*COMPLETED*
#34 in MURDER-MYSTERY
After a middle aged businessman was found brutally murdered in a high-end restaurant Olivia Summers, a forensic expert working for NYPD, suspects the owner of the restaurant himself. But when the said suspect is a d...
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The dark cloak that brushed against the pristine white marble sculptures showed how much of a contradiction his presence there was.
The son of darkness in the palace of light.
Keres Konstantinos' lips quirked up in a smirk at the irony. It was not as if his presence in the palace of Olympus was uninvited; they needed him. And as a Primordial, Keres soaked up the power that he held in his black gloved hands.
Finally, he was to bring an end to the curse of instability of the Crown.
It sounded like a sweet, sweet melody.
And the so-desired stability came in the form of a clueless little mortal who was sleeping soundly back in his mansion, oblivious to the hurricane she had had whipped up.
Keres didn't know what to make of the mortal. Even the term mortal barely applied to the fiery woman with an allure better than any nymphs he had been with. There were times he looked at her and saw her like any other stupid human who would perish in the hands of mortality. But there were also times he would look into her silver eyes and find the clear-sightedness of a powerful Titan who ruled the realm of Gods for thousands of years.
Maybe such was her devious plot, he wondered, to appear like a harmless and powerless little mortal when she was anything but.
His obsidian eyes glanced at the golden-armored guards who stoically stood guarding on the either side of the Pantheon gates. They bowed low as he passed, acknowledging the young prince of the Dark Clan at the same time searching his fisted hands nervously for Mors.
Of course; Mors, the two-headed axe that he used to reap the souls of the dead was formidable but it is a least known fact that it would hardly do anything to a God. And Keres did nothing to clear the misconception that was prevalent among his peers. But the inability of Mors to permanently injure a God doesn't mean Keres had no weapon that could effectively disable a God.
Oh, he did own a lesser known weapon of carnage.
Keres' hands fell on the said weapon that accompanied him to the Olympus. His sliver ring clanged loudly with the ancient iron hilt of the sword resting on his hip, underneath the long black cloak that hung on his shoulders with the silver clasps. The sword of Khaos, sword used by his grandfather and the ultimate being who gave rise to all beings, was his familial inheritance that he received when he was a mere boy. A sword as powerful as that of Khaos is hardly a gift for a toddler but his family never had that kind of reservations.
After all, power was a weakness his family embodied in its most pure form.
And to Keres, death was power. Just like the sword in his hilt that could scatter the essence of any God and the mortal who can be killed with a mere flick of his wrist; death was the ultimate bargain of power.
