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Anger flowed through his bones, how dare the egg encroach upon his power. He laughed up at the sky, a beacon’s white light illuminating the right side of his face while his left side remained in darkness.
The Greeks thought he was the God of Silence and Secrets. How misguided. How so typical of them to fall to the myths of Greece. But Greece wasn’t the first civilisation. No, he was far older than the Pantheon he was old enough to match Cronus himself.
Even history makes mistakes. History repeats itself in patterns and circles.
This server fell, not because it wasn’t strong but because it didn’t learn from the past. Only Dream understood that they were all just pawns on a chess board against an invisible opponent.
He looked down, his land bathed in shadows. It had been quiet since Dream had been locked away, but he had felt the ripples that cascaded out of that area days ago. A death. An important one. But not a permenant one.
Before the Greek God Harpocrates was the Egyptian God Horus. He controlled the sky and the wind. His father Osiris was the god of the undead, he may not have the same connection to the dead but he could feel it.
The egg had grown far too big, had influenced far too many. He was peaceful. He was slow to anger but he could still be angered. He had shown them today, calling down lighting from the sky.
He turned way from his sandstone temple, the gold glinted around him, power thrummed through his veins. Dream was the Forgotten God, the man who had called he hear, the man who pulled the strings of life itself. Techno was the Blood God, the one who stood in a field of blood who dictated the pace and fate of battles.
But he. He was the God of the silent sky. The ever-watchful eye that hovered over the world in the day.
His footsteps were heavy on the ground, part of his heart ached as he recalled the expression of his friend. The expression of fear and conflict as he looked towards the uncovered god. He hadn’t meant to scare him, but the egg had gone far too far, it was time to step in.
He could no longer sit in his golden, sandy sanctuary and watch the world crumble around him. The universe was out of balance, with Dream imprisoned and scheming with life and death and Techno in a self-imposed exile the forces of nature were free to expand and grow, unchecked.
The egg was too powerful, its influence on people now something he could no longer ignore. He would enjoy this. Finally, after so long in peaceful solitude to feel that power run through his veins. Did the Greek purposely give him control of silence and secrets because they understood the danger of silent anger and secret words.
The nether was burning hot as he entered but after so long in the desert the heat didn’t phase him, he followed the cobblestone path. He disagreed with Technoblade, Tommy was not Theseus. No Tommy was no exiled king who slew a Minotaur or killed his own son out of anger. Tommy was someone else entirely, but no hero was ever happy.
But as he exited the nether, snowflakes now catching on his nose and lashes. But perhaps for now Tommy’s tale was over…for now. No, he would watch Ranboo. The ever-suffering boy, who was driven from side to side.
A house came into view, warm yellow lights bathing the surrounding snow. Harpocrates laughed, what makes a hero a hero? Was Dream a fallen hero?
Dream in many ways was Odysseus, sharp mind and a silver tongue, a spectacular warrior, but a man who used his head to get out of seemingly impossible situations. He was not like Achilles who was closer to Technoblade, drive by blood lust (Which the hybrid called clout). No Dream was Odysseus who in many ways never returned home from Troy, who upon coming home could never rid the feeling of battle. Odysseus had left his wife and son to seek out more conflict, just as Dream had done. Dream had abandoned his family, George and Sapnap.
Were Dream and Techno villains or fallen heroes? Is Tommy a hero or just a hero who hasn’t fallen yet?
His hand came up to the wooden door, the large polar bear had snarled at him but made no move to stop him. The sound of warm chatter filtered through the cracks in the wooden planks. His single knock rung through the night like a bell. The snow seemed to still in the air as if fate herself was watching him. This was the beginning of the end. The end of the egg and the start of his and as a result Dream’s revenge.
The door swung hope revealing long pink hair and a pig mask, broad shoulders blocked out the light of the room behind him, but he knew that Phil stood behind Techno, he could hear the faint flutter of Phil’s tattered wings.
‘Hello Harpocrates’
Foolish met Techno’s eyes and smiled.