Ares sensed it the instant he stepped out of the box. The buzz at the nape of his neck, though faint, was unmistakable.

There was a cursed being in the vicinity.

Quite odd. Ares knew the identity of every cursed immortal in Cosmolith, so whoever this was must have sprung up within the fifty years he was away from Tartarus.

Eyes reduced to slits, his gaze roamed the busy lobby of the auction house. An obscene amount of luminescent orbs illuminated every nook and exposed Plutus’ ridiculous obsession with gold. It was almost blinding at this point.

There were more gods present than mortals, but no matter how hard he strained his senses, he couldn’t pinpoint the location of the one bearing the curse. Strange occurrences like this reinforced Ares’ loathing for Tartarus. Olympus was odd but this place was a thousand times more so behind its facade of normalcy.

Shaking off his curiosity, Ares strolled past the lobby and ignored the all-teeth-and-eager-to-help attendants who approached him. He took the walkway to his left and made his way deeper into the establishment.

He planned to be quick with this business. Purchase the thnitos elixir and find a probably unhinged mortal willing to bear the risk of taking his blood. That part should be easy.

A bitter laugh escaped as Ares massaged the bridge of his nose. “By Nyx, I’m running on the bloody palm of his hand.”

At the end of a secluded corridor, Ares halted before an iron door. Intricate runic patterns adorned the frame above it, emitting a faint amber glow.

Chuffing, Ares pushed the door open and strolled into the cluttered room. He wrinkled his nose at the abhorrent smell of old parchments mixed with dyed sealing wax.

“At least open the windows,” Ares said with a displeased huff.

The room's only occupant, a portly man with a wispy beard and large nose, looked up from what resembled an observation orb and narrowed his eyes. “Greetings?”

There was caution in his voice, probably because of the hooded robe Ares wore and how easily he rendered the high-grade lock on the door useless.

Grabbing one of the chairs by the wall, Ares dragged it over and straddled it. The colour drained from the low-deity’s face when he pushed his hood away.

“Gallam.” Ares flashed a smile. “It’s been what? Five? Six decades since we last met. I see you’ve done quite well for yourself.” He made a show of looking around. Though the room was a treasure trove, nothing snagged Ares’ interest.

Gallam surged to his feet, his large belly heaving with the hurried movement. “This servant greets the red god.”

Ares glared at Gallam's bowed head. “It’s Ares. Say it. Your lips will not burn.” It’s been centuries and he still longed for a meeting with the clod who started the tasteless rumour about his name bearing a curse.

“H-how can I—”

“Say. It.” Ares allowed a minute fraction of his essence to leak out. Items toppled off a shelf and clattered to the floor.

Gallam squeaked and bowed again, his forehead nearly touching the table. “A-Ares.”

“Quite easy, yes?” Ares extinguished his essence and went straight to business. “I need information on all training schools in Tartarus.”

Straightening, Gallam wiped his sweaty brow with the sleeve of his robe. “All the schools?”

Ares cocked his head and glared at the merchant. “Are you hard of hearing?”

“All the schools.” Gallam nodded hard enough to make his jowls vibrate. “Of course. Of course.” He hurried to the shelf to his right and began retrieving scroll canisters. Ares counted about five. There were five schools now? Fifty decades ago there were only three—another unsettling change.

I should have come out more often.

“These were last updated two days ago,” Gallam said as he set the canisters before Ares.

Ares retrieved the first. Drys Valon was inscribed on the bronze container. It was run by— “Demeter?” His brow climbed up. “And some now call her the Wicked Woman?”

Ares would have laughed if it was funny. What Poseidon did to Demeter was reason enough to go mad; perhaps this was the direct result.

Rolling the scroll and sliding it back into its canister, Ares waved at the rest. “I’ll take them all. What’s the cost?”

Greed sparkled in Gallam’s eyes as he offered Ares a tentative but ingratiating smile. “A small fee of fifteen high-grade stones.”

“Fine.” Ares looked around again and eyed a shelf holding numerous vials. “I’m also in need of your finest thnitos elixir. Three vials.”

“Ah!” Gallam beamed. “You are in great luck, red go—” He interrupted his words with a cough, but the delighted look remained in his eyes. “I mean, I just came into possession of the best thnitos elixir. The very best, I tell you.”

Ares scowled. “Cease your buttering and provide what I asked for.”

“Ahem. Apologies.” Gallam offered another bow as he settled into his seat. “I really mean it; this is the very best. Recall the elixir even Z—” He glanced around and whispered, “The very one Zeus is rumoured to loathe.”

“Blue Tears?” Ares’ frown deepened in disbelief.

Gallam nodded with a fat grin.

The last time Ares used Blue Tears was two hundred years ago. “Perhaps it’s a fake. Show me.”

“I swear it's authentic.” The merchant hurriedly retrieved a small chest from the sea of rubbish on his desk.

The chest bore an impressive network of concealing runes etched across its surface and would likely take Ares at least a day or two to crack. Was Gallam that confident of his find?

After biting his thumb, Gallam smeared his blood where a lock should be. Click.

Ares sensed its authenticity before Gallam carefully retrieved the vail. A different essence from aether wafted off the chest and drifted his way.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

“It’s… it’s real.” Ares muttered in disbelief as he stared at the swirling silver within the blue liquid. “How did you get it? Who sold it to you?”

“I also couldn’t believe it when they brought it. Hoho!” Gallam’s reddened cheeks shook as he laughed.

“I’ll take it for one premium aether stone.” An astronomical amount but Ares hardly cared.

Gallam spluttered, eyes widening as he gawked at Ares. “Of… of course. Should I package—”

A thin red mist shot from Ares’ index finger and encircled the vial. It vanished. The same happened with the scroll canisters. “I’ll send one of my men with your payment tomorrow.”

“I am most grateful to do business with you.” A worshipping grin split Gallam’s face as he clasped his puffy fingers in thanks. “Most grateful indeed.”

“Who sold you the elixir?”

Gallam averted his gaze and twiddled his thumbs. “I-it is against the ethics of our auction house to share the seller's details.”

“It's also against your ethics to sell such a product outside the auction floor. Yet, here you are,” Ares said with a bite. And he was certain Gallam would keep no record of the sale and purchase of the Blue Tears.

Gulping, Gallam clasped his trembling fingers tighter. He seemed scared. “All I can say is that I am certain they are mortal. Please, do not force me to say more. You know I am under Plutus’ house. He gets—”

“Fine.” Ares stood and walked to the door. Chasing the elixir’s origin may draw attention he did not need. He paused. “I shall add five more high-grade stones to your payment. Update the scrolls and make sure to inform me if the supplier of the Blue Tears wishes to sell again.”

Without waiting for a reply, Ares left the room. But he had barely taken two steps when he felt it again—that annoying buzz at the back of his neck.

The cursed being was close and this time Ares was certain he could track them.

***

Everyone appeared normal; from the beautiful maidens plucking at the strings of golden harps to the band of athletes laughing and drinking as they shared a conversation. The dish in front of Medusa, slices of roast duck sitting on a bed of braised vegetables, appeared normal too. But the meal wouldn’t go down well despite her earlier raging hunger.

This restaurant—the entire complex in fact—was extremely luxurious to the point of ridiculousness. The silk curtains swept aside with intricately carved golden holders, numerous majestic white marble statues, polished stone ground, and stunning servers and attendants. It was too much yet normal in an odd sense. Nothing supernatural had occurred since she entered Tartarus and she was on edge because of this.

Medusa took a final bite from her meal at the sobering thought.

When they stepped out of the box and into the lobby, Clotho had left her in Demeter’s company and went off to ‘get rich’.

Medusa had quietly followed the goddess’ lead, and they now sat in a restaurant high up in one of the buildings attached to the stone titan's left leg. They had reached it using something Clotho called a box—an elevator-like device that moved not only up and down but also sideways.

At a point, to distract herself from feeling too overwhelmed by her environment, Medusa had fed Rico with chewed-up pieces of meat. Even though he was still drowsy, he ate so well that her heart squeezed.

Demeter’s otherwise flat gaze had momentarily lit with interest at the sight of Rico. Her gaze had lingered before she asked for his name.

“Rico,” Medusa had answered.

A low ‘interesting’ was all the goddess muttered in response. She remained silent since then, choosing to eat nothing and simply stare ahead as they waited for Clotho.

Medusa had just moved to grab the cup of water next to her empty plate when she felt it.

A palpable shift in the air.

She turned in time to see a hooded broad-shouldered man saunter into the restaurant.

Unlike what Clotho said about gods concealing their divine presence while in Tartarus, this deity paid no mind to that, and everyone in the restaurant seemed to notice too.

The hum of conversation faded into absolute silence as the deity approached. Despite the casualness of his stride, there was an undeniable air of menace in his movements.

Medusa clenched her fist as her heart rate quickened. There was an odd buzzing sensation at the back of her neck and along with the sensation came a desire to flee.

I shouldn’t panic. Clotho assured me. She assured me that they would not recognise—

He suddenly paused and swept his gaze across the room.

Medusa’s panic doubled when his focus stopped on her. Then, he began making his way in her direction.

Terror squeezed Medusa’s lungs.

Stand up and flee. Move!

Her body would not obey.

Two more tables and he would be in front of her.

Medusa flinched when a hand rested on her shoulder.

“You are too skittish,” Demeter said in that low, even voice. “That would be a disadvantage at the school.”

When Demeter looked at the approaching deity, he stopped on his track. They stared at each other for a moment, seeming to communicate silently, and then, with a nod, he turned and walked away.

Medusa sagged into her seat as her heart raced heavily in her throat.

“Who was that?”

“Do not concern yourself with him,” Demeter answered and remained mute until Clotho returned moments later.

“I sold it for four thousand pure-grade stones.” There was a cheery smile on Clotho’s lips as she settled next to Medusa and gently patted sleeping Rico. “Was expecting more though.”

“With every respect, you should have let me come with you,” Demeter said with a small bow. “I would have struck a better deal.”

Clotho waved away her words. “Too risky. You may have been recognised.” Her brow bunched when she looked at Medusa. “You… you appear drained of colour. What happened?”

She cradled Medusa's face and observed her more closely. “There's terror in your eyes.”

“It’s nothing,” Demeter replied before Medusa could.

That was another problem. Only Clotho knew Medusa wasn’t a child, so she would have to bear it whenever the goddess treated her with such casual dismissal.

“I am ready to take her.” Demeter stood and looked at Medusa expectantly.

Confused, Medusa looked from Clotho to Demeter. Take me where? What was going on?

A frown marred Demeter’s smooth brow. “It seems the child is ignorant. May I explain?”

Clotho shook her head. “Leave it to me.”

Clotho faced Medusa. “Do you remember what I told you? About needing to grow stronger and the games? You have to go to a place of learning.”

You will learn in Drys Valon; the methods in the school may be harsh but Demeter is the only one I can entrust you to, Clotho said through the mind link. Your father—Venetis—is a small-scale merchant in Athens. They will assume you are an unawaken blood carrier. Never answer when they ask which god’s blood you carry.

Medusa nodded “Will I be seeing you?”

“No,” Clotho said loud enough for Demeter to hear.

You will still see me, but in a… different way. I’ll need to maintain your disguise at the start of each new month, and there are things I plan to teach you as well.

“But I trust this wicked woman to bring out the best in you,” Clotho said with a soft laugh as she looked in Demeter’s direction.

Demeter merely blinked in response.

I have no markings. They will know I’m not a blood carrier.

Child, you underestimate my abilities. You have a marking on your back.

“Oh,” Medusa said aloud. Trust was all she was running on now; she had seen enough of Clotho’s ability not to doubt her words.

You believe I can get stronger.

I know. It is a fact.

So far, the only supernatural ability Medusa had manifested was her shout, which had no effect on the ekhidna. Clotho had said that to run, she first needed to crawl first.

She offered a deep bow. “Thank you.”

Clotho’s droopy eyes softened as she smiled at Medusa. The only way you can thank me is by doing your best.

I will.

And Medusa meant it from the depth of her soul. But after she followed Demeter down the box and made her way to a waiting carriage, she felt it again—the buzz at the back of her neck. Someone was watching her.