Prologue--EDITED

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He only saw the blood. 

The dark, rich color he was very familiar with. An unfair one.

But it was only supposed to be on the battlefield.

Not on the walls of his home like very thick paint.

Not targeting innocents.

Not dismembering or mutilating corpses.

No cheeky shots for revenge.

His tears were like red rubies.

Meaningful . . . but in the end, it was all in vain.

He was supposed to be the pawn—not the king.

And now . . . he didn't feel like anything.

Weak. Powerless. Pathetic.

Insults that had been thrown at him throughout the decades. 

But . . . why did they hurt so much now?

And as the oceans swirled with power and anger, Percy knew.

Everything in war was unfair. 

The battlefield encompassed the full world.

The world was rejoicing.

While he was mourning.

And he was shattered.

The worst things were sometimes the best foundation.

But could he really believe that?

Could he listen to the world—the thing that betrayed him?



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