Heavens fallen to the sea

Chapter Nine: Into the Darkness

The forest swallowed Brandon whole. The towering trees rose up like silent sentinels, their branches weaving together to form a canopy that blocked out most of the moonlight. The air was cool and damp, heavy with the scent of earth and pine, and each step he took felt like it echoed through the stillness.

He wasn't sure what he was looking for—he only knew that he needed to find it. The dreams had been relentless, and the voice that whispered his name felt closer tonight. He was no longer scared; he was desperate. Desperate to understand what was happening to him, to make sense of the power that surged inside him but remained elusive.

His footsteps crunched softly over fallen leaves as he ventured deeper into the woods. He had no idea where he was going, but something—*someone*—was calling him. His heart pounded in his chest, but it wasn't fear this time. It was something else, something pulling him forward.

After what felt like an eternity, Brandon emerged into a small clearing, bathed in the pale glow of the moonlight. The air here felt different—thicker, almost electric, like the space itself was charged with power. His breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he stood still, just listening.

And then, he heard it again.

*"Brandon..."*

The voice was soft, but unmistakable, drifting through the air like smoke. He whipped around, eyes scanning the dark edges of the clearing, searching for the source. But there was no one. Just trees and shadows.

He clenched his fists, frustration bubbling up inside him. "Who are you? What do you want?"

The air shifted, and suddenly, the shadows at the edge of the clearing began to move. They twisted and swirled, dark tendrils stretching out like fingers. Brandon took a step back, his pulse racing. His hand instinctively went to the small dagger he kept strapped to his side, but he didn't draw it. Not yet.

The shadows coalesced, forming into a shape—a figure, cloaked in darkness. It stood at the edge of the clearing, tall and unmoving, its face obscured. But the presence was undeniable. It radiated power. Old power.

Brandon's throat went dry. "Who are you?"

The figure didn't respond at first. Then, slowly, it raised its head, revealing eyes that glowed faintly in the darkness—cold, calculating. "You already know who I am," it said, its voice smooth and quiet, like the whisper of wind through the trees.

Brandon's heart pounded in his chest. There was something disturbingly familiar about the figure, though he couldn't place it. "You're the one from my dreams," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

The figure nodded. "Yes. I've been watching you, Brandon. Waiting for you to come to me."

His skin prickled at the words. "Why? What do you want from me?"

The figure took a step forward, and the shadows around it shifted and writhed like living things. "I am here to show you the truth. To show you the power that lies dormant within you."

Brandon swallowed hard, his grip tightening on his dagger. "What power?"

The figure tilted its head slightly. "You are Hera's son. The queen of the gods. But she has kept you in the dark, hidden your true potential. She fears what you could become."

Brandon's stomach twisted. He didn't know if he believed it. Hera had never cared about him—she had never even acknowledged him. But this... this was something different. Something deeper. "Why would she hide anything from me?"

The figure's glowing eyes narrowed. "Hera is a goddess of control. She cannot tolerate chaos, and you, Brandon, are chaos incarnate. Your power... it is greater than she allows you to believe."

Brandon shook his head, taking another step back. "No. That doesn't make sense. I've barely been able to use my powers. I can't even control them."

"Because you've been *restrained*," the figure said, its voice growing sharper. "You are bound by her rules, by her expectations. But there is more to you than even she knows. If you would only let go... embrace the power within you..."

Brandon felt a surge of anger rise up. "And what, let you teach me? Why should I trust you?"

The figure's eyes glowed brighter, and the shadows around it pulsed with energy. "You are not meant to trust me. You are meant to understand the truth. Your power is not Hera's gift—it is *yours*. It belongs to you, and you alone. But you will never unlock it while you are bound by the gods' rules."

Brandon's breath came faster, his mind spinning. He didn't trust this figure—couldn't trust it—but there was a part of him that *wanted* to believe. The part of him that was tired of being afraid, tired of being weak. He thought of the way his powers had flared to life when Connor had challenged him. The way it had felt—terrifying, yes, but also... intoxicating.

"What are you?" Brandon asked, his voice trembling slightly.

The figure was silent for a long moment, and then it spoke, its voice low and resonant. "I am older than you can comprehend. I am a shadow of what once was. But I see the future, Brandon. I see *your* future. You are destined for greatness, but only if you break free from the chains the gods have placed on you."

Brandon stared at the figure, a cold knot forming in his stomach. He didn't know what to believe anymore. Everything he'd been told about his heritage, about his place in the world—it all felt like it was unraveling before his eyes. He was supposed to be a demigod, a son of Hera. But now, standing in the clearing, he felt like something... more.

"I don't want to hurt anyone," Brandon whispered, the weight of his own words surprising him.

The figure's lips curled into a dark smile. "You cannot control what you are, Brandon. Power like yours will always find a way. But if you learn to embrace it, you will not have to fear it. You will *become* it."

The shadows around the figure rippled, and it began to fade, sinking back into the darkness from which it had come. "When you are ready to accept who you truly are," the figure said, its voice fading with it, "I will find you again."

And then, with a final rush of cold air, the figure was gone. The clearing fell silent, the strange energy that had filled the air dissipating as quickly as it had come.

Brandon stood there for a long time, staring at the spot where the figure had been, his heart still racing. He didn't know what to think, didn't know what to believe. But one thing was clear: whatever had just happened, it had changed everything.

And as he made his way back to camp, the shadows seemed to linger just a little longer at the edges of his vision.