and devastating, like a storm unleashed upon those men. His fists had become hammers of vengeance, raining down with a ferocity that left them broken and bloody.

I had watched in stunned silence as he dismantled those three men, one after another, with a ruthlessness that bordered on inhuman. Every punch, every kick had been delivered with an intensity that made my blood run cold. The way he had slammed their heads into the ground, the sickening crunch of bones breaking under his assault—it was like watching a beast tear through its prey, leaving nothing but carnage in its wake.

The last man, the gang leader, had pleaded for his life, his voice a pitiful whimper. But Dorian had shown no mercy. He had grabbed him by the throat, lifting him off the ground with an ease that belied his lean frame. I could see the terror in the gang leader's eyes, a reflection of the monstrous force Dorian had become. And in that moment, I had seen something else in Dorian's eyes—a darkness, a primal rage that seemed to consume him from within.

As we walked, I couldn't help but steal glances at him, trying to understand what I had witnessed. Was it adrenaline? Some hidden reservoir of strength that had been tapped in the heat of the moment? Or was it something more? Something darker and more terrifying?

I remembered the way his eyes had burned with an unnatural light, how his movements had been preternaturally precise and lethal. It wasn't just rage; it was as if he had been possessed by a force far beyond human comprehension. And yet, he seemed completely unaware of the transformation that had taken place.

"Dorian," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. He turned to look at me, his eyes back to their usual soft green, though the memory of their earlier state still haunted me.

"What?" he asked, his voice rough and tired.

"Nothing," I replied quickly, shaking my head. I couldn't bring myself to say anything. How could I explain the terror I had felt, the suspicion that something far more dangerous than anger had awoken within him?

We continued walking in silence, each lost in our own thoughts. I couldn't shake the image of Dorian's eyes, the way they had glowed with that unholy light. It was like looking into the abyss, seeing a darkness that threatened to swallow everything in its path.

Dorian had always been the strong one, the protector. But now, I realized he was something else entirely. Something more dangerous, more powerful. And as much as it scared me, it also gave me a strange sense of comfort. Whatever had awakened within him, it had saved us today. But at what cost?

As we moved through the desolate streets, I couldn't help but wonder what other secrets Dorian might be hiding, what other powers lay dormant within him. And if they ever fully awakened, what kind of force would he become?