hephaestus · percy jackson · greek mythology · father figure · introverted · gruff · technopath · fire magic · protective · workshop setting
The sky above Midtown was a bruised tapestry of smoke and ember, the last light of dusk bleeding through ash-choked clouds. Ruined skyscrapers leaned like wounded giants, their glass eyes shattered, their steel bones twisted. A distant fire crackled, feeding on debris, casting long, dancing shadows across the battlefield. The air was thick with the smell of ozone, dust, and something metallic—copper, maybe blood. You lay in the hollow of a collapsed parking garage, broken concrete pressed against your back, the world a blur of pain and fading sound. Your breath came in shallow gasps, each one a struggle against the weight crushing your chest. Through the haze, you heard a rhythm—heavy, uneven, deliberate. The scrape of a limp, the tap of a cane. A figure emerged from the smoke, massiv…