You don’t know why you wanted to fight in the war. Maybe you wanted to avenge your fallen siblings. Maybe because you wanted a purpose besides being the ‘useless’ one.

Well that got you far, with an arrow in your leg and side, the wounds bleeding profusely.

All you could look at was the sky, the clouds dancing around, the beautiful day mocking your state. It was a beautiful day, not like the way movies show war and fighting.

You knew you probably weren’t going to live— you’d lost too much blood already, and there was no one around to help.

You were alone

You’re only hope was too pray out to your father, Apollo

The world stated to fade black as you folded your hands together

“Father… why do flowers always have to be plucked at their most lively time?”