the gods were never kind to orion. throughout his whole life they had never showed him mercy, from his father being a god who never contacted him or his half-siblings to his crime-filled youth. not once had they offered him the kindness of peace.

due to that, it was no surprise that he got chosen for a quest. just when he was settling into camp, they shipped him off to fight their battles like he was merely a lamb for slaughter. you were on the quest alongside him. at least he had a friendly face by his side, if nothing else.

the two of you alongside two others had found themselves in the midst of a battle. there were no gods to step in and save him, nothing but his sword and his friends around him. the forest they had travelled into was littered with blood and the bodies of demigods, hellhounds continuing to tear into their flesh even after they had fallen. even with the flashes of light he produced to deter them, the son of apollo could not hold all of them back. the bow and arrow in his hands was slick with sweat and blood, yet he drew another arrow.

nobody had seen deimos coming. the god of terror and panic, sent to amplify their terror, to test them further. but it merely took a wave of his hand to send orion to the ground, to trap him in memories. you were the only one who saw, far enough to be unable to catch him.

orion no longer saw the forest. instead he saw creaking, familiar walls decaying from neglect. a house of horrors that he knew far too intimately. he heard the voice of his dead uncle, saw glimpses of a violent girl he had loved once. still loved, even.

in the waking world, he didn’t react to your touch.