Perseus: The Myth

Prologue

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The White Horse appeared at one side of a mountain valley.

Mount Alburz, the mother mountain, could be seen in the distance. It was dawn and the mist clung to the dewy grass. Small, bright flowers shone in the early morning light, each drop of water looking like a diamond. Glittering.

Wild noises played a melody. Birds singing. Crickets chirping. The wind ruffling the leaves of the few trees that dotted the area.

The White Horse looked around, his watery blue eyes taking in his domain. His muscled flank twitched.

Something was wrong. It was in the air. The world was humming with a sense of wrongness that pulled at the back of his mind. Ahriman's wrongness.

The very name brought a shiver through the air and darkness to his heart.

The evil brother of the King God had always craved power. He was lies and deception after all. He and his demons, daevas, where roaming the country, feeding off stray humans in the desert, and generally causing trouble. But every now and then, a daevas would attack a sepia (angel) or a god. These attempts were, of course, fruitless, but it took a lot out of immortals to fight daevas.

Lost in thought, the White Horse didn't see the signs until it was almost too late.
All in a second, the other half of the valley withered, starting with the area farthest from the White Horse, and crawling toward him until half the valley was covered.  The area between the two shifted with two deities' power.

"Show yourself," the White Horse commanded confidently.

A black horse appeared. His eyes were a cracked stone gray that was able to pierce a mortal's very soul and suck all the air out of his lungs.

"Nice to see you again, Tistrya."

Tistrya growled in a very unhorse-like way, baring his pure white teeth.

"Apaosha."

Tistrya said the name of the the Persian daevas of droughts with so much hate the very words seemed to slice through the air. Both horses glared at one another, neither moving until, as though a signal was given, they both attacked.

That morning, the saphire blood of Persian immortals was spilled. It soaked into the ground and turned the grass (dead and alive) blue, as the god of rain and the daevas of droughts fought to the death.

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Ahurani and Anahita, the two water deities, looked at each other warily. Tistrya, their companion and fellow water master, was not back from from his stroll through his domain and it was beginning to worry the two. They were sitting on logs in the middle of the wood in the Northern part of Persia. Their Parthenon was not know for thinking themselves above all others so no thrones were built.

Ahurani was good looking like most gods. He had silky ocean-blue hair that reached his shoulders in a ponytail, tied with a brown leather strap. His tanned skin was toned with muscle. He was wearing brown silk pants and a blue vest imbedded with beads in various designs that showed his bare chest. His eyes were a liquid silver.

His counter part, Anahita, was truly was a goddess. Her glossy black hair was braided to her mid-back. Her lips were plump and pink. A shimmering dress flowed down her body, turning blue to green as it caught the light. A translucent silver shawl was wrapped around her bare shoulders. Her skin was tanned as well with gold bangles on each arm and her eyes kept shifting in shades of gray, like clouds, and dots of white or yellow would peek through them, as though the sun was sending its rays through storm clouds.

Another look passed between the two and both of their concern peaked. Still no Tistrya.

Without a word, they both held out their hand and a metallic Aqua portal appeared in front of each.
Anahita nodded to the other. She was the most level headed of the two and was the one to usually give directions.
When they stepped through their respective portals, they were encased in a familiar blue spiral as they zoomed of to their destination.

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Both of the immortals arrived at the mountain valley to the sight of two horses, one black one white, fighting. The air crackled with electricity as the two fought.
Both water deities froze. It was like watching the two fight in slow motion. The davas rearing up and kicking their friend backwards. Him sprawled on the ground unmoving.

Apaosha cantered up to the fallen horse.

"Ahriman will rise," he rasped not noticing the two immortals behind him.
"With your blood spilt, no longer will there be rain. And without rain there will no longer be humans to sacrifice to you. Your kind will be weak and we shall be strong once more!"

He brought his hooves up to finish the job, but Anahita and Ahurani let out a shockwave of power and with a tortured yell. The dark colored horse turned to the yellow dust of the desert. Tistrya recovered enough to nod to his friends in thanks and walk through a just summoned portal.

Anahita and Ahurani disappeared into their respective portals, as well, without a word, comming to an agreement to fuss over their friend later.

None of them noticed the newborn boy wrapped into a blue blanket inscribed with the name Perseus...
And none of them noticed that the baby had been made my the blood and power of all four gods present.