I do not own the Percy Jackson series or any Greek myths...so don't sue me
The Son of Kronos - Chapter 1 - Recipe for Resurrection
I walked the dark halls of the burnt down orphanage, walking past all the long abandoned rooms, knowing inside me that they didn't contain the information I was looking for. My father, the Titan Lord, Kronos, had told me that i'd know when I found what I was looking for. I ascended the stairs, testing each step before I put my weight on it. I'd have loved to have the pleasure of knowing all this destruction had been my work, but my father had not granted me such a simple, yet joy bringing task.
As I arrived on the second flow, I turned, looking down the narrow hallway. At the end of the hallway I saw the office of the man who had run this orphanage. I kept my eyes fixed on his office and waved my hand in the air, allowing me to see into the past, when this orphanage was burned to the ground. I looked at the children's faces as their home burnt down arrived them and a smile spread across my own. I turned as a young boy tried to descend the stairs and saved his pointless life, as he did a beam above him collapsed, crushing him where he stood. The amount of joy I experienced in the moment he looked up to see the beam falling towards him, the fear in his young, innocent eyes…
I froze the vision of the past at that moment and walked over to him, my black cape dusting the floor as I went. I crouched down so I was about level height, my eyes right next to his as he looked at the beam coming to crush him…I could've looked into those eyes forever, absorbing his fear, feeding of his dismay, experiencing the joy as I watched him die over and over. I pulled away and as I did so I felt a pain in my gut. I lurched forward, cradling my stomach, a scowl spreading across my facial features as I realised my father was telling me to stop enjoying myself and get a move on. Chopped into tiny pieces in Tartarus but can still find the magic punish his son for enjoying himself, how I adored my loving father.
I heeded his message and began walking down the corridor, only the sound of my combat boots stomping on the weak floor and my cape lightly brushing against the floor as I walked. I increased my pace, fully expecting the information I was looking for to be in the office at the end of the hallway, in the only place that seemed to hold any proper authority when it was actually running. About three quarters of the way down the hallway my head flared with pain, and I stopped in my tracks, my hand darting to my head. I looked to my right, a regular room, burnt and destroyed beyond recognition but as I took another step into the room the pain in my head increased, drawing me towards the upturned bed.
I ignored the increasing pain in my head and threw the bed aside. Underneath was what would have looked like a normal floor, but now was revealed to be a half burnt away secret compartment, in which lay an A3 book, as thick as my hand with folded paper sticking out where it had been roughly taped inside. I picked up the book and the pain subsided, this was what I had been looking for. I stood up and turned to leave, but my curiosity got the better of me and I turned back around, waving my hand in the air and going back to the moment of the fire.
I wasn't looking for fear or the beautiful look of pain on the children's faces but rather how this book got under there. I pocketed the book as the world around me dissolved and the past formed in its place. A little girl was running around panicked by the burning building around her, she pushed the bed aside and lifted the fake flooring, throwing the book inside. She placed her hand on top of it, mouthing a quick spell of safety I recognised from my training under my father. She was obviously some kind of demigod, probably a daughter of Athena, the only god i'd ever give the credit of giving birth to children smart enough to hide things, and attempt to protect from a fire.
I was about to destroy the vision but stuck around, just to make sure the demigod perished. She was inevitably trapped in the hallway and the flames jumped onto her skin, burning her alive. As I saw her die a smile spread from the edges of my lips and I had to focus to remove it as I walked down the stairs and out the door I entered. I stood in the courtyard, looking at the damaged orphanage, filled with death and destruction, no one without a purpose would go in…but it was those with a purpose I intended on keeping out. I pulled my jet black scythe from my back and held it in both hands, just as my father had taught me. I brought it up, over my head, and sliced the doorway, collapsing the front part of the weak structure.
I observed the rubble and determined it would take someone with extreme skill or a divine parent with particular powers to enter now, and I had no chance of keeping those people out no matter what I did. Satisfied with my work I sheathed my scythe and began the long journey back to Tartarus, to begin the resurrection of my almighty and unforgiving father. Then, we would reap revenge on his enemies together, as father and son.
As I walked down the stoney road, my combat boots making a dark sound that was music to my ears every time they hit the ground. I brought the book out of my pocket and carefully flicked through it, reading the odd page but ignoring sot of it. I'd already known that reviving my father would never be an easy task, but from the little information I gathered from this roughly-bound book it was going to a journey that would require every ounce of training i'd ever had. Finally, a task worthy of my attention.