Grey

[ɡreɪ]

adjective

of a colour intermediate between black and white, as of ashes or lead.

First Deino strikes. A wave of dread hits the earth, causing the stars to tremble in the sky and their light to fade, bathing the world in grey. Plants start to die, and the oceans suddenly become calm. The birds in the sky turn black and stop singing, each one turning into a raven, an omen of death, wheeling above the world with no wind to support them. It is deadly calm. Then, as one, the thieves and murderers strike. They are the only ones moving, and, no-one reacts as they ply their trade among the unsuspecting people around them. No-one moves as they are relieved of their purses, nor does anyone move as the first wave of victims hit the ground. They move on to relieve more people of their money and lives, and still no-one moves.

Then it is the turn of Pemphredo. Every bell on earth begins to ring, rousing people from their stupor, and the screaming begins as people look around to see their money gone and their families dead. The birds wail in the air, mingling with the screams of the people below. She has no followers, but she needs no-one, to create this chaos. They know that something is coming—coming soon—but they know not what it is, or whether it means to harm them. They know only that it is coming—that it has arrived among them—and that soon they will start to live in a nightmare.

Enyo is next. Her soldiers, in one movement reach for their weapons and begin to march. The screaming builds as their sandals crash against the cobbled roads; so loud that it sounds like a thousand storms at once. All over the world this happens, and the ground begins to tremble, and tear itself asunder with the weight of so many people acting as one. The pressure builds, until eventually the gates to Tartarus are forced open by it, and the Titans are released.

“They are wrong. I am right.”

Over and over again those six words are repeated. It is Pemphredo, casting the seed of doubt into each person who fights.

Enyo and Deino reinforce their waves of meaning, and a fierce battle begins. People’s minds begin to fall. Mass confusion is now less a nightmare, and is a part of reality.

The gods are fighting now. Storms rage, and thunder crashes in time with the clashing of swords on shields—metal on metal, sometimes on bone. Flashes of lightening add to the dim light of the stars, blinding each man until he knows not who is his enemy, and who is his ally. Friends fight friends; fathers fight sons; subjects fight kings. No-one knows what is happening. All they know is the lust for the blood of all around them, amplified by Enyo’s heightened emotions. People shout and scream, as they are bombarded with Dread, Horror and Alarm.

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