Killian was walking with his mother, The Morrigan, through the immaculately landscaped grounds of the mansion when he heard the braying of goats. Turning from his mother and their walk, Killian’s eyes searched for the source of the very out of place sound.

His eyes quickly marked a chariot lurching through the sky pulled by two goats towards Killian and his mother. Killian had seen many things in his time travelling with his mother, but this was decidedly the most odd.

As the odd chariot drew closer, the ground started to shake and a great chasm appeared in an empty space of grass as the earth was torn open. From that tear, amazingly, drove a perfectly black limousine which drove slowly on the grass towards Killan and his mother. Once the limousine had cleared the tear in the earth, the ground closed and quickly knit itself back together as if nothing had happened at all.

The limousine pulled up to Killian and his mother and two men stepped from the car. The older of the two looked middle-aged and wore what appeared to be a very expensive suit. The younger looked to be a few years older than Killian and wore what Killian considered to be the most ridiculous pants he had ever seen.

Before anything could be said by anyone, the strange goat-drawn chariot slammed into the ground. From the chariot hopped another two men, one a great brute of a man with firey red hair and a great red beard, the other a young man, Killian guessed to be a year or two his junior.

The great red-haired man spread wide his arms and bellowed, “Greetings all! Be at ease, Thor Odinson has arrived! Now, where is the master of this house?”

Before anyone could answer, a terrible, whining roar broke the calm silence of the paradisal grounds. The sound was not unlike that of a jet engine, and it sounded close. As one, the six turned their heads skyward to see a great fireball streaking towards them at a fantastic speed. The fireball approached the ground, still at full speed, and came to a complete stop about a foot from the ground, all of its momentum instantly gone. They could all see that through the flames there was another chariot, golden and ornate. Riding the chariot were another man and another boy. The man had shining golden blonde hair and seemed exceedingly happy. The boy appeared to be about the same age as the hulking lad with the boistrous red haried man.

As the two stepped down from the flaming chariot, the older of the two said, “Please be welcome in my home. I am Apollo.”

Thor laughter heartily and thundered, “Good show Apollo, quite the entrance! Now, I’m starving, anyone else like a bite of goat?” And with that, he pulled a massive hammer from his belt and smashed it into the head of one of the goats pulling his chariot.

Silas felt like a million bucks, until he stopped swinging the sledge hammer that is. It was nearly quitting time now and Silas really didn’t want to go back to his apartment and be by himself; he knew what demons were waiting for him there.

Silas drew his forearm across his forehead, wiping the sweat from his brow. Everything always seemed so right and effortless when he was swinging a hammer, driving the huge metal spikes they used in their construction. No one on the crew could swing a hammer like Silas, he took pride in his endurance and strength. But when the swinging stopped, real life came crashing back.

Silas pulled off his hard hat and started walking towards the exit of the construction site, carrying his sledge casually tucked under his arm.

As he walked, he felt a heavy hand come down on his shoulder, “Silas,” a booming, jovial voice said, “Let’s go grab us a drink or two, on me of course, I’ll even give you a ride home afterwards so you don’t have to take the bus. There are some things we should talk about anyways.” Mr. Thursday always seemed happiest when it was time to go grab a beer, and to be honest, sometimes his bosses eagerness to eat, drink and be merry got on Silas’ nerves. But it’s better than being at home by myself, staring at the tv.

Mr. Thursday led Silas over to his very large pick-up truck and they both got in. The drive to the nearest bar took only a few minutes, as Mr. Thursday wasn’t interested in spending a long time driving, he simply wanted to have a beer.

They pulled up to a dingy looking pub and Mr. Thursday led them inside. It was dark and it reeked onf smoke. After taking a seat near the back corner of the room, Mr. Thursday ordered two pints. Once they arrived, and the waitress left, Mr. Thursday turned to Silas, a serious look on his face.

“Look Silas, I’m not really that good at this sort of thing, so bear with me. First, your worth is far greater than you would imagine. Second, I am more to you than simply your boss. Third, my Father has need of you right away, and fourth… well, there really isn’t a fourth, so I’m going to drink some of my beer.”

● ● ●

This Monday evening found Stuart in his private office at his club checking the months revenues for covers, drinks and food. He leaned back in his well padded, very expensive office chair, put his feet up on his desk and laced his fingers behind his head. Stuart smiled to himself, he was very happy in his life. He had created a safe place for people to have fun and forget their cares, he had enough money to take care of his mother (who had sacrificed plenty for Stuart when he was a child), and he didn’t live all that uncomfortable of a life himself.

Yes, Stuart thought to himself, I really am living the dream.

Just when Stuart was at his most relaxed, a muffled whump sounded through the sound-proofed nightclub, something shaking the building hard enough that pictures and certificates fell from their places on the walls. Stuart leapt up from his chair, grabbed his desk and started to survey the damage to his office. At that moment the door to his office slammed open.

Stuart’s father strode into the room, looking somehow weary (although Stuart couldn’t quite figure out how a god could be weary), but blazing with golden light, his power revealed. “They are close Stuart, we must leave now. Are you armed?”

● ● ●

Ros had spent the last eight months roaming the wild untamed wilderness western of North America. Artemis, his aunt, had spared no opportunity to instruct and challenge Ros, determined that he would be ready when the time came.

Artemis, being so closely tied to the moon, trained Ros almost exclusively between dusk and dawn. By night Artemis taught Ros to move in the shadows, to track and evade, to strike at the opportune moment, to essentially be a true hunter. By day Ros was often left to his own devices which for the most part included sleeping and eating, although on occassion Artemis would give him challenges to complete while she was away. Ros had a couple of hours left, until dusk, to complete his most recent challenge. Artemis had led Ros to a clearing just before dawn and told him that a buck had passed through this clear three days previous and Ros had until dusk to find the buck and end the hunt. She handed Ros a hunting knife and bid him luck, then vanished behind a tree.

In the waning daylight, Ros finally spied his buck and crept downwind from tree to tree, not making a sound. The buck, busy rubbing its magnificent antlers on a tree trunk, did not notice Ros’ silent approach. Ros stood five feet from the buck, his hunting knife in hand awaiting the perfect moment, the shadows growing steadily taller. Ros had gathered his legs beneath him to spring from concealment when a blazing light leapt from the trees to his left. The buck, startled by the sudden, bright light, sprang away from Ros’ hiding place seeking a place to hide.

Allan stepped from between two trees shining like the Sun itself. “There you are son, I’m very glad to see you’re well. The twins and your mother and I miss you terribly. I wish you never had to live this life, and you could avoid… well, regardless of the life I wish for you, here you are. Terrible things are happening Alexandros, and I need your help”.

● ● ●

Killian lay in the back of an old hay wagon, his fingers laced together behind his head as he relaxed and looked up at the moon and the stars in never-ending wonder. This old, abandoned farm on the outskirts of some small, relatively insignificant mid-western town was no palace, the farm house infested with rodents and practically falling over, but it was better than many places he had slept. There was plenty of hay to soften his makeshift bed under the stars in the back of the old wagon, and when the weather was uncooperative, there was an old workshop in decent shape where he could take refuge from the elements.

It had been nearly half a year since seeing his mother, his real mother, The Morrigan, and he was beginning to wonder when he would see her again. She had never left him alone this long before, not that he was afraid for either her or himself, she was one of the Tuatha de Danaan and he was more than capable of looking after himself. Killian did have some questions for her though; it was becoming increasing difficult over the past month to make contact with any of the offspring of various other gods that he had met over the years, and he wanted to know why.

Killian lay there, content in that place where one sits on the edge of sleep, teetering back and forth from the waking world to the peace that only slumber brings. “Killian,” a familiar whisper sounded in his ear, “the world has become a much more dangerous place, and I have need of you”.

Sitting up, Killian looked to his left to see The Morrigan standing a few feet from the wagon.

● ● ●