Fates Call (Previously the King, The Ghost, And The Wizards)

chapter 4

The arrival of the gods in Greece was met with an unrelenting silence. No viscous enemy growls, nor the clashing of swords and daggers. Just a suffocating sense of void that drowned all within its reach.

The ground was in a disarray of upheaved grass and large sink holes. Golden dust filled the air like a monstrous smog. Poseidons eyes stung, wishing to close but he couldn't let his gaze drop from the scene in front of him.

A bloodied corpse lay ahead of them. The soft whimpering of the children surrounding it could be heard. A heartbreaking sound that ripped his insides to pieces.

He was the first to speak. His voice came out cracked and desperate. "W-where is he. Where is my son."

Six intense gazes were directed towards the sea god in varying forms of grief and emotion, but none of them were Percys. Not a single pair reflecting his own.

He stepped forward towards the body on the ground. Dark hair thick with dirt and blood. The area around it was pooled with the red liquid and soft tear stains.

Poseidons chest was burning. Agony racked his body as he closed the distance between himself and the demigods. His harsh steps covered by the thumping in his chest. A violent drum bursting against his rbs, crashing thuds of a grieving rhythm.

His sons tanned skin was now reduced to an ashen pale. The lively swirl of sea green eyes a cloudy, glazed over swamp of color. A wicked sword still buried within him, leaving the death blow to scar the minds of all the onlookers. The pain Perseus endured through out all these years, the determination and stubbornness to live, all ruined by a single sword. Yet the gentle smile that laced his chapped lips showed a different story. One of love and family, new beginnings and joyous endings.

Poseidon kneeled down next to the fallen hero, pulling out the rusting weapon. Several droplets fell onto Percys forehead before Poseidon recognized the salty stream running down his face.

He gathered the young man in his arms, coddling him as if he were a child. Clutching him as if force and love alone could bring him back to the land of the living and away from the ethereal world of the departed.

He took several heavy breaths and began to walk. A slow and swaying swagger that pulled the tension in the air along with him into a flash of bright light. Throughout it all, not a single sound could be heard. It was as if the universe had come to a mourning standstill for its fallen hero.