Prologue

Penelope Caras opened the trunk of her small Honda, and collected her single grocery bag from within, her dark hair falling from her shoulders. Tossing her hair back as she righted herself, and closing the trunk, Penelope sighed. It had been a long day at school. Her history professor had just given them their required reading list for the semester and it contained six large text books. She wasn't looking forward to reading one chapter of a history text book, let alone six whole books, and she didn't understand why a science major had to take history classes.

Her mood sullen, she moved across the parking lot of her apartment complex and made for her second story apartment. It was small and cramped, but it was all she could afford on her budget. As she mounted the steep cement stairs, she seriously reconsidered getting an off campus apartment. She thought it would be more fun, but so far it had only removed her from the social network she had in the dorms.

Penelope unlocked her door, and stepped into her darkened living room. She used the heel of her foot to close the door behind her, and instantly dropped the paper bag. It hit the floor, shattering a can of pasta sauce, and smashing her carton of eggs. A loaf of bread fell out of the bag, and landed on her feet. She stood, unmoving, staring into the black recesses of her apartment.

There, almost unseen, sat the shadow of a large man. Penelope remain still, fear rising in her throat. She dared not breathe, dared not move.

"Aella." It spoke in a low graveled voice. The voice was familiar; a voice from her deepest nightmares, and it knew her name, her true name.

It stood, rising slowly, with a purpose. She could make out its armored form. Her breath started again, but in shallow quick repetitions.

"I have come for you, and your power." His voice held an element of evil intent as he stepped forward.

It was only then that Penelope managed to gain her wits. He was after her birthright, her very essence, and she could not let this thing have it. She threw her hands out before her and pushed with all her inner might.

A sudden gust of wind exploded from her hands, like a solid living thing, slamming into the shadowed man and knocking him off his feet. Flung backward, the shadowed man slammed into the living room's far wall and ripped through it like it was paper into the apartment's bathroom where he came to rest crushing the toilet.

Without stopping to see him land, Penelope turned, flew opened her door and was down her stairs before the Shadow man came to a rest.

Sobbing, Penelope made it to her car door, and despite the terror that he could at any second grab her from behind, she took a moment to glance behind her.

For a split second she felt relief, he wasn't anywhere to be seen. A sudden roar of concrete and wood being tore apart made her jump, dropping her keys, and she felt dread. The shadowed man was following her, leaping from her bathroom, up through the roof, destroying everything in his way like a bulldozer. His massive leap arched him high into the air, and landed him atop her car, which blew apart upon the impact.

Glass from the windows of her own car sliced into her flesh, and the driver's side door was blown off its hinges, barreling into her and throwing her across the parking lot. Penelope felt her arm and leg break from the impact, and she cried out in pain.

Barely conscious, bruised, broken and bleeding from numerous wounds, she managed to roll onto her stomach. Screaming in pain, she began to crawl. She dragged herself with one good arm, blood oozing down her face.

She could see lights coming on from a couple of the apartments, as the events of the last few seconds had awoken several of her neighbors.

She opened her mouth to scream for help and was cut off as the shadowed man brought his foot down on her spine, snapping it like a toothpick. All Penelope could do was whimper in pain.

"Now, Aella, daughter of Boreas," He said, his voice cold and empty, "your power is mine."

Penelope caught a brief flash of a large blade as it passed through the back of her head, out her mouth, and embedded into the pavement, before she surrendered to the void.

Faux DC Vertigo presents an all new original series:

Chapter One:
Dreams of and Nightmares

by Josh Monaco-Tibbets

The dream remained the same. It always had. Like a child's security blanket, it descended upon them every night, bringing a familiar comfort, a settling peace. It had been this way, unchanged, unaltered, for as long as they both could remember. If they had dreamed of anything else, they could not recall.  

Each had memorized every inch, of every second of the dream. They were constantly in awe at the depth and complexity, the nuances that brought the whole of it together.

It started out simply enough, with the both of them standing bare at the base of a mountain. He stood tall, well over six feet, nearly seven, his dark rugged hair blowing in the wind as he looked at her with a warm familiar smile. She always noted how handsome he was.

His body was solid like the mountain they stood before, the definition of his muscles were so sharp they seem to have been cut by a master sculptor. His crystal blue eyes seemed unnaturally bright, but still a storm brewed behind them, barely contained.

He would notice her deep brown hair, her delicate features, and soft white skin. As they stood at the base of the mountain, they would each notice something different. From the blades of grass at their feet to the mist surrounding the lower portion of the mountain, this time he noticed the stairs.

They had always been there, as if they had formed with the mountain, yet this time he took in the beauty of their craftsmanship. Each step upon the stair was cut from a white marble with golden veins running through it.

Taking her hand, he began ascending the stairs.   While the stairs led nearly straight up, neither the man nor the woman seemed too tired. After a few moments, they had made it to the top of the stairs and stood before a large city made of the same white and gold marble as the steps.

They both knew in the way that one does in a dream that they stood at the gates to Mount Olympus, city of the Gods. Looking about they moved towards a large temple, whose Greek columns rose high into the air giving them majesty beyond the other buildings surrounding it.

They entered as several people exited the temple, several of them they knew by name, Hermes, Apollo, Athena, and the Gods of Mount Olympus. Each of them was incredibly beautiful beyond words.

Once inside they saw before them Zeus, king of the Greek Gods, and his first wife and sister, Metis, Titan of Wisdom. They knew this too, because the dream allowed them too.

Zeus was massively built, to the two dreamers; he seemed as powerful as the mountain upon which they stood. They both always found it odd that instead of the white hair and beard Zeus was always shown with in art, his hair was in fact red, though bits of white where beginning to show through. Zeus wore a Greek toga, and sat heavily upon his throne, clearly in turmoil.

Metis, a beauty of long dark hair, stood far from the throne, as if waiting for her husband to speak. As always happened in the dream, a young woman with blonde hair entered, and eager to speak with Zeus, approached his throne. She wore a red blind fold over her eyes, and to the dreamers she was clearly blind.

"All Father, I must speak with you." She said.

Zeus, not looking up from his thoughts, raised a massive hand and beckoned her to come closer. "Yes my oracle?" Zeus asked as she stepped up next to his throne.

"I have had a vision." She said in a whisper.

"Speak so I might know." Zeus replied, looking at her for the first time.

"It is not good news, my lord." She whispered again.

Zeus leaned closer to the oracle and spoke in a low comforting voice.

"Speak."

The Oracle bowed, and spoke words the dreamers had long since memorized.

"If father begets son with wisdom, then son shall destroy his father."

Zeus stared at the Oracle, his surprise barely contained behind a mask of nobility and confidence.

"You are sure of this?" He asked, the comfort gone from his voice.

The Oracle nodded, almost reluctant to speak again.

Zeus looked towards his wife, who continued to look out upon the night sky, unaware of the grave conversation behind her.

"Leave us." Zeus said, standing. The Oracle bowed deeply as she exited the throne room.

Alone now, Zeus visibly set himself for the course of action he had decided upon. He moved gracefully, powerfully towards his wife, and placed his hand upon her shoulder. Without turning, she whispered to him.

"What brings low the brow of Zeus?"

"Nothing that can not wait till marrow, my love." Zeus replied.

The dreamers watched as Metis turned towards her husband and embraced him.

"How might I lesson your burdens?" She asked.

Zeus seem to think on her offer for a moment.

"A game, perhaps, will brighten my mood."

Metis raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

"What sort of game?"

"One of skill, of magic." Zeus said, "Let's see who can become the smallest animal."

Metis clapped her hands, almost ecstatic about the idea.

The dreamers watched, growing sorrow filling them in anticipation of what was to come.

Zeus raised his hands high, and his body began to distort, quickly becoming a large falcon.

Metis smiled, and she too raised her hands above her head, her body bending and shrinking down till it was nothing more than a beautiful white dove. The Falcon that was Zeus, ruffled it's feathers, and grew smaller still, it's feather folding back into it's body, as two large eyes bulged from it's head. A moment later, Zeus the falcon was Zeus the toad.

Metis the dove danced about as it morphed and trembled, until she became a fly, buzzing about Zeus the toad's head.

It was then that Metis knew the error of her judgment, for the Zeus's toad tongue leaped out, snatched her up, and swallowed her whole. With a groan, the Toad began to grow and change until it was once more the godly form of Zeus.

Lying upon the ground, Zeus let out another choked groan of pain. Pain, that to the dreamers seemed to be, born of emotion.

The dreamers looked at each other in silent farewell, ready to return to the world of reality, as they always did when they had reached that point of the dream.

Instead, the dream continued. Shocked they looked to one another.

The dream had always ended with Zeus's cry of pain and loss; they would wake up in their own beds, secure. Now, for the first time in their lives, the dream went on.

Zeus rose from his throne, weary from some unknown burden, and walked across the massive room to a chamber in the back. There lay the bed of the king of the gods. As he walked, it appeared as if he aged. The white and gray in Zeus's beard and hair became more prominent, giving him the air of majesty. The marble of the throne room seemed to darken with age. Instinctively the dreamers knew that time was passing before them.

Falling upon his bed, Zeus let out a long sigh, and drifted off to sleep. As he lay, dreaming, they watched as a small fly appeared to climb out of his ear. The fly paused a moment, then flew a few feet away, and slowly grew, it's legs merging from six to four, the ends forming fingers and toes. The giant eyes shrinking and becoming crystal blue. After a moment Metis stood bare in Zeus's bed chambers. Her once dark hair, now mostly silver, hung about her shoulders. Time had apparently passed for the goddess as well.

"I have waited long for this my &husband." Her breathy whisper filled the empty chamber.

The dreamers looked about, afraid, unsure.

Metis moved towards Zeus, who still lay in a deep slumber. Never taking her eyes off of him, she began to quietly chant.   Neither dreamer could hear her words. As Metis placed her knee upon the bed, two ripples, like those caused by stones falling in a still pond, started at her eyes and passed over her entire body. The ripples faded, leaving in their place a different woman. Young, with blonde hair, this new version of Metis slid into bed next to Zeus.

The dreamers stared on in hushed disbelief, and the male dreamer felt something familiar about the blonde woman. He strained to make out her features, but the dream kept him from seeing her clearly.

The great king woke as the new Metis slipped next to him, kissing him deeply. Zeus paused, surprise, then, gave into his passion.

The dreamers witnessed another sudden passage of time as Metis faded from Zeus's bed, then Zeus as well.   Soon the room faded and they found themselves outside the great throne room as Metis, her aged self once more, slipped out into the night.

Following the Titan, the Dreamers descended the stairs, and crossed the patch of grass where they always began the dream. Metis continues past this point, into the woods, and the dreamers, still compelled to do so, trailed her.

Once in the woods, the shadows began to deepen until they saw no more light. The dreamers touched each other's hand in silent concern, but still moved forward, a moment later, they found themselves standing in a small be well kept modern apartment. Lying on a couch, asleep, was the blonde woman. Again, the male dreamer sensed something was familiar about her, but again the dream wouldn't let him see her face clearly.

Metis was also in the room, holding a tiny baby in her arms, Metis kissed the child's forehead, then gently placed it in the blonde woman's arms. Metis smiled and then was suddenly gone; leaving the dreamers standing outside of a small house, in what appeared to them, as the suburbs.

Startled, they turned around, looking at the houses, trying to take in all the details around them. It was night, warm, with a chill to the air, and the moon shone brightly down from a star filled sky. There where many houses around them, all of them similar to house the stood before.

The female dreamer was the first to see the shadow of a large powerful man. She gasped, clutching the shoulder of the male dreamer in building panic. Turning, the male dreamer noticed that the shadow stood directly beneath a street lamp which illuminated the area around the shadow. The male dreamer took a step closer, not believing his eyes, the shadow remained black, giving no detail, as if no light shone upon it at all.

Both dreamers jumped when the shadow began walking forward, past them and to the front of the small house they stood in front of. When it reached the door, its massive arm lashed out, splintering the door, knocking it inward like it had been hit by a battering ram. A young man barely in his teens was at the door, ready to confront the shadow.

The young man drew back a fist to strike but the shadow's arm shot out and grabbed the young man by his hair, with its other arm, the shadow produced a short sword and sank it into the young man's neck. Without a sound the young man dropped to the floor dead. Turning, the shadow looked out to the street, at the dreamers.

Cocking it's head, it pointed towards them.

When it spoke its voice sounded like gravel and death.

"You are next."

PYTHIA

Elisabeth Bellas bolted up from her bed in a cold sweat.

"NO!" She screamed before she knew where she was. Shaking, she pulled her covers tighter to her body.

She tried to calm herself, to make the fear go away. She breathed, concentrating on a single image, that of her favorite place in the whole world. It didn't work. The dread worked its way back into her head, and caused her to stifle another scream.

A knock at her door caused the scream to burst out anyway.

"Beth?" The soothing voice of her mother, Diana, came from the opening door.

"Mom?" Elisabeth called out, uncertain weather to trust her own ears.

Her mother, Maria, entered the room concern showing on her smooth face. Her pale eyes staring into nothingness, blinded to the room. Feeling along the wall, she found the room's light switch and flipped it on for her daughter's comfort rather than her own. Maria crossed the floor one hand in front of her and sat on the edge of her daughter's bed.

Beth instantly clung to her mother. Maria didn't need her eyesight to discern her daughter was frightened.

"I saw him." She whispered.

"Saw who?" Maria asked, her concern growing.

"The dream changed mother!" Beth cried, tears starting to roll down her face once more.

Maria gave her daughter a reassuring hug, then pushed away so she could look into Beth's eyes.

"How has it changed?" Maria's voice was even, and calm. Deep down she worried. She had know for years her daughter had the same dream every night, she knew because she had too as a child. Right up to the day she began using her powers.

Beth took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. He closed her eyes, commiting to memory everything she had seen, as she had been trained to do by her mother.

"Metis freed herself, took the form of another woman and seduced Zeus while he slumbered." Beth's voice soothed as she began speaking, her eyes still closed, but the tension and fear on her face ebbed away with her words. She seemed almost in a trance.

"The child born to them was given to a mortal woman as her own, and a spell cast upon both."

Maria nodded. She had foreseen this event in her own dreams as a child.

Dreams had always been sacred to Maria's family, as they had for countless generations. They were special, granted gifts and abilities that few mortals would ever know. Though it came at a cost, and Maria feared that her daughter was about to pay that cost.

"Go on, dear." Maria encouraged.

"Then, I stood in a modern neighborhood, and that's when I saw him." Beth opened her eyes, afraid to remember more.

"Beth, honey, this is important. Who did you see?" Maria knew the answer, but she also knew the time had come for her daughter's training to end, for the power to be passed on.

Beth looked pleadingly at her mother, then holding back tears, closed her eyes.

"I saw a man in the shadows. I couldn't make out his face, but he was big, and solid. He killed a boy who lived in one of the houses. He killed the boy with some sort of sword, then looked right at me. He told me we were next."

Maria's face went pale. He was making his move, hunting the children, hunting them for their power.

"He has the God-slayer." Maria whispered in fear. None one was safe. They were all at risk. She had to warn someone.

Maria rose from the bed, a thousand different horrible thoughts passing through her mind, and crossed the room, a hand out in front of her, feeling her way.

"Mother?" Beth called, confused. "What does it mean?"

Maria stopped, and with out turning, spoke words that gave Beth Goosebumps.

"Death."

ICONICUS

He burst from his bed, gasping loudly for air. Sweat poured off his body in waves, and his heart was racing.

The dream had changed.

Julian Axas took a sobering breath, calming his nerves, and looked at his clock radio.

5 am.

He turned off his alarm, which had been set to an hour later, and swung his feet onto the floor.

Might as well get an early start, anyway.

He tried to let the dream evaporate into the fog of his subconscious, but, as far back as he could remember, he had never dream anything different, let alone experienced a nightmare.

Shaking his head, Julian came up with several different reasons for such a thing. Too much soda, bad day, too many video games, any number of things could have caused his dream to alter, though nothing had ever altered it before.

He could feel it was important, that it meant something, then, with a slight chuckle to himself, he dismissed it. Dreams where dreams, they meant nothing.

Julian looked about his room. It was small, even for a bedroom inside a trailer, but he had done what he could with it. Posters of famous paintings hung on his wall. From the Scream, to the Mona Lisa, every square inch of his bed room was plastered with famous works of art. On his dresser stood a small replica of the sculpture of Laocoon and his sons. On the shelf above his bed stood other replicas, from a copy of the Aphrodite De Milos, to the statue of Hermes carved by the artist Pypsippos.

Along the backside of his door was his own artwork. Julian glanced down at the floor rather than look at it. He felt a little shame at displaying his favorite pieces as if he were some famous artist, but they helped to inspire his work, as did the works posted around his room.

Julian suppressed a smile. Yesterday the city's museum had received a new piece, Divine Gifts of the Pantheon. In all his studies of artistic masters, Julian had never come across it even in reference, and he was excited to see it first hand. He wanted to sketch it, and after his summer spent as a volunteer at the museum, he had accumulated enough pull to do so. He was scheduled to meet Adam Burrows, the museum curator shortly after school let out.

Getting to his feet he dressed. Black jeans over black work boots, a red wife beater under his high school football jersey, and his letterman jacket comprised his look for the day. Stopping in front of his dresser mirror Julian ran a brush through his long dark hair, and wondered what the kids at school would think if they saw the captain of the football team getting giddy about a piece of art. He frowned. It would defiantly be a bad thing.

"Jules! Jules! Did you take my bottle?" Came a slurred, and booming female voice from behind Julian's door.

Julian closed his eyes, as if wishing the situation away would be enough. They snapped open when the door flung open.

"Jules, where's my bottle?" The voice belonged to his mother. A woman, who a decade before would have been attractive, but ten years of drinking and smoking wore itself upon her face like a sign of weariness.

"Donna," Julian never called her mother, or mom," I don't know what you are going on about." Julian tried to keep his voice even, it was always a bad idea to upset her when she was drunk.

"Bullshit." She barked.

"You took it!" Donna poked him in the chest with a bony finger, as she held a lit cigarette.

"Why would I want a bottle?" Julian took a step back, his anger starting to boil to the surface.

"Cuz it was a good bottle of vodka!"

Julian shook his head.

"I don't drink, Donna." He said, clenching his teeth.

His mother looked at him for a moment, clear disgust crossing her face. With a huff of air and irritation, she turned away and walked down the hall.

Julian grabbed his book bag, and rolling his eyes followed her out.

Walking down the hall, Julian took in the worn puke green shag carpet and the fake wood finish on the walls.

Even for a trailer it was ugly.

Entering the kitchen, dining room, living room combo of his small trailer Julian was met with the sight of a man sitting at his kitchen table wearing only boxers.

"Find the bottle, sugar?" The man said, his voice gruff and as slurred as Julian's mother.

Julian stopped in his tracks, lowering his bag.

A marine.

"No. Jules says he didn't drink it." His mother stumbled into the room and plopped into a chair beside the big Marine.

The marine looked Julian up and down.

"Sure seems like he can put it away."

Julian glared at the Marine.

She brought home another marine.

Julian figured his mother had invited a whole platoon of marines into the trailer over the last few years, and they always seemed to be of the lowest common denominator.

"You two sure have." Julian said, tension creeping into his voice.

The Marine laughed.

"Sure have."

Julian's fists clinched together, and he could feel the hair stand up on the back of his neck. Behind him, the kitchen light flickered momentarily,

"She's a recovering alcoholic." Julian spat.

The marine shook his head, still laughing.

"She's a grown woman, kid, and I think she chose to get off the band wagon."

Donna laughed with the marine.

"More like got off in the bathroom."

The marine slammed his meaty palm upon the table as he belly laughed. Julian winced, trying to burn the image from his mind, yet gaining no ground.

Grabbing his bag, Julian made for the door.

"Honey, say good-bye to Greg."

Julian paused at the door with out looking back.

"It's Craig, sugar." The marine chuckled. "Maybe you have had one too many."

"Oh, right."

Julian slammed the door behind him.

Nothos O Kilronomos

Maria Bellas hurried down the hall from her daughter's room towards hers located at the top of the stairs to their Victorian style home. As she moved down the hall, her hands moved in front of her, searching for any changes in her environment.

She had been blind since she was sixteen, the price she was forced to pay for the magical gifts bestowed upon her by the gods. Yet despite all her power, she feared greatly that it all was about to end.

Reaching the top of the stairs, just outside her door, she paused. She could feel a presence, a malevolent one. Reaching out with her magical senses Maria located the source, standing at the bottom of the stairs.

Maria gasped, stepping backwards as the presence stepped up upon the first stair.

"Maria Bellas, you will tell me where to find the Prince." The veiled threat of the voice betrayed it's identity.

"Nothos O Kilronomos." She whispered.

"I prefer Maximus Gore these days, Maria Bellas. Where is the Prince?" Gore took another step up the stairs.

Maria reached out her hand towards Gore, and muttered several words in an ancient language as Gore took a third step. Blue symbols appeared around her hands, encased in a similar colored circle. Uttering a grunt, Maria's eyes flashed blue and the circle exploded outward, striking Gore in the chest.

The impact forced the massive man to take a step backwards, wobbling him for a moment. Gore smirked and raised his palm out towards Maria, and returned her attack with a burst of concentrated air. As the blast traveled up the air to it's intended target, the stairs were ripped to shreds, the several of the banister's handrails embedded themselves into the surrounding walls. Maria was knocked off her feet, landed on her head, and flipped over onto her stomach.

Dazed Maria stumbled to her feet, she could feel blood running down her face from a massive cut on her forehead.

He has used the Godslayer already.

Panicked, Maria tried to concentrate, to focus on Gore's wereabouts. She felt him rushing up the stairs, coming for her, for her daughter.

With a cry of anguish, she sacrificed part of her very life essence, funneling it into the magic she wielded. It was a desperate move, but she already knew Gore was stronger. She let the magic leap from her fingers, and strike Gore in the face, taking the form of jade green as it went.

The attack shoved him into the air, slamming him against a wall, and then down onto the steps, which gave way on impact, shattering like a million toothpicks. Gore rolled to a stop at the base of the stairs.

Maria could feel her power ebbing away. Tears began to form in her eyes. She knew she had only one chance to stop Gore.

It was then that she heard her daughter's cry of fear.

"Mother!"

Maria turned her face towards the sound, even as she began willing what she knew would be he last magic spell, and last action, she took.

"Beth, use the emergency spell!" She called out, even as she felt Gore unsheathe the Godslayer, a sword of ancient and horrible power.

"Mom, I can't leave you!" Beth cried out, hysteria edging into her voice.

"Now!" Maria yelled, barely containing the energies that were at that moment destroying her body.

Beth stared at her mother, then glance at the intruder. That moment froze for her, allowed her to take in everything around her. He was massive, nearly eight feet tall. He was broad, like a square, and he was thick. Over his massive bulging body of muscles he wore a black body suit which was covered in red armored plates. Upon his head he wore a bronze helm which hid his eyes. Beth knew his eyes had to be terrifying.

Taking once last look at her mother, Beth began to chant, even as she could see the green lightning spilling off of her mother.

"Find the Prince! Prepare him!" Maria called to her daughter.

Holding back tears of complete grief, Beth finished her incantation and vanished.

A moment later, Maria turned her face to the advancing form of Gore. He stood above her, the Godslayer held high above his head.

"She will lead me to him." He said, looking past her to the spot where Beth had stood.

"Straight to Hades!" Maria screamed, then she let her control go, exploding in a bright green flash. For a brief second, Maria's eye sight returned, and to see the look of fear upon the face of Gore brought a smile to her lips. The next moment, her house exploded in a bright green ball of light.

ICONICUS

As he got off the bus, Julian could still feel his cheeks burning from the pent up anger he felt with the marine, Craig, his mother had gotten drunk with. She had spent most of Julian's life fighting alcohol addiction, and for the most part, she did fine with it, until she met herself a marine. Then Julian was back to finding her passed out on the floor, or on the front steps. It was taking it's toll on her, and he could tell. She once had been a beauty, but in the last couple years, the drinking and parties, and men had begun to show on her face, cutting deep lines into what once had been perfect skin. She looked twenty years older than what she was, and Julian resented the fact that she was destroying herself.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, but it didn't work, he just saw Craig the Marine's face laughing at his mother's problem. As Julian approached his locker, he envisioned himself pounding Craig's face in. Reaching for his locker, Julian witnessed a release of static electricity from his finger tips to the locker, like a tiny lightning bolt. Looking shocked, he also noticed that where the bolt has struck his locker was a black spot, as if a lit lighter had been placed against it.

Feeling it had to be a trick of the light, he reached out and touched it, rubbing part of the burnt pain away. It was still warm. Looking at his fingers, he saw the ash, and he could smell ozone in the air.

Shaking his head, Julian spun his lock and dialed in his combo. Tossing his book bag inside, he opened it and produced a binder and a world civilization book, and slammed his locker shut.

"What's your deal?" Came a familiar voice from behind him.

Turning Julian half smiled at the young man standing there. His name was Isaac Winters, and while he was shorter than Julian, he was still massively built

"Nothing a vacation wouldn't cure, what's up with you?"

Winters shrugged.

"On my way to class, so the look on your mug and decided to brighten your day."

Julian looked skeptical.

"How's that?"

Winters smiled.

"I just happened to hear that our very own, Cindy Marsters thinks you're hot.."

Julian rolled his eyes.

"So?"

Winters started walking down the hall, and Julian, clearly not amused, followed beside him.

Winters looked away not unable to contain his grin.

"What is your problem man? Half the girls at this school would kill to date you, and you never even show an ounce of compassion."

Julian balked.

"Compassion?"

"For me." Winters answered.

"I could clean up your leftovers, but you don't even have a snack."

Julian laughed.

"Wonderful analogy."

"You know what I mean, Jules, is it some sort of angle?"

Julian laughed.

"Yeah, that's it."

Winters spun around to face Julian.

"Then what is it?"

Julian paused.

"They just seem, so, I don't know, young."

Winters looked confused.

"Young? We're in high school man, their supposed to be young."

"I mean immature." Julian countered, still walking.

Winters moved to catch up.

"That just makes my point, young and dumb."

Julian finally stopped. Turning, he faced Winters and said in a low voice, " I just don't see the point in it. I have nothing in common with them."

"You gay?" Winters asked, concerned.

"No."

"You sure?"

Julian shook his head and continued back down the hall way.

"Point taken. You like older women. Fair enough." Winters found himself trying to catch up.

"No. I mean girls here don't see the big picture. They don't understand what life is really about, and they don't care to know, least not right now."

Winters, catching up with Julian, gave him a sideways look.

"So?"

"I have to be attracted to their minds, not just their chests."

"But you do think Cindy Marsters has a nice chest."

Julian broke into a grin.

"Most defiantly."

PYTHIA

Beth gasped. A second before she had been standing in her house, her mother fending off the man in the shadows, the man calling himself Maximus Gore, and the next second she felt herself falling, no longer able to see. Her body landed atop something hard and metal, nearly knocking the wind from her lungs. The sound of shattering glass reached her ears, and the metal below her gave way. The eruption of an alarm told her she had come down on a car's top.

The next second she heard and felt a tremendous explosion. Big enough to rock the car she had landed upon, and setting off several others nearby as well.

She knew that it had been her house, that her mom and destroyed it in the hopes of destroying Gore. Surprising tear, Beth rolled herself off the car, and landed hands first on pavement. She could feel the heat from the destroyed house, and realized it was engulfed in flames.

Still she was in darkness, unable to see. Reaching up, she felt her face, and her eyes, and knew why. While her eyes where physically fine, she had envoked her powers for the first time. She had traded near god like magic at the price of her eyesight. The only way she could have done either, was for her mother to have died.

Her mother had died to protect her. Her, and the prince. Gaining her feet, Beth reached out with her senses, forming a mental picture of her surroundings. She had folded space and time around her and moved her body outside of the house, down the street about half a block. It was the limit of her current powers.

Given time, she would grow in power and skill, but right now she was vulnerable. Her mother was a talented and strong spell caster, and she was forced to sacrifice herself just to give Beth enough time to escape. Beth knew that meant that Gore had used the ancient weapon, known as the Godslayer, to kill a God, or even more than one.   He could easily kill her.

Beth had to find the Prince, warn him about Gore. Despite being blinded, Beth closed her eyes, and blocked out her surroundings. Concentrating, she searched. A moment later her white eyes flashed open. She had found him.

Chanting in ancient Greek, Beth was surrounded by a swirl of green, with similar colored runes appearing around her. The next moment, she disappeared.

Nothos O Kilronomos

Maximus Gore grunted, and heaved a large portion of a burning rooftop off of his back. Standing he looked glanced around and saw her, the new Pythia, the Oracle of Apollo, standing next to a crumpled car. He watched as the young girl cast a teleportation spell, something he had counted on when he approached the house. Striding over towards her, she suddenly vanished, this caused him to grin.

She was running to the Prince. She would therefore lead him to the Prince. Standing in the spot she had just been in, Gore drew the Godslayer. A beautiful example of Greek craftsmanship, the Godslayer was nothing more than a short, one handed sword. It was the metal and the magic contained within that made it special. Crafted with water from the legendary river Styx, the blade was given the same properties as anything else dipped in it, it could not be pierced or broken. Beyond that, the sword had been in the hands of the ancient witch, Circe, and she had cast upon it magical spells.

Spells, that if properly used, allowed the wielder to steal the very essence of those slain, their very power. Few weapons existed like it, for it could kill a God, even in it's own realm. It could also sense and track magic, an aspect of the sword that Gore planned to use effectively.

Gore waved the blade through the space that the Pythia had just stood, and felt the tingle of the sword thirsting for blood. It had located the girl; all he had to do was follow its guide.

ICONICUS

He moved through the crowd, wishing he was unseen, but knowing all eyes where on him, they always where. It was part of what made him feel out of place.   Shifting his books to hide his dipping comfort level, he moved down the front steps of the high school.

Olympian High School, home of the Titans, if he hadn't been so nervous, he would have laughed. Instead he looked at the ground and nodded as a group of girls walked by and started to giggle at seeing him.

A call of "Jules!" went out somewhere behind him, but Julian kept moving. He knew he was popular. He knew what it meant to letter in Football, Wrestling and Baseball. He also knew he was good looking, he had been told so all of his life. All that made it difficult to stay hidden in the masses. He groaned inwardly, it didn't help he wore his lettermen jacket, adorn with all of his patches. Julian regretted wearing it, but it was required, tonight they had a game.

He was in a hurry, school was over and he had just enough time to get to the museum, check out the new artifact, maybe do a sketch or two and get back before warm up.

If he caught the first city bus out there, that is. That meant not stopping for the normal deluge of well wishers and admirers. Rushing down the last of the steps, Julian started to jog across the street, and upon seeing the bus, sped up. A few moments later, he paused at the bus stop, and waited for the bus to open its doors. Julian entered and stuffed his money into the coin machine, and took his seat, a wave of tension leaving him. He was on his way to the one place he felt like he belonged, the museum.

His whole life he had felt like a fish out of water. He had always been athletic, and the girls always had noticed him, but he had never felt like he truly was one of the crowd. No one ever seemed to be into the things he was, let alone know about half of them. History and art always soothed him, particularly Greek history and art. He supposed his dream was part of the reason why.

He had spent years thinking everyone had a single dream that they always dreamt.   It wasn't until he was at least twelve or thirteen that he realized he was the only one who did. He learned to stay quiet about it.

Still, the dream had an effect on him. He devoured Greek Mythology. When he was old enough to have discovered his artistic talent, he had studied all the great Greek artists, and mimicked their style in everything he did.

Though he was artistic, art class was yet one more place he felt out of touch. The other students resented his abilities, and the fact that he had such an easy time socially. Not that they all where awkward, but enough of them were to resent his natural ease at fitting in'. If they only knew how bored he was, how he stayed silent to not end up putting his foot in his mouth, or to seem out of place. He knew he was, felt it at his core.

The hiss of the bus door opening snapped Julian out of his gloom, and rising from his seat, he made his way off the bus and onto the street.

Before him was the Olympia Museum of Art and History. It was an impressive building. Five stories tall, with massive Corinthian pillars running along its walls, as if they where holding up the roof. The whole of the building was white, with the pillars made from actual white marble. The steps, all fifty two of them, were made of the same white marble with a green vein running through.

The two colossal doors where made from dark cherry wood, and above the doors hung a sculpted inlay, also of the white and green marble.

There where three wings to the building, each running nearly a football field in length, all connecting at a golden domed circular room, known as the great room. The wings jutted out of it as if they where dividing it into thirds. The grounds of the museum were just as impressive, with modern artist's works hidden among a maze of hedges, wild flowers, and three separate water displays.

Julian breathed it in, and felt at long last he was home. He always did when he gazed upon the grand museum.

With a skip in his step, Julian took the stairs three at a time, and only slowed when he had passed the front doors and entered the lobby of the museum.

His walking pace set and determined, Julian made his way to the right, where a beautiful wood and marble staircase lead up to the second floor. As he passed the reception desk, the elderly woman behind it waved to him.

"Hello, Julian." She called out, happy to see him.

"Hello, Mrs. Davidson." Julian called back, not stopping on his ascent. Once up the stairs, Julian rounded a corner, moved down a hall and came to a stop before two armed guards.

"Hey Barry, Joe." He said in turn to each. Both smiled and moved aside, allowing him to open the door that they had been guarding.

"Julian." One said giving Julian a nod of his head.

They knew him here. He came by the museum at least twice a week during school days, and most weekends he spent his entire day there.

Moving into the room, Julian closed the door behind him, and then paused. He loved this part, seeing a new piece of art, or a ancient artifact for he first time.

Looking around the room he recognized several pieces he had seen before. Ancient Greek statues of Gods or heroes, bowls and vases with depictions of wars and stories of love lost and gained. It was the item in the middle of the room that drew him there that day.

The Divine Gifts of the Pantheon. No one was sure who had created it. It had been discovered after an earthquake located near the famous Acropolis. After the quake, workers on the site discovered a fissure in the earth, running under the ancient temple. Entering they discovered ancient tomb, and next to the tomb, a sculpture of various weapons. It dated back to the time of acient Greece. That made it quit a find, but what made it so amazing was that it was a sculpture made with marble, metal and organic items.

Staring at it Julian wondered how the mixed medium had been devised, or made. Something scholars were currently debating.

Regardless of how, it truly was a piece of art.

It sat on a pedestal which brought it to hip level, making it far easier to see the skill of the artist up close. Julian moved around it, taking in its simple form, and shivered. The artist had sculpted the broken base of a Greek column out of white marble, run through with golden veins.

Julian shook his head, and felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. It was just like the marble in his dream.

Taking a deep breath Julian continued to look over the piece's details. A single sword sat upon the top of the broken column. It was a typical looking Greek short sword, battered and worn. Next to it lay a pair of golden bracers, the type worn around the wrists and lower arms of soldiers.   The insides where layered with white hair and white feathers. Beside these items lay a shield, also made of gold. It resembled a diamond in shape, but near the top, where the point should be, a hole had been skillfully cut from it. One could make out three quarters of the circle, and it's effect was breath taking.

Not wanting to waste anymore time, Julian grabbed his sketch book from his book bag, and began to wildly draw what lay before him.

"Wonderful piece." A female voice, from behind, made him turn. He was stunned at the beauty standing there. Her dark hair was cut to just beyond chin level, and she had the bluest eyes he had ever seen. She was dressed like a curator, and she wore a name badge which gave her name and Gray.

"Yes, yes it is." He managed to stumble. Her face struck Julian as amazingly familiar, and as beautiful as she was, he found it hard to believe that he didn't remember her. Beyond that most of the staff members of the museum didn't look anything like her. Julian decided that she must have been hired recently.

"You must be that artist everyone talks about." She said, her voice surprisingly older than her looks would convey.

"Yeah, I'm, Julian." He said. The longer he looked at her the more he felt drawn to her.

"You are?" Julian asked.

"Ms. Gray will do." She replied.

"So, Julian, what do you think?" Her eyes left his to glance at the Divine Gifts of the Pantheon and then back at him.

"It's amazing." Julian said, turning back around to look upon the artifact.

"It is one of the most amazing discoveries of the modern era." She said.

Julian nodded in agreement.

"So much history left unknown. Yet, the piece draws you in, makes you feel almost, connected to it." Gray moved to Julian's side, both watching the Divine Gifts of the Pantheon.

Julian stepped forward.

"Each piece is so unique. Take for instance the sword. It matches Spartan swords in design and metal work, yet it predates the earliest known examples by nearly five hundred years."

Julian looked to the sword, it was so old, yet look like it had just been made.

"The Bracers, cast from pure gold, and samples taken from the feathers that line it can't be identified with any known animal." Julian looked at her perplexed, he hadn't read about any of that.

"The shield, while it appears golden, isn't. The metal can't be identified."

Julian looked back at the artifact.

"Really?" For some reason that Julian couldn't understand, he was entranced by her words. He could feel electricity in the air, he felt pulled to the artifact.

"There it is, nearly three thousand years of history, of heritage, and just like a birthright, all you have to do it take it."

Julian took a step forward, his hand instinctively reaching out. Then reality snapped back to him. With a nervous laugh, Julian turned to apologize to Gray.

She was gone.

Looking around the room gave no clue to her location, or to where she had gone. Julian stood, alone in the room, and he realized where he had seen her before. She was in his dream.

Unnerved Julian grabbed his bag and made for the door. A moment later he was heading down the steps of the museum, trying to wrap his mind about what had just happened.

Making the bottom of the stairs he nearly ran into a young girl with dark brown hair. Fumbling as he attempted to snatch up his fallen bag, Julian suddenly realized she was blind.

"I'm so sorry." He started to apologize, but the words caught in his throat. Before him stood the other dreamer, the one with whom he walked through the dream each night.

"You." He whispered.

"My name is Beth, and if you want to ever have another dream, you will come with me now." She said, staring at him with her white eyes.

Julian backed away. Evening was coming, there were several people about, yet none had stopped to look at either of them. Trying to think, to understand, Julian kept moving backwards, only to slam into something large and solid.

Beth gasped in fear as Julian turned around and stared up into the eyes of the largest man he had ever seen, wearing some sort of armor and helm.

"At last, my Prince, it is time for you to die." Maximus Gore said, a crooked smile forming on his lip as he drew the Godslayer.

Julian found himself frozen to the spot, unable to move, unable to scream, as Maximus Gore raised the Godslayer above his head and brought it down with a furious storke.

To Be Continued