Cora wanted to scream. She wanted to cry and throw a fit. But of course Hera and the other Gods would hear. Part of her didn’t care, and willed her own destruction.

“He’s not dead. God’s don’t die!” she whispered hoarsely.

Oreads hushed her again. Of course she was being reckless, but it needed to be said out loud. She had to convince herself. Apollo’s death in her arms had felt too real.

“It must have been a trick,” Cora whispered anyway. “He pretended to die to get away.”

“Where is the mortal?” Hera shrieked from a long ways off. “Where are the nymphs who lied to me?”

“We can’t stay here,” Oreads whispered back. “There is no one left to protect you. If their eyes don’t find us hidden among the flowers, then their trampling feet will. Hold onto the petals, and don’t let go when we start.”

“When we start? We can't go anywhere! I have to find out what happened to —”

It was not open to debate, and Cora had no say. Oreads the nymph was chanting under her breath, rhythmic and urgent. And then they were off: a sudden gust of breeze lifting the flower with them inside. Cora clung onto the soft petals with both hands. She was still pitched wildly from side to side as the flower danced through the wind. She tried to pull herself upright enough to get a view of the maelstrom of shouting Gods. Their already distant voices was swiftly swallowed up by the rising winds.

“Are you listening!" Cora shouted now, no longer afraid of being heard. "I’m not going, put me down!”

“We’re both going, thank you very much,” Oreads scolded sternly. “This is the last time I try to help a mortal. I thought when we agreed to keep your secret, you would be mindful of your own safety. Now that you broke our deal, nothing will keep us safe from Hera within her own domain. Not even if all the other Gods were on our side, which they are not.”

Cora almost had her footing again before another swell of wind pitched them higher. She lost her grip entirely and slid on the smooth red surface. Cora could only hold onto the pink and yellow inner petals of the oleander. A shower of pollen dust the size of baseballs pummeled down on her as she grabbed hold. The petals were closed above them to form a protective room within the bud, but the wind still whistled between the petals. She was helpless, alone, lost upon the wind. There was no praying to any Gods who would listen. There was clearly nothing she could do without Oreads help. Part of Cora was grateful of course, but it was buried under a soggy mountain of resentment.

“Where are you taking me?” Cora asked suspiciously.

“Where you belong, mortal.”

“I belong with Apollo.”

Oreads snickered. Cora could feel herself flushing with anger. She had to bite her tongue to stop herself from saying something truly nasty. That last bit of prudence might have saved her life, dancing upon the winds as she was. Oreads leaned this way and that, apparently steering the flower with the grip of her branchy fingers. When the Nymph saw that Cora was not responding, Oreads continued:

“An immortal God will not grow old. They will not grow sick. They will survive injuries that would be fatal to mortals. I do not know how they are slain, but if anything could do it, then perhaps it would be Poseidon’s own trident. It was not made to spear fish, but to overcome the deepest monsters of the ocean abyss. Could a God survive what such beasts could not? I do not know.”

“Poseidon wouldn’t really kill his brother.”

“How do you know? After a hundred years of this competition, I’m surprised it hasn’t happened sooner.”

“Don’t say that. Apollo is alive.”

“You are alive, little one.” Oreads’ voice had more compassion now. “The Gods never were, not like you are. Do not worry your head or your heart over them. You belong with your own people.”

“I won’t go! Put me back down in the garden somewhere. I’ll hide from Hera on my own,” Cora replied stubbornly. “I won’t go live with my aunt and forget. How could you even ask me to live a normal life now, after what I’ve seen? How could I ever be happy going to a university which knows nothing about the secrets of the world? How could I ever love a normal man, now that I have seen his grace? I would wilt and die without the Gods. Please don’t take me back, Oreads.”

The nymph sighed. She leaned her branches the other way, the flower shifting in the wind. Cora peeked through the crack between the petals. With her being small enough to fit in a flower, the jagged stone mountains were huge beyond imagining. She couldn’t make any sense of where they were, except that they were headed down.

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“You’re leaving the garden,” Cora noted.

“As I told you, to serve the Gods is to choose sides. I have sided with Poseidon over Apollo, and that was correct, because Poseidon won. I sided with a mortal over Hera, and that was a foolish thing to do. Still, I feel pity for you, helplessly caught in a such spells. If you will not return to the mortals, then there’s only one God who will show you mercy now. We cannot stay in Olympus where Hera still dwells. We must serve Poseidon, the new King of the Gods, until Zeus returns.”

“What, do you mean under the sea? Absolutely not.”

“You have too many opinions for a girl without options.”

“I will not serve the God who killed — who hurt Apollo! I will not serve the God who tried to drown me!”

“One does not hold grudges against the Gods,” Oreads scolds. “One serves, for as long as their favor allows. This world is theirs, even when you do not see them. Poseidon will welcome you after his victory. Is there anyone else in the world of which you can say the same?”

Cora considered this. She couldn’t go back to her father, not after he’d sent her away. She couldn’t go back to Konstantin after how she’d been hurt. She wouldn’t be with her aunt, or with Hera. There really was no one else in the world she could turn to. It was a sobering thought.

“What would Poseidon want form us? Are you going to become a seaweed nymph?”

“As the Gods will, so I will be. So you will be too, even if you have not yet accepted it.”

Cora bowed her head in defeat. “I’m sorry. I’ve made such a mess of things already. I understand why you stole Apollo’s sword, and do not blame you. Thank you for helping me.”

“It is the way of mortals to make a mess of things,” Oreads cooed, her voice betraying her sympathy. “Gods cannot create perfect things, and man is the proof. But only mortals can find beauty in imperfection, and for that they are more blessed than Gods. You will do well to mind your tongue in Poseidon’s palace.”

Cora could only laugh helplessly. There was resolve in her again though.

“I’m not going to be his servant. I’m going to be a spy.”

“A spy, little one?”

“I’m going to find out what really happened to Apollo. And I’m going to bring him back. Then they’ll probably have a fight or something, and Apollo will be the true King.”

“And I suppose he’ll be so grateful to you that he makes you queen?”

“No, of course not.”

Oreads laughed.

“Not because he’s grateful," Cora continued. "He’ll make me queen because he loves me.”

Oreads laughed harder now.

“Oh Hera will love that. A mortal, queen of the Gods. Hold the petals tight now, won’t you? We’re going down.”

“Down? Do you mean...?” Cora peeked out again just in time to see the wall of water rushing at them. She squealed and pulled the petals shut again. Her desperate hands patted along the smooth surface, finding no way to seal them against the approaching water. The flower would be smashed to bits upon the surface. Or fill with salt water and drown them both. Or perhaps only her, the mortal who Oreads was trying to get rid of.

Oreads only laughed as they pierced through the waves. Her branches ripped away the petals altogether, to now reveal the smooth white spirals of a seashell around them. It was almost like a little house. There were chairs carved into the side of the shell, and windows with some kind of protective film which allowed them to look out without letting the water in.

“You could have warned me!”

Cora scrambled to the window at once. She couldn’t stay mad. The underwater world was mesmerizing. A few flat faced red fish nibbled around the corner of the shell as it sank. It was so comfortable and warm in the shell, so unlike before when she was drowning. Cora closed her eyes and imagined Apollo sweeping them out of the water again. To take her shell and fling it into the air, as he did when they were on the beach together. How did she let that chance slip without doing more? She would drown again, if only he would save her. But now it was up to her to save him.

The water around them was getting dark around the shell as it sank deeper. Apollo, God of the sun, his last touch a memory. There was no one waiting out there to protect her now. What would he think, if he knew she was going to serve in the house of his rival, the one who killed him? Would he ever forgive her? Could she ever forgive herself, for the role she had already played?

Oreads began to mutter again. The shell lit up with an internal light which bled through the near-transparent white walls.

“My magic is at its end,” Oreads said. “I cannot steer or propel us now. If I am correct, then our shell is directly above Poseidon’s palace. It will still take some time to reach the ocean floor.”

Looking out the window, the light of the shell faded swiftly in the pressing water. Strange shapes swam at the edge of their light, and glowing eyes followed them as they sank. Every so often one of the deep fish would make a dash for the shell. They would bump it and retreat, curious and afraid. Cora shivered despite the warmth.

Was she making a huge mistake already? Letting herself be caught in a wave of emotions, that’s how she got tangled up in this already. Maybe her aunt wasn’t as bad as all that. Maybe a normal life could have its own, everyday sort of charm. But Cora was convinced now that she could not love again so easily. And how could she ever live even a normal life, without love to give magic to the mundane? Cora had never felt so alone.

But Cora was not alone. A great gliding manta ray slid silently over the shell, sweeping back and forth to descend with them. When the other fish strayed too close, the manta ray would surge through the water and send them dashing away. Perhaps it was drawn by the light, perhaps it had a light of its own.

Cora did not see the creature above them. But she felt that Apollo had not stopped watching her. Not in battle, when he dove before Poseidon’s trident. Not after, when his soul shattered into fading light. Gods do not die easily, and even in death, their purpose carries on. Cora felt that Apollo was in the air which carried them safely from Olympus. He was in the light which glowed from the shell. And he was in the water somewhere, protecting her even now. She would not lose faith. She would not lose hope. Because to lose hope in him would be to lose hope for herself at every finding happiness again.

“Where is Zeus going, do you think? And how long will he be away for?”

The manta ray swam closer, as though to listen.

“Long enough for a mortal life to ripen and rot. For the rest of your days, Poseidon will be King of the Gods.”

The manta ray thrashed unseen in the dark water. It didn’t like that at all.