PYRRHIC, percy jackson

Prolegomenon

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P     Y     R     R     H     I     C

❝And when I shall die, take him and
cut him out in little stars, and he will
make the face of heaven so fine, that
all the world will be in love with night,
and pay no worship to the garish sun.❞

SHE WAS NOT MADE TO WALK ON EARTH. The mere use of such a verb in accordance to her was laughable. She was made to fly, to float, to wonder and wander up in the sky, the soft caress of stardust all over herself, cosmic winds upon her edges, spotlights on her and from her. She wasn't made to breathe and feel, she was made to watch and seek: creatures so different from what she was, yet so dear to her heart; here, one who wished wholeheartedly to remember their deeds. And though her view admired those below, those admired would, in return, admire her.

It had always been that way with her. If there was one thing she was sure of, it was that reciprocity was inherent to whatever she was.

Before she ascended, she was hand-held. Now, not even a speck of humanity would ever come in contact with her. Though there was no ulterior motive behind her placement, she felt like she was made to witness how that same race that had become so important to her survived; and how the gods, the many different gods, treated and took care of them. Of her, as well.

She wasn't made to be taken out of the sky, yet she was. She didn't know why she was disturbed, why such a chance came to be, but she soon would find out. The conundrum tied to her existence would unravel itself as soon as she took her first breath. As she became the main character of a story so similar to those she had witnessed so many times from her place up above the skies.

Yet a bigger question would remain the focus of her ephemeral experience as a sentient girl, for there was nothing special about her. She was someone, something, who had only been crafted to serve, and serve she did. She was someone, something, who had only been placed in the sky to remember, and remember she did.

What would the gods ever want with such a small little lyre?

pyrrhic
/ˈpɪrɪk/
adj.
(of a victory) won at
too great a cost to have been
worthwhile for the victor.

INTRODUCING...

LYRA

Let me tell you the story of a girl
who had wished so hard, who had dreamt too loud,
who did not know what she would later unfurl
with such a will that defied what was allowed.

As she stepped onto the ground, golden light
around the purest of hearts, downcast eyes
then up, to the side, not looking for a fight,
now it's curiosity: problems arise.

Enter a boy, enter a cursed hero,
enter one who's chosen, bound to another.
A laugh, the odds lower down to zero,
then a sob, 'let me mourn for the other.'

For someone who dreamt, someone who wished,
not unkind nor cruel nor blind would Fate be.

&

the friends that dreamt alongside her,

PERSEUS JACKSON
MICHAEL YEW
LEE FLETCHER
DREW TANAKA
ANNABETH CHASE
GROVER UNDERWOOD
MARISOL BACH
ALEXANDER BIM
FELICITY BIM
THALIA GRACE

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first movement:
ANDANTE
the titan's curse

second movement:
MODERATO
the battle of the labyrinth

third movement:
ALLEGRO
the last olympian

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i do not own anything that looks familiar.
this world, and its characters, belongs to rick riordan.
i do not own the myths and the stories that are intertwined all along this tale.
lyra and everything that surrounds her, along with those who are presented around her, has come out from my head, my mind, my thoughts and hopes that have been trying to convert themselves to words for years.
thank you for reading me.