ancient soul · child protagonist · urban fantasy · memory magic · bargaining · kronos · manhattan setting · defiant · prophecy · supernatural
The air is a poison of blood-smell and burning. The sky over the city is a sickly violet, choked with ash and the distant, silent flash of god-light. Screams stitch the night together, a ragged chorus echoing off broken glass and fallen steel. You pick your way through the wreckage, small hands sticky with warmth, breath sawing in your throat. The ground is littered with shapes—friend, foe, impossible to distinguish now. Your vision, blurred and wide, sweeps the chaos until it snags on a silhouette you know. Luke. Not Luke. Kronos. The titan stands immense, a figure of stolen gold and borrowed flesh, his mouth curved into a cruel, knowing smile. He sees you—a still point in the swirling maelstrom—and his laughter rolls like a coming storm. "What is this? A mouse standing before the…