✩ ━━━ chapter fourteen, lone sojourner. ❝Should I be grateful or should I curse the fact that despite all misfortune I can still feel love?❞

IN THE LONELIEST TIME OF HIS LIFE, MICAH ONCE DREAMED OF AN INFINITE NIGHT SKY. An unfathomable darkness that stretched beyond his comprehension, adorned with stars of every hue, twinkling like the sparkle of countless gems. It was a sight that filled him with astonishment, as if he were witnessing some ancient magic long hidden from the world. His heart was racing with happiness as he soared through space, flying among the stars, touching some while gliding past others. In that dream, he felt a sense of freedom that was absent from his waking life. He felt as though he was capable of anything in that moment, as if he could reach out and grab the stars from the sky.

He had been awakened by the screams of his younger cousin that night.

He discovered Ethan frantically clawing at his face in a delirious state, sweating profusely and covered in blood. Nemesis had taken his left eye. She had dug it out like a crow, savagely, leaving her son blind and scarred.

Days later, when his fever subsided, Ethan broke down in tears as he admitted that it was his first time meeting his mother.

In his nightmares, he saw Ethan writhing in agony, clutching the spot where his eye once was. When he is awake, the scar that ran from his cousin's brow bone to the tip of his nose served as a constant reminder to Micah of his own incompetence; to know so much and have no control over anything is the worst human misery of all.

Micah stopped dreaming about the stars a long time ago.

A finger flicked his forehead.
His eyes fluttered open, dazzle as they slowly adjusted to the lights in his tent.

"You are thinking too much," Ethan interrupted Micah's musings. "It's infected, by the way."

The attack on Manhattan was scheduled for the following morning. They were in the ruins of Medusa's lair in the backwoods of New Jersey, a crumbling warehouse on a road lined with run-down businesses and tattered billboard signs providing shelter for the night. Among the statues of the gorgons's victims, all frozen mid-scream, the monsters, human mercenaries, and demigods prepared for tomorrow's war. A solitary oil lamp illuminated the tent's interior, casting long shadows on the walls.

He readjusted his shirt slowly to avoid provoking the wounds on his back. After relying on his wings for a lifetime, he was unable to feel them any longer, a hollowing absence of sensation. He was now burdened down by their dead weight. Everything seemed too heavy—his arms, his weight, keeping his head up.

"It's fine," Micah carried on. "It was an honor to be whipped by a Gorgade. They're truly beautiful people, little cousin. We can go visit them soon. The main settlement is in an island west of Africa in the Atlantic Ocean, two days' sail from the mainland, or if you prefer the scenic route, from Mount Atlas to the Isles of the Hesperides as a forty days sail. From those islands to the Horn of the West as one day's—"

"Shut up," Ethan interrupted disdainfully. "The only reason your brain hasn't fried itself with that fever is because you clearly don't have a brain at all."

He smiled at his cousin's concern. Micah feels too warm as well, the blood oozing from the lashes even warmer. Ethan has changed his bandages thrice now, the still-open wounds infected with cloudy pus and decay, fragments of flesh torn out of his back when they get stuck to the cloth covering it. He knew his condition would only worsen over time. Still, Micah stood up from picnic table he laid on, reaching for his gear despite his cousin's objections.

"Ethan, words are flowing nectar," Micah teased, tastelessly swallowing a small cube of ambrosia before he could savor it. "Sweet to the taste and healing to the bone. I'll be healthy in no time if you speak to me kindly!"

His cousin looked ready to implode. "Where do you possibly need to go now? Back to the Underworld, permanently this time?"

Micah waved his words away. "I need to patrol Mount Othrys. I'll be back in a few hours."

"You're not going to survive if you keep acting like this," Ethan snapped.

"Survival isn't a high priority on my list," Micah reminded him. "Victory is."

Ethan scowled. "I'll tell Jackson you said that when he has to bury your body."

Against his will, Micah's body tensed at the mention of Poseidon's son.

Ethan is the son of Nemesis. Given everything he has witnessed in his life so far, Ethan doesn't have many fears, but occasionally, Micah stares at him with a spine-chilling expression that makes him truly afraid. At the receiving end of the glare now, Ethan wishes his mother had taken his tongue rather than his eye.

When he is truly angry, like now, Micah smiles with the creepiest expression in his golden eyes. Through gritted teeth, wings bristled-feathered, he told Ethan. "I was very clear: Don't mention him."

Feeling the tension in the room, Ethan realized his error and quickly offered an apology. "I'm sorry, Itoko. I'm just worried about you. Normal people would be unconscious with that sort of injury, but you won't let yourself rest at all. Doesn't it hurt?"

Like a switch, Micah smiled as innocently and sweetly as a cherub. He ruffled Ethan's hair affectionately: Ethan tensed under the touch, making his usual face of distress and begrudge acceptance. Before Micah could lie to his cousin and insist that he is alright, Prometheus stepped inside their tent, beckoning them.

The Titan called, "Nakamura, the master would like to speak to you."

Ethan was visibly alarmed.

Micah wrapped an arm around Ethan's thin shoulders: As his body shifted, he felt the lacerations begin to bleed again, trickling down his back. He inhaled slowly—He focused on the way Ethan tried to match his breathing, the way he clutched a handful of Micah's shirt to calm his nerves.

As long as Micah was alive, his cousin had nothing to be afraid of. "Let's go," He said calmly, guiding him to the warehouse.

At the sight of him, the demigods who had been making fun of Ethan were silent.

The air in the abandoned warehouse was thick and hazy, with particles of dust floating throughout the depilated space. The King Cannibal sat on a golden throne, perfectly reflecting his regal glory, between a broken soda machine and a rat-infested pretzel warmer. Despite his human-like face and casual attire, his intimidating scythe and eerie golden eyes made it clear this was no ordinary person. His presence filled the warehouse with an oppressive atmosphere, and any nearby mortals found it almost unbearable to be in his presence.

Ethan's grip on his shirt tightened.

"Well, Nakamura," Kronos said, nodding. "What did you think of the diplomatic mission?"

Ethan hesitated. "I'm sure Lord Prometheus or Micah are better suited to speak—"

"I asked you." Kronos interrupted.

Ethan's good eye darted back and forth nervously, noting the guards that stood around Kronos. Micah stepped forward, smirking sarcastically at the ground as he bowed his head. "But my lord," he complained. "I have the information you desire."

Kronos seemed irritated. "I don't remember summoning you, Micah."

"Asian solidarity," He exclaimed cheerfully. "Where Ethan goes, I follow."

He ignored the guards as he circled the golden throne. "Where should I begin?" Micah asked aloud while pinching his chin, his eyes closed. "You see, I've been a very productive boy; I've cut their army in half, enlisted more deities on our side, and planted a few more spies."

"Oh," He added as an afterthought. "And I discovered Jackson's weak point."

Kronos's fingers stopped the rhythmic tapping on the blade of his scythe. "Ah," he said. "Excellent news for once. Where is it?"

Micah forced out a light laugh. "Why would I tell you that?" He asked, shaking his head at the absurd question. The son of Hypnos stared at Kronos like the Titan was a child annoying him. "You do remember our agreement, right, grandpa?"

"Insolence!" Kronos snapped; He reached forward to grab the son of Hypnos when suddenly, Micah asked.

"Luke?"

The Titan lord winced.
Micah raised an eyebrow.
Kronos stumbled backward and sank into his throne.

Micah repeated himself. "Luke?"

"All good." The voice was weak, but just for a moment, it was Luke's. He nodded, his eyes half-lidded with exhaustion, but a faint smile playing on his lips. Then Kronos's expression hardened. He raised his hand and flexed his fingers slowly, as if forcing them to obey.

Ethan and Micah shared a glance. Ethan moistened his lips, asking carefully. "My lord?"

The entire room seemed to be still. "It—it is nothing," Kronos said, his voice tired and his eyes pleading to stay open. "A minor discomfort..."

Micah grinned from ear to ear. "I'm sure,"

Kronos yawned. "I am simply adjusting to the limits of this form. It requires rest. It is annoying, but no more than a temporary inconvenience."

"As . . . as you say, my lord." Ethan quickly nodded his agreement and stopped there.

Micah contemplated the best way to proceed and made the choice to lead. "My lord, I believe it is time to relocate our main force south in Central Park. Hyperion is awaiting your order."

"Is our little surprise ready to be unleashed?" Kronos questioned, too exhausted to think clearly, agreeing blindly with anything that seemed to have the potential to give him the upper hand.

Micah nodded. "Yes, my lord," he answered reassuringly. "Conflict among the half-bloods was confirmed by Silena Beauregard. It won't be possible for them to defend efficiently.​"

"Excellent," the Titan said, readying to take a nap. "We will talk again when we have taken Manhattan." With that, Kronos stretched himself out across the throne, and fell fast asleep.

Ethan again snatched a handful of Micah's shirt as soon as they exited the warehouse. Ethan's eyes were blazing with fury, and his grip on Micah was vice-like. "What did you do?" Ethan demanded, his voice rising with a tinge of worry. Micah dismissed Ethan's anxiety with a chuckle and a rolling of the eyes. He said dismissively, "I didn't do anything."

"I don't believe you," Ethan grumbled.

"Very well, little cousin. You're finally catching on." Micah grinned. "It's time you realized that a healthy dose of skepticism is an important life skill,"

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THE NIGHT BEFORE THE WAR, MICAH DREAMED OF AN INFINITE WHITE SKY. It stretched on endlessly, a never-ending expanse of white clouds, a sight of serenity and peacefulness that seemed too perfect to be real. There was no sign of the sun; instead, a cold, white light illuminated the wide void as it continued to spread out indefinitely. Micah had never seen a sky this white, so vast and empty. He felt a chill in his bones, a strange feeling of dread as he looked out into the expanse. All was still and quiet in the dream, and yet he could feel a tension growing in the atmosphere. Nothing stirred, and nothing seemed to move in the dreamscape.

He snapped his fingers once, and with that, he was surrounded by a chorus of cawing birds, their cries cutting through the silence like a scythe. The light intensified as if a million lights had been lit all around him; the birds flew over his head, through him in bursts of smoke, and around him like a flock of fireflies, weaving their way through the dream in a dance of its own. They encircled him with a kaleidoscope of movement and sounds. He felt something familiar, something almost forgotten, as the birds brushed against him.

Micah's sensitive eyes blinked, unable to stand the blinding clinical white light, just as he was about to remember. When he reopened them, the birds were gone. He was by himself at a long dining table that seemed to go on forever.

In an effort to control his annoyance, Micah took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair when he realized the strands were once again bleached white, as he had preferred for years, and his attire was changed to a white suit adorned with a small gold pin. Micah slapped the dinnerware—which had magically appeared on his hands—on the table. He was unable to contain his annoyance as he said, "Brothers."

Morpheus, Phobetor and Phantasos appeared.

Phobetor and Phantasos sat across from him, with Morpheus to his right. They were dressed in suits that ranged in color from gray to Morpheus' pure black. The suits were exquisitely tailored, the fabric smooth and seemingly uncontainable against the immaculate forms of their wearers. The three of them presented a unified and intimidating front, each standing out from the other yet simultaneously belonging to the same unit. Micah belonged with them, too.

The Oneiroi began flying in perfect formation, their wings catching the light as they maneuvered into position. They sat quietly, faceless and watching in judgment, as if they had already made a decision before they had even heard the case. He could sense the tension in the room as he took a deep breath and allowed his siblings to speak with a wave of his hand.

"You are soft-hearted, brother." Phobetor began first. His voice did not betray his emotions, but his eyes spoke of a melancholy that he could not hide.

Nodding in agreement, Phantasos lamented, "You cannot make everyone think and feel as deeply as you do. You understand them, but they do not understand you, which makes this your tragedy."

"What's the point of all of this?" Micah demanded, angered by Phantasos' words.

"You visited the son of Poseidon using your abilities. You shared dreams of your past life. You keep trying to bond with him, trying in vain to create a connection that will never exist. " Morpheus said it matter-of-factly. "You will stop. You, my brother, are not like him. You were never meant to be like him, nor are you meant to be with him. Are you listening well, Micah?"

Micah bit his tongue. Phantasos was aware of his rage. "Brother," he said gently. "You are Nyx's treasured grandson, the most loved son of Hypnos, destined for divinity. A throne awaits you in the Underworld. Your life isn't with a mortal half-blood; it is with us, family, in the Mansion of Night."

"You do remember," Morpheus raised an eyebrow. "Right, Micah?"

He stayed silent. Morpheus looked at him with an expectant gaze, but he lowered his eyes. Micah knew he had to answer, but his words seemed to hang in his throat like lead weights. How could he possibly forget about the Mansion of Night? It had been the place that haunted him since he was a child, and in spite of all the paths he could take in life, it felt like everything will lead back to Tartarus.

Micah nodded and took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves.

Morpheus continued. "You are not a regular half-blood. You will never be like them. They aren't your family. They will never be your family—We are, my brother. No matter how much you love them, or how much they may love you, never forget that you are not like them. Do you understand?"

His family always seemed to be looming in the darkness.

Perhaps they are right. A free child of the sea had no future with a mere shackled shadow like him.

"Yes," Micah finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Phobetor shook his head pitifully. He reached for Micah's arm and repeated, "You are too soft-hearted, brother."

Morpheus snapped his fingers, commanding attention. "Olympus must be destroyed for disgracing us—for disgracing our father, our aunts and uncles, our grandparents. Their fates were sealed when they decided to stand against destiny." He raised his voice, making sure Micah heard every word. He looked his brother straight in the eye and said, "I know it's hard to comprehend now, but the Olympians cannot be allowed to continue living in bliss while we suffer. It's unfortunate that Poseidon's son is opposing us, but we only need family, brother."

Micah closed his eyes and bowed his head. He nodded solemnly, understanding Morpheus' words, before finally raising his head and speaking. "We only need family, brother."

"Indeed," Phantasos said with a faint smile.

Thousands of Oneiroi nodded in agreement, expressing their unwavering loyalty and faith.

With that, Morpheus deemed it time to end the meeting. He gestured for the Oneiroi to depart; with a collective nod of approval, the Oneiroi began to disperse. When the four brothers remained, he reached for Micah's hand and said, "I love you, my brother."

Micah echoed his sentiments. "I love you, my brother."

Phantasos smiled at both of them, but his eyes lingered on Micah for a few moments longer before he said, "The strength of a family, like the strength of an army, lies in its loyalty to each other. "

"I'm only loyal to my family," Micah reassured.

With those words, Phantasos seemed content as he dispersed in a billow of light.

The last to depart was the god of nightmares. Phobetor locked his gaze on Micah—They share the same golden eyes, identical pinpoint pupils. Micah was exhausted; Phobetor could see it very well. He nodded in understanding and placed a hand on Micah's shoulder, offering a gentle squeeze of assurance before letting go.

"You will never be able to escape your heart, brother." His voice rumbled like thunder in the night sky, his presence heavy, unable to comfort his brother, no matter how badly Phobetor wished he could. "It is better to listen to what it has to say."

With a resigned nod of his head, Phobetor disappeared like a wisp of smoke, leaving him alone.

When he opened his eyes, for one brief, fleeting moment, the world was still and beautiful. The sky was red with streaks of orange, and the clouds glowed against a backdrop of lavender, with morning clouds serenely floating through the sky. Micah knew it wouldn't last.

He will force Mount Olympus to its knees.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ! ! !

micah pov micah pov micah pov!!! i love the way he loves ethan they are the best

the big immortal brother gang is so odd rn,...,,., except for Phobetor . naoki is going to be so jealous yall i cant wait

that aside hii its been a while! i had my laptop stolen and lost motivation for writing, then when i did have the motivation, i forgot entirely what i had planned out for the story... so i reread everything and i am trying my best to keep up!! pls be kind if the story is suddenly horrendous LOL

but yeah idk i dont have much to say beyond i hope everyone old and new still enjoys reading! i love love love any and all comments they keep me motivated <33 thank you for everything