This is a novel planked in a universe that occupied our orbital space before it painted its own doom. The murder of the king/president of that world triggers a chain of events that unfold, to arc the doom hammer. The saga of a disgusted detective for whom the wheels turn to make him a man destined to garb the clothes of a .......... Read more to know more.


10. Three Kindred Souls

Gliding among the forever flowing terrain of grass and passing the city threshold for the first time, Zeus studied his so called brother’s contours. He felt an amazing warmth course through his body, the man who called himself Poseidon was sure in possession of some power or he really was Zeus’s brother. As they skirted passed the city, the suburban area’s surreal splendors chanced upon Zeus’s eyes.

Mystified and invigorated were the feelings Zeus pronounced, as his stupefied mind roped in the concoctions of magic. Zeus knew for sure that Humans were salvaged from the slope of death by power over Earth. They could entrench within seconds. The other power being that they could engineer mounds of sands in ways their minds clayed them to.

As Zeus’s knowledge of magic banked on mediocre, he never considered himself a fusion of flesh and supernatural. He was always earth and flesh, but his brother seemed to have aced all the mediums of magic. The nitrous boost in their gliders only reinforced Zeus’s assumptions.

As they skidded past the plush meadows and the ravenous ravines, Zeus realized that his life had only been a slice in a giant pastry. The glassy water, the glades of green were in a stark contrast to the city’s contrived greenery.  The seamless and the undulating regime of greenery were an insurgent force touting against the two arms, their vengeful gaze a driller that seemed to puncture him.

If the areas encompassed under the suburban region were enticing than the rural could only be described as entrancing. The lashing winds lapped over the tranquil trees, depositing messages and basking the woodish embrace.

Facades as these thoughts were to Zeus, as he was no longer willing to indulge into the crux of his thought cords, his egomachoism had been procrastinated into altruism, selflessness. He had been forced to soak his head in a chalice of steaming water. His life had in itself been a delusion; the disease had actually projected the things as it were. It had rattled his perception of things and at the moment of epiphany, he had been drawn into a puppet play.

But the messiah from the gods had arrived in the form of Poseidon, or so he had thought. Poseidon too had proven to be a lucrative customer. But here patriotism was ruling the roost; “Poseidon bartered the world for Zeus” would be the thoughts jinxing the sealers of the events that had traversed in that tree swollen room. But only Zeus knew that now his life was thrown into a wafer thin thread, his life would either embroil into heroism or antagonism. He knew he was taking a gamble, no, he was being goaded into a gamble, but he had nothing to lose, so after peering through all emotional realms, Zeus stringed the words “Thank you” and directed them towards Poseidon.

  “Welcome”, spewed back a pleasantly startled Poseidon.

“By the way, how did you know I was your brother”, Zeus asked blurring his emotions.

“I knew you were my brother, when you killed my… our father”, Poseidon replied, his face still a placid portrait.

“You too were roped in for the illusion”, Zeus replied, making the connection.

“No, I had an illusion nuclear to myself, and in that I was in a battlefield fighting giants, and in a moment of petrified silence you killed Kronos, and I knew you were one of my two brothers, a voice whispered to me”,

“Two brothers, who is the other one”, Zeus asked, confusion prying upon him.


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