Styx: The River of Hate [malexmale]

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

The first oddity of my dream was the sound of a child crying.

It was only strange as my dreams were usually non-existent, or memories that had broken past the barriers that I had been given when my god powers were stripped from me. I couldn't even dream walk anymore. I was trapped within my punishment, my banishment.

The crying continued and I found myself walking down a street. A paved street of white stones that matched the prestigious white buildings that ran up and down the streets, people in ancient Greek clothing rushing from place to place in a flury of life. Statues of gods and goddess stood outside temples and government buildings, men preaching loudly to crowds that had gathered to listened.

I soon found the source of the crying and instantly froze in shock as I recognized the little boy that was standing beside his mother, who gripped his tiny hand in a way that should have crushed it.

Theo.

I recognized the blood red hair and matching eyes, but how small he was! He barely came up to his mother's waist and while as an adult, he looked gorgeous, he was an adorable child. He was small and sweet, but it was the crystal tears that gushed down his face as his mother held his hand, his other hand fisted tightly in his black chiton.

His red hair matched his mother's, though, hers was longer and thick, falling it waves over her shoulders. Her eyes were a sharp silver color, like the bangles on her wrists and ankles. I knew she wasn't human. I had been told she was a daemon, and not a very kind one at that. It was obvious by the way she held Theo's hand as if she wanted to crush it. Anger twisted her deadly gorgeous features as she snapped her head around to glare down at the child, giving him a violent shake.

"Shut up now," She ordered, her voice naturally hoarse, "Shut your mouth, do you understand me?"

"You're hurting me," Theo whimpered, hiccuping through his tears as he gave a tug at his mother's hand, only to have her jerk so hard that he almost fell, "Mama, my hand really hurts."

"Good," She sneered, baring a pair of sleek fangs, "Get used to it. Now stop your feeble whimpering. Wipe those damned tears off your face. I'll not have you shaming me in front of your father." That seemed to make Theo stop crying as he looked up in surprise.

"I get to meet bampás?" He asked incredulously. His mother curled her lip at that, but was too busy using a handkerchief to squeeze so hard at his nose that his eyes welled up with more tears.

"You won't if you don't stop your damned crying," She hissed, giving him a rather harsh slap on the cheek, "Stop it right now or you'll never get to meet your father, do you hear me?" Theo nodded quickly, obediently. He bit hard into his lip, though, to keep from crying out as his mother squeezed his hand in a death grip. She was watching the streets closely, suspiciously as if searching for something.

Why was I dreaming this? How was I even dreaming? It was impossible. My father had been one of the most powerful gods of our pantheon and his powers were extremely difficult to break. Something about this whole situation alarmed me, even worse was to see how Theo's mother had treated him.

I had never met the woman. I arrived when Theo was already an adult. She wasn't there and Theo never spoke of her. Neither did the servants, and I had a feeling that asking would only result in punishment, so I kept my questions to myself until I forgot them.

Now, however, as I watched Theo's mother grip his hand tightly as he fought tears and whimpers, I felt a sharp pang in my chest. It was so harsh that I reached up to press my fist against my chest, grimacing. While my mother had never been very loving, she never dared to strike me or talk ill of me. I was born during a period of war, so I was important just like the rest, and my powers grew viciously until my father sealed them away.