Icarus spun, but there was no direction. No source. His body felt stretched, like cloth being pulled too tight. Arms tugged north, legs pulled south, head wrenched back. The world twisted, and so did he. It was like he was pulled in all directions, and his body was experiencing unimaginable pain.

He screamed, but no sound came out. However, the whisperings continued.

"Time for the Wake…"

The words echoed, growing louder every time.

Then, like a rope snapping from being pulled too much in opposite directions, his entire self was ripped away—

—and he woke with a gasp, soaked in sweat, heart hammering like a war drum. "Ha!"

For a moment, he just sat there, chest rising and falling, eyes wide in the darkness. "Again? The same nightmare…"

He glanced around, his eyes adjusting to the darkness, before his gaze fell upon the beautiful moon hanging in the sky, through an open window.

Icarus climbed down from the bed and walked to the balcony, pushing open the carved wooden doors. Cool air met him, sharp and refreshing. He leaned on the stone railing and looked up. "Yeah, I forgot that today is the full moon day."

Taking a brief pause, He hung down his head, letting out a sigh, "What is this Time to Wake? Is it just waking from sleep? And why does this nightmare always come on full moon days or new moon days only?"

Elsewhere in the palace, King Damonis sat alone in his chamber, half-dressed, pacing.

A goblet of wine stood untouched on the table. The fire burned low, barely keeping the chill from the corners of the room. He ran a hand through his graying hair.

"He's almost eleven," Laerti muttered. "Eleven..."

From behind the walls of his mind, a memory rose like smoke.

More than a decade ago. In the Temple of Apollo, somewhere in Damaris, a city of the Aetherian kingdom.

In the sacred grove of olive trees, under moonlight and starlight, the Oracle of Delphi, the priestess known as Pythia, had stood there in a trance for a while before delivering a prophecy.

"Born of earth, but the sky beckons, A child of limitless fate, yet bound by choice. At eleven, the first fork appears—one leads beyond the walls of Achaea, and the other keeps him within, draped in gold and bound to the throne that is not his. At twenty-two, the heavens call—he rises as a god, or walks the mortal path. At thirty-three, love sweet as nectar or thorns sharp as deceit, At forty-four, peace like a gentle tide, or war that roars like thunder. At fifty-five, the throne stands tall, yet shadows linger—one path grants power, the other claims life. Should he pass beyond the final gate, fortune shall bow before him, and the world shall whisper his name in reverence and awe, forever."

King Damonis is wise enough to decode every bit of those words in a matter of seconds. The prophecy was speaking about the choices Icarus must make every 11 years—each will give him a different fate.

And he doesn't like it.

He stepped forward, angry and afraid. "What does that mean? Leave for where?"

The Priestess comes out of her trance state and looks at him in confusion, tilting her head slightly. "What?"

Damonis doesn't hesitate to recite the very prophecy she just uttered to him. In response, the Priestess could only say to him that he must wait for the time to come. To know what happens to Icarus, he must wait until Icarus turns 11 years old.

Back in the present, Damonis sat down hard on the edge of his bed. He stared at the dying flames and whispered under his breath. "Mother Goddess Gaia, I don't know what you have planned for Icarus, and neither could I ever defy your orders. I just hope that the boon you gave to me will not be taken away."

*

The sun rose high over Achaea, lighting the kingdom in hues of gold and amber.

Palace maids moved through the marble halls with fresh garlands and trays of honeyed figs. Musicians tuned their lyres. The courtyard fountain had been filled with rose petals. Every servant in the palace wore smiles, and even the guards had polished their armor to a mirror shine.

It was Icarus' eleventh birthday, and the entire kingdom seemed to buzz with excitement.

He burst into the throne hall wearing a new white tunic stitched with gold thread, barefoot as always, curls dancing in the breeze.

"Mother! Father!"

The Queen opened her arms, laughing as she knelt. "My sun-born prince!"

Damonis smiled, already holding out his hand. "So, have you thought what you want today, Icarus? Anything at all—just name it."

Icarus beamed. "Anything?"

"Anything," the queen said with a smile.

The boy let out a grin. "Not right now. I will tell you at the end of the day."

Damonis laughed. "Whatever you want, son. Just say it."

"Okay, let's first go to the Temple." The Queen put a stop to the conversation, dragging them to the temple to do the rituals and please the Olympian gods for a bright future.

But just as they entered the prayer hall, they saw a man standing there, in front of the statue of Zeus, staring at his face. Tall, draped in rough gray robes, eyes like molten bronze. His face was sharp, lined with time, but proud. A flickering flame danced on his palm, unburning and bright.

Damonis halted in his footsteps in surprise. "Prometheus…"

The queen's smile vanished, and a frown appeared on her face. "Prometheus? The Bound One?"

While Prometheus was incredibly respected by humanity eons ago, due to the fact that he brought fire to the humans, defying Zeus, as time passed, Zeus' authority over humans only increased more and more, and people could only see Prometheus as some sort of rebel—a sinner who defied Zeus.

Icarus looked from one face to the other, confused. "Who—?"

The flame-bearer stepped forward, maintaining a smile on her face. "You've grown, Icarus. Just as she hoped you would."

"Who?" Icarus asked, voice quieter now.

Prometheus stopped a few paces away. "Your mother. Your real mother—Gaia."

"Wha…" Icarus widened his gaze, glancing at his mother.

"Prometheus…" Damonis stepped forward to stand in front of Icarus, shielding him from his sight. "What are you here for?"

Prometheus shrugged in response. "Of course, what else? I'm on the orders of Mother goddess, to reveal the truth to Icarus so that he makes his future path."

Damonis' heart pounded at once. His mind went back to the prophecy. He instantly realized that it was this moment the prophecy was talking about, the event where his son would either choose to stay or leave beyond the walls of Achaea.

"I'm his mother, Prometheus." The Queen also stepped forward, raising her voice. "I may not have given birth to him, but he is my son. And his future path lies with Achaea. There's no need to discuss further."

"Mother… what's… what's happening?" Icarus' voice shook as he questioned her. The disbelief was evident on his face. "What… What do you mean you didn't give birth to me?"

Prometheus suddenly disappeared from Damonis' sight and appeared behind them, staring at the boy. "Whatever you hear is true, boy. You were only raised by King Damonis and Lady Thalassa."

As three of them turned around, Damonis clenched his fists. "Not now. Don't do this today. Please…"

But the Titan continued, not heeding to his plea. "You were born of the Earth. Of Gaia. Formed from the blood of all mortal men—soldiers, kings, peasants—whose blood seeped into her soil through centuries of war. She took their essence, their grief, their hope, and she created you in the hope that one day, you will stop all the wars and take this world into the era of peace."

Icarus took a step back. "No… That's not—"

"If you don't believe me, you can ask your parents," Prometheus said. "Your citizens knew the truth that King Damonis found you in a bronze chest buried under the earth."

Damonis' voice was low, broken, as if he was on the verge of losing his calmness. "He was my son."

Prometheus turned to him calmly. "He was your son. But whether he will continue to be your son, Icarus will make that decision. Not you." Taking a brief pause, he added. "And don't you dare use that tone against me, mortal."

The flame in his palm grew brighter as his eyes flashed a bit of killing intent for a moment. Damonis involuntarily took a step back in fear.

Meanwhile, Icarus' mind was in a mess. Until a moment ago, he had the greatest parents. He was a prince. And now, all of a sudden, he became unrelated to the King and the Queen, and lost his home.

Icarus looked at his father, hoping to hear that whatever Prometheus was telling wasn't true or some part of a misunderstanding. "Is it true? Am I not your son?"

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.