A Hint of Foreshadowing
A dark figure coalesced out of the shadows, stepping out easily into a darkened forest as if he were merely getting off a train.
If not for the intimidating pair of black wings attached to his back, he could’ve almost passed as normal.
Thanatos reached out a hand and placed it in front of him, frowning when it touched an invisible barrier. He called his powers to him and smiled, self-satisfied, as a small hole was made in order to allow him to pass. He ducked inside and sealed it behind him, before flapping his wings, once, twice, then silently gliding through the air.
It wasn’t long before he was circling a giant stone castle, lit by old-fashioned torches. He spotted the tower he was looking for and dived, folding his wings neatly behind his back as he landed gracefully, phasing through the window.
He strode around the circular room and saw the ancient tome sitting smack-dab in the middle, and allowed himself a smirk. Flexing his long fingers, he called the darkness to him and weaved it around the Quill that lay next to the book, picking it up and guiding it to the pages.
Will Solace, he wrote in an elegant script. The Quill followed his movements, and the words instantly appeared in the book, glowing a warm, shining golden before fading away into the normal black that matched all the other names in the book.
Thanatos nodded, satisfied, before picking up the Quill once more.
Niccolò di Angelo, he wrote, the Quill beginning to shine strangely in his hands. Unlike the other, the name of his master’s son glowed a rich, beautiful purple before fading away – only to reappear a few seconds later, pulsing like a heartbeat, now a brilliant silver. Though Thanatos waited, it didn’t turn black like it should’ve.
He frowned, noting the abnormality, looking at the Quill to check if it was malfunctioning.
It was not.
He shook his head and flexed his fingers, calling the shadows to him once more, sending them towards the book in a powerful blast of power.
The book shuddered, its pages flapping wildly, but the name of his master’s son remained the same colour.
Thanatos harrumphed, snapping his fingers and enveloping the name in the Mist instead.
The name rippled, and turned dark like all the others. The death god nodded in satisfaction, curling his fingers back towards himself. Unless someone was particularly searching for an anomaly in the book, the Mist would suffice as a cover for Nico when he arrived at this castle.
Silently, the god stepped into the shadows, his golden eyes glowing eerily in the darkness as he vanished, leaving only a dark feather in his wake.
His work here was complete.