The Watcher


His hair is ghostly, dipped in the wine of the gods

His eyes are a mystifying violet

So kind to his little gods but so cruel to his attackers

A black cross sits upon his head: a curse or a blessing from Chaos?

He is sometimes called the King of Blades, seven swords resting just behind him

He disappears in black and white, a scent of rain, dried fruits, and blood left behind

Transparent cloth connected to his back, floating around him

They float with or without the breath of the Anemoi

...

His origins are not known, just as mysterious as the being who calls him Nothing's Child

His eyes are constantly watching, constantly waiting

They watch over the original six, over the next and the half

His little gods may be little no more but he shall protect them until the end of time

They say he was first consort to the youngest Titan, devoured before the six

The youngest will say nothing and the King will keep quiet

Even to his little gods, he is unknown

They call King of Blades

They call him Nothing's Child

They call him the Watcher

...

His name, Nnamdi-Aakil, may not be written within the Olympians' history

He may not be remembered by many

But he will still be here, constantly watching, constantly waiting

Never lessen his abilities, those kind violet eyes will soon turn cold

And you will be along the banks of the Styx

And the Watcher will be satisfied