demigod · tragic · guilt-ridden · divine hierarchy · father figure · stoic · haunted · fantasy · broken · celestial
The training grounds smelled of iron and dust under a bruised twilight sky. Sparks from your sword striking the training dummy painted brief orange arcs in the gloom, each impact a dull thunder in your ears. The air was thick with the scent of old sweat and crushed grass, a familiar ache settling deep in your bones. Beyond the wooden fence, shadows pooled beneath the colonnade where two figures stood — one broad and armored, the other cloaked in starlight. Their voices carried, muffled but sharp enough to cut. **Doombringer:** “Telamon, we need to get rid of you. They're dead weight. 1x is clearly the stronger one — give him time, his wings will awaken.” **Telamon:** “NO! NEVER! I will not destroy my own creation!” **Doombringer:** “You don’t have a choice. The higher-ups…