The blue portal's hum collapses into a rustle of leaves, the air thick with the scent of moss and sweet decay. Colton stumbles out, his bare feet sinking into soft earth, cold and damp against his skin. His chest burns
like a furnace gone wild, the spark pulsing erratically. He pauses, breath catching—his ribs, battered from Derek's punches, feel… fine. No ache, no sting. He touches his face, expecting the raw sting of a split eyebrow, but the skin is smooth, unbroken. The bruises are gone, like they never existed. His
mother clings to his arm, her nails biting skin, her sobs sharp and ragged.
"Bella… my baby…" Apollo steps through last, his golden tunic catching faint
moonlight, his bow creaking across his back. The forest around them is alive,
too alive—gnarled trees twist toward a violet sky, their branches whispering in
a breeze that carries no warmth. A soft glow flickers nearby, and a Calydonian
deer, its antlers shimmering like starlight, pauses to watch them, its hooves
silent on the moss before it slips into the shadows.
"What the hell is this place?" Colton's voice is raw, his breath clouding in the chill. He's still in his torn sleep shirt and sweatpants, the fabric clinging to his sweat-soaked body. His hand lingers on his chest, the spark's heat flaring, but the absence of pain unnerves him more than the fire. "What's happening to me? Bella's gone, and you're… what, some kind of god?"
Apollo's eyes, sharp as sunlight, meet his. "This is the Grove of Elysium, a borderland between worlds." His voice is steady, but
there's a weight to it, like he's carrying centuries. "And I'm Apollo, god of the sun and prophecy. Those monsters? Servants of Cronus, the Titan who'd eat his own kin to keep power. He sensed your spark ignite, Colton. The spark of Prometheus."
Colton's mother gasps, her voice breaking. "Prometheus? What are you talking about? Why did they take my daughter?" She steps forward, her slippers sinking into the moss, her hands trembling but her eyes fierce.
"Where's Bella? Is she… is she alive?"
Apollo's gaze softens, but his tone stays firm. "She's alive. In Tartarus, locked in a stasis crystal—frozen in time. It's a dark
abyss below the Underworld, crawling with monsters, where gods and Titans rot."
He pauses, the forest's whispers filling the silence. "She's safe, not suffering, but trapped. Cronus took her to bait you, Colton. Your spark threatens him, and he wants you dead before you grow strong."
Colton's laugh is bitter, jagged. "My spark? You mean this fucking thing burning a hole in my chest?" He clutches his shirt, the heat
flaring, a faint glow seeping through the fabric.
Apollo's eyes narrow, his voice sharp, scolding. "That thing in your chest is what's healing your bruises. It's the spark of Prometheus, youfool. It mends your wounds, slow right now, but much faster than any mere mortal. And it will become faster. Eventually, you will be close to
invincible." His eyes burn with certainty, like he's seen centuries of fire. "And you're its bearer now."
Colton's mother steps closer, her voice trembling but sharp. "How does this… spark work? Can it save Bella?" Her hands twist together, her eyes darting between Apollo and the glowing mark.
Apollo nods, his voice steady. "Lift your shirt, Colton." Colton hesitates, then yanks up his tattered tee, shocked to see his muscles,
hardened and toned and a branded symbol on his chest: a torch wreathed in a
broken chain, its lines glowing faintly orange, like embers. His mother gasps,
her hand covering her mouth. Apollo's finger traces the air above it, not touching. "This is the Prometheus spark. Fire stolen from the gods, passed through your bloodline to protect humanity. It heals you and burns with the power to defy gods. You're the first to carry it in centuries. Evil—Cronus and
his ilk—has run wild since. You're the first."
Colton's eyes widen, his voice cracking. "Centuries? Me? No way, man. I can't do this! Cronus? The guy who ate his kids? I'm screwed!" His breath hitches, panic rising, the spark flaring hotter, singeing his skin. He
winces, stumbling back, his bare feet slipping on the moss.
Apollo's hand clamps onto his shoulder, steadying him. "You can, Colton. You have to. The spark chose you because you're a fighter. You'll get stronger—stronger than anything you'll face. In time." His voice softens, but there's steel beneath it, a prophet's certainty. "Cronus knew the moment your spark woke. He sent those monsters to kill you before you could grow. But I won't let that happen."
Apollo's hand hovers over Colton's chest. "The spark is fire, light, life. It can burn, heal, defy gods—but it's raw now. The healing
grows with trials, courage, protecting others." He presses his palm to the
torch-and-chain, and a warm glow pulses, like sunlight trapped in amber. Colton
gasps, the heat shifting, less wild, more focused. Two smaller symbols brand
beside the torch—a sunburst, its sharp rays glinting gold, and a lyre string,
shimmering silver. "My gifts," Apollo says. "A solar flare to pierce the dark, blind your foes. And an oracle's glint to sense the weaknesses of friends or foes around you. They're weak for now, but the more you use and practice them, the stronger they'll get."
Colton stares at the symbols, his voice shaky. "Blind them? See their weaknesses? That's it? How's that gonna get Bella back?" The deer's glow flickers in the distance, its calm a stark contrast to his rising panic.
Apollo's gaze hardens, prophetic weight in his words. "Your spark can do more, Colton. It lets you collect the power of gods. Friendly
gods, like Hermes or Athena, will share their gifts willingly. Those who stand against you, like Cronus's minions? You can take their power by force, make it your own."
Colton's mother grips Apollo's arm, her voice raw. "Collect their power? How? And how long will it take? Bella's alone in that… place." Her words choke, but she straightens, fierce. "I'm coming too. She's my daughter."
Apollo's face hardens, his tone unyielding. "You can't come. It's too dangerous for a mortal without power. Cronus's minions would tear you apart." He softens slightly, seeing her defiance. "I know a place—Hestia's sanctuary, veiled by her sacred hearth, hidden from Titans. You'll be safe
there." He pulls a small, silver orb from his tunic, glowing with prophetic light, warmed by Hestia's fire. "This will keep you linked to Colton. Speak to it, and he'll hear you, no matter the distance."
Her fingers tighten around the orb, tears streaming, but she nods, voice breaking. "You bring her back, Colton. Promise me."
Apollo pulls a bronze bracelet from his tunic, etched with a sun glyph, and clasps it on Colton's wrist. It hums faintly, cool against his skin. "This cloaks your spark from Cronus's sight. It won't stop his stronger
minions, but it buys us time." He steps back, his bow creaking as he adjusts it. "We need Hermes, the swift one. He'll spread word of Prometheus's return, rally gods who'll lend you power—speed, cunning, whatever you need for Tartarus."
Apollo turns to Colton, his voice a vow, laced with prophetic weight. "You'll burn brighter than Cronus ever feared. But it starts now."
Colton swallows, the bracelet heavy on his wrist, Bella's screams and his mother's plea echoing in his mind. The spark hums, the forest's whispers rising like a challenge. He meets Apollo's gaze, his voice low but
steady. "Let's go see Hermes."