Sailing outside the empty city’s safe harbor had a steep learning curve. Nothing that wasn’t surmountable, but still. It didn’t quite measure up to her expectations.

Sure, Alice had plotted out a course a week or so prior, but it was one thing to try and chart a path using fuzzy memories of the Alaskan coastline and entirely another thing to actually follow the course. Eventually, she’d decided to just keep the coast to her left and had followed that advice when it came time to sail away from fake-Anchorage.

It’d take a while to get around the massive peninsula that Anchorage had rested on; that is, if the peninsula hadn’t also changed like the city had.

Alice sighed, leaning back against the back of the hull, next to the rudder.

She’d also discovered that sailing was kinda boring.

Only a few hours at sea and she was already over it. She even pulled on her roots just to have something to do. She’d been given divine blood a total of six times so far, and each additional measure took more and more time to become less painful and integrate fully into her body. Keeping her roots activated sped up the process, but it was a process which only became slower the further she advanced. It was still something she could do on the boat. Well, besides the occasional nudge on the rudder.

And she’d made good progress with her divine blood.

It even showed in her soul-space. The roots had formed a visible lattice over the bones and sinew making up the place’s walls, last time she’d checked. The seed representing her soul had sprouted even further as well, fed by the transmuted energy Zeus funneled into her. It had gone from a leafy stalk to a veritable little sapling very quickly, and would keep getting larger. Eventually, her soul would look like a tree, which really seemed in theme. Actual roots had even started sprouting from the bottom of her soul.

The pain from activating her divine roots helped keep her focused. Sailing was boring, yeah, but that didn’t mean she could drift off. Literally and figuratively. Alice still needed to make occasional adjustments to her heading and keep an eye out for anything dangerous. She wasn’t ruling out armored orcas as a potential danger, not to mention that some of the birds she’d seen over the weeks had looked positively lethal.

She hadn’t wanted to know how the eagles dealt with spontaneous mutations and after watching one dive-bomb the water before making off with a very, very large fish she didn’t really care to see a new and improved eagle up close. Frankly, she just hoped human wasn’t on the menu. (Knowing her luck, it absolutely was.)

She kept a close eye on the coastline as well. That armored bear had been capable of belching fire; who knew what other animals were now capable of. Spike slinging hedgehogs? Mountain goats with missile horns? Who knows!

Then again, there were so many great-trees along the coast that seeing deeply into the forest was impossible, even with root-enhanced vision. She could count the leaves on a nearby great-tree but couldn’t see through its trunk, unfortunately. What she could see still left her reeling. Her vision was so much sharper while using her roots it wasn’t even funny. Some of the things she saw with her new and improved vision also weren’t funny. Like the grapefruit-sized acorns growing up in the great-tree branches.

They were going to fall when autumn came around, and Alice shuddered to think about how large they’d be by that point. Whatever demented mind had orchestrated the Alaskan changes needed to find a psychiatrist for their sadistic tendencies. The squirrels had also been scaled up to size from what little she could see of them from her boat. They’d gotten really sneaky, blended in with the trees quite nicely. Probably to avoid getting snatched by giant eagles.

Though, they might have gotten into a bit of a mutation arms race. Sure, the eagles were big and scary; basically death on wings—but Alice didn’t think squirrels normally had such large, hooked claws either. Something about the brief flashes she’d caught of their tails looked strange as well.

It made her glad to be mostly safe on the water. She kept her pistol at the ready just in case.

Still, nothing jumped at the boat and the day passed uneventfully. She’d even been able to eat a light lunch while still sailing. There were only a couple of weeks worth of food in the storage compartments however, so it’d need to be supplemented at some point.

Later, though. Alice wanted to enjoy the first day of sailing as much as possible.

So, of course Zeus chose that moment to materialize on the bow of her ship.

“You know, this kind of reminds me of that Jason guy,” he commented, lazily lying back.

“Wasn’t he a son of yours or something?” Alice asked, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. Forgetting familial obligations was a bit of a sore spot for her.

“No. He was mortal, or near enough that it didn’t matter. It was an odd thing, to see someone so…mundane championing such a quest full of heroes and demigods. Even Heracles followed his word, the word of someone who was all too human.”

“How did that story go, anyway?” Alice asked, eager for something to distract from the miles of shoreline to her left. She could steer the ship and listen at the same time, no problem.

“Hmm. Well, it started with two brothers. One was king, and the other wanted to be. Pelias overthrew King Aeson and slew his line but spared his brother. Aeson had a son who survived; Jason, who fled the city. When he returned years later and demanded the throne which was his by birthright, Pelias told him he’d hand over the crown if Jason traded it for the Golden Fleece. A quest which was supposed to be impossible.

“Jason agreed to it. He gathered the most famous names of the time, and commandeered the ship Argo with the blessings of my Hera. Their first stop was an island of women. The Argonauts, as they came to be called, fathered a new culture there. Jason lay with their queen. Heracles was the one who spurred them away from the island and they next landed among the Doliones who hosted them gratefully. Later, they were raided by six armed giants and mistakenly attacked by the same Doliones who had afforded them guest rites. That kingdom ceased to exist afterwards.

“Then the Argonauts came across Phineus of Salmydessus, seer in Thrace. He was a…contemptible man, who’d spoken of a world without gods. Where mortals ruled themselves with only reason to aid them. He was punished for his hubris. We granted him longevity without end so that he might see the world he’s prophesied, then took his sight. He had been a wanderer, so we took his feet. He had enjoyed the fruits of his own labor, and so we took his food. With nothing left, he was punished.

“Jason slew the harpies we sent to steal Phineus’s food, allowing him fruit once more. In turn, Phineus told Jason how to pass the Symplegades. The clashing rocks. The Argonauts safely passed through them and arrived in Colchis. The Golden Fleece was there, owned by King Aeetes. He’d only give it up if Jason completed three tasks. Plow a field using the Khalkotauroi, grow a crop of teeth, and finally overcome the dragon guarding the fleece. Jason accomplished all three and married Medea.

“They returned to Lemnos and Medea killed Jason’s uncle, securing him the throne. The end,” Zeus concluded.

It…wasn’t really the same story she’d heard through cultural osmosis.

“Wait, didn’t Jason die alone and unloved? And what happened to Phineus after the Argonauts left?”

Zeus sighed, like her questions were a great burden.

“Yes, Jason did technically die alone, under the rotting hull of his beloved Argo, still reliving better days. And Phineus…well, we just killed him. No use keeping around someone like that any longer, especially if mortal heroes would just free him from his torment again.”

“Really? You just killed him like that?” Alice asked, somewhat…well, not really shocked, but certainly a bit disturbed.

Zeus shrugged. “He doubted the gods. Frankly, allowing him to live was a great mercy. Once it became clear that the intended punishment wouldn’t stick, we rescinded that mercy.”

“But he was right! A world without gods? That’s exactly what happened. And you punished him for telling the truth?”

“A dangerous truth. And one that we thought incorrect. And besides! The gods have returned now, and with us our blessings have followed. In the end, we were right, and he was not.”

“That shouldn’t give you leave to simply dispose of a person! Dangerous truths are the ones that need hearing the most, they shouldn’t be relegated to a footnote in history for having spoken it!”

“Oh, spare me the morality drivel. We are gods! Laws unto ourselves! Unchanging pillars of support for the mortal world. Without our direction, nothing the quicklings accomplished would have happened, I guarantee it! We were civilization! I watched as mankind went from picking berries and living in huts to building Athens! You would still be foraging and wearing the skins of the previous hunt had we not been there to take the first steps for you.”

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Alice scowled, well aware she was already wearing Athabaskan-styled skins instead of the modern clothes she’d packed away with her supplies.

“I am pretty sure most stories about the gods highlighted how your presence made things worse. For one, Troy. How long would it have lasted without your oh-so benevolent ‘guidance’? You took a step for mankind there, no doubt about it. And what did it lead to, Zeus? How was Troy worth the wrath of the gods?”

Zeus gritted his teeth, but said nothing of the ancient city. It might as well have been a damning indictment on his position.

“Mankind has always needed gods,” he claimed instead, pivoting the conversation away from Troy. “Even without our direct guiding hand, did you not worship? Gods inspire mankind to be greater than the dirt from which they rose.”

“Never too great. Isn’t that right? When we rise too high, burn too brightly, what happens? Did Icarus fall for flying too close to the sun or because Apollo saw his wings and freedom and grew jealous? What of Arachne? She out-wove Athena, and what was her reward? How many heroes were punished because of their accomplishments, because they dared to brush the dirt off their legs, to prove to the gods that mortal or no, they are special. I think they scared you. Scared the gods. How high would we have reached without the gods cutting us back down?” Alice asked, burning the sight of Zeus’s anger into her memories. The wind had picked up around them.

“Watch your tone, vessel. We did not suffer questions like the ones you are asking back when…”

“...the gods had influence?” Alice cut him off, speaking clearly. She was angry, yeah. Pissed. But she didn’t let any of that rage show. It would be counterproductive, and she’d gotten used to hiding it back in Anchorage. An angry woman was easier to dismiss than a cold one.

“You are scrambling to gain a toehold in the modern world,” she continued. “And the old ways will not work anymore. We have seen the heights attainable by man, and know that there is no limit. The world that exists today will continue onward with or without gods. There is no stopping progress anymore. Doubtlessly, your pantheon is discovering that fact at this very moment.”

Dark clouds had covered the sky above, rumbling ominously. Without taking her eyes off Zeus, she lowered the ship’s mast, preventing the wind from battering them around. The waves had started getting bigger, and some of the ocean spray was making it into the boat.

“You were not this defiant earlier. Not when I first made you my vessel, and not in the city,” Zeus accused. He practically glowed in the dimly lit sky.

“My fist met your face that first day, after you’d made me your vessel,” Alice wryly pointed out. “And we have left the city. Ventured into unknown waters and hostile lands. I will have to set my will against any number of creatures in the forest. Why should I not add you to their numbers?”

“I see. You would be willing to wage war against me? The one granting you your strength? You have certainly become arrogant as of late.”

Arrogance? No. That had been changed to Hubris in her soul-self, but the outward expression of both traits really did look similar. She needed to calm down. Deescalate. The argument had become counterproductive and Alice didn’t want Zeus looking too closely into the changes she’d initiated.

“We’re too similar to get along perfectly,” Alice quipped. “Too…proud.” Or Dignified, she silently thought. “I am proud of my civilization, of mankind and its thousands of years of progress. I would like to not see it maligned by the suggestion that none of it came from our own efforts.”

The sky brightened a little, the cloud cover thinning.

“That is…understandable,” Zeus squeezed out. “There is much to be proud of, even if I have seen little of this modern world. I look forward to…seeing it for myself once we reach civilization.”

Was he also trying to deescalate? Zeus?

Regardless, Alice took the olive branch that was offered, nodding. “I look forward to showing you. Hopefully I can change your mind about us mortals.”

“You won’t,” Zeus stated. And with that, the conversation died again.

The clouds finished dispersing, revealing the clear Alaskan skies once more. The waves also died down. Alice sighed while grabbing a cup to bail out what water had made it into the boat. Zeus took that as his cue to make himself scarce.

She thought about the argument while tossing cupfuls of water into the ocean.

Zeus was right.

Not about the mortal stuff—he was clearly wrong about that part of the argument. No, about her getting more…confrontational. While his comments would have made her angry two weeks ago, she also wouldn’t have reacted outwardly. Her punching him had been a special case, driven by her anger, confusion, and the fact that he’d just taken up unwanted residence in her own soul-space. Otherwise, Alice would have simply…deflected. She wouldn’t have risen to his words, wouldn’t have tried battering him with logic.

Survival at all costs, she thought. It was a strategy suited to her mentality. Alice preferred avoiding conflict, to take strength from whatever corner she could find. Was she already starting to stray from that line of thinking, already changed by the energy tinting the color of her soul?

Zeus held the key to her divine blood, to the roots which had already proven so helpful just when learning archery and how to wield a spear. Her roots would prove vital to her survival, and she’d thought that antagonizing Zeus wasn’t worth possibly losing access to them, or cluing him into her own plans.

Riling him up before she had the chance to exorcise the bastard hadn’t been a part of said plans. And it was hard to tell if her outburst had been the result of the changes taking place at deepest levels of her soul or if his comments had simply pissed her off that much. It was probably a combination of both.

And despite the argument having ended, she still had anger to burn off. Alice eagerly pulled on her roots and settled in to start rowing her ship, trusting in the twin burns of exercise and divine blood to distract her from the unsettling things Zeus had, perhaps unwittingly, revealed.

The gods had returned, but they were not on the same side as humanity.

They never had been.

She rowed for the rest of the day, and ended up shucking off the outer summer parka, leaving her in a deerskin dress.

Ironically, getting lost in the middle of Alaska had left her closer than ever to her father’s culture. Bad relationships and broken trust had left that side of her family somewhat neglected over the years and yet there she was, wearing stuff that could have come from her paternal ancestors and represented an important part of their culture. She’d even put on moccasins in a fit of whimsy, despite having technically superior hiking boots in the boat’s storage compartments. Zeus’s comments about the gods advancing mankind past the point of wearing the skin of their hunts and scavenging for berries might have been infuriating and infantilizing towards the efforts of her own ancestors, but doing the same didn’t leave her feeling any lesser for it. There was a certain measure of strength that came from following in the footsteps of past generations, of emulating them and their drive for survival.

Alice didn’t think the gods really understood the idea of survival at all costs. Zeus almost certainly knew about said desires, but did he really understand them?

The sun eventually started a slow, ponderous fall towards the horizon and Alice took that as the signal to stop for the day. She angled the boat at the first sandy stretch of shoreline she could find and beached it, hopping out and pulling it up out of the water and safe from the high-tide marks. Normally, she’d be completely incapable of dragging the entire boat any sort of distance. It was too heavy. Divine blood and her roots lent Alice enough strength to handle it.

Boat secure, Alice set up her tent in its shadow and went out to gather firewood. Soon enough, she had a merry blaze going, lighting up the beach as the sun went down.

Sometime in the empty city, August had appeared. It wasn’t surprising, per say. She’d set out for her camping trip in late July and time hadn’t exactly stayed still. It did herald the turning of the sun, however. For a good chunk of summer, the sky never truly experienced dark. The sun set for some hours during the deepest part of the night, just barely dipping below the horizon line, but the sky itself remained lit.

August marked the turn around point, when day and night started equaling out, and then balancing more towards night. It meant that true twilight made an appearance during the night, and you could see the stars again for the first time since April or May.

In the empty city, they were just faint pinpricks of light, still, and Alice only ever made out the brightest stars. She’d tried not to pay too much attention to them, afraid of what they’d tell her.

Presently, however, the sun had gone down and she was laying beside the fire, belly full of food. The journey had started, and it was time to confront that particular fear. Whatever answer lay in the stars wouldn’t change anything about the journey itself; she was going to the south-east no matter what.

Alice was just…afraid that the stars might have changed. That she really had slipped into some other world by accident. Everything else had changed, and she’d tried not to think about the possibility when finding the empty city where Anchorage had been. She didn’t think she had—she clearly remembered the way that the landscape seemingly changed around her on a daily basis. Hell, that first day she’d followed a familiar river for an hour or two and retraced her steps to find a lake where none had previously existed. Like something had started sculpting the land around her rather than plucking her off of Earth and away to someplace unknown. She’d also like to think she’d notice stepping through any looking-glasses.

Still, the fear remained, and it was easier to ignore the possibility when compared to confronting it.

So she watched the night sky, as the stars started appearing from the velvet twilight. Confronting her little fear.

Alice smiled when Ursa major and minor both twinkled from the north. Aquarius and Sagittarius stretched across the southern sky. Pegasus to the east and Hercules to the west. She bathed in the light of known stars.

She remembered her mother teaching her the stars using the Greek legends—one of the only reasons she remembered both the position of the constellations and the legends themselves.

It was a familiar sky hanging overhead.

She was still on Earth.

She still had fuck-all in answers about whatever had happened to it, however.