Sword’s little wings on his little head were drooping pitifully with fear, the tiny demigod whispering softly as he cuddled a stuffed sparrow plushie and wrapped his big, oversized wings around himself. He could hear the moaning and shuffling of the zombies his dad raised from the dead, and even though those were friendly, he didn’t want them right now!!

He wanted dad! The little swordsman was, unfortunately, too anxious to go actually get his dad, so he just curled up in his bed and whimpered sadly as, unknown to him, Sisyphus, dad’s pet crow, watched from his perch. The diseased looking yet healthy crow swooped away silently, returning to Venomshank and half gurgling, half squawking something. The deity shook his head, a hint of concern flashing in his mask-covered eyes.