Acacia

Chapter 14

Sebastian felt a chill sweep through the air as the centurion's stunned expression mirrored his own tumultuous emotions; the remnants of battle lingered like a ghost in the stillness around them. The soldiers marched past, oblivious to the ethereal drama unfolding, while the smoke curled ominously, a reminder of the chaotic forces at play, blending life and death as it searched for Marc's essence, leaving Sebastian grappling with his own destiny as a rush of celebration felt grotesque amidst the tragedy of loss.

Sebastian knew what lay in the soldiers minds as he sheathed his sword. Many of them had attempted previously to kill this man believing he was of normal heritage. Some lowered their heads in honor, believing that by showing submission to the most feared god of Hellena they would be reprieved of the curses which often followed.

Sebastian felt the weight of their gazes, a mix of fear and reverence, as he tucked away his sword, a symbol of his dual existence as both a warrior and a deity. He understood their desperation; the legends of his wrath hung heavily in the air, and the soldiers' actions revealed their hope for mercy amidst the chaos that plagued their world. Each lowered head spoke of a silent prayer, a plea for forgiveness from the very figure they once sought to vanquish, highlighting the thin line between fear and faith that defined their turbulent lives.

As young men, many of them had heard the tales that even bringing your eyes to meet the god of the Underworld meant instant death. Surrounded by fallen soldiers, many believed it to be true. When in fact most had fallen to the blades of the enemies. Sebastian had killed many, but of the thousands before him it was no more than a grain of sand.

Haunted by the specters of those he had slain, Sebastian grappled with the weight of his actions as he surveyed the battlefield littered with the remnants of lives extinguished. The harrowing stories of the god of the Underworld echoed in his mind, igniting a fear that transcended mere superstition; it was a reckoning with mortality and guilt. Each fallen soldier reminded him that he, too, was bound by the same fate, a fleeting grain in the vastness of existence, and as he faced the consequences of his choices, the line between warrior and monster blurred in the twilight of the dead.

As Sebastian approached, a chill filled the air, thickening the tension that hung between the combatants. Sebastian's heart raced, recognizing the man's steadfast stance, reminiscent of tales spun from his homeland about a valiant leader who once rallied soldiers to defy impossible odds. Yet, the air buzzed with lingering malice and betrayal, twisting memories into confusion, as the centurion's gaze locked onto his, reflecting an unsettling mixture of fear and defiance. In that moment, Sebastian understood that the clash before them was not merely a battle of swords, but a visceral reckoning of past loyalties, echoing like a shadow in the ruins of Thessaloniki.

"Do I know you?" He asked plainly.

"N-no, y-y-you don't k-know m-m-me." The centurion shuffled, stammering over his words. He kept his eyes low, resting them on Sebastian's blackened boots.

"What's your name?" He asked.

"Loukios, or Lucius in my homeland." Sebastian raised the man's head, looking him in the eye.

"Run home, it is not your time to die today." The man did as was ordered, to him it was a sign that he'd been spared. Sebastian looked to the seas, noting the solemn silence in the air. As Loukios ran, with him others had quickly joined.

Sebastian's heart raced as he observed the gathering tide of followers, their urgency contrasting starkly with the stillness that enveloped the shores; he felt a weight of responsibility pressing down on him, aware that the Thessalonikians' choice to stay could signal defiance or desperation, a choice made in the shadow of uncertainty that loomed over them all.