#// my son has been tired of this mortal form he wants to be Unhinged

[hellguarded-moved]

//  hide and seek in the forest with a feral demon turned sexual when

[ofcarth]

Uri Morningstar.

Son   of   Lucifer   ,   King   of   Hell   ,   and   Lilith   ,   Queen   of   Hell.   Captain   of   the   Queen’s   Guard. 

                    uri   was   born   upon   the   red   sea   ,   months   after   lilith’s   official   banishment   from   eden.   lilith’s   transition   to   demon   was   not   yet   complete   ,   and   uri   was   one   of   the   first   nephilim   ever   created.   there   are   other   nephilim   of   lilith’s   blood   ,   of   course   ,   and   so   much   time   has   passed   that   even   they   no   longer   remember   who   was   born   first. 

                    uri   is   one   of   the   oldest   of   lilith’s   children   ;   of   that   much   they   are   certain.   he   has   always   had   an   independent   streak   a   mile   wide   ,   and   lilith   was   happy   to   encourage   it.   she   loves   to   see   that   curiosity   within   him   ,   that   self-sufficiency   and   strength.   loves   to   know   that   her   children   are   powerful   onto   themselves.   as   a   child   ,   that   curiosity   and   strength   always   manifested   itself   as   restlessness.   the   need   to   always   be   moving   ,   always   be   doing   something.   he   paced   through   hell   so   often   that   even   now   ,   creatures   find   his   footprints   in   some   previously   undiscovered   corner.   he   was   the   child   that   always   tap-tap-tapped   his   foot   ,   the   one   who   went   to   bed   the   latest   and   rose   the   earliest. 

                    eventually   tiring   of   the   nephilim’s   boundless   energy   ,   beelzebub   took   it   upon   himself   to   train   the   child   ,   if   only   to   give   him   something   to   do   ,   if   only   to   stop   that   damned   tapping.   uri   became   a   rather   good   soldier   at   an   early   age.   or   ,   early   by   demonic   standards.   he   bored   of   that   ,   too   ,   though   ,   eventually. 

                    when   his   sister   ,   hadar   ,   suggested   exploring   the   earth    ---    a   world   he   remembered   only   distantly   from   babyhood    ---    uri   was   wholeheartedly   onboard.   he   told   of   the   idea   to   yovela   ,   while   hadar   told   admon   and   oz.   despite   their   excitement   ,   it   still   took   them   months   to   gather   the   courage   to   ask   their   mother.   uri   promised   to   protect   his   siblings   ,   and   lilith   saw   no   harm   in   their   excursion. 

                    (   it   had   been   a   long   ,   long   time   since   she   was   cursed   to   lose   a   hundred   of   her   children.   not   one   had   yet   been   lost.   she   thought   ,   foolishly   ,   that   the   lord   had   forgotten.   or   perhaps   ,   thought   her   too   insignificant   to   punish.   )

                    the   power   of   that   angel   ,   when   it   came   ,   froze   his   blood   in   his   veins.   he   was   the   first   to   scream   at   everyone   to   run.   he   herded   oz   and   yovela   away   ,   and   when   he   turned   back   to   see   hadar   and   admon   ,   hadar   was   gone.   her   body   was   there.��  rather   ,   pieces   of   it.   there   was   blood   everywhere.   it   smelled   of   wolves   and   wildflowers.   that   smell   he   was   so   familiar   with.   his   baby   sister.   his   heart   pounded   as   he   grabbed   admon’s   arm. 

                    uri   could   see   it.   clear   as   the   day   ,   bright   as   the   stain   of   hadar’s   blood   on   admon’s   fur.   there   was   nothing   to   be   done   for   hadar   ,   not   anymore   ,   but   admon    ---    so   excitable   ,   so   intelligent    ---    would   be   next.   his   eagerness   to   please   would   not   save   him.   not   in   front   of   this   heavenly   beast   ,   who   thought   them   monsters   simply   for   who   had   birthed   them.   because   they   were   of   lilith’s   flesh.   lilith   had   fed   and   cared   and   loved   them   so   deeply   ,   and   they   hated her    ---    hated   them    ---    because   she   would   not   set   fire   to   herself   to   keep   another   warm.   uri   could   see   it.

                    admon’s   goat   legs   were   too   small   for   them   to   run   properly.   uri   knew   in   his   bones   that   he   could   stand   against   this   angel.   she   was   a   lesser   creature   ,   not   nearly   so   threatening   as   lucifer   or   beelzebub   or   the   countless   other   fallen   angels   that   littered   hell’s   halls.   uri   was   the   product   of   a   union   between   heaven’s   strongest   angel   and   the   woman   who   had   bested   god.   he   could   destroy   that   angel   ,   if   he   wanted.   but   only   if   he   was   willing   to   risk   his   siblings   to   do   it. 

                    he   was   not.

                    oz   found   a   cave   not   far   off   from   where   they   were   attacked.   so   near   that   they   could   still   smell   hadar’s   blood.   admon   had   it   caked   into   his   legs.   it   decorated   uri’s   hair   in   a   crown   of   red   stars.   his   brother   was   too   shocked   to   wash   it   off.   oz   was   in   ruins.   she   was   hyperventilating   ,   near   screaming.   uri   was   not   patient   as   he   tried   to   calm   her   ,   telling   her   to   shut   up   or   they’d   be   found.   hadar   would   have   been   able   to   calm   her   ;   the   absence   of   her   made   him   hollow.   his   yelling   only   made   oz   cry   harder.   yovela   murmured   sweet   nothings   until   oz’s   hysteria   eventually   tired   her   out.

                    uri   refused   to   let   his   siblings   out   of   the   cave.   he   didn’t   know   how   to   get   home   without   alerting  more   angels.   didn’t   want   to   bring   a   host   of   them   into   hell.   could   not   risk   the   rest   of   his   family   like   that.   and   so   he   mandated   that   they   stay   in   the   cave   and   ,   confident   in   his   own   strength   alone   ,   went   hunting   to   keep   his   siblings   fed.

                    there   was   nothing   to   be   done   for   oz   ,   who   could   not   feed   without   finding   a   mortal   to   feed   off.   oz   grew   weaker   and   weaker   by   the   day.   yovela   saved   portions  of   meat   and   water   for   her   ,   stubbornly   refusing   to   give   up   ,   even   as   she   knew   that   nothing   could   be   done.   uri   knew   she   felt   guilty   as   he   watched   her   drink   her   fill   off   the   freshly   dead   animals   he   brought   to   them. 

                    it   was   months   before   their   mother   found   them.   uri   felt   her   presence   on   the   earth   like   a   beacon.   unparalleled   power   calling   to   him   ,   calling   to   all   of   them   ,   begging   to   know   they   lived.   the   ground   fell   from   under   him   as   he   thought   of   what   to   say   to   her.   of   how   to   tell   his   mother   that   he   had   failed.   that   he   had   not   protected   his   sister.   the   youngest   of   them   ,   so   loyal   and   dedicated   and   full   of   love.   so   much   like   their   mother. 

                    he   knew   the   exact   moment   he   would   not   be   the   one   to   tell   her.   knew   it   for   the   way   the   world   ,   the   universe   ,   quaked   around   them.   wondered   if   his   mother   would   cleave   it   apart   for   spite   ,   or   if   her   grief   had   her   unhinged. 

                    the   look   on   his   mother’s   face   when   she   found   them   was   unlike   any   uri   had   ever   seen.   he   had   seen   love   and   rage   and   cruelty   from   her   before.   had   watched   as   she   ripped   creatures   limb   from   limb   without   so   much   as   lifting   a   finger.   and   yet   this   utter   emptiness   in   his   mother’s   face   froze   him   to   the   core.   the   grief   in   her   eyes   changed   him.   for   a   brief   ,   heart   stopping   moment   ,   uri   was   afraid   for   the   angel   that   had   murdered   hadar. 

                    admon   reached   for   lilith   first   ,   the   expression   on   his   face   childlike   and   terrified.   something   among   them   all   had   changed.   there   was   a   gaping   whole   that   only   hadar   could   fill.   there   was   something   deeply   ,   achingly   missing   from   his   mother.

                    uri   decided   he   would   never   again   be   the   reason   his   mother   hurt.   he   dedicated   himself   to   her   then   ,   to   defending   and   protecting   her.   she   had   birthed   him   ,   raised   him   ,   saved   him.   and   he   would   not   fail   her   again.   upon   his   return   to   hell   ,   he   went   to   his   father’s   rooms.   he   had   learned   all   the   prince   of   hell   had   to   teach   him.   uri   wanted   to   learn   from   his   king.   from   his   father.

                    he   formed   the   guard   ,   decades   later.   there   was   no   need   for   it   ,   really   ;   no   one   in   hell   was   foolish   enough   to   harm   either   king   or   queen   ,   and   no   one   would   survive   it   if   they   did.   but   it   was   a   way   to   prove   dedication   and   loyalty   ,   and   spot   of   pride   ,   and   the   king   and   queen   of   hell   allowed   it.

                    the   guard   eventually   turned   into   the   queen’s   guard   ,   but   that   is   a   story   for   another   time   ,   with   direct   ties   to   my   verse   with   @luxreprobi.

notes:

uri   is   up   for   adoption   !   please   please   please   write   him

his   faceclaim   is   earth   vangwithayakul   ,   but   that   can   of   course   be   changed

though   he   is   the   son   of   the   king   and   queen   of   hell   ,   he   is   not   the   prince   of   hell.   the   one   and   only   prince   of   hell   his   beelzebub.   this   is   because   the   title  is   not   a   hereditary   position   ,   but   rather   one   of   power.

his   sister   ,   hadar   ,   and   his   brother   ,   admon   ,   are   written   by   the   lovely   moth   ,   on   @mothsmuses.

[shanastoryteller]

I know you probably have a lot of requests with the gods and monsters - but would you ever do an Ares based one?

Zeus’smistress Io remains in her form of a cow, guarded by Hera’s servant Argus, and Herais content.

Shewill remain in that form until her death. Hera hopes that lying with herhusband was worth the sacrifice.

Zeus won’tspeak to her, unwilling to admit the cow is actually his lover and ensure herdeath, and equally unwilling to stand against his wife to try and rescue her.Hera has him just where she wants him, and it can’t last, it never does, butshe intends to enjoy it while it does.  

ThenArtemis comes to her, gold and fierce. She never flinches away from her queen,staring her in the face as if she is nothing more than another of herhuntresses. If Hera did not hate her for being her husband’s daughter, shethinks she might actually like the girl. “Io has a destiny,” she says, “youmust let her go.”

“I don’tcare for her destiny,” Hera says idly, “especially when that destiny involvesgetting with my husband’s child.”

“She isto give birth to a new line of kings,” Artemis hisses, “to be the wife of adeath god, to be mother goddess of a whole new people. She is not meant for us.You must let her go.”

“I amHera,” she says, “I am Queen. I must do nothing.”

Artemisgrowls, hand twitching for her bow, but Hera only raises an eyebrow. Let thegirl try. There are few that can stand against her, and the huntress is notamong them. Artemis lets out a low breath and says, “Do it, my queen, and Iwill grant you what it is you most desire.”

“Somepeace and quiet?” Hera asks.

“Achild,” she answers. “Let Io go, let her fulfill her destiny as a goddess ofthe Black Land of the Nile. If you do that, I, the patron goddess ofchildbirth, will personally use every ounce of power I possess to ensure youconceive and deliver a child of Zeus.”

Hera’seyes narrow, “Neither my power nor his has ever been able to achieve this. Whatmakes you think you are any different?”

“We allhave our domains,” she says, “just as you cannot command the sea, just as yourhusband has no power over the art of weaving, so can I ensure a healthy childwhen you could not.”

Shetaps her fingers against her throne. They call her a mother goddess, thoughshe’s raised no children. Hephaestus may be her precious son, but he doesn’tknow that it was not her that threw him from Olympus. Very few people knowthat. And she didn’t raise him regardless, that honor belongs to Hecate.

Achild, of her and Zeus. A child she can raise.

“Iaccept,” she announces. “You may take her, and Zeus may fulfill her destiny.”She leans forward, brings the oppressive weight of her power to the fore andlowers the pressure of the air until Artemis is left shivering. “Know this,Patron Goddess of Childbirth. If Io births a son of Zeus before I do, I willtravel to the Black Land of the Nile and slay her and her children with my owntwo hands. Not even Hades will be able to put her back together again.”

“Yes,my Queen,” Artemis says, unable to keep her teeth from chattering.

~

Hera istrue to her word. She allows Hermes to think he’s tricked Argus and to steal Ioaway. She pretends to be outraged at the audacity, at the pure white cowtraveling to the sands of the Nile.

Artemisis true to her word. Hera lies with Zeus, like she has so many times before,and a child grows inside of her. One day she stands before her husband andbrings his hand to the swell of her stomach, “This is your child.”

Somethingalmost like happiness steals across his face. She forgets, sometimes, that theyhate each other only as much as they love each other. After so much timetogether, many would think it would be one or the other. They simply opted forboth.

Artemisis there during the birth, her easy confidence more comforting then Hera willever admit. Delivering Hephaestus was easy compared to this. She screams andcries and Hestia’s hands on her shoulders are all that keeps her fromcollapsing and begging someone to just cut the child from her. She doesn’t thinkshe can die in childbirth, not with Artemis between her legs. She wishes she’dthought to ask before this began.

But shedoes not die. Her son is born, just as healthy and beautiful as Hephaestus was.“Well done,” Artemis says softly, placing the squirming child into her arms.

Zeustouches her hair and kisses his son’s forehead. “We shall call him Ares.”

“Verywell,” she agrees, so tired her eyes struggle to stay open.

Shehands her son to Hestia, and finally allows sleep to take her.

~

Aresgrows into the spitting image of his father. Same copper-red skin, same silkyblack hair. Her husband keeps it short, but her son lets his grow long. Theminutes Hera spends every morning brushing his hair are among her favorite.

He hasan eager smile and a soft heart. Hera doesn’t know where he got it, since it’scertainly not from her or Zeus. Demeter tolerates his bumbling after her,though any time Kore attempts to meet her cousin Demeter’s temper frays.Poseidon allows Ares to explore the depths of the sea with a minor sea godacting as his guide. Apollo plays for him, and Artemis teaches him to hunt.Zeus’s lightning doesn’t burn his son, and when storms rage he takes Ares tothe top of Olympus and teaches him to throw lightning bolts.

Heraselfishly does not allow Ares to go to the underworld. She knows he would besafe there, that Hades would protect him as he protected Hephaestus, but that’sprecisely why she won’t allow it. They got to raise one of her sons already. Itpains her to share Ares with them now.

He ishappy, and kind, kinder than anyone would expect a child of her womb to be.

“Hemust choose a domain,” Zeus rumbles, watching Ares shoot arrows with perfectaccuracy.

“He isa child still,” Hera says, “let him remain so for a little longer.”

“If hedoes not choose a domain,” Zeus warns, “one will choose him. We are gods. Wemust be gods of something.”

Sheflickers her gaze at him, and he scoots an inch away from her. “He is a child,and for now a child he will remain. We are not Demeter. We shall not thrust theresponsibilities and power of a deity on a child who is not prepared for it.”

Zeusdisapproves, but says nothing more.

Her sonwill be the god of something patient, something soft. The god of lost children,of heartbroken suitors, of forgiveness. Something where his gentle heart willaid him instead of hurt him.

Shetraded her happiness for power. She doesn’t regret it. But Ares doesn’t need todo the same – she’s the most powerful goddess that still walks the earth. He’sher son, and he’ll want for nothing she can provide.

~

Ares isalmost fully grown, long hair reaching his hips even braided, and the strengthof his limbs is such that he can keep up with Artemis on her most vigorous ofhunts, that he can throw his father’s lightning bolts halfway across the world.

He’sbeen to every place, and met every god of the earth, sea, and sky.

Exceptfor one.

 It’snot hard to find the volcano. He’s strong enough and old enough to take care ofhimself, and his mother does not worry when he says he’s going to the earth.But he did not tell her where, precisely, on the earth he was going.

He hasstrong legs.  It’s easy for him to climb to the top of the volcano. He’salmost made it there when something grabs his shoulders, stilling him. Heturns, and stares into a single large eye. “What are you doing?” the cyclopesgrowls.

“I’mlooking for Hephaestus,” he says, “He’s my brother.”

“Mymaster has many brothers,” the cyclopes says.

Aresshakes his head. He is not the product of his father’s fling with a sprite ormortal. “I am Ares, son of Zeus and Hera. Just as Hephaestus is. I came here tomeet my brother.” The cyclopes hesitates. He asks, “What’s your name?”

“Brontes,”he answers, surprised.

“Brontes,”he smiles, “I just want to meet him. I’ve never met him before. I won’tlinger.”

There’sa moment where Brontes looks conflicted, and Ares tries to look as unassumingas possible. “Fine,” he huffs, “but don’t get angry at me if he dips you inlava.”

“Thatwould be fun,” he says brightly. Lightning doesn’t burn him. So far the onlything hot enough to cause him pain is Hestia’s fire. He probably couldgo swimming in lava.

Bronteslooks at him as if he’s slightly unhinged. He just keeps smiling.

~

Thereare more cyclopes underneath, and bright glittering machines that Ares can’teven begin to wrap his mind around. “Who are you?” someone demands, and a handgrabs his wrist and yanks him away from a boiling vat of lava that he’d beenpeering into.

Helooks up at a man taller and broader than he is. He has skin almost as dark asthe obsidian of his volcano, but lighter eyes. They are the color of darkamber, of molasses. “We have the same eyes,” he says happily.

Hephaestusreleases him instantly. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Whynot?” he asks, “The mortals talk of you. No one else will. But you’re mybrother, right?”

“Youshouldn’t be here,�� he repeats, “Does Zeus know where you are?”

Heshrugs, taking a step closer. His brother takes a step back. He wonders ifhe’ll have to treat Hephaestus like a spooked horse.  “Father doesn’t keeptrack of where I am. Mom know I’m on earth.” Hephaestus flinches, small enoughthat he almost doesn’t notice. “We have her eyes, you know.”

Hecan’t stop starring at Hephaestus’s skin. They do not work like mortals –Demeter, Hestia, Zeus, and Hera are all different shades despite coming fromthe same parents. But – Ares looks so much like his father. Kore looks likeDemeter. Yet Hephaestus looks nothing like their father. He can see theirmother in him, in the eyes and shape of his jaw, even in how angry he is right now. He looks likeHera does when she’s about to lose her temper, lips pressed into a thin lineand the careful stillness of his shoulders.

“I wasn’ttrying to make you angry,” he says plaintively, “I only wanted to say hello.”

Unliketheir mother, Hephaestus lets out a deep breath and seemingly all of his angeralong with it. “I’ve been avoiding you.”

“Why?You don’t even know me.”

Hephaestuskicks him lightly in the shin, the pretty gold and copper of his metal legs catchinghis eye. “You have legs, and I do not. Hera did not throw you from MountOlympus as she threw me.”

Ares lookshard at his brother’s face. The stories say his mother threw her son away forbeing ugly, but he seems just as handsome as any other god Ares has seen. Hisfeatures are strong and chiseled, and he supposes that could have looked unattractiveon a baby, but –

– his motherloves him. Hera loves him with a ferocity only matched by her temper, she loveshim at his most mischievous and irritable, loves him when a stray thunderboltsets Demeter’s hair on end, loves him when even Artemis and Apollo have growntired of his antics, loves him when Athena can tolerate no more of hisquestions. He is her son, and so her love comes without conditions.

Hedoesn’t think Hera would have loved his brother any less just because of how helooked.

He alsoknows that if he tries to say that, it’s likely Hephaestus will push him into a lava pit.

“Well,that’s not my fault,” he says, “If you don’t want us to be brothers, can’t weat least be friends?”

Hephaestus’sface softens. He looks like their mother then too.  He crosses his arms, “You can’t tell yourparents.”

Our parents, he thinks but doesn’t say. “Obviously.Where did you get so many cyclopes?”

Thelast remnants of his brother’s stern façade shatters as he throws back his headand laughs.

~

Ares isvery near maturity, more adult than child, and his father constantly pressureshim to choose a domain. He usually quiets with one sharp glance from his wife,but the fact remains that it is time for Ares to take his place among the godsof the pantheon, to have temples in his name and worshipers like a properdeity.

Hedoesn’t really want any of that.  Hewants to continue hunting with Artemis, learning with Athena, building withHephaestus.

His brotherlets him help out in his workshop sometimes, if he’s very careful and doesexactly as he’s told. Otherwise he sits on a table, legs swinging, and watcheshis brother work and tells him about what he does in the time in-betweenvisits. He talks about their mother enough that Hephaestus doesn’t flinch ather every mention, which Ares can only consider an improvement. SometimesBrontes will stand beside him and they’ll eat sweet buns together.

Unfortunately,all things, good and bad, must come to an end.

~

Thereare two giants, Otus and Ephialtes, who grow tired of hearing of the golden boyof Olympus, who grow jealous of his kindness and his beauty.

Thesetwo giants sneak onto Mount Olympus in the middle of the night, sneak into Ares’sroom, and kidnap him. They’re not stupid enough to attempt to kill him.Instead, they stuff him into an urn, and seal him inside. Ares rages andfights, uses every trick he can think of to break out his prison, but none ofthem work.

Stuckat the bottom of the urn and seething, he can’t help but think that if he’dlistened to his father and chosen a dominion he might be strong enough to freehimself. But he didn’t, so he can’t, and instead he waits.

Andwaits.

Andwaits.

Daysturn to weeks turn to months. He knows they’re looking for him. He knows hismother will tear apart the whole universe attempting to find him if nothingelse. But – what if they can’t? What if he’s stuck in this urn for the rest ofeternity?

In hisdarkest moments, his sorrow turns to rage. He is a god, son of Hera and Zeus,how dare they do this to him?

Then,one day, the urn opens.

Hermespeers down into it, then his face splits into a grin. “We’ve been looking foryou!” He reaches down and hauls Ares out, and for a moment all he can do isblink at the glaring sun. Then his vision clears, and he sees they’re in themidst of a battle. The giants are fighting against the gods, against hisparents, against the twins, against his brother. It’s bloody carnage, but – he can’thelp but feel touched that all these people came looking for him. “Almost everyoneoffered to help find you,” he says, “but Hera didn’t want to draw too muchattention to ourselves trying to sneak into their territory.”

Nosooner has Hermes finished speaking than a giant barrels into his mother withsickening snap. Her shoulder slopes at a grotesque angle, but it hardly evenslows her down.

“I haveto help,” he says, a desperate urgency filling him. They came to help him, andnow they’re getting hurt. That’s never something he’d wanted.

“Ares,wait!” Hermes calls out as he goes hurtling toward the battle. He doesn’t wait.Fighting on the ground can only do so much good, they’re strong but they’reoutnumbered one hundred to one. He darts to Artemis, twisting around the bodiesshe’s throwing over her shoulder. “I need your bow!”

“Ares!”she says joyously, then, “What?”

“Trustme,” he says, “give me your bow.” A giant comes running towards them. Artemisflips him over her shoulder while continuing to stare at him in confusion. He’dbe impressed if he wasn’t so worried. “Artemis, please!”

Shehands over her bow. She moves to give him her quiver of arrows as well, but he’salready moving away from her. Next it’s to his father, who’s hurtling lightningbolts towards the swarm of giants crowding him. They’re deadly, but only soeffective at close-range. He grabs a sizzling lightning bolt right from Zeus’shand, the only being on the planet who could do that and survive, and keepsrunning. “Get clear!” he calls out over his shoulder. “Everyone move!”

He runsup past Hermes, needing to get to high ground for this to work. “Get everyoneoff the battlefield,” he says to Hermes. “Now.”

Hermespulls a face, but by the time he makes it to the top of the mountain, the godshave shaken off most of the giants, are far enough away that he doesn’t have toworry.

He cando this. He’s Ares, the son of Hera and Zeus. He’s been trained in archery bythe great huntress herself. He breaths in, and strings his father’s lightningbolt like an arrow. He pulls it back, breaths out, and lets the lightning boltfly.

Itlands in the middle of the battlefield full of confused giants. With a greatclap of thunder and a burst of light, they’re all gone.

Allthat remains of the traitorous giants is a crater.

Thegods are approaching him, his mother at a limping gait that makes his chestache. Zeus gets to him first, grin stretched wide as he grabs him by both hisshoulders. “My boy! That was magnificent!”

“Thanks,”he says. The smell of charred flesh is in the air, and it makes his stomachroll.

Theykidnapped him. They stuffed him in an urn for over a year. They hurt his mom.

Thatdoesn’t mean he enjoyed it. He never wants to do anything like that ever again.

“Thiswas destiny,” his father says enthusiastically, and Ares has no idea what he’stalking about. “This is what you’re meant to do, son.”

Hestares. He hopes it’s not.

Theother gods are still at the bottom of the mountain. Artemis and Apollo each have one of his mother’sarms slung over their shoulders and are helping her up the mountain. Hermes andHephaestus aren’t far behind.

He’snever seen his father look so proud of him. There’s a leaden pit in his stomachhe can’t explain.

“Inhonor of my son’s great feat,” Zeus booms, his voice carrying across air,speaking with the voice of the king of the gods so his words become law, sothey spread to every corner of the world, “I declare him Ares, God of War.”

Arescan’t breathe.

This isn’t what he wanted.

gods and monsters series, part xvii

read more of the gods and monsters series here