Marcus DimascioThe Hurricane Throne

CHAPTER NO.26

I was almost close to incinerating the Cyclone Prince.

He kept his arms raised up while I kept the tips of Poseidon's trident aimed at his back. He acted all calm, but I knew he was scared of getting zapped by the three–pronged spear. He still had no weapon visible, which made me think he was trying to be diplomatic.

We turned a corner and I could see the full carnage of what I've done – the walls were charred to a crisp and the floor was covered in thick grey ash, which was all that was left of the Typhoon's I incinerated. There were still fires in random places, glowing bright blue. The floorboards were black with burn marks, weapons were scattered around the place and pieces of armour were strewn across the ground or flattened against the now ruined walls.

So much chaos...What have I done? I killed so many soldiers who thought I was the enemy, all because Proculus lied and manipulated them into doing so. The thought of Jalen being rushed back to the storm city's infirmary twisted my fury at the guy into guilt. Even the thought of frightening Kane made me feel hollow with guilt and regret. For all I knew, I've reduced the Whirlwind Hunter's numbers from a few dozen to maybe ten or so members.

"You've caused way too much damage Marcus," Proculus told me. He turned to look me dead in the eye. "A lot of good men died trying to get you back to the city, yet they met their deaths at your hands. Almost a quarter of Downtown Los Angeles lies in ruins because of your uncontrollable storm incident and now Chiron's school is near enough obliterated because you wouldn't turn yourself in."

"What are you trying to do?" I snapped at him. "Huh? Are you trying to put me on guilt trip? None of this would've happened if you–" I pointed my finger accusingly at him. "–left my sister and me alone. But no. You couldn't stand our being here in this world, all because you were jealous for no reason."

"I had a good reason," the Cyclone Prince growled. "I'm the Prince of Cyclone City, the son of Poseidon. When there's another child of the Sea God anywhere in the world, who might be chosen to replace me as leader of the storm city, I get rid of them. I'm the Prince, no one else."

"I'm also a child of Poseidon," I countered, "yet I wasn't the one who went crazy on a quest and killed my friends, along with a bunch of mortals."

I knew I crossed the line, and I knew I was risking Proculus's wrath. But he did nothing at all. He didn't yell or protest. He only blinked in surprise.

"I don't want to be the next Prince of that hellhole," I explained. "In fact, ever since you took the memory of me agreeing to be the heir of the Hurricane Throne, I've actually been having second thoughts about the position. You can keep it to yourself, because I'm not even interested."

"A son of one of the Big Three who refuses eternal power..." Proculus muttered. "You really do know when to surprise me."

"All I want is to live, instead of being chained up and thrown into prison like a wild animal. I just want to be able to live the rest of my life, grow old even. And no one tormenting me or my family."

Proculus finally leaned against the wall, regardless of the fact that I still aimed the trident at his chest. "So, that's where I come to a reasoning request: if you give our father a tribute of your blood to awaken him at the ritual, I will allow you and your sister to live. I swear to you that I will leave you alone, only if you give a sample of your blood for the ritual."

I'll admit that did get my attention.

But then I thought about it for a few seconds and decided to listen to what Chloe advised me to do.