Notice: I don't own the world this was set in since that was conceptualized by Mr. Rick Riordan. I do own the plot and the non-canon characters. If it won't be much of a bother please do review. Thank you for taking the time to open or read this have a nice day/afternoon/evening.
I was born cursed just like the rest of my kind. We didn't ask for any of this. We never asked for burdens and losses accompanied by the thought that today may be our last before we die a gruesome death. They say we were born to be heroes and achieve greatness, but I beg to differ. Not all of us are that lucky. Most of us are cannon fodder sacrificed for the glory of the gods we are obligated to serve. We are slaves of gods who would not even blink if we died fighting for their cause as our names sink in anonymity and we become but one word; casualties.
We were just like you once upon a time. We had parents who were tasked to raise us. Some may have done a better job than others, but that was the bit of normalcy we were gifted. It was the bit of humanity that set us apart from being tools of war and conquest. Friends, families, loved ones who carry the curse of having us, the curse of never finding peace from all the chaos that hounds us. We are prisoners condemned to shackle those we love and watch the world burn as we fall one by one.
Oh joy, another quest, another death sentence given out to give glory for mothers and fathers who might not even remember our names. Another show for them to watch while we bleed hoping they'd be amused enough to send any form of help and have mercy on us. Who would it be this time? Little Bobby who is afraid of the dark or perhaps Sophie who never fought in her life? Maybe it's Jamie who grew up in the streets lucky enough to find this safe haven only to be sent out to the cruel world outside once more? It doesn't matter to them. Seeing these three naïve children head out in pursuit of glory and recognition with hopeful smiles on their faces is the worst… I don't know if it's seeing them happy or having them come back broken one way or the other. In the end it doesn't matter. Our gods have no mercy. Our gods are dead.