Oh Lady, what would he do?

Ah yes our best weapon, loopholes.

Aphrodite wasn't always a vigilante, following Hephaistos' every step, always ready to get them out from the cliches of heroes.

They were a hero once, two years prior. His mentor was Hypnos, and man, they were gratefull gor the snovett hero. Hypnos was kind and understanding, helping them with everything he could. He was the first one they came out to, and he was always so supportive! But the agency had him under an iron grip, the number one and two heroes, Hellas and Nyx, his supposed best friends made him do bad things with his pover. Make villains defendless, absolutely at the agency's mercy. If they had known what Aphrodite's real pover was, they would have kept him under their mindful wach, too.

But Hypnos made everyone believe that they could only teleport short distances, with no one but themselves.

Aphrodite loved Hypnos like a father figure, but he couldn't go to him on that fateful night. It was raining, and he was standing in the middle of the street with a luggage, containing every one of their possesions.

It was a favour they called in, one gained by saving Zephyrus, a villain, from falling debrees, given to them by no other than prometheus himself.

Aphrodite's name wasn't always Aphrodite either. The name was given by Prometheus, who accepted them into his home, like they were his own child.

Aphrodite long forgot their old name or their parents. They, however, call Prometheus dad behind closed doors, and Hypnos pops. They try to get the two to go on a date to stop the embarrassing and cringy flirting while the two fought.

It never worked so far, but they, their boyfriend Hephaistos, and that other annoying vigilante who is involved for some reason will never give up.

I love how you managed to do this. It turned out awesome!

This is basically that Agatha Cristhy book.

Wiliam looked at his friends, all injured and tired. They were sucked into this battle when they were travelling through the land. The mimic monster Carlos, their necromancer, picked up in a dungeon, helped their dad, supplying him with death magic they seemed to share. Wil's older brother, a warrior with a rare blood magic blessed by yet another god, was coated head to toe with the chrimson. His little brother had to stay back. And he wasn't supposed to be here either. Their cleric was back at camp with other healers.

"Wil, what are you doing here?!" His brother yelled, and he just looked at him with blank eyes.

"I am ending this useless fight." He said, his voice slowly shifting into magic as he grabbed his guitar from his back. The first few accords started pulling attention from the soldiers, heads turning towards him. From the edge of his vision, he saw Carl collapse, white hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. Wiliam saw his brother and the mimic rush to the necromancer's side, fretting over him. The undead slowly falls apart and joins the millions of corpses under the ground.

Wiliam can't afford to look away now. He opened his mouth and started singing. He felt magic sheep into his words, spreading through the field painted in red.

Many think Bard magic only makes one more charismatic. Many think it's weak.

Many know it's dangerous.

A bard's magic is similar to the call of a siren. It creeps into one's soul and plants its roots deep into it, grabbing and never letting go, only when the caster wants it to.

Bard magic is difficult, and you have to be gifted with a naturally good hearing. You have to be open to music.

He felt the invisible strings tugging on hundreds of thousands of souls. He cut the ones connecting to his friends. They should never fall under a Bard's siren call.

A call for death and murder. The enemies lined up before the necromancer, killing themselves one by one. Panic evident in their eyes, but they can't resist. Carl slowly gains energy back, along with his adopted. They feed from death because the goddess blessed them. His brother's eyes dialate, as the blood, fresh and red, slowly moves towards him, swirling and existing in a manner that is not normal. It glows, as the last bits of manig is sucked out of it, fueling his brother.

The tables turned as the enemy army slowly, one by one disappeared, Wiliam's voice slicing through the silent air.

A murder of crows wach them from the trees, waiting for the feast.

I agree.

It is only understandable. They are hunted by those who once called them one of theirs. Feeding is a lot easier when you see a prey instead of something we were.

Vampires are not humans. They were once, but they live until they are killed, and no natural harm comes to them. They see humans as food, a meal that can kill them. There are, of course, those who live amongst these mortals. It isn't rare. Vampires just tend to forget their own humanity because they were blessed by the goddess.

Humans are foolish and ignorant of the dangers of the world. They think they are invincible. They take life for granted. They take and hurt and expect kindness in return.

I believed in humans. I did. When the coven head came home with a malnourished, terrified, dirty, and hurt human boy, couldn't be more than eight, I knew the small town would face the wrath of my coven. I was furious too, humans are so cruel, they leave their own fledlings to die... Yet I still went and warned them.

They laughed, called me a freak, child of the night, a monster.

They thought I was joking. Ungratefull little ants, destined to suffer the wrath of my coven. They begged to me, when my people came seeking death, amusement, a meal. They promised me the stars, they cried and whined and screamed.

After the sun came up, the last of the coven retreated to tend to their duties. The coven head and his family gained a new fledling. There was a lot to do.

They called me, but I wanted to look for survivors.

This is what the ignorance of these fools led to. This is their karma, the Goddess' punishment for those who had hurt their own. Their blood painted the ground. It was a messy feast. My stomach was full too, I got a couple of men who tried to flee. They tried to sacrifice the weak, the children.

A lot of new fledlings had to be taken care of, now that I think about it.

Now that the root of the infection was killed, new flowers could bloom, healty, and beautiful. And it was my duty to rid the world of the dead weed, so it can never blossom again. The flames of my fury and spite slowly died down as I sent my children, souls who couldn't find peace, to look for new siblings, children souls, lost in the massacre of the feast.

Humans are foolish and ignorant.

Vampires are not.

Beep boop I need that bot.

This is just a 100 times better because my choosen name is Nox.

Tw/Swearing prob. Typos for sure.

And what if I am a young writer? What if I want to be an english mayor? No one cares.

Well I don't care, and that's the point.

Right now I am sitting in high school, the hell itself, and doodle some shapes for my next book's cover. My best friend is sitting beside me, paying attention to what the teacher has to say about something regarding the Romantic timeline or something boring like that.

I actually wrote a book with the characteristics of the romatic writings, highligting good and evil, freeform, all of that, only to twist it at the end. One of my best sellers to be honest. The title of it is...

"Constellation." The word rips me out of the comfort of my toughts, forcing me to concentrate. "It's a short book with the characteristics of the romantic age, however there is an interesting twist at the end. The author is unknown." I hear my friend snicker beside me. She was the one who gave me te author name idea. It was kinda stupid but I had no better choice at that moment.

Papers were handed out with a part of my book. It was where I wrote the picnick under the stars with the goddess wisiting her mortal lover. I am still proud of that chapter, I really grabbed the moment. It was actually inspired by the full moon when it shone into my window the night before.... Here I go once again, off track like every writer does.

After we had read the scene, we started going throught the building yada yada. It was quite strange, hearing my classmates toughts about Philip being a simp and that Kriselle was painfully formal. But I had fun.

"Now what can the black roses on the lady's hat symbolize?" I paused. Well I wrote the black silk roses because it was a cute accestory and it went with the outfit pretty well.

A classmate of mine, Jacob, raised his hand.

"Her connection with the night." He said, and the teacher nodded. I groaned and my dear friend held back her laughter. I swear to god she was enjoying this a bit too much.

"And what does the moonlight hitting the water of the pond mean?" Well I included that because I love how the full moon shines back from a body of water, it's mesmerizing.

Their endless love, came the answer. Sure man, whatever floats your boat.

"And why was the grass rotting?" Oh for fucks sake man, why. "Alex." I looked up, horryfied but ready to speak.

"It's because of the goddess' power. Because she's the guider of souls and bringer of the night, grass usually dies around her since she radiated death." I state matter of facktly. A headshake. The writer had other toughts when writing this.

But how would I know? It's not like I'm the writer!

No it was foreshadowing of Philip dying at the end.

But how could I know?

I'm just the writer after all.

Hypnos was standing a good few feet away from his arch nemesis, Prometheus, looking absolutely stunned.

And Prometheus was shocked, his eyes widening under the pig skull he uses as a mask.

"Go on then." Hypnos urged him, a kind smile plastered on his lips, even tought no one could see it under the gas mask. "I'll listen." The people around them started mumbling, complaining.

"I- Aren't we supposed to fight now?" Prometheus asked, his blue long cape shifted as he stapped from one legg to another, he swiched his hold on the twin blades he used in fights.

"Are we?" Hypnos asked, and he adjusted his dark green gas mask, and laid on the axe he uses to fight, crafted from uranium, with the best technology avaible. "Now what was that about anarchy?" He asked before grabbing the handle of his weapon again. With a light step he was in Prometheus's personal space, face just inches away from the others, even tough the villain was three or four inches taller. Dark blue eyes stared into the empity voids of the skull.

"W-wha- Personal space dude!" Prometheus stepped back, guard up. He felt his blood rushing up to his face.

"But I am curious about what you think." Hypnos pouted.

Magic was something Opeli believed ever since she was a small child. Many tought she was crazy, that she had a wide imagination.

Now, a fireball in her hand, a smug look on her face, and the confusion, endless and deep, in her professor's eyes worth the years of humiliation.

"Magic is nothing but converting energy as you please." She explained, just like how she explains a child that one plus one equals two. "When concentrating the right part of our own energy, we can bend the atoms around us to diferentate. Thus explains spells." With a move of her wrist, the fire flicked a last time, before transfoming into a small light orb.

"This is..." The professor looked trought the papers, everything explained shiftly, yet it was too difficult to understand even for him.

"With enough knowledge, even necromancy is possible." Opeli inched closer to her professor. "Love spells, healing, all you can ask for with the move of a hand. Isn't this a miracle?" She lained closer untill she was inches away from the older man.

"How..."

"Isn't this knowledge worth an A, rofessor?" She asked in a whisper. "I just proved the reality of a fairy tale."