Marcus DimascioThe Hurricane Throne

CHAPTER NO.2

I snapped myself awake, screaming my head off.

I jolted upright; panting wildly like I've been running for days. My wrists were still chained with iron bands, stained with dried blood, and were attached to the wall.

I still couldn't believe me and my sister were in prison. It's been over three months, since they captured us. The memory of them killing our mother was still in my head. My head hurt like mad and my skin stung like it's been soaked in boiling acid. I felt homesick for New York, since we were imprisoned in Colorado.

Chloe looked terrible, even though she was asleep. Her dark hair was a mess, her face was bruised and dirty, her clothes were tattered and she had her wrists chained like mine were. She's lost weight and looked terribly weak.

I stood up, my legs feeling like they were on fire, and looked at my reflection in the mirror, which hung on the corroded stone wall. I looked worse than Chloe. My raven-black hair looked as if a scorpion had made a nest in it. My skin was pale and bloody. My clothes were torn and shredded and my dark blue eyes were bloodshot from tiredness.

Proculus, the Prince of the Hurricane Throne, the demigod son of Poseidon.

That power-hungry murderer - even remembering or saying his name makes me shake with uncontrolled anger. He was there that day, when they kidnapped me and Chloe. He killed our mother and brought us all the way to Colorado, which was hundreds of miles away from our home in Brooklyn, New York. I still remember that evil smile on his face, when his sword pierced our mother's chest.

After transporting us to Colorado, they threw us into this cell, chaining us to the wall like we were wild animals or something. Two days later, Maximus came in and explained who he and the rest of the others were. They were known as the 'Storm Guard', a kind of cultural society that worships Poseidon, due to his powers over the storm. Their job is to protect the power of storms everywhere in the world, even creating storms once in a while for sports. They even have their own army, which Maximus (who is a member of the Storm council) is the general of. He's been the general for over a thousand years, while Proculus has been the Prince for seven hundred years. Every now and then, the Council would elect a new Prince to come along but that rule was now against the law, since Proculus wouldn't allow it.

He seems really intent on being the prince forever.

Sighing through my nose, I reached into my ripped army jacket pocket and brought out a thick leather book - a diary if any of you mortals are wondering.

You might not know it, but some of you might be demigods like me and my sister, and that maybe this diary might help you understand what we've been through. Maybe this could help you understand exactly what some other demigods are like in the world.

Unlike a few I could mention ...

I unclipped the pen from the diary, turned over some of the recent entries and started to write:

10th November 2012.

Day No. 72

I dreamt of Mom. It was the first time in months. I still can't believe that it's been three months already since that day.

And yet, we're still here, in the wretched Princes keeping. He's still putting us through more torture and misery, while at the same time enhancing our strength, speed, our invulnerability, powers, telepathy, eyesight and smell, which we DIDN'T even need in the first place.

He keeps on saying that we would appreciate what he and his Storm Guards were doing to us - since we would need them for what is to come.

Since Chloe and I are both demigods as well, we are supposed to need strength and powers. But they've been putting us through hell in order to do so, because we're children of Poseidon as well.