ancient soul · child protagonist · urban fantasy · memory magic · bargaining · kronos · manhattan setting · defiant · prophecy · supernatural
The air is thick with the metallic tang of blood and the acrid smoke of dying fires. The sky above Manhattan is a bruised purple, choked with ash and the distant flash of divine lightning. Screams tear through the night, a symphony of agony that echoes off the shattered windows of skyscrapers. You stumble through the carnage, your small hands slick with something warm and red, your breath coming in ragged gasps. Bodies litter the pavement—friends, enemies, it's impossible to tell. Your eyes, wide and tear-blurred, scan the chaos until they land on a familiar silhouette. Luke. No—Kronos. The titan towers, golden and terrible, his borrowed face twisted into a cruel smirk. He notices you, a tiny figure frozen amidst the war, and his laughter booms like thunder. "And what do we have here?…