End of the Line

#32 - You're Not Alone

Chapter 32 - You're Not Alone
published: Wednesday, 28 August 2019

Annabeth dreamt of a boy.

A boy with ginger hair and a lanky figure. What struck her the most were his grey eyes — her grey eyes, to be exact.

He was a child of Athena, just like her, but he was different. While Annabeth's friends had always said her eyes were calculating, this boy's eyes were filled with shattered dreams and anger.

The next Annabeth noticed was where they were. She was watching the scene unfold like in a movie, but the death and destruction surrounding her felt so real.

Annabeth was in a medieval village — England in the Stone Age, based on the architecture.

Fires ravaged the wooden huts, trapping civilians and livestock alike. Screaming babies and yelling villagers trying to beat out fires were the only thing she could hear.

The image zoomed in on a fight in the street. The invading soldiers had surrounded a family and were moving in for the kill.

A lady Annabeth assumed was the mother clutched her shawl and clung to her youngest daughter, her two other children close to her. Her husband lay dead at her feet, stabbed through by one of the soldiers.

The ginger-haired son of Athena Annabeth has first caught sight of had his arms flung out in protection, warding the soldiers off. His eyes were filled with terror, pools of grey reflecting the flames that ate away at his home town.

"Stay away!" he screamed, arms outstretched.

His mother seemed to scrabble for her eldest son. Annabeth heard part of her shrieks — "don't!"

Not heeding his mother's warning, the boy, only a few years younger than Annabeth herself, brandished his hands in an intricate fashion. He reached out in a grabbing motion and slammed his hand into the cobblestone.

Cracks started to grow from the point of contact between his fist and the stone, sending the soldiers sprawling and wobbling.

The boy let out a yell as he thrust his hands out and clapped them together, creating a deafening clunk as two of the soldiers were smashed against each other, their skulls cracking with the sheer force.

Annabeth watched in horror as the boy stumbled back, visibly weakened.

"Demon!" one of the soldiers shouted, drawing his sword. "A monster from the devil!"

The boy brought his arms back in a pulling motion, and wheelbarrows from either side of the street crashed into the soldiers at full speed, splintering as they briefly incapacitated the enemies.

His eyes were swirling now, churning whirlpools of power and strength.

Somehow, Annabeth knew what was about to happen. She couldn't cry out, couldn't warn the boy or his family.

The tar in the streets started to crack as stones pulled themselves out of the ground and were suspended in the air.

"Stop!" the boy's mother tried once more, keeping her children behind her as the boy started to...glow?

Annabeth didn't believe it at first, but his skin was starting to colour a bright red, smoke spitting off in small plumes. The rocks under his command were levitating, deadly weapons at his hand.

But before the boy could raise his arms, his head jerked back suddenly, revealing the inky black that his irises had now become. His fists clenched, a guttural and animalistic scream tearing itself from the boy's throat.