Zeus Ring

Chapter 5: The Awakening

Ethan lay sprawled on the pavement, the cold seeping into his bones, wrapping him in a blanket of agony. The asphalt was still wet from the previous day's rain and the morning dew.

The pain he felt was all-consuming. He couldn’t move, couldn’t cry out, his world had shrunk into nothing but timeless and spaceless darkness.

The gangsters had left him to die after he received a crushing blow to the skull. A few ribs were broken and his head had a gash. He didn't know what to think. He didn't know what to do. But one thing was certain, he wouldn't survive this.

Time had lost all meaning. It was morning, yet Ethan remained trapped in that thin line between life and death.

His eyes fluttered shut, and floated on the edge of consciousness, the cold pavement beneath him draining away what little warmth remained in his battered body. He was slipping away, the world growing distant, a muffled mix of sounds and sensations was all left of him.

It was already morning but the city hadn't fully awoken. A mother jogged pass, dressed in a fitted sweatpants and petticoat. She was with a toddler that chatted away, disturbing her effort to concentrate on her exercise routine.

The boy, who was about five years old, skipped along the pavement, his small hand clasped in his mother’s. But then the boy’s laughter ceased as his eyes caught sight of Ethan. .

“Mommy, look!” the boy exclaimed, pointing toward Ethan’s motionless form. “There’s a man on the ground!”

The woman turned, her heart skipping a beat as she saw Ethan lying there, broken and bloodied.

“Good havens!" She exclaimed in shock and moved back, stumbling.

There was a pool of blood beneath him, mixed with the rain and the dirt on the road.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, fear and disbelief evident in her voice. She rushed over, pulling her son close. “Honey, come here." She said, trying to shield his eyes from the sight.

She wanted to move away but her hands trembled as she knelt beside Ethan. “Sir? Sir, can you hear me?”

Ethan didn’t respond. His body was still, his skin cold to the touch. The woman’s hands moved frantically, searching for any sign of life. “Oh my goodness. What happened to him?" She wondered loudly, looking around the quiet street.

Tentative, her fingers reached for his neck and brushed against the faint pulse. It was weak, but there. “Someone call an ambulance!” she screamed, her voice panicked. “He’s alive, but he needs help!”

The world around Ethan began to stir. Voices filled the air, voices of concern that he could barely hear. It all sounded like foggy echoes to him. He was sinking deeper into the darkness, the weight of his injuries dragging him down. It felt like he was drowning, the air growing thinner, his breaths more labored.

He tried to call out to the woman he could feel near him but his throat was so tight and no matter how much he wanted to move, his eyes wouldn't open and his muscles were paralyzed.

But then, in his abyss of pain, something brushed against his fingers—the ring on his right hand, the only thing he had left from his father. He'd always worn it since the then oversized piece slipped into his finger as a toddler.

The ring. It was special, a relic from his family. Ethan’s mind drifted back to the day his father had given it to him. It was his sixth birthday, the last one they had celebrated together. His father had placed the ring in his small hand, a warm smile on his face, and said, “This is for you, son. A symbol of our family. Keep it close, and it will protect you.”

That same year, a car crash had taken his parents away, leaving Ethan alone in the world. The ring had been his only connection to them, a lifeline he had clung to in the darkest moments of his life. It meant everything to him, especially since he could never get a hold of anything that belonged to his late parents. Richard was now in control and he never found him worthy of taking anything, only Kyle was worthy, the perfect son.

Now, as he lay on the pavement, his pain, hurt and heartbreak made him feel dead inside. He called out to his father and wanted nothing more than to meet him again and that was when the ring grew warm against his skin.

It was a warmth that spread through his hand, up his arm, and into his chest, filling him with a strange, unexplainable comfort. It was as if his father was there with him, holding him close. The warmth grew, turning into a heat that coursed through his veins, setting his nerves on fire. It was excruciating, yet there was a pulse of energy, a spark of life that blossomed as he dwelled on that warmth.

Ethan’s heartbeat faltered. He didn’t understand what was happening, but he knew one thing: he wasn’t ready to die.

The paramedics arrived, their voices filled the air as they pushed through the growing crowd. “Make way! Paramedics!" One of the onlookers yelled out.

One of the men knelt beside Ethan, assessing his injuries. But he noticed that Ethan was holding onto his ringed finger even in delirium. When he tried to pry the ring from Ethan’s hand, he found that his grip was surprisingly strong, even in his weakened state.

“What the…?” the paramedic muttered, confusion etched on his face as he struggled to free the ring.

But Ethan wouldn’t let go. “I don't know what that is but he won't let go." He said. His teammate shrugged, they didn’t know what to make of it, but there was no time to wonder. They had to get him to the hospital, and fast.

As they prepared to lift him onto the stretcher, the sound of screeching tyres filled the air.

The paramedics paused, distracted as a fleet of sleek luxury vehicles rounded the corner, braking right in front of the scene.

The cars pulled up to the curb, and the crowd parted instinctively, stepping back as the doors opened.

An elderly man dressed in all black attire stepped out of the vehicle.

The last thing Ethan heard before the void claimed him was a voice, low and commanding, “We’ve got him.”

And then, there was nothing.