Chapter I. Mount Olympus's Gates are Closed and Everyone Falls
No one on Mount Olympus was prepared for what happened. The gods thought they wouldn't be over thrown by anyone or anything, they were always keeping their eye out on that. But they couldn't prepare for what happened. Not even Zeus. One moment the Greek Gods were managing their world, each and every god doing their work to keep the world as the mortals knew it. The next, the Gates to Mount Olympus were pushed open and the gods were, in a manner of speaking pushed out. The humans who had connections with the Gods, they were pushed from the Underworld and reborn in human bodies, with new memories.
The gods were pushed from their home, and forced down to Earth, the atmosphere of the Earth burning up their bodies and for a few moments their essence of life floated around on Earth until they could generate their body up again to survive. Once each God had landed down on Earth, no doubt they first tried to return to Mount Olympus, only to find the Gates closed, and they were not going to open up any time soon. They could feel that there was a force blocking the Gates, to the Olympian Gods, but they couldn't figure out. It wasn't the presence of a Titan..so what was it? What had pushed the Gods out of their home, and what had taken over their home that they fought to protect?
A force that they were not ready to fight, not unless all the gods came together to take back over their home.
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When he opens his eyes, all he can think about is how his whole body is in pain, his head throbs and it feels like his body has hit the pavement. When his vision adjusts, he finds that he is right, his body is on the pavement. He becomes worried, Gods don't feel pain, and yet when he looks to see multiple injuries on his body he finds that the golden blood still flows through his veins. Multiple thoughts run through his brain, and he can't focus on any of them at all. For moments he forgets who he is.
His name, what's his name? He struggled to find the piece of information and yet it is in his grasp though he cannot reach it. He hasn't moved, except only slightly to make sure his body still moves, but the way he is laying is rather uncomfortable. The position is so uncomfortable, and his thoughts are so jumbled that he rather focuses on the current situation at present. Dark is raiding over..where ever he is and the sun is setting. He drags his hand across the asphalt and pulls it close to him, his other hand following until they are close enough for him to push himself up.
The pain increases, racking through his body and it causes him to stop moving his body. He is in a half postion for a few minutes, before finally pushing himself up onto his feet. He is glad there is a wall next to him, because as soon as he stands up, his legs went to collaspe underneath him. His eyes don't think about looking at himself, the only two cohernt thoughts that he can make out, is "Where am I?" and "Who am I?"
And he doesn't know the answer to either. He rests against the wall, getting his feet back under him, before he finally lets his eyes trail down to look at his body. It's got injured all over the skin, scratches and scuffs from the asphalt, gold blood flowing out of the recent wounds. The thought of "Is that normal? Do I have gold blood?" joins the pile of jumbled thoughts.
He brings one hand over, fingers gently running over one of the injuries. The blood is crusted and dry but the action makes him notice something else. On his left hand a golden ring lies on his pointer finger, with the symbol of a bow an arrow. It only further confuses him. Taking his thoughts of himself, and the many questions he cannot answer, he keeps one of his hands on the wall as he moved along it, heading towards the light of the illuminated street.
Steps and movement caused his limbs to only hurt more and there are numerous times when he has to pause where he is. Finally however, he reaches the end of the alleyway. The road is dark, except for the lights that lined the street and the very rare cars that he saw pass the street. His eyes watch few cars pass by before the idea of getting medical attention crosses his mind, and as a car passes, he pushed himself out into the street, waving his hand, trying to find his voice to ask for the car to stop, but only a soft whimper comes from his throat.
The car stops, much to his disbelief. He stands there in headlights, and the light reminds him of something before he notices the man getting out of the car to aid him. His hair is long and brown, pulled back into a ponytail. He still cannot find his voice and the man out of the car notices the golden blood pouring from his wounds and instead of asking rapid questions, he simply helps him into his car and tells him that he will get him to his house and help him. A thought pops up that maybe this isn't safe, taking help from a stranger. He rests his head back in the seat, eyes slipping closed.
Images flash behind his eyes. Bow and arrows, a beautiful chariot and he can see people that mean a lot to him, he feels. He remembers, his home, it's beautiful. The answer to one of his question hits him like he hit that pavement. Finally, he can answer one of his many questions. His name is Apollo and he is the God of the Sun.