Excerpt from my forthcoming book

In this excerpt is the first introduction of Zues and it gives you an idea of his mindset at the Angels being born  and how he feels about them. Keep in mind this will be changing, it is just a brief introduction to how the style of the book will be. I hope you enjoy it.

Tears dripped quietly onto polished marble, as the king knelt over the great table where his queen lay in silent sleep. Behind him, row after row of these white tables ran up and down the long hall, each bearing a different sleeper, each sleeper laying in stillness and peace. None stirred, all hardly breathed, and the only sound to be heard in the hall was the slow, steady beating the king's heart. It pounded loudly in his own ears, reminding him of the life his body still held, taunting him. While one hand lay gently on his queen's own, his other remained at his side, balled into a fist, shaking now and again as he stared into his wife's face.

Thunder sounded suddenly from outside the hall, and yet the king, unalarmed, did not move from his place. His voice began to mutter the words of a song, the tune slow and sad. As he sang, the light in the hall around him grew dim, while the body of the queen glowed faintly in response. He brought both his hands to his wife's face, cupping her cheeks and feeling some warmth and redness return to them as he sang. For a moment, his voice grew stronger, louder, but then the redness faded and she grew pale once again, unmoving, cursed to slumber on for years still. The king's voice left him as quickly as it had arisen.

At just that moment, he heard the sound of the door on the opposite end of the hall open and close. He listened as footsteps, soft and quick, came towards to place where he knelt.

“My king,” the newcomer said quietly, unable to completely hide the excitement in her voice.

“Why do you come before me with messages?” the king asked, taking his wife's hand in his own again. “Where is Hermes?”

“That is the message I wish to bring,” the woman said. “We've received word from the Father that the newborns have finally awakened. They are moving, even now, across the old battle plains towards the Father's throne. Hermes has gone out to greet them, arm them, and direct them as best he can.”

“Then these new creatures also appear in the forms of men?” the king asked, still not turning to face the woman behind him. “Are these gods or monsters the Father has brought to fight our war?”

“My scouts report they are neither,” the woman said.

“What then?!” the king asked. “Surely the fell-beasts have waylayed them by now. How do they fare? How do they fight? Do they return to the ether when they die? Do theirs rejoin the Earth? Or do they slumber and fade like so many of our kind have done?! Tell me Artemis, what do your little bugs tell you.”

Finally turning his head, the king looked upon the woman before him. Thin and lithe, garbed in animal skins and leather, armed only with a bow, she was little better than the satyrs who served the Titans. A tiny, woodland thing. And yet she and the nymphs and spirits and fayes which loved her so were indispensable to him. They listened to her, loved her. Even as he looked on her, a tiny glimmer of light hovered next to her ear, humming lightly as it danced and pulsed.

“Yes, the newborns have encountered the fell-beasts,” Artemis said, eyes locked on the king's own. “And they do pass away. Yet my scouts report that they are spirits, nonetheless. The light of the Father is in them.”

“If they die, then they are simply soldiers to be used,” the king said, standing suddenly to his feet. “Tell the nymphs to begin preparing tents and arms for our troops and have my generals ready to march by the time they arrive.”

“My lord,” Artemis said, taking a step forward. “These newborns are dying out in the fields. Should we not send an army out to meet them. Hermes' conjured weapons can only protect them so much against the beasts that roam that region. Surely you wish to protect them. They are the Father's children.”

“They are cattle,” the king said. “And if the Father wishes to protect them, he has the power to do it himself.”

“But he asks~”

“He asks nothing!” the king roared, as thunder crashed outside the great hall again. At the commotion, the faye that danced at Artemis's side suddenly whipped away in fright. “The Father does not bring report to me of these newborn spirits. Instead he sends Hermes, who jumps like a dog at his command, out to greet them. And then you, the hunter, must serve in Hermes's place. Obey my command. Have the tents prepared and gather my generals.”

Artemis eyed her king for a few moments before responding.

“As you command, Lord Zeus,” she finally said, turning to leave. Zeus watched as she walked down the long hall to the doors, passing the slumbering bodies of slain Olympians as she went.

“They weak will die!” Zeus called just as she reached the exit. “The strong will live!”

“Maybe so,” Artemis said back, before slipping out the door and out of sight.

Alone once again, Zeus turned back to table where his wife lay. Despite knowing that she hadn't stirred, the she wouldn't stir again for many ages still, he imagined a frown had formed on her face.

“The Father brings us mortal spirits to fight our war,” he said, resting his hand on hers once again. “Perhaps with their deaths you can awaken to a world without fear of the Titans. Those who survive the war will serve you well. I just pray they will be enough.”