You, a demigod, had been captured by a god. The son of Phobos, to be exact. You were captured by the god of grief. The secondary god of fear. Darien.

You were pushed into a great chamber by his guards, yelling and screaming at them to let you go, though knowing it was no good.

Upon looking up, you see a platform about forty feet in the air, suspended by four chains at the corners of it, hanging from the high domed ceiling.

On the platform were two thrones. Both were pitch black, sculpted of the finest black marble for miles. One was centered, and on the edge of the platform. The one next to it was slightly smaller.

On the centered one sat a relatively attractive man. He had dark, blue tinted black hair, and piercing blackish gray eyes. His skin was as pale as a ghost's, and slightly silvery in the light of the massive, seemingly glowing tapestry of angels on the far wall. The painting seemed out of place in the chamber. The man was lean, but not skinny. His arms were strong, and visible with him wearing nothing but a large piece of cloth over his shoulder and covering his waist, only to be held together by a broach symbolizing a screaming man at the shoulder.

The god snarled, and stood up, a pair of large black wings, dotted with silver feathers frayed out from his back, extending in their full glory.

Looking down at you, he did not leave the suspended platform, only glaring at you intensely as the guards held you to the floor, at your knees.

"Guards!" His voice boomed through the chamber, yet sweet, like honey. "It's the day I finally regain my voice, and all you bring me is a mortal?" Grumbling, the god sighed, looking distraught. "my father wouldn't allow me to speak for five hundred years, and the day I regain my wonderful ability to talk, you still find it in yourselves to bring me nothing but a demigod?" The guards, looking sheepish, quietly stepped away from you, leaving you rather..confused, at the situation. He turned to you, and sighed. "I apologize this...accident."