Allen1996
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Rage against the heavens: Chapter 13: Unforgivable cradle
🕑 Added 2025-02-20 20:46:34 +0000 UTCThere was a thought experiment I had midly been interested by in my teenage years in my first life.
The experiment in other terms was that you were for whatever reason able to travel through time, to go In the past more precisely, to where and when Hitler was when he was a defenceless baby.
The point of the experiment was in my opinion morality, more precisely the way it could be defined, about how it should be defined.
Good old Uncle H had been indirectly and directly the reason for the death and the suffering of literally hundreds of millions of people. Thus, according to this framework, killing Hitler, stopping him from doing what he would be, should only be the right, the moral thing to do.
On the other side though, it could be rightfully argued that by doing so, you would still be killing a baby, one of the purest and sinless existence. Even if it was baby Hitler, you would be killing something innocent, pure for what this person, thing could do in the future because after all, what said things could not change, chaos theory and all of that, what said that killing him would not make things worse?
Also, did it mean that people should be treated, punished because of what they may do instead of what they did? That was kinda dangerous to think in such a way. Send little Jason to be executed because he would In the future more than questionable acts? Lobotomize all the fanfic authors with chuuni names because clearly, their true goal was to amass a following and plant their ideas through their works so that when the prophecy of the 30/03/2030 will come to pass, they would all turn into gods, angry gods well unless their names were Jozeph because Jozephs are chill like that.
Anyway, the point, the goal behind that thought experiment was knowing if doing the wrong thing or in other flowery words bathing yourself in sins for heaven, doing the wrong thing so that everything would be right was moral.
It kinda was the way how I felt right now, not really but kinda. I had after all before me one of Luke's and thus Kronos’ future lieutenant, one of the guys who didn't care that a possible win for the Titans may and more than likely not make things better for demigods but in all cases worse for humanity by sending back humanity to the caves.
Depending on the way you wanted to see it, Alabaster was semi-canon due to the fact that he and his book, Son of Magic had been written by Rick Riordan’s son, the book where Hekate the Greek goddess of magic would be revealed as Christian.
Alabaster would become the only guy, the only demigod to apparently be banished from camp half blood, something that Daedelus I killed my nephew because of fame and jealousy wasn’t even able to do which is wild when you think about but I guess that it is more acceptable to kill a blood relative as long as you don’t eat then after or during than insulting the gods because even when the Titans lost, he wanted to encourage his mother, Hecate and other demigods to continue to fight which I’m all about for making the gods pay, for the underdog to triumph and all of that but lil Bro should have taken levels in intelligence to understand that maybe it would be better to bide his time and prepare for an opportunity instead of screaming on all roofs and sharing without precautions his plans which if he would have done so would have given not even a year after the perfect opportunity with the Romans and the giants.
It was in his book, Son of Magic that we were introduced to the fact that demigods attracting monsters was because of Lamia, his older half-sister who had been stupid and mad enough in her grief after the death of her children by Zeus unsurprisingly the hands of Hera to think that the same Hera would care about the suffering of demigods when she herself threw from the top of Olympus her own divine child with probable deletion as the goal because she saw him as ugly.
More than that, it was not as if most, like 99% of demigods were born out of wedlock and that she was the goddess of marriage and family. She had literally only helped the first Jason because his parents had been married so demigods dying? Lamia had made her a favour more than anything else because when you were the goddess of marriage and family yet were capable without batting an eye of trying to kill your handicapped child that was handicapped because of your pride to add even though that was the same thing your dear old dad had tried to do so which more than that wasn’t because of something as shallow as appearance, members of your family who weren’t of proper birth A.K.A not divine, natural or resulted of adultery dying because of monsters was almost as much as a perfect gift as if that bastard of Zeus stopped cheating.
Anyways, for all Alabaster could possibly do in the future, I would not judge or treat him based on that. More than that it would be hypocritical when I, myself wanted to fight the gods.
Sure Kronos was a horrible choice but it had been the only choice the one against the Olympians had to balance the scales. He had been evil but seen as the lesser of evils just like most of those who had fought for Olympians like Percy in canon thought the inverse. He just had been a choice that would have really fucked up humanity and that would have probably been worse than everything the eagle of freedom when oil and spreading said freedom and Uncle H could do combined and this was why I was making the analogy above.
In any case, I was walking would possibly future minion 2 of Doom and you would have thought that the school of Alasbaster would not be too far away from the place where I had found him but you would have been wrong.
I was slowly realising that Alabaster, a preschooler, a boy that was probably no more than five had run more than three miles being chased by monsters, three fucking miles. There are adults kinda in good health who are probably not even able to run half.
I had not wanted to be outside for too long but it seemed I would be. I hoped my absence was not noticed. That would be a headache-inducing mess to deal with.
Now that I'm thinking about it, I wonder if the moment I stepped in could be considered a canon event, if it happened to the canonical Alabaster too, just that he would have dealt with it by his lonesome.
Children hunted by monsters. It's hard to realize how messed up in every way this was until it is in your face, until it is your reality.
Truly fuck this universe.
I was brought out of my thoughts by Alabaster’s voice. “Mister Alex, are you a god?” Alabaster asked me.
I almost missed a step at the question. I didn't know if I should be insulted or flattered to be honest. I turned downward to look at the child. In his eyes, I saw an intelligence beyond that a child this age should not have innocent curiosity.
I read somewhere once that when you’re called a god, you better shut up and accept and even though it was probably good for the ego and probably in so many other ways, being kinda indirectly called similar, like that bastard of a genitor of my niece was something I could, would not accept. I would honestly prefer to be a worm because Fuck Zeus and not in the way the freak probably would like “No, I am not,” I tried to tell him as softly as possible, in a way that would not be rough due to my inner thoughts “I am only human just like you, just like the people around us.”
Alabaster shook his head at my words and said “I am not human, I am not like them. They are not like us. They don’t see the monsters. I am not like them because They are not able to do anything.”
I exhaled softly, the sound barely audible over the rustle of leaves and the distant hum of a world that moved on, oblivious. The words Alabaster had spoken echoed in my mind kinda like a haunting refrain that refused to fade.
I am not human. I am not like them. They do nothing.
Each syllable felt like a shard of glass, cutting deeper than it should. Hearing those words from a child from a preschooler, I couldn’t help but feel a sadness that settled in my chest like a stone.
It was sad, wasn’t it? That at his age, he already saw himself as something other. Not a boy, not a child, but a creature apart from the world he was born into.
It also made me think that when you thought about it, all demigods , heroes and villains did so in the books. They called humans, normal people mortals as if it was a sin to be such, as if they were not themselves, as if normal people weren’t the same to them, as if they were not human, as if humanity was lesser.
I knew it was partly because of the influence of the gods. In canon, we were shown time and time again that demigods would do anything, anything for the attention, the praise of the divine A.K.A their parents, that there was nothing that they craved more than an acknowledgement of their parents, this is why they wanted to go on quests, to face monsters and the likes, to have glory so that they could feel loved when love in truth should never be conditional, when it was never and should never be the role of the child to be ready to sacrifice everything so that they would be loved.
I loved Thalia, he loved my niece and no matter what, it would never change. She could hate me, possibly be a foe against me in the future yet I don’t think it would change anything to what I already felt. The love of a parent toward their offspring should never be a reward but something is given in its entirety from the beginning. That's what I learned despite the way I was raised in my first life. That's what I believed as if it was a scripture from the heavens themselves.
The love I had for Thalia It wasn’t and would never be a reward for her bravery or her strength. It wasn’t something she had to earn. It just was and that’s how it should be. Love shouldn’t be conditional. It shouldn’t be a transaction. It should be given freely, wholly, from the very beginning.
But the gods didn’t see it that way. They never had. And because of that, because of the mist that shrouded their world from mortal eyes, so many demigods had died alone, begging for help that never came. How many children had screamed into the void, only to be met with silence? How many had been abandoned, left to fend for themselves against monsters they couldn’t even see? And when you beg again and again and again, and no one answers, how could you care when something wrong happens to others? How could you see yourself as part of a world that had turned its back on you? Also, when the divine is what you want to reach, when immortality is what you want to cradle you, how else could mortality, humanity be other than an insult, other than something lesser?
The mist. It hid the monstrosities, the good and the bad, the ugliness of the divine world. It protected humanity, yes, but at what cost? Blissful ignorance might have been a kind of salvation for some, but for demigods, it was a death sentence. How many had died because no one could see their pain, their fear, their desperation? How many had been lost because the world refused to look? Humanity unlike what a lot of people thought survived because of cooperation, because thousands or hundreds of thousands of years before if not more, an injury that should have been a death sentence wasn’t because instead of leaving it to the harsh rules of nature, we decided to heal the injury, to support another even though the easy thing, what should have been the right thing should have been otherwise.
Media like to show the bad because of clicks and because it sold, influenced. We humans due to our evolutionary process like to remember the bad because that's how we subconsciously make sure we are not unaware of what could go wrong, caught with the pants down in other words but this didn't mean that good didn't happen, didn't exist as much if not more in the actions, in the hearts of people. It was just that it was in human nature to focus on the bad but it didn't change that people could be kind, could do the right thing, be heroes without any divine blood when something wrong happened but how could they be such if they didn't know that anything wrong was happening?
I exhaled again, my breath forming a cloud of mist that hung in the air before dissipating. The snow continued to fall, each flakes a silent witness to the thoughts that churned in my mind. I turned to Alabaster, who stood a few feet away, his small frame silhouetted against the white expanse. His eyes, sharp and wary, met mine, and in them, I saw a reflection of everything I’d been thinking.
“I think I know why you don’t see yourself the same as them,” I said softly, my voice carrying just enough to reach him. He didn’t respond, but I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands clenched at his sides. “This isn’t the first time monsters have come after you, is it? And each time, no one helped you. Did they?”
For a moment, he didn’t answer. Then, quietly, almost too quietly to hear, he said, “No. They didn’t.” There was a sorrow in his voice, a sadness that no child should ever have to carry. It was there in his eyes too, a weight that pressed down on him, bending his small frame under its burden.
I felt a pang of something sharp and aching in my chest. The worries of a child should be simple things—games to play, homework to avoid, vegetables more than likely spinach or Brussels sprouts to push around a plate. They shouldn’t be about death, about running, about fearing the shadows that lurked just out of sight. They shouldn’t be about feeling so disconnected from the world that you see yourself as something other than human, as something that doesn’t belong.
“I’m not going to treat you as if you’re stupid,” I said, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions inside me. “I’m not going to pretend you can’t understand me, because I know you can. To be frank, I’m not that different from those people. A week ago, I was exactly the same—weak, ignorant, blind. Maybe if I’d paid more attention, maybe if I’d tried harder, I could have done things, should have done things differently but I didn’t. I didn’t because I didn’t know.”
Alabaster looked at me, his expression unreadable. For a moment, I thought he might say something, but then he spoke, his voice low and measured. “Maybe you were like them. I don’t believe it, but maybe you were. But it’s not the case anymore. I am not like them. You are not like them. If a monster comes, the two of us would see it, would be able or try to do something, not any of them. We are not like them because if we were, the teachers would believe me instead of calling me a liar whenever I talked about the monsters. The other kids would have been my friends, maybe. But I’m not like them. I’ve never been like them. I’m smarter, stronger. I can do things they could never do. I’m not human because if I were, I wouldn’t have to run from monsters. I’m not like them because if they were like me, like us, they would have seen what was happening. They would have listened when I screamed. They wouldn’t have looked and smiled at the monster. They would not have listened to it instead of me, leaving me alone with it. They wouldn’t have looked at me as if everything about me was wrong.”
His words hung in the air, heavy and final. I wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong, that he was still human, still a child. There was a hardness in his eyes, a resolve that spoke of too many times spent running, too many days spent alone. He spoke like someone who had seen too much, endured too much to believe in the simplicity of childhood anymore. I think it needed repeating that he was a preschooler, a child, in my eyes, a baby in all senses of the term.
Hearing him, looking at him, how could I not see the world as something broken? Such a thing possible in this world only meant that the rulers, the ones, master of it didn't have their place, shouldn’t have it at the top of the world.
The words came out more feelings than thoughts. In a quiet tone barely louder than the whisper of the wind, I spoke softly “I have a niece you know, not much older than you. I call her my niece but in truth, I saw and still see her as my daughter. She was kinda like you. She had her differences, things that made, that make her different from most and the world wasn’t kind to her because of it like I am sure it had not been with you. I had loved her, I love her. I would have and would still give everything for her, just for her to be happy but it didn’t change that no matter how much I loved her, no matter what I would have done for her, sacrificed for her, I wasn’t there for her the moment she needed me to be, I couldn’t have been there for her even though I had promised her I would always be there for her because I was ignorant, Kid. I was ignorant of monsters, of the things hidden to the sight of most, ignorant to the dangers to be and the dangers that already were and because I was ignorant, my love, my will amounted to nothing Alabaster.”
The words left my lips with a tremor, as if confessing an unspeakable truth. I watched him intently—his bright, verdant eyes, green as the spring leaves, locked onto mine. There was a vulnerability there, mingled with a fierce determination that belied his age. After a long, heavy pause, he finally broke the silence, his voice a hushed murmur laced with fear.
“What happened to your daughter?”
I felt a chill pass through me, a reminder of a wound that had never truly healed. A mirthless smile curled on my lips as I answered, my voice carrying the weight of a thousand regrets.
“She’s gone, kid. I wasn’t there for her like I promised and things went to a point she probably rightfully didn't find bearable anymore. She's gone and I don’t know where she is. I don’t know how she's sleeping, I hope in my heart she’s sleeping well even though my brain knows that she probably doesn’t. It's winter and she's a homeless less than ten-year-old girl also hunted by monsters both mythological and human. I hope she’s eating well or at least well enough so that hunger doesn't leave her devoid of thought and crippled by pain. I wish she is safe even though she probably is anything but it. I wish a lot of things, kid, things I know would probably not be even in this world of wonders and horrors. I loved her but I was too late to do anything because I didn't know but had I known, I promise you Alabaster, I would have done something, done the right thing, probably overdo it, go into a fistfight with a Primordial if needed.”
The bitter irony in my words seemed to hang in the crisp air as I watched the child’s expression shift. A frown began to bloom on his delicate features, a frown that spoke of sorrow and defiance and understanding.
“You’re strong Mr Alex but only gods can stand equal to other gods.”
I exhaled slowly, my heart heavy as I considered his words. “That's what should be but human beings, normal people are capable of miracles by themselves, without the gods if they try hard enough, if they believe in themselves enough. The sky, the moon, the heavens are not the limits, the stars are our inheritance. It may be wrong, it is probably wrong and arrogant to think in such a way, hubris even but That's what I believe and I think, believe, no, I know that same thinking, that same bloom is held in the heart of all the people around us Alabaster. Alabaster, they would have helped if they knew what was wrong, if they knew that there were monsters. Look at the people around us. They would have been scared yet I knew, I was sure that a lot of them would have died without hesitation to save you if needed, kill, inflict violence if needed. The reason why they didn't is that they didn't know.”
I paused then, taking in the scene around us. I drew in a deep, measured breath as the waning sun painted the horizon with hues of molten gold. The world seemed momentarily transformed, kinda as if it had become a silent testament to both beauty and decay while I was speaking. The snow and ice, once cold and lifeless, now shimmered with an almost unreal radiance, each flakes a fleeting jewel scattered across the expanse. I closed my eyes for a heartbeat, savoring that fleeting moment of beauty amid the desolation of my own making.
When I opened my eyes, the child’s gaze remained steady, filled with questions I could barely answer. I continued, my voice softer now, yet edged with something I myself didn't recognize but that felt true.
“I am not telling you that humanity is perfect, that the world is perfect because that would be the greatest lie ever told but I want you to ask yourself, without the veil of ignorance shading the world, without the mist hiding everything, do you truly think that people would have treated you the same?”
We walked on, the crunch of our footsteps acting like a metronome to the pulse of our conversation. For a long moment, silence enveloped us like a fragile truce. I saw Alabaster’s small face contort as if wrestling with an inner storm. Finally, his voice broke through the quiet—a sound heavy with the taste of bitter resignation.
“No, they wouldn't,” he said, his words spat, as if they had been forcefully torn apart from his insides, measured and laden with sorrow and guts “But it still didn't change that they never did anything, that they don’t see, experience the world like us. It may not be their fault but in the end, it doesn't change much. Woulds and Ifs won’t change the fact that the next time something wrong happens, they will still be as useless. Maybe they are not less but it does not change that I am better, that you are better, that we are better, different at worst, that we see the world the way it truly is, one-eyed kings in a world of blinds.”
I felt a pang in my chest as his declaration echoed in the cool air—a statement so raw and definitive that it left little room for consolation. I bent slightly, as if to meet his eye level, and replied in a voice barely above a whisper.
“I don't think I can call myself better than any other inherently, Alabaster. If anything, I fucked up more than them, if anything I am worse than them because my blood, my niece, the one I saw as my daughter needed me, needed my help and I was late. If ignorance is a sin, I am in my opinion one of the greatest sinners.”
I paused again, the weight of my confession hanging between us like a shroud. The biting cold of the evening seemed to recede as I continued, each word carefully chosen to mend the jagged edges of my remorse.
“You may be different, Alabaster, you, my niece and all the others like you but in the end, I think, I consider you human and do you know why? Because you are more like us than the divine overlords of this world. You’re capable of living, learning, being free, going wherever you want to as long as you are ready for the possible consequences. You're capable of empathizing, of caring, of forming friendships and rivalries devoid of any divine factor or influence. More importantly, you can die, just like any of us. You may be different, special, but in the end, you will face the spectre of death like any of us. Your existence, like other human existence, is a short supernova instead of a candle lit forever and that makes you human in my point of view, Alabaster. That makes you important”
He looked at me then, his small features hardening into a declaration that seemed to defy the bitterness of our shared past. “I am not like them. I am a part god!”
I shook my head slowly, a rueful smile playing on my lips as I met his challenge head-on. “But you are also part human. You go to a human school, live in a human country. You're human in every way that matters, probably better in some aspects, more talented due to your bloodline but still a part of humanity.”
I felt a brief, almost imperceptible smile flitted across my face. I had an idea. Not sure if it would work with Alabaster but it was something that usually did on children and that thing was leading them, giving them the illusion that they could win. My mom had done so with me so many times in street fighters. Seriously fuck Bison because imagine having to eat each day Brussels sprouts and Spinach because your mom made a bet with you, one saying that if you won one time against her, you could choose to eat anything you wanted when she was in truth grandmaster in the game and had been introduced to it before your birth by her older brother “You know what? Let's make a bet. What do you think of it?”
His eyes widened in a mixture of confusion and cautious curiosity. “A bet?”
I shrugged my shoulders, the motion languid yet resolute, as if shrugging off the weight of centuries. “Yep. A bet. It's not without a reason you think in such a way. All my pretty words won’t change the fact that your words echo the reality of this world, what's the point of woulds and ifs when this veil, this sin of ignorance, the one that makes nothing change exists? In truth, we both are not wrong, I think. The world is the one that is wrong so I am going to change it. I am going to change it so that you can see that those people are not that different from you, that they are not inherently lesser, that they would be better if they were allowed to be.”
His eyes narrowed, suspicion mingling with something like hope. “What's in it for me?”
Hook
I let my shoulders fall back into place and offered a small, rueful shrug. “I don’t know, cornepussance, the satisfaction that you are right, that you, that we are not like them, that we are better?”
Line
“It means you got to stay in contact so that I can tell you when what would obviously happen happen that I told you so.”
Sinker
Alabaster’s voice was matter-of-fact, his cadence quick, as if the words had been compressed into the shortest possible space between breaths. He had that look again—too serious, too certain, as though the world bent itself to fit his conclusions rather than the other way around.
I huffed a short laugh. “Don’t worry, kid. Something tells me we won’t be able to get rid of each other soon.”
Alabaster frowned at that, as if weighing the idea like a scientist studying a hypothesis. Then, without warning, he reached out and tugged at my shirt. I glanced down at him, one brow arching in askance. He wasn’t looking at my face, though—his attention was locked on his own tiny hand, which was now extended toward me, pinky finger raised with all the solemnity of an oath before a tribunal.
For a second, I just stared.
It was easy to forget, sometimes, that Alabaster was still a child. His mind moved faster than those of most adults I’d met, weaving through problems and concepts like an escape artist slipping from bonds. But no matter how sharp he was, how different, how old he seemed—he was four. A boy barely past the stage of toddling, still small enough to be scooped up in an arm, still at that age where bedtime stories and warm hands on foreheads after nightmares should have been part of his world.
I let out a slow breath before offering a wry smile—one that even I could admit was a mix of fond and exasperated—and extended my own pinky, locking it around his in the age-old contract of children. A promise sealed.
A second passed, then two, before I straightened. “It seems we’re almost at your school.”
Far ahead, I could see it: a Catholic school, its architecture dignified yet unassuming, a slice of rigid order amid Los Angeles’ sprawling chaos. The sign outside read St. Thomas the Apostle School. Though the distance blurred the finer details, I could already make out the silhouettes of adults moving in frantic disarray—teachers, staff, probably bodyguards—all gripped by the kind of panic that only came when something valuable had been misplaced.
A missing child.
So it was not completely bad, they had at least noticed it seemed.
As we walked closer, another figure stood out among the chaos—a man, somewhere between his early and mid-thirties. He looked like an older mirror of Alabaster but kinda less as if Alabaster was the updated in all ways and a true update not like an IOS version of his father his features really similar, almost identical but hardened by time and burdened by fear and lack I said with the imperfection kinda lacking from Alabaster which when I thought about it, Alabaster kinda looked a doll in a way. His posture was tense, his face drawn tight with worry. His eyes darted around as if trying to pull something, in that case probably someone back into existence through sheer willpower.
That was probably his father.
I glanced down at Alabaster, but the boy didn’t seem eager to rush forward.
I kept walking, my voice quieter now. “Hey, kid. My words probably won’t mean much to you right now, but…”
The words settled on my tongue before I exhaled. “Humanity is a strange thing. Powerful, yet fragile. Twisted. Prideful. Limited. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe you’re not human at all—not in the same way the people around us are. Maybe you’re like a byproduct—how red and blue make purple, but calling purple red or blue would kinda be a lie.
“I failed my niece. I failed my daughter. I failed them because I was human, because I was ignorant and weak. I swore on things more than soul-deep, and I still lost her.
“A parent never wants to fail their child. Most of them—most I think if not not all—make choices thinking they’re the right ones, even when they turn out to be wrong and I think… being human is a lot like being a parent. You make mistakes. You screw up. But you also learn. And sometimes, just sometimes, you get things rig—”
Alabaster made a face like a child being forced to eat their vegetables at a family dinner. “You talk a lot, Mr. Alex.”
I chuckled, unbothered. “Yes. Yes, I do.” I gave a small shrug. “To summarize: just watch us, just watch me.”
We had nearly reached the school gates when the man who had to be Alabaster’s father snapped his head toward us, his eyes locking onto his son as if drawn by some invisible tether.
I saw it happen—the moment relief erased fear, the moment sheer joy crashed over the man like a tidal wave, not the kind of happiness that came from winning a lottery or stumbling upon good fortune. No, this was the kind of joy that came from the brink of ruin—from standing at the precipice of loss and then being dragged back from it.
He moved before I could blink. One second, he was by the school gates, and the next, he was here his arms wrapping around his son in a hold that was both cradling and possessive, as if daring the universe to try and take him away again. He clearly loved his son which made what Alabaster told me and would have done in canon more tragic because I could not imagine the man before me giving up on his child for any reason. I just knew. I could be wrong but it was not what my instincts were telling me.
I heard Alabaster groan, half-annoyed, but the irritation did nothing to stop him from returning the embrace with what looked like all the strength in his tiny body.
“Are you okay?!” The man’s voice was a rapid-fire mix of panic and relief. “Where were you?! Are you hurt?! What happened?! I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I thought—with the bodyguards, with the school being Catholic—things would be differ—”
Then he paused.
It was like a light had switched on in his brain. His gaze lifted, and his eyes found me.
For an instant, nothing happened. And then I saw it—fear.
Complete. Unwavering. Bone-deep.
It spread through his body like a ripple through still water, freezing him in place. The color drained from his face. His breath hitched. It was the look of a man who had just realized he was standing too close to something lethal and yet, despite that, he still moved—pushing his son behind him as if his own body could act as a shield between us.
It was absurd, considering I was the reason Alabaster was still alive. Still, I did nothing to stop him.
The silence cracked as Alabaster spoke. “Dad, this is Mr. Alex. He got rid of them like they were nothing. He’s the one who saved me. Mr. Alex, this is my dad.”
The words only seemed to confirm something for his father. His expression tightened further, his voice careful, measured—as if he were handling a bomb that might detonate with the wrong syllable.
“I’m infinitely grateful for your rescue, Lo—Mr. Alex.”
I tilted my head slightly at the slip but said nothing of it. Instead, I shrugged. “I could do something, so I did.”
Then I opened my palm.
Matter twisted.
The air seemed to stir at my command, the empty space of my hand reshaping itself as if the world were a blank canvas and I was merely sketching upon it. A pendant materialized—a crucifix, silver at first, before it was bathed in hues of jade and gold.
I flicked it toward Alabaster, who caught it with quick hands.
His father almost screamed.
His entire body tensed, as if he were torn between lunging at me and fleeing in the opposite direction. His eyes locked onto the chain in his son’s hands as if it were some venomous thing.
I sighed. “This should help Alabaster avoid being affected by the Mist. Should also stop monsters from sniffing him out. Probably not perfect—” (especially since you’re the first demigod I’m testing this on)—“but it should be fine. Unless, of course, you go out of your way to loudly insult a god, tempt Murphy—also known as the Fates—or do something equally unwise.”
Alabaster stared at the pendant as if it were the most valuable thing in existence. It probably was for him.
His voice was soft. “Why are you doing this, Mr. Alex? You didn’t have to. Any of it.”
Beside him, his father looked stricken. Guilt lined his face. I wondered if it was because he had not been the one to do much for his own child.
I exhaled. “I could talk to you for hours about how I did it because of my humanity, but the truth is that I did it because it’s only right. The world is wrong. Your greatest fear should be not having the best toy, not having to fear death. I did it because you’re a child, the child of someone, and I know that I would have liked the same thing to happen to my daughter if she were in that situation."
Silently, almost as if in a trance, Alabaster put the chain around his neck. He looked up at me, his voice subdued, on the verge of tears. "Thank you."
Something akin to resolve bloomed in his father’s eyes. "You saved my son, Mr. Alex, and for that, I would like to welcome you as an esteemed guest in my home. My home and all within it will be at your disposal. It would be my honor to offer you sustenance, as is the sacred duty of the host to guest."
The sun was falling below the horizon, and the world was becoming dark, entering the embrace of dusk. There was something in the man’s words, something more, something with power. It felt like chains being presented to me, and it wasn’t comfortable. But I wasn’t surprised. Alabaster’s father wasn’t completely average. I guessed that the goddess of magic would more likely make a child with someone related to it than someone who wasn’t.
The words invoked in my head the concept of Xenia, the ancient Greek tradition of hospitality. It was an ancient Greek tradition, one that spoke of the sacred bond between host and guest. To violate Xenia was to invite the wrath of the gods themselves, a transgression so grave that it could bring ruin upon entire families. The rules were simple but unyielding: the host must provide for the guest, offering food, shelter, and protection, while the guest must respect the host’s home and not overstay their welcome. It was a pact, a promise, a chain that bound both parties in a web of mutual obligation. In other words, it was a way for guests and hosts to not kill each other and with the Greek gods and magic existing in this world, it was probably more like a binding oath than a tradition.
"Sure, why not," I said, and with that, we began our walk to their home, the weight of a child’s hand still lingering in mine.
I was already way past the time I originally had intended to spend outside. It is what it is so what would be the harm in staying outside longer? It's not as if following him could make things worse.
Comments
Artman
Ah you had to taunt Murphy at the end. For that is one thing that more people believe in than any other.
Anthony Maxwell
(killing Hitler, stopping him from doing what he would be, should only be the right, the moral thing to do.) no it's not. If you went back in time to kill him as a baby you'd be killing him for things he hadn't done yet and your presence in the timeline however small could alter the course of events that led to that version of him never existing. There's also the possibility that it would happen anyway without Hitler and someone else might take his place and they might prosecute a different group of people. But in the end leading to the same result more or less and it might even be worse if it happens later on down the line in history. The way I view it Hitler's rise to power and atrocities he committed were a harsh lesson and a cautionary one for all humanity to remember less they repeat them.
