2 | REBIRTH
***
Death.
Leonidas didn't expect death to be so cold.
Goosebumps aroused upon his flesh. He exhaled, his breath visible due to the chilling atmosphere.
The last he could remember was his body shattering under the foot of Damasen. He winced, remembering the excruciating pain he faced. It was as if his entire body was shocked by one of Zeus' lightning bolts.
He pushed past his thoughts, looking away, his eyes examining the abyss that enveloped him, for the umpteenth time.
Leonidas strained his eyes to penetrate the impenetrable darkness. Utter blackness surrounded him, rendering even his own hand invisible regardless of how intently he scrutinized it.
Upon first arriving, a flicker of hope ignited within his thoughts; a fleeting silver thread of optimism whispered, 'What if I am not truly dead?'
Yet, reality swiftly quashed this glimmer of possibility. No mortal could endure the devastating force of a fifty-foot giant's stomp, he lamented bitterly – his defeat now indomitable.
Within the desolate depths of the abyss, a numb resignation settled upon Leonidas. Memories surged relentlessly through his mind, the jagged fragments of his existence piercing his soul.
The recollections played like a tragic symphony – the discovery of his extraordinary power, the battles fought on countless battlefields, witnessing Sparta's resurgence as a city for demigods, and above all, his ascension to become the revered King of Sparta.
It was the happiest moment in his life.
Ever since Leonidas unearthed his lineage, tracing his ancestry back to the legendary Soldier King of Ancient Sparta, a thirst for dominion gnawed incessantly within him.
He yearned to rule over his own kingdom, to inherit the legacy of his forefathers, and to forge a world that would honor his glorious lineage.
Yet, as an ironic twist of fate, his aspirations remained forever futile, for he now languished in the grip of eternal death.
Despair vanished, a sense of anger taking over.
Curses resonated within the depths of anguish and bounced off unseen barriers surrounding him. He cursed the Giants for their reckless devastation; he cursed the monstrous creatures for wreaking havoc; he cursed his ill-fated destiny; and most importantly, he cursed himself.
If only he could have another chance – just one more opportunity. With just a glimmer of hope, he might have claimed kingship once more.
But alas, such possibilities were beyond reach.
His fury waned, and with a sigh, he accepted his heart-wrenching fate.
"This is my existence now," he muttered bitterly.
"Not at all."
Suddenly, a large, blue-tinted, male head, enshrouded in azure smoke, materialized out of thin air. A scowling expression lay in his face, his caterpillar-shaped brows slanted. His eyes bore no pupils, yet, somehow ferociously stared intently upon Leonidas. Fiery embers danced on his beard, like flames burning in wood.
"This is my realm," he continued. "I am the Thread Master."
Leonidas blinked. He knew there were multiple minority gods, like Ketos or Phorcys, but he never heard of a deity named the Thread Master. Nonetheless, a deity is a deity, and he wasn't planning on enraging one, especially in their own realm.
"Pardon my rudeness," said Leonidas slowly, choosing his words carefully. "But I've never heard of one named the Thread Master before, may you enlighten me, 'O' Divine One?"
"We'll get to that later," responded the Thread Master, his tone rough, but not unkindly. "For now, we'll speak about why thy existence is here. To put it simply, I reward those for their greatness, specifically those with divine blood. Especially, if they achieved remarkable feats, despite having their life cut short. Leonidas, thou is one of them."
He paused, licking his dry lips.
"Thou spent thine childhood as a bastardized child, with no recollection of thy parents and enslaved by slaves in Persia. Thou labored tirelessly, thy childhood marred by memories of unspeakable suffering. Devoid of allies, comrades, or friends; thy existence was tainted by sorrow."
The Thread Master's beard radiated an intense glow, the luminescent blue hue fading into a passionate red, his eyes filled with excitement.
"Yet thou persevered against all odds! At the age of six, thou discovered thy lineage, as well as thy bloodline. Thus, thou managed to slaughter every officer in the enslavement camp! By the age of ten, thou journeyed to Greece, by foot, and met with an army of demigods, stationed in the fallen remnants of Sparta. At twelve, thou became the most fearsome soldier, and under the permission of the sons of Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades; thou rebuilt Sparta, designing it as a haven for demigods, and declared thyself as king! But… at the ripe age of fifteen, thou met thy end."
Leonidas maintained a stoic expression; however, internally an emotional tempest raged – sadness mingled with disappointment and fury – regret being its strongest element.
"Do thou not feel as if thou could've accomplished more?"
A knot formed in Leonidas' throat as he grappled for words. Eventually, all he could muster was: "Yes... without a doubt."
An ominous smile danced on the Thread Master's lips. With the flick of his wrist, he summoned three withering threads, all of varying sizes. The one in the middle was the largest, the one on the left the shortest, and the one on the right, was neither long nor short.
"Leonidas, what if I told thee, thee could be reborn?"
An enigmatic feeling surged within Leonidas, and he jolted his head upright. He locked eyes with the Thread Master; his red-colored irises, latching onto the pupiless eye-sockets before him.
He didn't know whether this never-seen-before deity spoke the truth. There was a chance he was tricking him. But at the same, there was one, very slim chance, that the Thread Master was honest.
He wanted to be skeptical, or more non-believing, but to be frank, he couldn't.
He had to trust him. He had to believe he could be reborn. He had to believe there was one more chance. One more chance to be king.
With a long, shaky breath, Leonidas nodded. "Tell me more."
"Do you see these threads in front of you?" The Thread Master asked, motioning toward the pieces he previously conjured. "Each thread is a dimension to a different world. By choosing a piece, your body will be transported into an alternative world. Your mind will remain intact, and your physical looks will be the same."
The Thread Master surveyed Leonidas, his eyes glinting in anticipation. With a flick of his wrist, the myriad of threads began to glow ferociously, emitting a golden hue.
"Choose carefully and wisely - for behind each thread stands a new world, different from the one thee live in now. Thou will be the same person but in a different realm; thyself shall be in control of your new life - like picking up a book, only you are the protagonist."
"Is there anything to be wary of?" Leonidas asked, his right eyebrow arched.
The Thread Master grinned maliciously, as if reading his soul. "Yes... If thou don't become King within fifteen years time, I shall appear before thee - no matter where thou are or how hard thou try to hide. I shall take away thy soul and condemn it to eternity in Tartarus: The deepest level of Hades, inhabited by Titans and savage beasts. Do you understand?"
Leonidas felt his blood run cold, stories of this realm were whispered in fearful tones and seemed almost impossible to survive. Yet despite his fear, Leonidas stood tall; determined to fulfill whatever fate was set before him knowing that failure meant death.
"I will become king," he said firmly. "No matter what."
The Thread Master nodded approvingly before gesturing towards the threads. "Choose carefully - the fate of your soul depends on it."
Leonidas' hand moved without hesitation, guided by instinct alone, as he chose the one on the right.
A gleam appeared on the Thread Master's eye. "Are you ready for your new life?"
A fire lit up within Leonidas' veins as he answered with conviction: "Yes, yes I am."
"Then so be it." The Thread Master snapped his fingers, generating a brilliant, blinding, light that engulfed Leonidas. "I anticipate great things. I hope I won't be seeing you again, if you know what I mean."
With a sudden flash, Leonidas' vision faded as he lost consciousness.
***
