"Awaken, child of mine."
Matt opened his eyes, finding nothing but a sea of blackness. It was impossible. Even on the darkest of nights, he'd be able to see better than this. Had he gone blind?
"You haven't been harmed, my child," the voice spoke again. The words were said kindly, as a grandfather might dote on their grandchild. And yet, the voice seemed tired and weak.
"Who are you?" Matt called out into the void.
"My name is Iapetus, and I am your patron god, my child," it answered patiently. Matt looked ahead with suspicion. He had studied all the gods of the world, waiting for his divination, but he had never heard of Iapetus. Was this the mutated sprite Hecate's priestess warned him about?
"Iapetus?"
"My name has been lost to most, and I myself am but a shadow of my former self. I was once known by my title: 'the Piercer,'" he replied. "I can sense your doubt, my child, but I assure you, I am a true god."
Matt's suspicion faded to interest. He wasn't certain of this god's identity – or indeed, his existence – but Iapetus was his patron. Arguing with him now would be stupid. Instead, figuring out what any of this meant was much more important.
"Why do you keep calling me your child? My father is Otis Hammond."
"Ah, that may be true, but you – all of you – are my children," Iapetus began, his disembodied voice filling the inky space Matt found himself in. "Through my sons – Prometheus, Epimetheus, Atlas, and Menoetius – humans were born. Their greatest strengths and their most fatal weaknesses inhabit each and every one of you. I am the god of mortality, Matthew."
Matt's jaw dropped. Why had he never heard of Iapetus before? He'd heard of Prometheus and Atlas, and even Epimetheus, but never of Iapetus.
The old god continued his story. "I'm not surprised my name didn't ring a bell. After all, much of my strength was spent eons ago, before we ever even left your plane of existence. I've never chosen any of my children before."
"Why?" the question spilled out of Matt before he could think better of it.
"I lacked the strength to do so, but now I have recovered enough to share my power with you," he explained, but the answer only brought more questions to Matt.
"Why me?"
"I have no specific reason," Iapetus said flippantly. It was the least god-like thing he had said in the entire conversation, and Matt nearly laughed at it. What a way to get chosen, right?
"Our time here is drawing to an end, Matthew. I do not know how my powers will manifest themselves within you, so I have only one piece of advice: pierce those who seek to define you by your humanity. Mortals have far more power than they give themselves credit for."
With that, the inky blackness faded, and Matt jolted upright. He had been on his mattress, a small bag of straw that had been made comfortable by the extensive amount of time he'd sat on it while reading his books. So that was the vision that Hecate's priestess had told him about. Tomorrow was supposed to be the day he went to get registered with the quarry workers. Matt almost groaned at the thought of having to make a stop at Hecate's temple, but he couldn't wipe the grin from his face. With any luck, he wouldn't have to work in the quarry at all. Iapetus wasn't Ares or Thor or Odin, but he sounded important. The Academy of Paladins, yesterday so far out of his reach, inched back to just outside his grasp.
Most of all, though, he couldn't wait to wipe the satisfied smirks his siblings had worn the previous day. Matt smiled at the thought, drifting back to sleep and dreaming of castles, ships, and faraway places. When he next awoke, the Sun had just begun to peak out above the horizon. His dad was shaking him awake.
"It's time to go, Matthew," his father said, gruff as ever. It was a far cry from the previous day. Now, Matt really did groan.
"Another five minutes?"
"No."
"What if I told you I wasn't chosen by an earth sprite," Matt mumbled, still rousing himself. His dad stepped backwards, a glare growing on his craggy features.
"What do you mean by that, son? Were you lying to your mother and I yesterday?"
Matt was well and truly awake now; the tension filling the air made it impossible to be anything but. "No, but I had a dream last night, dad! I spoke to Iapetus! He's my patron god!" he hurried to explain, but it evidently wasn't a good one.
"Iapetus? I've never heard of him. Quit your whining and your childishness and get going. We don't have the money to feed a mouth that doesn't work. Your chores and errands won't cover it anymore, son."
"But he's real! I swear!" Matt cried.
"My left buttock he is," his dad grumbled, pulling Matt out of bed and dragging him to the door. "I won't miss work because of this, Matthew. Are you coming?"
"Yes," Matthew whispered, accepting that his dad wouldn't understand. But in his heart of hearts, he knew that his dream last night had been a vision. Not even his most creative figment of imagination could have produced a conversation like that, even if it had been with a disembodied voice.
The march down to the quarry was tense at best. Neither of the Hammonds spoke as they ventured out of Mayfeld's city limits, crossing numerous early travelers and other quarry workers in the process. When the quarry loomed into view, Matt's breath caught. It was massive, bigger than anything he'd ever seen. How in the world did they move so much stone?
"I told you that you should have come and visited more often," his dad chided him as they ventured closer to one of the buildings set aside from the massive pit in the ground. Matt followed. Maybe this wouldn't be all that bad.