Within the first day of being Claimed I was swarmed with questions, unwanted thoughts, and even more unwanted children. With each passing moment, I got closer and closer to my breaking point and became more curious as to just how far away that point was, as I was certain I should’ve broken by the time every single new question was asked, but I somehow kept going.

The only people in the world that didn’t seem bothered by my father were my friends, and they were the only people that I wanted to be bothered about it. Yes, Peter may have been a child of Zeus, and Ethan a son of Titan, but why wasn’t I getting any drops of attention? I don’t even know what I would want them to say, but just some recognition would be great. But I couldn’t get that from even my own mother.

Staying back in Birmingham, when she had the chance to come to a futuristic city far away from the rest of society so she could live with her son, what kind of mother would do that? A sick twisted one.

Albert seemed quieter since my Claiming, too. Sure, he was usually quiet, the quietest out of all of us, but he was different. He looked as though he had seen or experienced something that no human should ever even think of. Something so horrific that even Albert’s eyes seemed to be cloaked in shadow.

I tried to bait my friends into talking about my father, by bringing up Peter’s and Ethan’s Claimings, but it didn’t work. It just set them all off on a speech about how great the two of them had been when the school had been bombed. So what if they had stabbed the attacker and then clubbed his head with a bolt of lightning? I had done what Albert had instructed me to do; I had gone and hidden in my Form room, kept myself safe and out of the way. I wanted to be there. How cool would it have been if I shook the ground or something using my powers to make the attacker collapse? Created a crack beneath his feet, swallowing him in the Earth?

But, no, I couldn’t do things like that. I was Quinn O’Neill, the quiet boy, the reserved boy, the boy that kept himself to himself, the boy that didn’t intervene on any occasion. I couldn’t do anything like that.

And I was constantly outshone by others, too. Whenever I did try something new on a rare occasion, whoever I tried it with would easily beat me in whatever it was. I knew that that was going to happen with Albert in this club thing. The two of us were going together, nobody else seemed interested. But even hearing about what Albert had done on Friday let me know that I stood no chance against someone like him. Even if we didn’t directly go head-to-head he’d beat me, no questions asked.

My thoughts slowly began to drift back to my mother, and how much I was missing her. Sure, the City was great and all, but it would be greater with my mother by my side. With her fighting this with me.

A part of me felt that by going to this stupid club thing I would actually improve, actually be able to fight this crazed serial killer. But part of me just didn’t want to. What was the point in fighting her? What were we trying to achieve?

Albert nudged me. ‘You ok?’

I nodded slightly and focused on the situation. We had just been ordered to get into pairs, so naturally, Albert and I got together in a group. Today, we were going to just practice sword-fighting. Ah, the one thing that Albert had already proved his skill at. Great.

I grabbed one of the swords from the rack that came from the wall, whilst Albert pulled his own sword from his bag; typical. We dressed in armour and got into position.

‘Three…Two…One…Duel!’ Mr Davis yelled, and I ran towards Albert.

He positioned his sword diagonally in front of his body, and I swung my own blade down onto his. I desperately pushed against his force, but he didn’t even budge. The two of us stayed in that position for a few seconds. We were both trying to push the other one back, but neither of us got anywhere. I felt strangely proud of myself for withstanding Albert’s pushing.

His eyes seemed unbothered, however. He was merely gazing at our locked swords in nothing short of…boredom? He had been acting differently nearly all day, I reminded myself. All throughout the day, he had seemed somewhat angry. Not at anyone in particular, more so at himself. As though he had done something to disappoint himself. How someone like him could ever be disappointed in themselves was beyond me. Someone like me, however, deserved to be constantly upset with themselves.

Eventually, after what seemed like thirty seconds but was probably only ten, he gave a great push. Startled, I staggered backwards, and he charged at me, his sword raised. He closed the five-foot gap between us instantly, bringing his sword down on my chest piece. The noise was toe-curling. The force sent me back another two steps.

He closed the gap again. Another strike, this time, however, he brought the flat side of his blade into the side of my helmet. I do not recommend going through such an experience. It felt like being on the inside of a small drum. My vision blurred, and I felt him deliver another strike into my chest piece.

‘What?’ I gargled as I staggered a few steps back again.

I held my sword weakly in front of me, desperately attempting to block his next strike. I did not. He closed the gap once more. The sheer speed of his body when he moved was terrifying. Another blow was sent to my chest. Staggering back again, I tripped over my own footing and hit the ground, hard.

He loomed over me, and a strange look was cast over his face. His eyes were both forgiving and angry, which I didn’t think possible until that point. As though he were doing something that wasn’t his own will. Like he was being ordered to beat me in a duel this bad.

He offered his free hand out to help me up, but I lightly smacked it out of the way. I didn’t need his pity. I could stand up on my own. Who did he think he was, trying to help me up? I was a son of Hades, one of the most powerful Gods to ever exist. Who was he? Some freak with wings that was probably a son of Hermes or something? I was leagues above him. Just because he beat me this one time didn’t mean that I’d lose to him for the rest of his time on Earth. I was gonna beat him next time. I was gonna be the one offering a pitiful hand rather than the opposite. I was simply better than him in every way, shape, and form.

Albert Santrrer who? Nobody would remember his stupid name once Quinn O’Neill beat him in a fight. The glorious son of Hades would stand on top. And he would take down anybody that dared stand in his way. If I couldn’t make my mom proud, I could surely make my dad feel at least some parental love towards me. One parent loving you was better than none, I guess.

I stood up angrily. The strange look didn’t disappear from Albert’s face. His blue eyes were staring at me blankly, as though he knew we were friends but wanted nothing more than to rip me limb from limb. Glaring at him, I dumped my armour and weapons back where I’d found them and promptly left the room. Nowhere on the stupid leaflet did it say that I had to stay for the whole hour.

I stormed all the way from school back to The Tower. I took the lift up to my room and once arriving, I closed the door behind me and threw my bag across the living room. It hit the window with a dull thud and slid onto the carpet.

Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

The room around me seemed dark, which was strange as the sun was nowhere near setting. It seemed cold, as well, but it had actually been really warm outside. Was something wrong? Or was it just me?

I stormed into the bedroom, my head throbbing with a flurry of unwanted thoughts. I jumped onto the bed and thought it’d be best to get some sleep. I drifted off very quickly, but my sleep was nowhere near as peaceful as I had expected.

I dreamt that I was sitting. I was sitting at a small wooden café table. The sun beamed down upon me, causing me to sweat, which I didn’t think possible in a dream, but I managed it. I had a strange feeling that I was somewhere in Greece, which wouldn’t have been too much of a stretch for a dream, but it felt strange. Other people sat at numerous other tables dotted around the little patio outside of the actual café. Throngs of people slowly walked down the cobblestone roads, and it was then that I realised that I didn’t appear to be in a modern setting. There were no cars, paved roads, phones, not even bikes. The people themselves were dressed in actual togas, ranging from white to blue to red. I appeared to accept this fact quickly, which I also found strange.

But another man was sitting across from me. He appeared to be tall, and he had shoulder-length black hair and a fringe that covered most of his forehead. His black eyes glistened like frozen tar. They had a weird mesmerising charismatic charm to them, and I knew that whatever this oily-looking man was about to say to me would be something that I would agree to. He was wearing a black robe, which stood out in stark contrast to the other members of the general public, but nobody seemed to take notice of him. He had a thin beard decorating his pointy chin, and when he spoke it was in a somewhat soothing yet raspy voice.

‘Well, hello, son.’

I stared at him blankly. Looking down quickly at my own clothes, I noticed that I, too, was wearing a black robe. I hurriedly looked back up at this man, whose identity had now been revealed.

‘Hades, huh?’ I said, squinting slightly.

He nodded. ‘I’ve been waiting so long to meet you, Quinn.’

‘D-Dad?’ I murmured. ‘Is that actually you?’

He smiled strangely, like it was alien to him. Almost like it caused him mental strain just to smile at me, his own son. But at least he was here. My mom didn’t want anything to do with me anymore, and even my Godly father, who was surely very busy, had taken time out of his day to speak to me. How a God had more time for me than my own mother was just beyond me. Guess the two of them had wildly different priorities, even if one of them was the god of the dead.

He smiled again, still looking as though the simple movement strained his face. ‘Yes, Quinn, I am me. I am your dad.’

I stared at him blankly. I was at a loss for words. What was I supposed to say to that?

‘I Claimed you yesterday, right? Are you happy that I did or do you wish that I had waited longer?’ he asked, sounding genuinely interested in my opinion. Shame my mom wouldn’t care about what I had to say.

‘No,’ I said plainly. ‘I guess I should thank you for Claiming me? Thanks, Dad.’

He smiled again. ‘You’re a powerful demigod. Once you’re trained with your powers nobody will be able to stop you.’

Suddenly a powerful look of impatience came across my dad’s face. He pulled his cloak off of his right wrist slightly, as though to check a watch. Upon finding that he was not wearing a watch, he sighed slowly and slumped in his chair.

‘You okay, Dad?’ I said, craning my head to try and look him in the eye.

‘He was supposed to be here already, Quinn,’ he replied, sounding now very annoyed.

‘Who, Dad?’

‘Ap-’ Then he sat up straight. ‘You took your damn time!’

‘Uncle, it’s hard to manoeuvre the streets of Athens when the people move so slowly,’ a voice came from behind me.

I turned around in my seat and saw a strikingly handsome man. His skin was tanned gorgeously and it radiated with the glow of a thousand suns, which I found very strange. His blue eyes sparkled when they met mine, and a shining white grin spread across his face. A tidy mop of wavy blond hair adorned the top of his head. He was tall, too, and well built. Because he was wearing a flowing white toga, I had a perfect view of his well-built arms. Standing at what had to have been six-foot-two, the man standing there was nothing short of perfect.

‘U-Uncle?’ I said slowly, feeling quite flushed.

‘At least introduce yourself, you worthless lump,’ Dad said grumpily, slouching in his chair again.

Mr Perfect sauntered over to me, sitting down at our table. Now only one seat remained. If another person of such beauty were to take it I would certainly not complain. He offered his hand out to me and I took it hesitantly.

‘Apollo,’ he said, still smiling. ‘And I assume you’re Quinn?’

I nodded, trying not to let my jaw drop. He let go of my hand and turned to my dad. The two of them stared at each other. Apollo’s bright eyes were setting a stark contrast to my dad’s dark and unforgiving ones.

‘So, we’re cousins?’ I murmured, trying to break the tension.

Apollo laughed. Even that seemed heavenly. The sky itself seemed to brighten as he chuckled heartily.

‘W-What’s so funny?’ I asked, staring at Apollo blankly.

‘Don’t you laugh at my son,’ Dad growled, looking at me. ‘You are right, son, in a way. You and Apollo are cousins, unfortunately for you. But Godly blood doesn’t necessarily matter.’

‘Yeah,’ Apollo said cheekily, nudging me with his elbow. ‘So if you find yourself a girlfriend that happens to be my daughter…don’t think about it weirdly, yeah? She wouldn’t technically be your cousin, cuz, you know, Godly blood doesn’t matter.’

I blushed furiously. Even Dad looked as though he was trying not to smirk.

‘Uh- I- Wouldn’t that just be- Nevermind,’ I stammered.

Apollo winked at me. ‘Just don’t think about it too much, yeah, cousin?’

‘Anyway,’ Dad said impatiently. ‘How did you manage to take so long to get here, Apollo?'

'I was waiting for Quinn to fall asleep, and, as I said, the people here move horrifically slow,’ Apollo replied, shrugging. ‘Not all of us have the time to sit at a café table for hours waiting for someone.’

My mind went blank. Had Dad really been sitting at this stupid table for hours…just for me? It was almost tear-worthy. He really did care about me. One parent caring for you was better than none, I suppose.

Dad went a little bit pink. ‘Yes, yes, but you’re a God, or had you forgotten? You don’t need to saunter down the street behind Mortals, and you can exist in multiple places at once. My, how does my brother cope with having a son like you?’

‘The same way he copes with having a brother like you,’ Apollo said simply, winking at me again. ‘Must’ve been hard growing up with someone as lousy as you and then raising someone as glorious as me.’

Dad scoffed, but he dropped the argument there. ‘Now that you’re here, we might as well tell him.’

‘He could tell his friends, though, Uncle,’ Apollo said, worry seeping into his perfect voice.

‘Tell them what, fragments?’

‘Fragments of what?’ I asked, breaking my long silence.

‘Son,’ Dad began, ‘we found…pieces…of a prophecy; you know what those are, right?’

I nodded slowly. I only had a vague idea.

‘Here,’ Apollo cut in, throwing two pieces of paper onto the table. ‘We’re not completely sure yet but this is probably a prophecy, and I should know bec-’

‘Shut up,’ Dad snarled. ‘We get it, you’re the God of oracles, now calm down.’

I leaned forward slightly and peered at the pieces of paper. They had evidently been scrunched up, as though someone had tried to hide them. The words on them seemed to have been written, but the ink was smudged and hard to read.

The first piece that I read contained only two words: ‘Soul Burn’.

The second piece also had only two words, but these two were a lot more horrifying: ‘Descendant Titan’.

I stared at Apollo blankly. ‘H-Huh?’

He merely shrugged.

‘I don’t understand,’ I whispered. ‘Descendant of Titan? And a burning soul or something?’

Apollo snatched the papers back up and they disappeared in his palm.

‘Exactly,’ my dad began. ‘Even we don’t kn-’

‘Ethan just got Claimed as a son of Titan,’ I said darkly.

Apollo’s eyes widened and Dad’s face became somehow even darker.

‘W-What?’ Apollo stammered. ‘H-He did?’

‘Wouldn’t you know? It was, like, a big thing,’ I replied nonchalantly, but my head was burning with thoughts.

Then, in a literal instant, the other people at the café all disappeared.

‘Oh, Titan Almighty,’ Dad murmured. ‘Quinn, you’re waking up.’

‘No! We can’t just end our conversation there!’ I screamed as the sky went dark.

‘Well, this is goodbye, for now, Qu-’ Apollo disappeared.

My dad and I stared into each other’s eyes as the rest of the dream world disappeared too. It was just the two of us, staring at each other whilst hovering in a world void of everything. Everything was black, the only things that existed were me and my dad.

‘Don’t tell,’ he said before everything around me slowly morphed into my bedroom ceiling.