Son of Fire

Year:1942

The Olympian council hall was filled with tension as the gods gathered, the air thick with the weight of conflict. Ares, the god of war, stood at the center, his eyes blazing with the fire of battle. His voice echoed through the chamber, loud and fervent, as he spoke of the turmoil below.

"World War II," Ares began, his voice dripping with disdain. "Even now, after the Golden Age of Heroes, the demigods are still causing chaos. The children of Hades, particularly his son Adolf, have fueled this madness. And despite the supposed end of an era, they have turned this war into a bloodbath. Our children are wreaking havoc across the mortal world. It's glorious! This world needs war, it needs conflict to forge strength. Peace only breeds weakness."

Athena, ever the voice of reason, could not remain silent. Her sharp gaze cut through the room as she interjected, her words sharp as a sword.

"War? Glory?" Athena's voice was icy. "You speak of war as if it is the answer, but you fail to see the consequences. While battles can build strength, constant bloodshed only destroys. Your children, Ares—are tearing apart the very fabric of the world. They are destroying culture, erasing history, leaving nothing but ashes in their wake."

Ares scowled, ready to retort, but Athena's words cut through his anger.

"The moment your children turn their sights on France, this Adolf Hitler, this tyrant, will escalate the war beyond measure. What will we have left, Ares? The blood of the innocent spilled for what? A fleeting victory? A hollow triumph?"

The gods around them shifted uncomfortably, the weight of the conversation settling on their immortal hearts. The argument between Ares and Athena grew louder, and the tension in the air seemed to build to an unbearable point. Then, as if the atmosphere itself responded to the turmoil, a sudden, unearthly glow began to fill the council hall.

Apollo stood in the center of the room, his golden eyes suddenly blazing brighter, as though the sun itself was reflected in them. His expression shifted, and before any of the gods could react, his voice filled the hall, resonating with the weight of ancient prophecy. The words poured from his lips like a song of fate, unbidden and inevitable.

"A child will be born, mortal in the flesh, but forged from the flames of the blacksmith's forge and the ancient magic of the gods. This child will rise, transcending the limits of mortality, standing beside the child of one of the 3 brothers, in a trial that will decide the fate of the gods."

"In the heart of this child will burn courage beyond measure, purity unyielding, and greatness that will make even the gods tremble. This child will help the hero rise, and in doing so, will shake the very heavens. When their time comes, his actions will cause the moon itself to tremble, and their legacy will echo through the ages, marking the world forever."

The room was silent, the words hanging in the air like a storm waiting to break. The gods stood motionless, their minds racing to comprehend the magnitude of this prophecy. A new force, a new power, was coming—one whose impact would change everything.

Sixty-five years later, under the shadow of towering trees in California's Sierra National Forest, a group of female hunters moved swiftly through the dense wilderness. Their footsteps were light, almost silent, as they navigated the forest—one of the most monster-infested regions in the United States. These were no ordinary travelers. They were the Hunters of Artemis, fierce and unyielding, their bowstrings taut and ready for the dangers that lurked in the trees.

The forest was thick with mist, a strange fog that seemed to pulse with an ancient magic. This mist was not only a shield for the hunters but a barrier to the mortal world. The dense fog caused confusion, making it nearly impossible for ordinary mortals to find their way in or out. It acted as a veil, protecting the secrets of the forest and deterring those who might unwittingly stumble into the hidden dangers within. But the Hunters of Artemis were no mere mortals, and to them, the mist was just another layer of protection as they ventured deeper into the heart of the wilderness.

The Hunters of Artemis moved through the dense undergrowth of the Sierra National Forest, their footsteps light but purposeful. The air was thick with mist, and the forest seemed to hum with the presence of creatures lurking in the shadows. The mist here was especially dense, swirling like a living thing, its tendrils coiling between the trees. It was no ordinary fog—this mist had a magical quality that kept mortals from entering the forest, a veil designed to protect them from the monsters that prowled within.

As the Hunters advanced, the trees suddenly opened up to reveal a small clearing. In the center was a makeshift camp—rough and haphazard, as if it had been hastily thrown together. Bedsheets were draped over branches to form a crude shelter, and a small fire pit lay nearby, its embers still glowing faintly, evidence that the fire had only recently been extinguished. The scent of burnt wood and cooking meat lingered in the air, unusual in a forest so full of danger.

The leader of the Hunters, a tall and fierce warrior, stepped forward, her sharp eyes scanning the camp for any signs of danger. She glanced at her companions, her voice low and cautious.

"Something's not right here," she murmured, drawing her bow just in case. "This camp... it doesn't belong here. There are no mortals brave enough to set up camp in a place like this, not with the mist protecting this forest."

Another Hunter, younger and still learning the ways of the forest, crouched down to inspect the remnants of the fire. Her expression was one of confusion.

"Look at this," she said, pointing to the ground where the fire had been. "The fire's only just been put out. Whoever was here didn't expect company."

The group cautiously moved closer to the camp, their eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of its occupant. A few scattered belongings were left behind: a few wooden utensils, some odd tools, and an unfinished painting resting against a rock, the vibrant colors of the forest sky captured on its canvas. It was as if someone had been trying to live here, if only for a short time. But who? And why in such an isolated and dangerous part of the forest?

As the leader of the Hunters knelt beside the campfire, her gaze shifted to a strange detail—a set of footprints that led from the camp into the deeper forest, disappearing into the mist.

"We're not alone," she said softly. "Someone was here, and they're still close by."

Her hand instinctively reached for her bow again, her instincts on edge. The other Hunters followed her gaze, unease settling in the air around them. Whatever had left this camp... it wasn't normal. It could have been a mortal, but then again, it could easily be a monster. There was nothing human about the way the camp had been set up, and yet, there was no sign of a creature either. A strange silence fell over the clearing, as if the forest itself was holding its breath.

The leader of the Hunters straightened, her senses alert. Her voice was low, but firm, carrying the weight of experience.

"It can't be human. No mortal would be able to survive here, not in this forest, not with what prowls in its depths. There's something out there. Be on your guard."

The silence that followed the voice's taunt was thick, the air filled with tension. The hunters stood poised, their bows drawn, scanning the trees for any sign of the figure who had spoken. Then, suddenly, a voice rang out—one filled with divine authority, the kind that made the very forest seem to hold its breath.

"Are you trying to frighten my Hunters, boy?" the voice demanded, cutting through the stillness like a blade. "I can feel your presence in those trees. I think you don't know which group you're trying to frighten right now. You're trying to frighten my Huntresses, the Huntresses of Artemis."

The voice, unmistakably the voice of Artemis, goddess of the hunt and the moon, echoed with power. Zoe and the others froze, their attention immediately shifting to the trees. They hadn't sensed the boy's presence, but the goddess' words left no doubt. He was hidden in the branches, a mere shadow in the vast forest, but Artemis' divine senses had picked him out.

From the shadows of the tree branches, the boy emerged—slowly, deliberately. He wore a military green hoodie and black pants, his stance cautious but not afraid. In his hands, he held a bow, an arrow nocked and ready, though he had yet to aim it at anyone. His eyes were sharp, scanning the Hunters before him, but there was something strange about the way he moved. He was both a part of the forest and apart from it—an oddity that did not quite fit in.

He stood still for a moment, sizing them up, before speaking in a tone that was calm but tinged with curiosity.

"Interesting," the boy said, his voice measured. "The monsters did say that there was a group hunting every monster on the continent, but I did not think I would actually meet them one day." He looked directly at Artemis as he continued, his expression unreadable. "So, tell me, what are the Hunters of Artemis doing in this forest?"

The boy's words hung in the air for a moment, but before anyone could respond, Artemis spoke, her voice cutting through the tension with divine authority.

"We don't owe you any answer," she said, her tone cold and firm. "After all, I am the goddess here. The goddess of the moon, wilderness, and hunting. I don't need to make explanations for why we are hunting." Her voice was serious, unshaken, and sharp, unbothered by the boy's question. Her anger simmered beneath the surface, irritation flaring at the audacity of the boy who dared challenge her.

The boy, unfazed by her rebuke, simply tilted his head and met her gaze, his eyes cool and calculating.

"Yeah, but in the 10 years I've lived here," he continued, his tone calm, almost amused, "never once did any Hunter—did any of you—appear in this forest. There was a demigod once, though, but some monster ate him. I think by the time I arrived, he was already dismantled, scattered across the ground."

The air around the Hunters shifted, an uneasy silence settling over them. The boy's words were unsettling, suggesting a familiarity with the forest's dark and dangerous nature that none of them had expected. Artemis' gaze darkened, her sharp mind already turning, piecing together the boy's cryptic words.

Zoe, the lieutenant of Artemis, took a step forward, her eyes narrowing in disbelief. Her voice was sharp and incredulous as she addressed the boy.

"Impossible," she said, her tone laced with skepticism. "There's no way you've lived here for seven years. This forest is full of monsters. And if you're not lying, then you look like you're 14or 15, which would mean you were just 5 when you started living here. There's no way a child can survive in this place."

Another hunter, standing off to the side, scoffed at the boy's words, her eyes filled with disdain. She crossed her arms over her chest and sneered at him.

"Typical of the male," the hunter muttered, almost to herself. "Always lying to make themselves seem impressive."

Zoe shot a glance at the other hunter, her expression hardening, but her focus remained on the boy, waiting for him to explain himself. The tension in the air was palpable, as Artemis watched closely, her gaze unreadable.

The boy raised an eyebrow, clearly unbothered by the insults. He straightened up, his stance casual, as if none of it bothered him in the slightest.

"As if I care what you think," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "If you have nothing better to do, can you please get out of my camp? Maybe go hunt something or, I don't know, hate on other males because you've got some bad history with them. Maybe one of them hurt you. But sorry, if you think all men are the same, it could mean that the woman who did the despicable thing would make all of you some despicable bitches trying to downgrade the value of men just because some of them are cruel."

There was a stunned silence among the hunters. Some of the older ones looked at the boy with disdain, their hands twitching toward their bows, ready to silence him. But before they could act, Artemis spoke, her voice sharp as a blade.

"Who are you, boy?" she asked, her tone growing more serious. "I'm 100% sure you are not human. Are you a demigod? The energy around you isn't much—what are you?"

The boy met her gaze without flinching, his expression unreadable.

The boy stood there, unflinching, his posture relaxed but his gaze sharp. His hair, a deep, raven black, fell messily around his face, as if he had spent far too long running through the wilds. His skin, pale and thin, looked as though it had been scorched by the sun, as though it had absorbed too much of its harsh touch over the years. His eyes, a fiery shade of orange and red, burned with an intensity that seemed almost unnatural, as if they held the fury of flames within them.

He looked no older than twelve or thirteen, but his presence felt unnervingly older, as though his young form had lived through experiences too brutal for a child to endure. The air around him seemed charged with something ancient and volatile, yet Artemis couldn't quite place it. He stood in silence for a moment, unperturbed, before finally speaking, his voice steady and cool.

"I don't know," the boy said, his burning gaze meeting Artemis' with an unwavering calm. "But all the monsters that tried to kill me till now call me the son of fire."