A Whisper Of The Wind

Things were dark, at first.
After the nonexistence.
After the blissful moments of peaceful void and nonexistence.
Things were dark.
And not exactly painful, but it was something.
And even something was an everything to the nothing he had just known.
As Apollo, from the moment he was a conceived thought, he had been everything.
He has been a spark of light in the night, and the music in the air, the cough of the plague, of whispered lies and truth, and the stunning beauty of a solar flare.
He had been the words of the poets, the math of the brilliant, the love on Hyacinthus's lips, and forever a brilliant, shining god.

He had been of everything. Of energy and light.
Of power and brilliance.

He had been the opposite of the calm, empty, painless bliss of the void.

The nothingness.

It called to him. Promising an end to his suffering. An end to the endless torment.
And he wanted it. He wanted it to end. The pain. The grief. The endless fear.
It reached towards him with spindly arms of nothing. Less than the primordial soup that made up Chaos itself.

It was dark.
And Apollo wanted to go back.

The arms tugged at his everything. But a deep warmth fought against it. Dragging him forward and away from the blissful nothingness that he had been.
From the peace he so craved.

He felt... Light.
Like he was filled with holes.

It was still dark. But not in the all encompassing way it had been.

It was still dark, but the pleading strands of peaceful death were gone.

Leaving only a dark path of life in front of him.

He would have chosen to remain in that peaceful, empty place if he could have.

He wouldn't have hesitated.

But a million voices were beckoning him forward. A thousand prayers he couldn't awnser. Meg's frantic love towards him. The legionaries respect.

His sisters insistent call.

So Apollo pushed forward and into life because well, what other option did he have?

It was still dark.
But in a physical way this time.
His eyes were closed, and he didn't think he could open them just yet.
"There you are," His sisters voice whispered somewhere far away yet so so close. "There you are."
His body felt limp.
Wrong.
(He still isn't himself. He recalls. He is still a mortal meat puppet mockery of himself)
Strength belonging to his sister's surges through him.
Righting wrongs.
He is vaugly aware that he's leaning against Diana.
"Can you open your eyes?" Her voice was soft with a tone he didn't exactly expect.

It wasn't dark anymore.
But the brightness was so much compared to the nothing he had just felt.
His sisters arms snake around him and warmth beats in his chest. His heart beating alive and well.
"Good as new." She said quietly and pulled away.
There was an almost physical ache where her arms had been.
How could he put to words how he felt to see her?
He had missed her like the drowing missed the air.
"I love you." He managed between thoughts and her eyes widened a fraction.
"I missed you."
She has a soft smile as she nodded once.
Her voice is terribly quiet when she responds. Hardly a whisper of the wind. "I love you too, Apollo."