Elijah was dreaming in his unconsciousness. In his dream, he was in a library. It was ancient and dusty, yet homey. He felt content here. He decided to browse the library, to see if there was anything worth reading, or possibly if there was another reason he was there. After skimming along the spines of the books, he found a collection of Edgar Allan Poe. Intrigue spiked, he picked it up.

"Ah," said a voice from behind him, causing Elijah to whip around. "Edgar Allan Poe, Master of the Short-Story"

"Yeah…" Elijah said somewhat cautiously.

The man was tall, wearing a black button shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal a tattoo on his right forearm that displayed one of those Greek drama masks and a fountain pen. His skin was rather pale, and his hair was messy and jet black, along with his beard, which was trimmed neatly, and his eyes, though as dark as everything else, held a curiosity and life he hadn't seen in many.

"Who are you?" Elijah asked after a couple seconds of silence.

"Oh, right. That might be important… I am Momus, God of Writers, Poets, Satire, and Criticism. But, more importantly, I am your father."

"Right. A primordial that hasn't been seen in millennia decides not only to show up now, but also happens to be my father," he says skeptically.

"Well, it's not my fault I was banned from Olympus and shamed because Zeus couldn't take some… er… 'constructive criticism'," the old god says. "But, that's not why I've come. You need to do a task for me. It could mean life or death, and my very existence depends on it," he says, though his voice lacked urgency.

"Waddya want, 'Dad''?" Elijah sarcastically says, rolling his eyes.

"I need you to take this," he says, putting his hand into his pants pocket and retrieving a black fountain pen, presenting it to Elijah, who just looked at him with raised eyebrows.

"Why? I mean, it's just a pen. An old pen, at that."

"This is more than a pen," Momus said, looking slightly offended. "This is your legacy. This is who you are. Oh, and it has magical properties that allow it to do extraordinary things, but that's beside the point."

"Well, if you give it to me in a dream, how will I have it when I wake up? Hades, how do I know this isn't just some weird dream?"

"Oh, it's a weird dream, alright. The weirdest. You're getting claimed, tattooed, and getting a gift all in one, all while you sleep."

"Wait, wait, wait… I'm getting inked?" Elijah asks, thrown off.

"Oh, yeah. It won't hurt. It's just my symbol on your forearm, so it is known who you really are."

Elijah falls into a nearby chair, his face in his hands. Momus drifts towards him.

"I know it's a lot to take in, but you must. Your siblings depend on it." "I've got siblings?"

"Two, as of now. One you're acquainted with, the other, not so much. But that doesn't matter. Their life and acceptance is now in your hands. Well, it's in mine, but you need to take it."

"Fine. I'll take your pen," Elijah says bitterly, snatching the fountain pen from his father and shoving it in his pocket.

The look his father gave him was one full of pain and sorrow. "Well," he started, his voice slightly cracking, and he cleared his throat. "Well, I guess I'll leave you to your Poe… And I'm sorry. For being distant, that is. I just hope my plan works…" The god turns on his heal, rolling his sleeves down and grabbing his coat from a coat rack, walking to the door of the ancient library.

Elijah, feeling somewhat confused, looked to the table next to the chair. There lies the thick black book of Poe's stories. He looks up at his father, who was looking at him from the door, almost studying him with a mournful look upon his face.

"Elijah," Momus says.

"Yeah, Dad?" Elijah replies, without the sarcasm from earlier.

"I know you probably don't realize or believe it, but I love you, and I've been watching over you. Something you should know, and I'm truly sorry I haven't been able to be present."

Elijah just nods cautiously. "I don't know you that well, right now, but you seem pretty cool. I'm proud you're my father, over all the Olympians, at least by the stories of you."

Momus looks pained at this, but nods in thanks, and leaves the bookstore.

Elijah, having nothing better to do, reads the complete collection of Edgar Allan Poe. And it's very thorough. He was starting to really like the dream's setting, when he was forced awake.

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So here's another chapter for The Battle of Manhattan. Elijah's been claimed, he's got a tattoo, and he's got a new toy. And, yes, if you were wondering, Elijah's tattoo is the same as his father's (they got matching bff tats). Stay tuned for more of this, and, in about a month, A Hero's Tears will be back on.
Less pressing matters: To those who have Instagram and a creative mind, the_scribes_of_querella on Instagram is hosting a contest featuring two prompts. Whoever writes the best piece for each respective prompt wins a free Twitter account and bragging rights. Just post your piece when you're done tagging them and the hashtag #ScribesOfQuerellaSummerContest to enter. Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favour!

~SoA