Sick of It – Skillet
Luke was losing himself.
Day after day, the thoughts in his head turned darker. The things he said surprised him, and slowly, Kronos began to control him.
Luke was sick of it.
Now, now, came that vile voice in his head. You offered yourself to me, don't you remember? It's not nice to have second thoughts about something so serious. Besides, the deed is done, and you can't change a thing.
Luke gritted his teeth, trying to stay in control long enough to respond. "I only did that because of what my father let happen to my mother. The gods need to... know their place..." He winced in pain as the voice of Kronos sounded in his head again.
That's something we agree on, Luke. The gods do need to know their place.
A sick feeling of twisted rage filled Luke's heart and he clawed at his chest, trying to stop the pain.
You can't get rid of me, Luke. Kronos said. Even now, I'm growing stronger. Don't worry; once my body is back together, I'll put you out of your misery.
Luke's blue eyes widened. "You promised you would-"
At that moment, the boy became limp. He fell to the ground, his sword clattering a few feet beside him. If anyone else had been in the room, they might have thought that Luke was dead. But before Luke's situation began critical, he began to breathe again. He retrieved his sword and stood up. He brushed the dirt off of his clothes as if falling unconcious was a perfectly normal and safe thing. And then he opened his eyes.
They were gold.
Kronos laughed and sheathed Luke's sword. "Boy, you were too easy to fool. There will be no glory for you in the end. You'll just end up in Tartarus, like the rest of the gods."
And so the Titan walked out to the deck of the Princess Andromeda, a thirst for ichor in his heart, and a wicked plan for destruction in his mind.
There was nothing that could save Luke now.