Page 34 of The Night Belongs To Lovers

Despite instinctively fighting back using the skills taught to them by their great leader, the men were unable to defend themselves against such a force. The soldiers, some confused and frightened, others angry, fell one by one to the superior might of the gods.

Unleashed was the devastating power of Ares’ sword, which could effortlessly cut through any substance crafted by man. Simultaneously, Athena brandished her spear, a masterfully forged weapon that never missed its target when thrown and always returned to her hand. The Olympians wielded these formidable weapons with deadly precision and brutal intent.

But it was not only ancient indestructible weapons made from Celestial Bronze which wrought havoc on the battlefield; the gods possessed majestic powers that could instantly turn the tide of battle.

Hera’s gift of mind control was second to none, pitting bewitched mortal soldiers against one another in a lethal dance of blood and iron. And then there was Zeus’ thunderous, invisible force, which could overwhelm entire armies with its sheer indomitable power.

The apparition watched as the body of Gaia became soaked with mortal blood.

Amid the slaughter, brave Coriolanus valiantly attempted to intervene to protect his soldiers.

The apparition sensed that the god was trying to summon the power within his blood to call forth the darkness.To blot out the sunlight andweaken the day gods?It’s a solid idea but an ultimately futile move. You cannot act fast enough, untrained fool. You are but one little godling against an impossibly powerful foe.

The apparition was positively gleeful knowing Olympius’ bastard, who was fresh in his immortality, had no hope of matching the strength of the ancients.

With incredible speed, Hermes ran in circles around the mounted Coriolanus, the ensuing whirlwind lifting him and his steed off the ground. The action broke the warrior-god’s concentration, dispelling the darkness he had begun to manifest for offensive use.

Then, Hermes stopped, still, and allowed the whirlwind to quickly dissipate, which brought Coriolanus and his mount crashing back to the ground. In his confusion, splayed out on the dirt and gravel of the road, the warrior-god did not see the swift immortal move behind him. Before he could get his bearings, the back of his head was struck with such force that he felt like an entire stone tower had collapsed upon him.

The blinding pain Coriolanus experienced lasted only a moment before he lost consciousness.

As the one-sided battle raged on, the apparition seized the opportunity to take action amidst the chaos. It paid no heed to Coriolanus’ inevitable tragic outcome and, instead, set its sights on the not-too-distant villa, where it instinctively knew Olympius paced, waiting for the night to arrive.

The price for consuming the entirety of the Titan’s blood was that Olympius had acquired his Maker’s powerandweakness. Olympius’ troublesome flaw was that he could not enter direct sunlight without inevitable destruction by immolation; he could only move through and hide in shadows if outside during daylight hours.

The apparition had long known this was a challenge, as some places had limited shadows to manipulate. It knew Olympius was vulnerable between dawn and dusk, just as it once was, and most likely preferred to stay behind walls and roofs for safety during these hours.

Although anyone of Coeus’ bloodline could summon darkness from the enigmatic Shadowlands and control it, it was too taxing to maintain for hours. And cloaking oneself in darkness to walk the day hardly went unnoticed by mortal eyes.

As it sailed through the air towards its destination, the apparition could not help but feel a great aversion towards the bright, sunny sky above, though, in its incorporeal form, the sunlight no longer caused it harm.

Suddenly, the sky’s unnatural brightness drew the apparition’s attention. It knew the hour was too late for the sun to shineso intensely still and that dusk should have already commenced. Instead, the sky remained illuminated as if it was midday.

And at that moment, the apparition understood why Apollo was in the sky, not amid the battle: he was using all his godly power to keep the dusk at bay.

Very smart, Secundus-filth, to provide the means for the Olympians to remain at full power and keep Olympius, who would be a threat to them, from acting. But why you did not attack at dawn or midday is a mystery.As a former deity, the apparition knew the motives and actions of gods rarely made logical sense.

As far as Olympius was concerned, the apparition reasoned the gods only knew about him and his power—a god born directly from a Titan’s blood—but not his crime, or they would have come for him by now.

As the villa came into view, the apparition willed itself downward and used its ghostly form to pass through the walls of the grand structure. It moved from one room to another, searching for Olympius.

Finally, it caught a glimpse of ostentatious finery moving inhumanly fast down a hallway that led to a single door, which opened and closed so quickly that no mortal eye would have caught its movement. The apparition was no mortal.

On its way to the villa, the menacing spirit devised a plan so vile it could not wait to enact it.

With intense focus, the apparition exerted its willpower to transform again from a ghostly presence to a corporeal being inthis realm. This time, it pictured itself in the likeness of Coriolanus as he appeared when confronting the Olympians, endeavouring to imitate that form perfectly.

As it felt its spectral energy transmute into flesh and bone, even manifesting clothing, the apparition relished the anticipation of the exquisite pleasure it would derive from tearing out Olympius’ heart, be it only emotionally.

Despite its fervent desire to do so physically, the apparition realized that none of the forms it could create through The Fates’ sorcery would be powerful enough to vanquish a Titan, which Olympius had essentially become by virtue of the stolen blood.

The apparition sensed it had fully changed once the tingling sensation it remembered from its previous transformation had ceased. It looked at itself in a large mirror, one set in a bronze frame decorated with laurel leaves, hanging on the corridor’s stone wall. The apparition saw a perfect likeness of Coriolanus in the reflection.

As it approached the wooden door adorned with intricate carvings and a golden handle, it gave a single knock before opening it. Entering the grand cubicula, the false Coriolanus was greeted by the sight of Olympius, pacing back and forth angrily, refusing to go near the window where the sun’s rays cascaded in with abandon. The god was so caught up in his frustrations that he did not hear the knock or notice he now had company.

“Maker, I have returned bearing news.” The voice was Coriolanus’ own; speech was no obstacle for the apparition inany false form.

Olympius looked up to see what he took without question to be his warrior-god. With a massive smile upon his alabaster face, the Lord of the Night rushed to the doorway with blinding speed to provide a welcoming embrace.

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