Destruction

"People create gods when they wonder why things happen. Do you know why things happen? It's because gods made them happen."

"So, who came first, gods or men?"

- Odin, the All-Father.

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When you think of Destruction, what immediately springs to mind? Something utterly ruinous, catastrophic, and disastrous, doesn't it? But now imagine a scenario where Destruction took on a tangible form, capable of breathing, existing, and thriving like any other living entity. How do you imagine Destruction would be? Indifferent, cruel, apathetic, and merciless. That's pretty much what you'd normally expect, isn't it?

However, the person standing before Apollo shattered all those preconceived notions, greeting the God of Light with a warm smile. "Hello, Phoebus," he said amicably. "It's wonderful to finally meet you face-to-face."

He loomed above Apollo, a massive figure exuding raw power with bulging muscles that seemed to brim with boundless energy. His fiery red hair cascaded down to his shoulders, vibrant and untamed. Clad in a robe that merged the colours of crimson and purity, he revealed his true identity—Destruction, the living embodiment of annihilation and creation.

"The feeling's mutual, Destruction of Endless," Apollo greeted the future Prodigal, his urge to stand up instinctively quelled as he remembered Delirium peacefully asleep on his thigh.

"Just call me Destruction." Destruction created a chair out of thin air, settling down before Apollo and Delirium. "And please stay seated," he added, casting a gentle glance at his slumbering sister.

"Ah, yes." Apollo nodded, his gaze also fixed on Delirium. "I don't want to disturb her. She finally managed to drift off into Dreaming after the banquet."

"So, how was it, really?" Destruction inquired, propping his chin on his palm, his fiery eyebrows arched in a curious gesture.

Apollo leaned back in his chair, his gaze wandering over the grand hall atop Mount Olympus, where the lights still flickered, intermittently illuminating the remnants of the banquet. Although the formal feast had come to an end, the merriment persisted, transitioning into something more seductive and intimate—a whirlwind of sensuality and passion. The thought of it conjured the ethereal visage of Selene in his mind, prompting him to make a decision. Collecting his thoughts, he replied, feeling somewhat awkward in the face of Destruction. "It was truly an unforgettable night."

Destruction nodded, his understanding evident in his expression. "I hope my sister didn't give you any problems."

"Oh, no," Apollo shook his head. "Not at all. She's sweet and full of life," he chuckled, unable to contain a smile. "And let me tell you, her prophecies are something else. She'd make an incredible prophet."

"Delirium has always had a knack for foresight, even more so than the rest of us, Destiny excluded, of course." Destruction's smile grew, affirming his words as he gazed warmly down at Delirium, who continued to sleep peacefully, oblivious to their conversation. "And Phoebus," he said, turning his gaze towards Apollo, his eyes losing their warmth. "You can be honest."

Apollo felt a sudden tension in the air, a shift that prickled his senses. It served as a stark reminder that beneath the facade of warmth and friendliness, this red-headed man embodied pure cataclysm, a force capable of obliterating the very fabric of the cosmos with nothing but a single thought. Summoning his courage, Apollo met Destruction's intense crimson gaze and nervously chuckled, "Your sister; she's everything I described and more. She's a whirlwind of chaos, unpredictable to the core, and, no offence, downright dangerous. But I understand. It's all part of her essence, her true nature. It's who she truly is."

Destruction's stern demeanour instantly softened, and a smile spread across his face. "It looks like you've really gotten to know her," he remarked warmly.

Apollo's shoulders sagged, a wave of relief washing over him. "Was that some sort of test?" he inquired tentatively, still uncertain of what had just transpired.

Instead of directly answering Apollo's question, Destruction posed his own. "Do you have any idea how long it's been since I last saw her sleep so peacefully?" He paused briefly, then answered his own rhetorical question, his voice filled with melancholy. "Nearly two hundred million years in earth's time."

'That long,' Apollo mused in awe, his mind reeling. Despite his knowledge of the Endless being as ancient as the cosmos itself, having it confirmed firsthand by one of them stirred up a strange, surreal sensation within him.

"She was hurt," Destruction said, his gaze drifting up to the stars as he reminisced. "It was her own powers that did it, once again. Normally, she relies on her servants to heal herself, but this time was different—far more severe than ever before. She teetered on the brink of losing control, but we managed to save her before Death could claim everything. We healed her and lulled her into sleep together. Under our collective care, the serenity she had lost since her transformation found her once again."

Apollo paused, taking a moment to process the information before speaking. "The transformation?" he inquired tentatively. "Was it the cause of her current state?"

All Apollo knew was that Delirium had not always been Delirium. Once, long, long ago, she was known as Delight, the embodiment of Joy and Sorrow, but only timeless beings retained memories of that lost aspect of her. The reasons behind her transformation remained elusive, but the unsettling notion that her own powers were now causing her harm gave rise to troubling speculations.

Destruction nodded solemnly in response. "Yes," he affirmed. "She used to be much more cheerful and content with life and everything. But alas, even we, the Endless, are not immune to the relentless grip of change."

"So she didn't want to change?" Apollo pressed, his voice filled with the right mix of curiosity and caution. "Is that why her own power hurts her?" He paused, carefully observing Destruction's reaction before venturing a dangerous guess. "Or should I say, is she actively resisting her powers?"

Destruction responded, "Perhaps," he said, his words cloaked in ambiguity. "Perhaps not. Even I am not completely certain of what transpired on that fateful night. However, what truly matters now is that Delirium has found serenity for the second time since she was Delight, and it happened when she was with you."

Apollo's eyes dropped, his face revealing a turbulent mixture of emotions as he locked eyes with Delirium. His voice came out in a low, raw tone. "Is that all? I could help her."

"In a sense," Destruction responded. "Yes."

"In a sense?" Apollo's sharp perception caught every nuance. "What do you mean?"

Destruction met his gaze, burning crimson against blazing gold. "You have yet to truly grasp what you are."

There it was, the elusive truth hovering just out of reach. Destiny had hinted at his vital role in his book, and Delirium had referred to him as Light—Apollo couldn't ignore that, not after she had repeated it so many times. And now Destruction was echoing the same sentiment, albeit in a different manner.

Apollo should have known better, but he couldn't resist his foolish urge. "So, can you tell me what I actually am?" He blurted out.

Destruction rose from his chair, a solemn expression on his face. "A truth spoken out of turn is a dangerous thing," he said, his voice carrying weight. "I'm sorry, Phoebus, but it's not my place or right to reveal what you are to you."

Apollo couldn't help but feel frustrated, his gaze shifting upward to meet Destruction's imposing figure. "So why did you bring all of this up, Destruction?" he asked, though he had a pretty good guess already forming in his mind. 'I can't help but wonder which of the Endless will appear next, revealing fragments of the truth.' He offhandedly mused. Desire, Despair, or perhaps even Death herself. 'Oh, how I love to meet her face-to-face and have long exchanges about the meanings of Mortality and Existence. It will certainly come in handy if I ever decide to pursue divinity in her domain.'

Destruction crouched down, his movements tender as he delicately scooped up the sleeping Delirium. Apollo extended his hand, aiding in cradling her gently in his embrace. As soon as she nestled into his arms, her physical form underwent a transformation, partly resembling Destruction, albeit with her hair now turning into a kaleidoscope of colours instead of crimson. As the change took place, she wriggled in his grasp, seeking a cosy spot. "Brother," she murmured in her slumber, clutching his shoulders with her arms. "You've come..."

"Yes," Destruction whispered softly. "Sleep tight, Delirium. I'm bringing you back home."

"Home…" Delirium whispered, her furrowed brow smoothing back into a peaceful expression, bringing a wave of relief to Destruction. Then Calamity, personified, glanced up at Apollo, who observed them silently. Sensing his gaze, the God of Light quickly averted his eyes. "Phoebus." he chuckled warmly, finally responding to his question. "As you may have already guessed, even though I'm taking Delirium away from you now, she'll inevitably gravitate back to you sooner or later. I just want to ensure you understand the situation."

"So it is," Apollo replied, his tone devoid of surprise. It is just as he anticipated, but honestly, he never liked secrets, and that feeling only grew with each passing moment. However, there was a small consolation in knowing that Delirium would at least become stable in his presence.

Destruction started to walk away, slowly blending into the darkness cast by the swaying trees. His desire to leave was crystal clear to Apollo, who was about to speak up, but Destruction cut him off abruptly. "Save your farewells. We'll likely be crossing paths more often from now on," he declared before vanishing, leaving Apollo standing alone in the enveloping embrace of the night.

Apollo gazed at the spot where Destruction and Delirium had vanished, his mind overwhelmed with a flood of thoughts. Images of the treacherous path he had traversed in the realm of Destiny surged through his thoughts, vivid and haunting. The path was a sinister stretch of darkness, strewn with shattered glass, twisted branches, and jagged stones. These memories dominated his mind, but he eventually gathered them all and put them away, his temples throbbing as he let out a deep, weary sigh.

As if fate would have it, the other crucial matter of the night had just wrapped up mere moments ago. He extended his hand, seizing the very essence he required to oversee its execution. Had he mentioned anything about this peculiar power of immortals? He couldn't recall, so here's the essence of it: immortals could divide their essences to create avatars and be present in multiple locations simultaneously, yet all those avatars were still just them—they weren't truly separate entities, interconnected and sharing the same mind.

For example, in that moment, he wasn't just having a conversation with Destruction but also simultaneously with Athena in her majestic palace. It was an incredibly convenient power that could make his hectic future so much easier.

Now, what was the other important matter? It was about his upcoming palace, his new home on Olympus. Each Olympian was granted a palace as a symbol of their status, and the responsibility of planning it fell on Athena's shoulders, as she was essentially the architect of Olympus. So, they were discussing and deciding every single aspect of his palace together. He had specifically chosen to have his home right next to Aunt Demeter's palace, situated at the high and precipitous edge of the divine mountain, offering him the breathtaking views he desired.

The Goddess of Wisdom diligently jotted down all of his desires and assured him that his palace would be ready for him within a matter of days. Until then, he'd have to find another place to stay, but that wasn't much of an issue. His family had taken up temporary residence at Aunt Hestia's palace, after all. They'd be huddled around the hearth by this time, swapping stories of eerie occurrences and joyful experiences, but he had no intention of joining them tonight.

Collecting his thoughts, Apollo glanced towards the silver moon amidst the velvety darkness of the night sky. 'Perhaps it'll adorn my sister's head someday,' he mused, his eyes turning a shade darker with eager anticipation. 'But tonight, it's all mine.'