Blood of the gods

Chapter 1: Born from the stars

It was a luminous night on the outskirts of Helos, a modest city nestled along the south-eastern coast of Greece. Known for its sprawling farmlands and ancient olive groves, Helos was a place where time seemed to move slower, steeped in the rhythms of the earth and sea. On this rare evening, the stars aligned in celestial harmony, their radiant light cascading down upon the fertile fields and cobblestone streets, as if the heavens themselves were blessing the mortals who toiled below.

Not far from the city, on a gentle hill overlooking the patchwork of farmland, a middle-aged man in his fifties and a young man in his mid-twenties sat side by side. They shared a quiet moment of peace, the kind that comes only after a day of honest labour under the sun.

“This is nice, don’t you think?” the father said, pouring another drink and taking a deep breath as he gazed out at the tranquil expanse before them.

“It is,” the son replied, accepting the drink and taking a sip from the bottle.

“The gods have favoured us this season,” the father continued, his voice filled with gratitude. “Good harvests, strong growth, and even the cattle seem healthier every day. You can feel it, even at night.”

“Indeed,” the son agreed. “I checked the barn earlier, and old Mosey’s looking radiant. We’ll probably get good drachm for her milk.”

“And her meat,” the father added somberly. “Mosey’s time is coming—you know that.”

“Yeah, I know.” The son hesitated, his voice dropping to a murmur. “I wonder when my time will come.”

The father’s demeanour shifted, his weariness showing. “Ikaro... we’ve been through this. You know how I feel about this foolish decision of yours.”

“I just don’t understand, Father!” Ikaro stood, irritation breaking through his calm. “You taught me from a young age how to wield a weapon and a shield. As a veteran, you should understand the desire to defend our land and our people!”

The father stood as well; his tone firm yet tinged with melancholy. “I taught you to defend yourself, not to throw your life away in some war. Trust me—war is never worth what it demands from you.” His voice grew softer, haunted.

Ikaro pressed on. “I don’t want to spend my whole life in Helos. I want to see what the rest of the world has to offer. Iris would agree with me.”

“Don’t drag your sister into this,” the father snapped. “This is between you and me.”

“I’m old enough to make my own decisions,” Ikaro retorted. “And Iris is old enough to make hers.”

“Yes,” the father shot back, “but not old enough to lose every last brain cell in your head—”

Before he could finish, a brilliant flash of light exploded across the night sky, cutting through their argument. Both turned to see a fiery streak plummeting toward the earth, striking the ground not far from where they stood.

“What in the name of the gods?! Did you see that, Father?” Ikaro exclaimed, his voice trembling. “Don’t tell me I’m going mad!”

“I... I saw it too.” The father grabbed his belongings hastily.

“What are you doing?” Ikaro asked, bewildered.

“What do you think? That meteor landed close by. We need to check for damage,” the father commanded. “And I expect you to come with me.”

Ikaro nodded, swallowing his apprehension as they headed toward the crash site.

The scene was otherworldly. The surrounding trees were scorched, reduced to ash, and a vast crater yawned where the meteor had struck. A strange, radiant light emanated from the centre of the impact.

The father secured a rope to a sturdy branch and prepared to descend into the shallow but massive crater.

“Father, what are you doing? We don’t know what that is—it could be dangerous!” Ikaro protested, his voice tinged with fear.

“Dangerous?” The father cracked a small grin. “You’ve clearly never seen your mother when I broke a plate.”

Despite his attempt at humour, his hands betrayed a slight tremor as he lowered himself into the crater. The light grew brighter as he descended, illuminating his rugged face.

“What do you see?” Ikaro called out, anxiety thick in his voice.

The father paused, his breath catching. “It’s... it’s a person, Ikaro.”

There, lying **** amidst the light, was a young man no older than Ikaro. His hair was stark white, his body lean and muscular, marred with cuts and bruises. He was completely naked, a celestial enigma resting at the heart of the crater.