Why You Should Never Mess With Cupid {𝔓𝔧𝔬 𝔉𝔞𝔫𝔣𝔦𝔠}

Prologue

Third Person's POV

The winter had always been cold to the boy in black, his body never producing enough heat, his shirt with more holes than clothing, his pants more of shorts, his legs nothing more than skin and bones, his cheeks sulking, his back arched in a depressing curve, chest rising and falling heavily, his hands covered in pink petals, a gut-wrenching scream escaping as he took a look at it, tears dripping from his face, feeling like ice as it slides down the curve of his chin.

He raised himself from where he was bent, the action looking like it took everything that existed from him, he fell back, his head hitting the snow, his body practically sinking into it, too tired to even bother raising himself, he looked up at the sky, the black expense looking right back at him, the stars telling a tale themselves, a tale that once upon a time he’d have spent hours trying to decipher, a tale that now seemed like mocking to him.

He sighed, his breath coming out in short uneven pants, his chest constricting after every inhale, his eyelids falling shut, taking one last shaking breath he disappeared, like the ghost he so closely resembled he faded from existence.

Six months ago.

The night he first saw the flower in his hands, he was at the doors of death, tired and in pain, he watched them both step out, hands clutched together, eyes glazed over and wild, knowing nothing but each other, caring for nothing but each other, and as they collapsed from exhaustion, hands seeking each other even as they lost consciousness, he felt something float up his throat, rubbing it's sides as it did, and as he opened his mouth, one stray petal floated from his lips to his hands, the pink startling obvious in the pitch black that was the underworld, at least it was to him, he closed his fist around the lone petal, watching as it lost all its color feeling as all it’s essence got sucked away, till all that was left was rottenness.

Time to dwell on what that was, did not exist, for everything seemed to move too fast, there was screaming and then they were being transported by apparently both him and his half-sister back to the Argos II, only to be met by Reyna who looked worse for wear, at the end of the night he had forgotten all about the petal that died at his hold, that was till he felt a cough reach for him, he felt it rise from the depths of his chest, and he doubled over in discomfort as a stream of petals the same color and shape fell where mucus was supposed to fall.

Once again with a wave of his hands, he let them all die.

It continued like that for the whole journey with Reyna and the satyr, his nights and some of his days were juggled between the fatigue of transporting a statue and two other people practically across a continent, to uncontrollable coughing fits, each one a little bit worse than the last, the petals increasing as the time passed.
When they finally got the Parthenon back to camp half-blood, everything looked bleak to the son of hades, he looked and felt like the corpse he had been surrounded with anytime he made his way to the underworld.

And yet he had faith, faith that it was just as the result of his travels into the underworld and his stepmother’s temporary fury, but all that was squashed when he saw the look the son of Apollo gave him, it screamed of pity and remorse, he knew that look, it was the look he gave people who he knew were going to lose their soul, it was the look he gave himself every time he looked at the mirror, but even his death could have to wait, they still had a war to win.

And a war it was, the moment he stepped into the field, he felt it, the death of children, felt as the underworld got new occupants, that was the welcome he got, the place filled with screams of the fallen, the earth soaked in the blood of the innocent, and with a scream to the skies, he ran towards the carnage, his sword raised to the sky, he was the only child of Hades, ruler of the underworld, oldest of three, his is the earth and the bodies buried underneath, ghost king, he had looked at death in the eye once before and he would do it once more, once upon a time he had been afraid of Thatanos, but no more, now he’d face him with honor, for he knows where his forever would be.

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Okay so we're done with the prologue, what do you think?, the flashforward(?) Was by far one of my favorite parts of the book, or at least one of my favorite parts to write, I dunno why, I wrote it in like the middle of the night dynasty (I think) blasting from my sisters boombox and it was awesome, please doooo tell me what you think

Oh and vote and comments thank you

*does an overdramatic wave*