I level to the crowds within the tunnels. “These tunnels result in a set of caverns. Sit there till the guard involves you and allow you to know the risk has handed.” The gang eyes me skeptically whereas speeding inside. “You,” I flip to a guard. “Stand on the nook. Direct civilians inside.”

The guard nods and darts to the doorway of the aspect avenue. Bobbing and weaving by the gang of individuals funneling down into the caverns.

“And also you, stand guard her. Direct folks downstairs.

Darting again out to the road, I dash previous the begrudging trying guard.

Directing anybody that I see, towards the caverns.

Returning nearer and nearer to the chaos of battle.

The loud clanging of metallic cracks towards metallic. Every stroke is like thunder crashing overhead. Guards locked in fight with guards. However the two making the loudest ruckus is Apollo and one other shadowy determine. Squinting my eyes, I memorize the form of his opponent.

A center aged god with a big barrel chest is locked in shut fight with Apollo. Lengthy grey hair tied again and flowing previous his shoulders. A black however actively graying beard matches his hair.

However these eyes.

Eyes that I do know.

A face that I do know.

Uncle Ov’s vivid blue eyes shoot daggers at his nephew like lightning bolts.

Confusion fills my being.

Is Apollo combating his Uncle?

I blink a number of instances.

Ov? I grit my tooth. Pondering again to my first encounters and the way uneasy I felt.

His pervasive questions.

His stress.

His whole demeanor.

Every part solely thinly veiled by the trace of a masks.

Ov stands tall, sword and defend in hand. Absolutely plated armor glinting within the mild. Was Ov the shadowy determine on the border that’s been reported all this time?

Locked in tight fight with Apollo. They strike at one another with skilled strokes. Every with years of apply.

Getting into earshot, I see how the guards preserve a large berth from the 2 warring gods. In all probability for the perfect. Unintended magic ripples by the air with every strike. Mild tingles of electrical energy or flames or different components spark outwards from every contact.

“You received’t have my throne!” Apollo grunts between his strikes.

Ov seems on lazily, like he’s hardly being attentive to one thing as trivial as a sword struggle with one other god. “Ah however this isn’t your kingdom, nor has it ever been,” states Ov as he holds his floor. Blocking Apollo’s blow with ease.

The clanging of iron on iron rings like tolling bells.

Pulling away, Apollo braces for Ov’s counter act, as a substitute, Ov stands straight. A shimmer flows round him. The fluttering of colours jogs my memory of a noon rain bathe.

Ov’s look melts away and a really totally different god stands in his place, one I acknowledge from almost a yr in the past.

A god that I am going to by no means be capable to neglect, irrespective of how a lot I strive.

The pure grey hair is wavy, his beard trimmed neatly. However his eyes are the identical. Similar because the backyard. The identical eyes because the god from the Veil. My whole physique tenses up.

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