Hand of Magic (#5 - War)

 With everything happening in the world, I have had trouble focusing on my writing. I'm hopefully back on track (with support from Jack) and have returned to Hand of Magic, #5 - War. Here is a peek at the prologue - let me know what you think!

Prologue
Long ago, Mount Olympus bustled with activity. A new type of life could be created one moment, then fickly destroyed seconds later. Gods and Goddesses argued, fought, loved, and partied, with little noticeable difference between those activities.
    Now, this world sat mostly silent. Golden trees which once danced to their own music, now rarely rustled their blackened branches in response to the random memory of a breeze. Multi-colored butterflies slept in closed-off caves, while the endless skies remained empty except for an occasional flap of pointed wings. Once fast-flowing rivers of blood and fire now meandered along as mud mixed with a rust-colored liquid.
    Charon, the ferryman for the dead transported to Hades, leaned against his pole, allowing the river Styx to rock his boat just enough to lull him to sleep. He dozed for what seemed to be centuries before he was woken by a rumble. He winced at the strength of the reverberation. Nowadays, deities forgot to adjust their voices to bearable levels when they spoke. Typical thoughtlessness.
    The conversation was between two Beings. The rumbling voice started the discussion, but it was the lighter, softer voice which fully woke the ferryman. This particular Goddess had stopped speaking long before Mount Olympus went quiet. 
    “Why are you awake?”
    The pause could have been a moment or ten years. Sweet bells in between the words of the response made Charon wince. He knew the music to be, in truth, a double edged sword.
    “I have been called.”
    “So? You never answer.”
    “This time might be different. I am curious.”
    The thundering tone could never be kind, but Charon knew both the Being’s history, and that the speaker meant well with his next words.
    “Go back to sleep. They will only break your heart.”
    The bells did not answer. The rumble could have included a sigh as it spoke again.
    “Fine. You know where I am when you need me.”
    A light, the opposite shape of a running shadow, shot past the ferryman and away from Mount Olympus. The skeleton in a cloak used his pole to maneuver his boat to the cave entrance where the dead once regularly appeared. He watched the opening, confident it would now not be long before he had business. 
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