CEL

The waves lapped at his body, the sand pushing lightly into his frail skin, his wet soaking hair boiling in the bright sun. His hand stirring as the small kicks of the tide pushed him up the beach. His arms crawling at the sand and loose chunks of rock.

His resting body, newly revived, ran up the beach. A sudden urgency pummelling through his chest, crushing his organs. Like his heart leaping from his chest, stumbling and scrambling along in his atrophied muscles. He ran through the strange familiar streets, houses pulling out over the old mould, his feet pounding across the streets sprinting up to the mountain, brushing over the familiar painting, like a new coat of paint on an old house.

His mind flashing back to before, the images of burning buildings crashing through his mind… the boy slashing at his stomach, blood spraying from his corpse. The blackness… the dark void pulling him down and the man tackling Paris, Menelaus' hulking figure beating down on the man. The bloodshed spread across his face.

Mahon's arms clawed at trees, the shallow dirt spraying over his bare feet as he pushed through the forest. Cuts gashing through his naked skin barely phasing him.

He remembered the pain of the flames, the hands dragging his limp dying corpse from the city… and he remembered Cel's tear filled eyes staring down at him…

He remembered the burning logs underneath, the single coin placed under his tongue as his body disappeared into excruciating pain, each cel felt like it was being ripped apart, but he remained. His ashes lay on the beaches for decades… centuries until a solitary wind blew him to the sea. Each second he felt it all, his body ripped apart pulled from itself, nothing there.

But he remained, wanting to scream or cry out, but nothing came out as he was dragged apart, his body swirled around in currents and the sea. Water pushed him up and down, dragging him across the bottom of the sea… until finally after what seemed like an eternity he finally found it.

Frantically crashing and climbing across the cliffs that lead up, the rocks around his past crumbling and crashing as he pushed up, swiftly and rapidly jumping and leaping… The tear stains under his cheeks flooding and dripping with water, hands ripping and slashing under as he pulled himself up, blood draining from the small scrapes. All pain seemed inconsequential compared to the desperation, the sinking feeling in his stomach. The heavy fear and terror rushing through his body.

The sea is ruthless, sharks hunt, whales massacre, thousands of predators infesting the waters… and where there is death… there is blood… a few drops was enough to recollect the ashes... The wreckage of a hunt was enough to build a new body, but again he drowned, again and again dying and sinking until finally… he was washed up, the sea currents taking him to one island, Skyros… his home.

He finally climbed up to the small plateau, the house stood crumbled in the setting sun, the hot day gone and breeding a beautiful orange star in the sky, in the soft ground… the dirt there was a small pile… rocks placed at the head… and a piece of wood stood on top with three letters carved into it, the rough scratchings almost unrecognizable…

"CEL"