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The wildlife that once fled in despair and fear was once again making their way through the destruction into the valley. The smell of ash and sunder filled the air as Hemitheos took a deep breath letting his lungs fill before exhaling out his despair as he stared down at the freshly broken ground that now entombed his past life. Pericles and Hermes's flesh was laid to rest while their souls traveled down to the underworld, through Tartarus reaching the Asphodel Meadows within the Elysian Fields. Typically, when reciting his prayers, he would end them with 'blessed Zeus watch over them'. However, Hemitheos had different plans in mind for the would-be King of Olympus. Turning from the graves and taking his first steps would be the beginning of the hardest he would take in a direction that would start his need for vengeance, for justice. Putting aside his misery of loss he made his way through the rubble and wreckage, grabbing what few supplies he could salvage into a sack. Heaving it over his shoulder and white knuckle gripping the hilt of the new blade at his side, he took a final look around, closed his eyes, and turned to head for the road. Every step served a purpose and was an inch towards the miles ahead of him.
Heading up through the vast hills following the winding road through several meadows covered in wildflowers. The scent of pollen and jasmine swimming softly on the breeze, began to drown away the smell of soot, turning the air sweet to the senses. Replaying the events of what had occurred over and over like flashes of lightning blazing through his mind. The slashing of a sword and cracking of that infernal whip snapped him in and of his current reality until the words finally came, “Arcadia”. That’s his destination, his divine path to find this mysterious family that Hermes had left to foreshadow. The only family he had ever known was now ripped from his life and he had decided the payment would be blood. Without growing tired, the miles began to drain away behind him. As the days blended from sunset to sunrise, his strides began to feel stronger driving him forward. His fleshed that had been torn open only a few days before were already completely healed as though they were never there. It was slight and subtle like small electrical currents surging through his veins, but he could feel his body evolving. Whether it was a blessing or a curse upon him he wasn’t sure, but for now, he pressed onward.
It had been many days without seeing another soul on the road to Emporia, one of many colonies he was sure to pass in his venture. Staring out at town from the top of the hills down towards the bustling chaos down below, he decided to make camp on the edge of the tree line and get some rest. He would need sleep to renew his vigor if he was to have patience for what resembled modern society. Searching through the brush he quickly gathered some small branches and moss he fashioned together a small campsite. He hung his bag from a branch and briefly reached deep within to retrieve his flint and steel. Kneeling beside the assembled clutter of wood he swiftly began to strike the two together sending sparks sputtering outward.
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