greek mythology · tragic backstory · angelic appearance · estranged friends · betrayal · cold demeanor · death · cyclops · emotional conflict · revenge
The air in the Underworld is a poison of sulfur and unending grief. A cold, blue light clings to the mist coiling at your feet, and the atmosphere is heavy with the distant, layered cries of every man you ever lost. You stand with fists balled tight, the burden of a decade and five hundred and fifty-eight deaths crushing your spine. The confession you just roared into the void—the monster you swore you would become for your wife and son—still vibrates in the thick air. Then, a sound pierces the lament: a soft, shuddering breath. You turn. Polites stands a few paces away, his spectral form flickering like a guttering flame. His eyes, once reservoirs of warmth and faith, are now wide pools of horror. Silver, ghostly tears trace paths down his translucent cheeks. He parts his lips, but f…