We've got the right to live, fight to use it
Marcus followed Deimos’s glance toward the horizon, his gaze settling on the distant seam where the iron-gray ocean met the darker belly of the storm. Lightning stitched briefly through the clouds again, thin and jagged, illuminating the scatter of ice along the shore. The thunder that followed rolled low and distant, more like a warning than a threat, though no scream followed in its wake this time. He shifted his weight in the sand, one boot grinding idly against a shard of ice half-buried in the black grit. The storms this year certainly were different, they were less like weather and more like temperament. Halo was harsh, yes, but it was a predictable kind of harsh. Snow fell. Winds howled. The cold endured. Creatures had to eat. This was something else entirely.
The mention of seasonal gods pulled Marcus’s attention back from the water. His brow creased slightly, thoughtful rather than doubtful. Being the son of a once-demigod meant learning early that the gods were rarely distant concepts. Their moods had weight. Their attention could reshape the land without warning. The young Olson looked up again and he watched Belial loop through the rain again, the creature’s energy cutting bright through the gray.
Part of him, the part raised on stories whispered around hearthfires, knew better than to ignore patterns when they began to gather like storm clouds. ”My dad says the Mathair is quite…something.”
The mention of seasonal gods pulled Marcus’s attention back from the water. His brow creased slightly, thoughtful rather than doubtful. Being the son of a once-demigod meant learning early that the gods were rarely distant concepts. Their moods had weight. Their attention could reshape the land without warning. The young Olson looked up again and he watched Belial loop through the rain again, the creature’s energy cutting bright through the gray.
Part of him, the part raised on stories whispered around hearthfires, knew better than to ignore patterns when they began to gather like storm clouds. ”My dad says the Mathair is quite…something.”
Marcus
Got everything but you can just choose it
