002 Let The World Burn

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CHAPTER TWO / VOL

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CHAPTER TWO / VOL. I, LET THE WORLD BURN

THE SILENCE IS HARROWING

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THE SILENCE IS HARROWING. It's never been something that Will has taken comfort in or felt at home in—rather silence was yet another augury of disaster. It was unnatural. In Ares' cabin there was always some kind of commotion to kill the silence, always somewhere between explosive war cries and the sound of ear-splitting music. Will finds a home in the chaos, seeking comfort in the predictability of disarray, but silence is foreign and unwelcome. Still, as much as the silence unsettles her, Will can't find it in herself to fill the void. The only sound comes from her sharpening her dagger, sliding Éleos fluidly across the whetstone, the sharp trill of celestial bronze ringing in the still air.

Jason seems to be at a loss as well. His hands are stuffed in the pockets of his windbreaker, stormy eyes watching the various buildings they pass by and the many curious eyes that look back at him. He spares a glance at the girl beside him, seeing the dagger gleam in the light. Will catches his eye, a glower permanently etched on her face as she slides her knife across the whetstone in a violent swipe. He looks away.

Suddenly, with Will's probing gaze on him, he's all the more aware of his own person. He has to make sure his feet are moving properly; left, right, left, right. He feels like a newborn deer—every movement hesitant and shaky, like his body wasn't his own until this moment. It was strange how easily Will got into his head, making him uncertain of the most basic things. He feels like a specimen under a microscope, or worse, an ant under a magnifying glass, and Will is the kid holding it under the sun, playing god with a life deemed less crucial than her own. It's the same way that Will views the gods—kids with an ant farm, shaking the box just to see them scramble and watching the world they've created fall to pieces.

We live to suffer. The gods won't accept any less.

          At long last, Jason's voice decimates the silence, replacing it with the sound of his muted voice, not quite as confident as he'd been before. "So, Will..." The name sounds foreign and bashful as it rolls off of his tongue. "Can I ask who your godly parent is?"

MERCY . . . jason graceWhere stories live. Discover now