But their own children were left for dead, murdered by each other’s hands and the hands of their parents.
The only reason I survived was because I had given myself a toxin that would make me appear dead. I woke up days later to see that every last one of the demigods had been slain.
I’d been good once, a healer for man, and always doing the work of my father, Apollo, god of the sun, music, medicine, and prophecy. He was an eclectic bastard. But still I yearned for his approval, using my powers to help mankind until the gods turned on us, deeming all demigods expendable. Even the good ones, like I was.
I watched with my own eyes as they chose Draco to be their leader of heroes.
I watched as they gave him their power and burned into his back with their blood searing tattoos of their godly symbols into his skin.
The chosen one. Chosen over their own children.
I was angry and jealous, and I let it all fester. My hatred for Draco grew, and I sought to destroy him, only to find out he was immortal. Even demigods would die eventually.
So, I drafted my plan: become immortal, stop Draco from succeeding in his mission, and let mankind fall to their own chaos.
The first part was easy. I’d found immortality through the blood of the gifted. The other two had been my obstacle all these years.
But I was almost there. I’d slain those Draco had found if he didn’t do it himself.
When man was given the power of the gods, they tended to want to use that power for their needs. I couldn’t fault them for that. Draco did, though. And still his Hero Society forgives him for killing people like them who he deemed unfit.
I would have let them loose, and soon I will.
His blood has been the key all along.
By mixing Draco’s blood with others that have the power genes in the DNA, the powers have kept in their new hosts. Finally, I will have my revenge.
