Child of god | book 1 ✅

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1|4
Six Months Later.

He could never get used to the cool metal throne underneath him even as the king of the domain. It still felt weird, him replacing his father figure. As if the Fates had chosen him to correct his father's wrongs.

He came down from the throne and started for the exit. Some gods stared, still getting used to a god who chose walking and leaving his throne rather than a dramatic disappearance.

His special adviser immediately ran after him. "God of the innocent, where are you heading to?"

"The precinct," Kwento said, still walking. "How is the boy?" He asked, feet coming to a stop.

"He's currently sleeping," Iben replied, head bowed.

"When he wakes up, let him know that I'd be back."

"Okay sir."

Kwento nodded at him and walked through the double titanium doors with a crown engraving and got in an awaiting cab.

After some minutes of locomotion, he highlighted from the cab and found his way into the precinct. Rocky floors before a network of hallways as he had remembered but his main focus was the holding cell at the back which was opposite the prison and completely furnished.

"Good morning king" and "good morning god of the innocent" were the words leaving the mouth of anyone who encountered him on their way. None of them tried to stop him as Bright had done months ago, after his coronation and he guessed that it was from what he did her.

"Are you here to see the two on parole?" A cop asked.

"Yes, thank you," Kwento said and the cop led the way, not minding the entourage trailing after the king.

They used the portal, which was a nondescript titanium door were teleported to the prison building at the speed of lighting.

The entrance gate of one clicked open and he was allowed to see her, his mother. He walked in and on seeing his Farmatha, he rushed to hug her, reveling in her warmth. So far, he had learnt that he could not blame her for what happened. She did what she could to resurrect his dad but had ended up being tricked by a sad man who was just stripped of his powers without him undoing whatever he had done to his dad's soul. Gilbert being mortal again with no one having an idea where he went and him trapping souls was a reality that crowned Farmatha's effort a waste.

"I'm so happy to see you Nwam'," Farmatha muttered into his clothes, tears dropping from her eyes. She was always emotional anytime they met.

"And me too mum," Kwento said, eyes softening. It was as if he also wanted to cry but was holding it in. He had learnt to hold a lot in these past months.

"How have you been?" He asked as his mum led him to her bed to sit.

"We're lucky that they're giving us a chance at being gods."

"That's what you said the last time and the time before that."

"Gratitude never gets old, son," she said with a cheeky smile which exposed her age. "Our trainer says that we're getting real good at learning fast and he may consider filing for an early release."

"That's nice," Kwento said. "I can't wait for you to be back."

"Me too. Are you going to see Heracles?" Farmatha asked.

"Of course," Kwento said somberly, "I'm heading there right now."

"And Michael?"

"He still doesn't want me to see him," Kwento said and stood up from the bed. "You know what? Let me go see Heracles before Dike wakes up. You know how he gets when he wakes up."