Sitting hunched athousand yards away at a height of 500 meters, the being before him was a humanoid with 8 arms, 4 wings, and 3 long and spiked tails. Its skin, charcoal at the head, became gradient of light grey from the neck down becoming paler at theknees before retracting into its original color. Its broad, wide shoulders were smooth and were spiked with small, sharp bony spikes that jutted in all directions running the length from one to the other.

Towering directly behind this thing was a massive stone obelisk of unimaginable height stretching for millions of kilometers in to the blankness of the void. Incredibly old, itwas covered in markings and etchings running the length of its base. Massive chains wrapped and contorted around the edifice, greasy and grimy with filth and sorrow rusting at the hinges and broken on many ends stretching outward ina thousand unknowable directions at once, covering nearly everything in agritty web of metallic misery and chromatic chaos. The stone was of obsidian, that much Amrielle could tell, but the shade from the lack of light was of a violet so dark it’s almost a glossy black. Mists and wisps of energy encircling itwere richly of dark colors of blood and sinew. It made Amrielle feel like he was inside the body of living creature, more than the cold vacuum of chaosmatter that was the void.

This was a morbid sight, a ghastly scene, and if not for power coursing through his being, Amrielle knew in his heart that his mind no doubt would’ve gone completely insane the instant he looked at it. He tried to avert his gaze, and in doing soreturned to the hunched creature.

It looks like a Hecatoncheires, he thought.

Amrielle blinked, and a new memory flashed in his mind again, this time of reading a book on Greek mythology at his grandfather’s house when he was little. It was one of the few good memories he had of is time with his mother when she was alive.

“Baba”, he used to call his grandpa that, “why does he have so many heads and hands?”

A soft chuckle camefrom behind him as an older man with a short buzz cut and a scruffy beard came in from the kitchen into the living room. He was a tall African American man with a horizontal scar running down his left eye. He was somewhat thin, wearingwhite rimmed glasses and had an air about him that was methodical, whimsical almost. He had a warm smile, and was patient and kind, and smelled like apples and cinnamon. Amrielle could practically picture it; they were in his grandfather’s home in Mount Washington, his caretaker ‘Mama Aline’ was making churrasco with rice and greens in the kitchen while her teenage sons Cauã and Neto were playing in the back yard with Arcos and Llethyris, his grandfather's Belgian sheepdog and Hovawart. The smell of jasmine and ginseng oil burning on the coffee table was calming and serene, and the sound of water flowing from the rocky waterfall fountain out on the veranda. A low rumble had settled overthe house as clouds rolled passed.

It had just rained heavily in their neighborhood, with thunder and lightning crashing hgh above.

“Tell me my numadei”,says the gentleman, his smile soft and caring to, “why do you think he does?”

Amrielle looked with he toddler eyes at the image before him. It was an illustration of a humanoid with 50 heads and a hundred hands darting in all directions. He looked back at his grandfather with confusion on his cute little face, “I don’t know.”

The gentleman chuckled again, and bending over to rustle his hair.

“Would you like baba to tell you?”, he mused.

Smiling, he nodded earnestly, and in response the old man motioned to sit down on a magenta leather arm chair in the corner of the living room facing the street and the porch. Patting his knee, he indicated to Amrielle to come to him, and when the boy was near, picked him up and sat him on his lap. While he did this, he immediately frowned, but only momentarily before smiling again as he turned the page and began reciting the story of the Hecatoncheires, the Titans, and Kronos.

As a child, he never understood why his grandfather frowned deeply when holding him close to him, as if he was disappointed or hurt. Even at 4-years old, it made Amrielle feel sad and question if he’d done something wrong. Of course, the real answer was never that straightforward.

At least when it came to him.

His mother didn’t have a stable job and, for reasons he never fully understood, they were always constantly on the move; never truly staying in one place for too long. Their continual traveling made it hard for him to socialize, except for when she’d infrequently visited his grandfather. One of few fondest times of his life was when he stayed with the elderly man.

Why, he wondered, why am I thinking of this now?

What was the point when his life was at stake?

Thunder rumbled around them and red lighting cackled everywhere in the darkest reaches around the obelisk, striking the chains and rattling them creating a ringing cacophony of music chaotic and maddening to the sound. Amrielle winced, the clanging causinghis eardrums to grate. Another rumbling and an explosion of fire and moltenlava spewed forth from under the creature. It was on its haunches and the higher 2 of its 5 eyes were closed. Smoke and embers fluttered from its breath as it exhaled. Its wings were huge, tree like in their muscles and shape, but long and broad with claws on the end. It rustled and lifted its gaze towards the boy, growling in annoyance.

Arrogant little god that you are, it said, to think the likes you could challenge me.