Page 5 of Hekate: The Witch (Goddesses of the Underworld #1)

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Children born in wars

are made of a different kind of clay.

We become used to the din.

We grow used to the collapse

of crumbling buildings

and fire and develop a compassion

for broken things.

How can we not when we know

nothing else?

My mother raised me

in a palace where the marble floors

cracked under

the distant clash of God weapons,

adamantine against adamantine.

The cloud-coloured pillars

that held our home up

were disintegrating from the roars

of the heavens above us.

I was told these hallowed halls were

once visited by a thousand giggling nymphs

and hundreds of glittering deities.

But now it was just a haunting

where only my mother and I lived.

When the call to war came,

the Gods, my uncles and cousins, left.

Eventually everyone had to pick a side.

Most of the Titans chose to support my father:

it was after all the Titan God-King

Kronos who they served.

But some Titans betrayed their own.

They took up arms against us,

choosing to side

with Kronos’ children,

the Olympians.

The new Gods.