Some kink you have there, Your Majesty.

???

DAYS TURNED INTO MONTHS, AND months bled into a year.

It seems like not much time has passed since the day I came here. Everything was all foreign to me, but now, I'm a permanent resident of Seriphus. And, like it or not, it is what it is. I've now accepted the fact that I'm never returning to my present life, and my family is gone. At least they've lost me, and maybe there's an alternate reality where they're all living their best life... without me. A life where dad's happy that my existence is unknown to him.

This is my life now. A daimon who goes by the name Zelus, son of the Titan Pallas and Deity Styx, and sibling to the Goddess Nike, Bia, and Kratos.

Is this what you mean, Alex? About reincarnation, that it actually exists. Was I a daimon in my past life? And now I'm reliving his life, but as Jon? If so, will I meet the Alex of this century?

If only it were that easy, huh?

Every day, I'm exposed to the ways of living in this century, and things are becoming easier over time. Boys my age mainly dedicate their time to training because someday, our fate is to journey into war and fight for our rights. Our job is to bring home victory, and shall the enemy's weapons get the better of us, we close our eyes and exhale our final breath, knowing that we died for honor, and that is the only purpose of life in this century. However, when there isn't a spear or a sword in our grasp, we'd be entertaining ourselves with the pleasurable activities given by the Gods. If it isn't drinking, it is dancing with the melodies of the lyre and flute by the campfire. And, of course, they'd be some wild boys who prefer having room service, which is, in a way, considered normal here.

Not me, though. I may have left my own century, but that doesn't mean I have forgotten its lifestyle. Sure, there's no technology or movies, or good books here, but there's this beautiful word called improvise. And that's exactly what I did.

I've never been so grateful for taking a fashion design class back in college as I am now. The clothes in this century are basic and underwhelming, not to mention uncomfortable and, in a way, indecent. On days when there's no class or training—or, as I call it, the weekends—I used Mr. Han's lessons to design some clothes decent enough to my liking. I'd often venture down to the marketplace, searching for fabrics of all types. I prefer cotton, and the best part is they're incredibly affordable compared to silk.

It took many moons to create a single round-neck t-shirt as I had difficulty remembering Mr. Han's lecture. My current circumstances weren't helpful in the least. They'll be days when my mind wouldn't cooperate. In the end, it was worth it just to slip into an oversized t-shirt that instantly felt like home. I stood in front of the mirror, wearing the plain navy-blue design, and I couldn't help but grin like an imbecile, seeing how my upper body was fully covered.

I never thought the day would come when I'd feel the utmost joy for wearing a t-shirt. It just reminds me of the simple things I took for granted in the present. I won't make that mistake again, or at least I'll try not to.

I'd say it's a milestone in designing the oversized t-shirt. Though, I wonder how people will react when I wear it. Most folks in the lower class wore tunics; some were just naked with nothing but a loincloth covering what needed to be covered. The upper class wore chitons made from the finest materials and colors, along with jewelry such as gold and silver, but neither class wore something as a t-shirt. Not even the king.

I wonder if they'll strike me down for being a witch. But then again, I'm already a daimon.

...

"That's it, you're doing great," Nike's words circle my thoughts, providing the confidence I desperately need as I concentrate on my empath powers against myself. "Breathe, little brother."

Though a year has passed, I've yet to reconcile any of my powers. Only minor progress was made every now and then. At this moment, for example, blood oozed down my leg like lava gliding down the erupting volcano. Noan, one of my classmates—and one of Perseus's close comrades before I stepped into the school— thrust his spear into the back of my knee during training. It was an accident, but his serpent glare and malicious grin say otherwise. I didn't know what I'd done to make him hate me to the point of taking such action, but then again, maybe he—and the other boys— just didn't like me because I stole Perseus from them.

Speaking of Perseus, he gave me a hand when everyone else remained still as a tree, entertained by my blood staining the ground. He spoke on behalf of his royal title, and I was permitted to go home earlier than the rest. The instructor disagreed, but he had no say over any royal commands.

Instead of heading home, I journey to Gold Vine forest immediately, for I know the blazing pain in my right leg will take me hours to reach the stream. It's times like this when flight would've been useful, but my wings were no different than my fellow classmates. They simply find joy in watching me suffer.

"Open your eyes," Nike whispers into my ears, and I adhere to her words. My heart skips with contentment as I gaze down at my injured knee, which is now healed. I rose to my feet and jumped as though I was jumping rope, and my knee had never felt better. "Well done."

"I did it!" I face her sitting on a sturdy branch of an oak tree, unaware of how wide I'm smiling, until she returns the same gesture.

"It's about time," she joins me on the ground, her rose-gold dress dancing in the air. "I was beginning to think you're simply unteachable."

"It sure looks that way," I admit. "But I'm not ready to give up. I want to learn everything that I've forgotten."

"And you will. But first, tell me, how did you call your powers back then?" She crosses her arms against her chest, the miniature butterflies now hovering over my head, the unsteady motion of their wings flapping against my hair.

She waits for my answer, but I have none to give her as I do not know how my powers were summoned. My senses have again failed to identify every feeling that circulates in my body. The way I responded to the tingles on my forehead, the twitches in my wings, the pulling in veins, the fluttering in my heart. My mind kept drifting back to today's training session. The moment when Perseus marched out of the crowd and crouched down to observe the damages done by the piece of metal. The way his hand reached mine, clammy and warm, as he pulled me to my good leg and surrounded his arm around my waist for support, leading me to a safe spot further from the training ground. He tore an arm-length fabric from his tunic, and my nails dug into my thighs as he knots the cloth around the wound.

He told me to go home, and he has spoken nothing since. I watched as he made his way back to the training ground, disappearing from my sight. I gaze down at the blood-soaked cloth hugging my knee, confused by his deeds over the gnawing pain of it. Nevertheless, I'm grateful.

Very grateful.

"I don't know," my shoulders sag, unable to think further.

She holds her hand out, summoning her butterflies back. They rest on her palms, and her eyes wander into nature. Her lips then pull a smile, wide and mischievous, and the butterflies dissipate into thin air.

"You're maturing, little brother," her eyes scan me from head to toe, and her smile remains. "Continue forth, understand your powers as the knowledge you've gained in the mortal realm, and stray not from your powers again."

"I will."

"Good," she gazes into the distance, the evening sunbathing her in gold. "Now go home and get some rest, for tomorrow we begin a new lesson."

...

Ryan, I wonder if you still remember me. Maybe my existence is erased in the minds of the people I know—and everybody, I guess—but does it also apply to animals? Are you still in the basement, lying next to the mannequin that used to model Wings, waiting for me to walk through the door and give you forehead scratches? Part of me wants to believe you are because it feels less lonely knowing at least one friend remembers me. And the other part wants you to move on and forget me. Regardless, it hurts knowing that she's waiting for someone who's never returning.

I tasted the salt that glided onto my lips, picturing the stray before me was Ryan and that I was stroking her head and telling her how much I love her. I snap back to reality and appreciate the little companion for who he is. His hot breath warms my face as I caress his chin and scratch his floppy, spotted ears.

"I wonder how you've become a stray, boy," I stare into his dark brown eyes, stroking his head like I'd do to Ryan. Though, he's a small, mixed breed dog with a head smaller than my palm while Ryan's outgrew the circumference of it.

Though there wasn't a single light source in the streets, for it was way past curfew. Though, I could still see his belly, noticing he's well fed to be a stray. I glanced at his neck and saw no collar, but then again, no dogs wore collars in this century, only slaves. He's just homeless.

"I hope whoever is taking care of you loves you," I whisper to his ears, and I think he understands as he responds with a high pitch bark.

His ears stood firm as his attention was drawn to whatever was behind me.

"Zelus?"

"Jesus!" I jump to my feet, scaring the dog in the process. I steadied myself to see Perseus standing in front of me.

"Jesus? It's Perseus," he corrects me, and I can hear the confusion in his tone. "What are you doing here?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing."

"I was waiting for you," he confesses. "Your servant informed me that you'd return late, so I waited."

I nearly called him, dude.

"Why?"

"I wanted to check up on you," he approaches closer, and I can make out his godlike feature as if we're standing in a brightly lit room.

"I'm... alright, I guess," why was it a challenge to say that?

He invites himself and gently drags his hand on my knee, where the wound used to be. It's a good thing we're standing in the dark because I can feel my ears turning red. It's an embarrassing trait of mine.

"It's fully healed?" He straightens his back. "Is it because of your powers?"

"Yes, I've been practicing my powers for so long, and only today results appeared," I said normally, though I was still burning up. "However, I haven't mastered it yet."

"I'm glad," he said dully. "I'm sorry about Noan. Rest assured, I made sure he'd never pull such a foolish act again."

"I appreciate it," I said. "But why did he do that?"

His eyes divert away, and his head follows after.

"He despises the Gods or anyone associated with them."

"Why?"

"It's a long story."

"I have time, do you?" I amble at his way, gesturing for a stroll, and we begin wandering the empty streets of the marketplace. Never before have I stridden along this area with another, and today, in this century, was my first.

"Noan is an orphan," he starts. "He's only an infant, lying beside a boat by the shores of Seriphus. As he aged and arrived at this school, we became friends. He began sharing his background and how he would always ask the Gods why he's been brought to this world with no mother, father, or siblings. He would throw many questions to them, and neither one responded."

He paused to check our surroundings, ensuring nobody was awake to spot him outside the castle walls at this hour, especially with me. I hadn't paid much attention when the instructors warned us of the dangers and consequences we'll face if we broke the curfew hours, but all I knew was that it involved punishment, maybe even a few slashes from the royal whip.

Some kink you have there, Your Majesty.

He nods as if we're in an action movie, and we're currently sneaking past the enemy, and we're back to strolling by the sidelines of the streets. Thunders grumble in the clouds above us, and lightning flashes every now and then, making the dark surrounding more eerie.

"As I was saying, Noan grew tired of the Gods ignoring him. His hatred for them grew stronger, as well," he said quietly. "Hence, since you arrived at the school, his anger has only risen each day."

I have never talked to Noan nor seen him before our duel together. I believe his actions to my knee were an accident, and then again, maybe not. However, I held no grudge against him. If anything, I pity him. In a way, I understand him. I know what it's like to question your life's purpose on this planet.

Like why was I put here? In this household? In this situation, with no way out? Why am I suffering when I'm supposed to be living? Is this what you want me to go through, God? If he's even real in the first place.

"I don't blame him," I said. He gazes at me. "I understand his feelings, and let's just say we have both done some bad things in our life, and perhaps, this is just my punishment."

"What is it that you've done to deserve this?"

So many. Jon went through all the levels of hell.

"Long story," I chuckle, looking ahead and noticing we're almost reaching home.

"I have time," he insists.

"No, you don't," we arrive in front of my house. Through the window was Bethany asleep with her head resting on the table. Next to her stood a candlelight and a bowl of fruits which was our dinner. "It's late, and I don't want you to get in trouble. I'll tell you the story soon."

"I will be waiting then," he gave a soft smile, and my heart fluttered, providing a familiar feeling I've felt with Alex. "Good night."

"Good night."