The Grove of Elysium's violet sky loomed, its gnarled trees clawing at Colton's nerves. His chest burned, the Prometheus spark pulsing like a caged inferno. His mother clung to his arm, her nails drawing blood, her sobs
slicing through the damp air. "Bella… don't you die, Colton." Apollo stood nearby, his golden tunic catching faint moonlight, his bow creaking as he gestured to a shimmering portal. "Hestia's sanctuary," he said, voice steady but urgent. "She'll be safe there."
The portal hummed, spilling them into a warm chamber. A massive hearth fire roared at its center, embers pulsing with a golden glow that smelled of cedar and safety, a stark contrast to the Grove's chill. A figure emerged from the flames—Hestia, her presence soft yet unyielding, her robes woven with threads of firelight. Her eyes, warm as embers, met Colton's.
"Welcome, spark-bearer," she said, her voice a soothing balm. "My sanctuary's
veil hides you from Titans. You're invisible to your enemies here, Colton, and you may return anytime for refuge. But you—" she glanced at his torn sleep shirt and sweatpants, soaked with sweat and blood—"you can't leave in that. The paths to Tartarus will shred you."
Hestia gestured, and the hearth flared. From its embers, leather armor materialized—dark, supple, etched with faint hearth-flame sigils that shimmered like dying coals. The armor pulsed faintly, its surface knitting
together as if alive, ready to mend itself from any tear. Sturdy boots appeared beside it, their soles gleaming with a subtle, fiery glow. "Wear these," Hestia said, handing them to Colton. "My hearth's fire strengthens them. The armor will repair itself, guarding your body, though not your heart." She turned to
his mother, her tone softening. "Your son carries Prometheus's fire. Trust him,
and trust my sanctuary to shield you." The silver orb in his mother's hand flared, warmed by Hestia's Fire of Connection, its prophetic light now laced with hearth-glow. "This orb carries my fire," Hestia added. "Your words will reach him, always, no matter the distance."
"I'm not staying," his mother snapped, eyes blazing through tears. "Bella's my daughter. I'm going with you."
Hestia's gaze held hers, firm but kind. "Mortal courage burns bright, but Cronus's minions would snuff it out. Stay here, under my veil. Speak to your son through the orb." She touched the orb, its glow intensifying, a faint warmth radiating.
His mother gripped the orb, knuckles white. "You bring her back, Colton. Promise me." Her voice broke, a sob swallowing her words.
Colton's throat tightened, the spark flaring as he pulled on the boots and armor, their weight grounding him. The leather creaked, its sigils pulsing faintly, already mending small tears from his earlier scuffle.
"I'll get her back, Mom. I swear." The orb hummed, her voice echoing: "Stay
sharp, Colton." He turned away, Hestia's boots firm on the stone floor, her words heavy: guard your heart.
Apollo led him through another portal, dumping them onto a shadowy riverbank. Jagged stones bit at his new boots, their glowing soles steadying his steps. The air was thick with wails that made his skin crawl.
"Tartarus's reach is growing," Apollo muttered, eyes scanning the darkness.
"Hermes is near, at the crossroads. Move."
The divine crossroads buzzed like a fever dream—flickering shades darted through glowing sigils carved into obsidian pillars. Hermes appeared, wiry and restless, his winged sandals twitching. In his hand, a
caduceus staff gleamed—golden, its shaft coiled with two serpents, their emerald eyes glinting, wings at the top pulsing with faint divine light. His eyes, sharp with mischief, sized up Colton. "So, this is the spark-bearer? Looks like a scared kid, even in that fancy armor." He smirked, twirling the
staff, its serpents seeming to writhe. "Apollo says you're Prometheus reborn. I need to see if you're smart enough to use that spark right."
Colton bristled, the spark humming. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Hermes snapped his fingers, and a Tartarus shade materialized—a snarling, ghostly figure with claw-like tendrils, its eyes
hollow voids. "Kill it," Hermes said, leaning on his staff, its serpents hissing softly. "Show me you're worth my time. And kid, you'll need a real weapon soon. That spark's hot, but it won't cut. Seek Hephaestus in his
forge—word is, he's crafted a spear that could pierce Tartarus itself. Problem
is, it's locked in the Labyrinth, guarded by the Minotaur. Good luck with that bull-headed bastard."
The shade lunged, claws slashing. Colton dove, his boots gripping the ground, but the shade vanished, reappearing behind him. He spun, too late—its claws raked his face, blood spraying, a gash burning across his
cheek. He stumbled back, heart pounding, the spark's healing knitting the
wound, slow but faster than any mortal's. "Shit!" he yelled, scrambling to his
feet. The shade charged again, tendrils gleaming like obsidian blades.
Oracle's glint, you idiot! Colton thought, cursing himself. The lyre string symbol on his chest burned—not painful, but alive, a pulse of power. His vision sharpened, the glint kicking in. A whisper hissed: Light. The
shade fears light. He grinned, blood dripping down his chin, and focused on the
sunburst symbol. It flared, warm and vibrant, no pain but a rush of heat. A solar flare erupted—a brief burst of blinding light that scorched the shade's form, making it shriek and recoil, its edges fraying like burning paper.
The shade didn't stop. It lunged again, claws aimed for his throat. Colton tried another flare, willing the sunburst to burn, but nothing happened. "Apollo, what the hell? Why won't it work?" he shouted, dodging as
the shade's claws grazed his shoulder, tearing through the leather armor, blood
welling. The armor's sigils flared, the torn leather knitting itself shut, sealing the gash.
Apollo's voice cut through the chaos. "The brand stops burning when it's ready again, kid! Wait for it!"
Colton ducked, the shade's claws whistling past. Like a damn video game cooldown, he thought, panting. The shade vanished, reappearing inches away, its hollow eyes boring into him. His chest tingled—the sunburst stopped burning. He roared, unleashing another flare, stronger this time, a pulse of golden light that engulfed the shade. It screamed, a gut-wrenching
wail, and evaporated into ash, leaving a faint, charred sigil on the ground—a
twisted mark of Cronus.
Hermes clapped slowly, smirking. "Not bad, spark-bearer. You've got brains, barely." He stepped forward, his caduceus glowing, its
serpents' eyes flashing. He pressed a finger to Colton's chest, and a new symbol branded beside the others—a caduceus, shimmering silver, twin serpents
coiling faintly. "A taste of my speed," Hermes said. "It'll only last a few seconds at first, but practice it. You'll need it for Tartarus's pits—and that Labyrinth, if you're chasing Hephaestus's spear." He glanced at Apollo. "I'll spread word of Prometheus's return. Athena might listen. Others… less likely."
The orb in Colton's pocket hummed, his mother's voice sharp: "Stay sharp, Colton. Don't you dare lose." He flinched, her words a knife in his gut. Apollo's gaze hardened. "Tartarus has layers—pits, prisons, a core
abyss. Each is worse than the last. Cronus is waking the old ones—Titans, worse
than shades. You're not ready yet."
Colton gripped the bronze bracelet, the spark and caduceus symbol humming, his slashed face still stinging, blood drying on his self-mending armor. The sigil's twisted mark and Hermes's warning about the
Minotaur burned in his mind, a hint of battles to come. "Then let's get moving," he said, voice low, the riverbank's wails echoing like a challenge.