Chapter One
The days had been shorter in length as the sun had gone to rest earlier. The mortals thought it was due to climate change, and the gases being released into the air. Those who continued to worship the Greek Gods knew that I had something to do with it. But, even in my depression, the humans took this as a sign to begin doing good things for the earth.
I couldn’t care any less for what was going on down on the grounds that the humans walked so bravely on. I spent my days in darkness. My arms now shirted with the shadows that I was warned would consume me. The once sun gold hair now lost all colour of joy, and was drained to a dark mocha.
“Apollo…” My sister’s voice came through the shadows.
My glance shifted from the carmine hyacinth that stood tirelessly at my window sill. I re-wrapped the blanket around my frail body.
“I brought you some food.”
I gave a nod, not that I wanted any, but her thought was there.
Artemis’ navy sports hoodie gave birth to some colour in the room. It blended with the lifeless light that surrounded me.
“Father said he wants to talk to you,” She paused. “Once you’re ready.”
My sister’s eyes laid upon the unwilted flower. A quavered smile produced itself upon her moonlit cheeks.
My focus remained on the plate of some of my favourite foods. The blueberry muffins were calling for me to devour them, but my stomach argued that it would poison me.
“I know it’s been over a year, but Apollo the world needs more sun.” Artemis watched the sky turn to the night beauty.
I shifted in my seat. “I… I’m sorry.”
The words I searched for would disappear anytime my tongue found them. I hadn’t spoken a word since Hyacinthus turned into this beautiful flower. I didn’t want to see anyone after that moment, I locked myself away in the safety of my room. The only way I could keep his memory alive was by placing the plant into a pot. Since then, I’ve just watched it, not once getting up from the comfort of the bean bag.
The thoughts of everything having been my fault wrestled with darker things. I ignored the pleas of the quieter voice, that only wished to be heard. I sulked in the despair of losing someone who I held dear, all because I couldn’t balance the life of a God and a normal teenager.
“It’s okay, Apollo. I just… Please talk to father.” Artemis gave water to the hyacinth.
“Fine. But, he has to come to me.”
She smiled as she placed the glass back down. “Perfect. I’ll make sure he knows what your reply is.”
I poked at the food, not to look like I was ignoring my dear sister, but rather to keep my focus beyond the painful memories that were linked to my father.
Zeus, the king of the Gods. He ruled over the skies, lightning, and thunder. Father to the majority of us Olympians. Sadly, I was cursed with him for a father. He had so lovingly taken my mother away from my sister and I. Not that I remember how it all happened, I was only a baby when he decided to throw my mother to the side, and make Artemis and I Gods.
“Apollo, were you listening?” Artemis flicked my head gently.
I rubbed the zone that had been so poorly attacked. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I was wondering if I could go plant the babies in the garden. The hyacinth is making more.” She pointed to the sprouts of green at the stem of the flower.
“Oh, uh, yeah.” I shrugged. “Just… Bring the hyacinth back to my room once you’re done.”
“Of course. I’ll be back!” Artemis squealed, and was off to do a little bit of night gardening.
I sighed, and put my glance to the half moon that rested in the early parts of the sky. I had spent the last year staring at the changing sky, sleep was an ancient friend at this point. Tonight, I felt some sort of lullaby coax me. My eyelids abandoned my wishes and shut over my azure eyes.
“Your sister can do her job. Why can’t you? You are worthless as a God, someone should just replace you. Doesn’t matter what you do, you can never do it right. You failed the minute someone close was lost.” The figure appeared like my father, the same cloud-like beard, and energy filled hair. My dream continued to fill my mind with ideas of worthlessness.
