"How does it feel, fighting for a cause painted in rose and rot?" 

Days have passed since my battle with the self-proclaimed God of War in prison, yet his words won't leave me. They tattooed themselves into my mind, each syllable burning deeper the more I try to forget. 

I replay everything-our fight, his smile, and what came after. The rise of Rose, goddess of light and creation. The resurrection of Candice, goddess of darkness. Athens reborn under her rule-still the capital of sin, but with order now, purpose. A faith with structure. A twisted faith. 

War was not the only one that questioned Rose. Whispers followed her like shadows-strangers murmuring about her talking to people no one else could see. Her siren song drifts through the streets at night, bending memories until those who heard it forget they ever doubted her. And then there's Time- speaking in a code two centuries old, a language only they seem to understand. Each secret, each echo, feels like a warning, and I can't shake the sense that watching her is like staring into a storm that's already begun.

I followed her into this secret garden. The way the water flowed over stones, a cool breeze whispered through the leaves, and the scent of flowers hung heavy in the air. It was almost too perfect- like the Garden of Eden-if such a place had ever truly existed. 

As I watched her wait on whoever she was meeting, I was pulled into this dark pit. Except pit wasn't the correct word to describe it. A pit would mean it had a bottom or an end. This one did not. This darkness was cold and continuous, unforgiving and bare, and at the center of it all was her, Candice. Her brown skin radiated like a star in this dark void. Her twisted smile was as bright as a solar flare. Yet her eyes were pitch black and lifeless. 

"What do you want?" I said guarded, after all, she was the enemy. The one who sought to destroy everything I've worked so hard to protect, and honestly, it's been working at every turn.

"It's not about what I want but what I can do." Her words were always so cryptic, and her tone was always like she had a joke that only she was privy to. If you could actually unravel the meanings in real time, would she still be so cocky? I thought angrily. "Why do you follow her?" Her question caught me by surprise. Does she truly only want to talk? Not hold me prisoner or torture me or even kill a high-ranking member of Light? 

"Isn't it obvious? I am a Ritter, a knight, a sworn protector of the innocent and everything good." I answered plainly.

Her face crunched up as if what I said confused her. "Then you fight for the wrong side. You, Hartley, are said to be first class grade alpha, which means you are the best of the best among intellect and combat. Yet you are so blind. You follow one that lies, deceives, and destroys everything she touches."

"No!" I yelled back. "Rose only creates; she never lies or deceives, unlike you and your followers."

Candice would laugh, but it wasn't like a haunting laugh. It was more playful, like I said, the biggest joke known to her, like a kid playing on a playground. "Why is it that when she speaks, everyone believes her? She could say something so unfounded, unhinged, and people just believe. You have so much faith in a person who killed your Hope."

"LIES!" I spat back at her.

"You are an investigator," she continued without missing a beat, "you are a captain, you are the Batman of light. You set up protection for Hope. You only let those who are trustworthy guard her, and only made known of your plans to a handful of people, and out of those people who could kill another God and leave no trace?" 

"No! You only mean to deceive me!"

"And yet I do not confuse you. All I am saying is what you already know to be true. Your mind knows it, yet your loyalty will not let you speak it. Tell me why you are following her? You trust her so much, but you followed her without her knowledge."

At this point, I had nothing to say to her. I could not answer, not because I did not know the answer, but because she was right. All this time, my gut was telling me something was wrong. Rose was wrong. Anytime she entered the same room as I, I shivered. I could never say I follow Rose, only the ideas she's supposed to embody. I clenched my teeth, and Candice would smile. 

"Hartley," she called out to me, "I am giving you a chance to break yourself free. I am offering to pull you through the vale and open your eyes to what's true and right. Join me. Follow me. Pick me. I will never lie or hide from you. You will know exactly who and what I am and what to fight for. All you have to do is take my hand." Her arm extended out to me and waited.

In this moment, it's like I knew what I had to do, but if I did, I would be branded a traitor, turncoat, and even worse, I would be stripped of everything. I would not be able to see any of my comrades; I would riot in a prison much like this one. Even knowing that, I took her hand.

The fall of a god always began with a single touch. Mine was no different.