I have never encountered a more air-brained child in all my life.

Lela tucked her hair behind her ear as she considered what she wrote. She shook her head. It would be foolish to use biased words in her report to Athena. She swiped her thumb over the small stone slab, erasing what she had written with aether.

Lela took another wary glance around the dense mangrove. The morning breeze, rustling leaves, call of birds and chirps of insects—nothing amiss. Using blend had merged her with her surroundings, but she had done well to first fly deep into the bogs before transforming to her human form.

“…avoid Phorcydes as best as you can. She may look and act like a hapless crone, but when she bites, she bites to kill.”

Shivering at the memory of Athena’s warning, Lela brought the needle to stone and tried again.

The eighteenth day of the month of the Peacock.

Medusa still does nothing out of the ordinary. Most days are spent at the pond where she catches dragonflies and frogs. Every evening, she prays at a makeshift shrine. There are no signs of the child manipulating aether yet.

Pausing again, Lela swung a long leg over the buttonwood branch she sat on and wondered if she should add what she overheard Phorcydes say some days back.

Something is not right, Galene. The thousand-year-old ekhidna in the southern bogs disappeared. Are you certain you did not encounter her?

Lela shook her head. Adding details she couldn’t explain may gain nothing but a summon and grilling. Such grilling may, in turn, expose her subtle resistance to the goddess.

“Freedom,” Lela muttered as she drew in a lungful of thick loamy air and shut her eyes. What would it feel like to be free from the suffocating presence of deities? It was a strange thought, like thinking of the sky without the sky, yet she longed for it.

Like priestesses, owls do not marry, but they are luckier because the goddess does not demand that they remain eternal virgins. Brow twisting, Lela touched her belly as she recalled the ritual she partook in at only eleven. Such an ignorant fool. There was always a price with benevolent Athena.

The mark at the back of Lela’s neck itched like a warning, reminding her to shun such rebellious thoughts. Sighing, she was about to continue her report when a terrifying awareness arrested her senses.

I've been spotted.

Heart sinking to the floor of her belly, Lela dared to glance down.

Phorcydes stared up at her. Like a weathered ghost hunched beneath the folds of her green robe, she stood on the swampy still water, watching and waiting.

Surely, this isn't how I die. Please, no.

Phorcydes’ offered a genial wave and beckoned to her.

When Lela hesitated, the goddess’ shadow warped into a clawed hand, slithered up the tree and snatched her.

A woozy moment later, Lela slammed against grassy ground. Groaning, she remained locked in position as the grip of the large shadow hand firmly held her in place.

Through the curtain of her white hair, Lela observed she was in the back garden of the deity’s home. How did she get here so fast?

“Like a gift falling from the sky,” Phorcydes said with a delighted grin before her focus shifted to what lay at Lela’s feet.

Her joints popped as she bent and retrieved the stone slab with an agility that didn’t match her aged appearance. “You Owls and horrendous writing,” she tutted as she squinted at its content.

She would surely kill me if she reads it.

And Lela could only watch in helpless panic.

As Phorcydes' read the slate, her expression shifted from passive to thunderous. “You… you dare spy on my niece?” She closed her fist over the slate and crushed it to dust.

Lela struggled, gasping for the faintest trace of aether to push her plea past her lips.

Phorcydes creaked upright and smacked her cane against her palm like a baton. “Today, you shall learn.”

By some miracle, Lela managed to draw a line of aether and wheeze past frozen lips, “I beg for your forgiveness. I’ll do anything.” Tears drained into the grass. “Spare my life. Please.”

“Eesh!” The goddess’ fierce glower vanished as she lowered her staff. “Now you’ve become pitiful. Sit up.” She gestured with a note of annoyance.

The hand moved Lela to her knees.

Phorcydes observed her with a searching gaze. Though the goddess’ sharp green eyes seemed to cut into Lela’s soul, it did not trigger the same terror she felt when Athena glanced her way.

Maybe Athena realised Lela's rebellious thoughts and sent her to her death with this assignment. Yes, this could all be the goddess’ plan from the start. She must have known Phorcydes would discover and kill her.

She sees it all. I am nothing. Dead. Finished. Just like Goiti.

Freed from her locked position, Lela's body sagged.

“I deeply, deeply apologise for spying on you,” Her voice trembled. “If I was better informed, I would have—”

“You would have what?” Phorcydes asked with a raised grey brow. “Disobeyed Athena? Go on. Speak openly. I appreciate honesty.”

Squeezing her fists on her lap, Lela shook her head. “I’m helpless and have nothing to say.”

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

“Of course, you are helpless and have nothing to say.” The goddess no longer glared, instead, she looked pained. “What happened to Phorcys? He cares too much for his daughter to send her to the bogs. I received a letter from him this morning. It made little sense. Tell me all you know.”

Lela perked up. This she could do. The words poured out with a rush. “Phorcys killed the Owl watching him. When I arrived at the scene, he had already paid a visit. Athena sent me to watch your niece.”

Phorcydes’ face fell as if she were about to weep, but she collected herself almost immediately. “So that is how it is.” She released a bleak laugh and turned away. “Ahhh… always one step ahead.”

Could Lela hope? Phorcydes may spare her life. But even if she did, Athena would never take a failure back. Or Lela could pretend Phorcydes never discovered her. Yes, she could do that.

Lela’s shoulders drooped. It was impossible to hide such a big lie from the goddess. Athena may have sent another Owl. Sweat misted her brow as she glanced about. The surrounding trees appeared ominous. Perhaps another Owl was watching. Was this what it felt like to be watched? What a hypocrite. I hate my life, but I don’t want to die.

“I will not kill you.”

Sobbing in relief, Lela clasped her hands. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I will not—”

“Before you flood my garden with your easy tears, listen.” The crone peered at Lela with eyes that suddenly appeared a touch senile. “You must earn.”

Earn? Misgiving dampened Lela’s relief.

“It so happens that I’m in need of a contender.” The goddess smiled, exposing ancient dentition. “Say, have you heard of the Fate of Heroes?”

***

“No!” Medusa backed away from the hulking boy. Her panic spiked when she slammed into one of the many trees in the massive conservatory.

Instead of glass, a domed semi-transparent rippling shield formed a high roof over the bursting garden, and at its centre was a large tree. Demeter stood before it, a silver scrapper in one hand and a ceramic bowl in the other.

“I cannot do what you ask.” Sensing her distressed state, Rico growled in her arms, his fur bristling as he bared small teeth at the boy.

He looked about sixteen or seventeen, and Medusa couldn’t tell if he was a blood-carrier or an ant deity. He remained still, dry gaze fixed on her as he waited. And he would wait forever because she’d never hand over Rico.

Ahead, a serene Demeter continued scraping thin lines of tree bark into the bowl. To her left was a wide table holding a spread of dried leaves and roots.

“Give me the beast,” the boy repeated. He spoke quietly as if he did not wish to disrupt Demeter’s concentration.

“Please,” Medusa begged. “Please, let me keep him.”

“Do you know what awaits you beyond those doors?” Demeter finally spoke as she placed the bowl on the table.

When Medusa remained quiet, the goddess stared at her briefly before approaching. The only sign showing her displeasure was the way she pressed her lips in a hard line, otherwise, her gaze remained indifferent.

Demeter had been mostly silent since they departed the auction house. While they journeyed through three teleportation doors, the last of which led to her domain, she said nothing. The boy had been waiting when they arrived and after speaking to Demeter in a hushed voice, he asked to collect Rico.

“All the…” Demeter paused, her eyes shifting to the side before her focus slid back to Medusa. “All the blood carriers under my training are permitted to keep only what they earn. But because the Moirai asked me to, I permitted the thing around your neck.” She gave Medusa’s necklace a pointed look.

Medusa resisted the urge to clutch the jewellery. Both Rico and her necklace were gifts from Phorcys. Losing either would be… no.

“Appreciate my magnanimity,” Demeter said in an even dismissive voice. “Be compliant.”

When Medusa stubbornly held on to Rico, Demeter sighed. The full sleeves of her black garment swished as she sharply waved a hand.

Roots burst through the ground, and before Medusa could react, they coiled around her arms and jerked them apart while a third one snatched Rico and pulled him into the earth.

It happened so fast that Medusa could only blink at the spot in disbelief.

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?” Medusa yelled in English. The air around her pulsed against her ears as her vision darkened at the corners. The horror of suddenly losing Rico blazed through her senses and razed rational reasoning to ashes.

“Let me go!” She jerked her arms, ignoring her ripping flesh. “Bring him back. Bring him back NOW.” Her head grew hot with uncontrolled fury, each word coming out in a mixture of languages she had learned over her many lives.

She distinctly heard rather than felt the bones of her arm breaking as she pulled against the iron grip of the roots. “Bring him out! You psychopath. Evil, the lot of you. Vile soulless beings.” Her tears felt like magma; they burned as they slid down her cheeks.

Demeter observed her like she was some strange rampaging animal in a zoo. Then in a blink, she was before Medusa’s face, red-rimmed eyes reduced to slits. “What is this language you speak?”

“I will kill you,” Medusa spat in Greek as her eyes burned with more tears. “If Rico dies, I will kill you. I swear on my life.”

“Kill me? Nestor, did you hear that?” Demeter simpered dryly.

Nestor acknowledged her question with a nod.

Now that Demeter was this close, Medusa noticed how dead the goddess’ eyes appeared. No life, just a pair of eyes.

“I was wondering why the Moirai brought you to me. Despite your hubris, you seem to have some promise. Look how badly you damaged your body,” she said in a monotone.

“Bring him out,” Medusa whispered. Maybe Rico had already suffocated. Maybe he was dead—NO. She stumped the thought. “Please… I beg you.” Rage and pride seeped out; only desperation remained. “Please, Don’t let him die.”

Memories of her dog returned—how she had also been helpless, unable to protect what was hers. Even Antonii. Always powerless.

The pain from her injuries registered all at once. Groaning, Medusa grew faint; the only things keeping her upright were the roots. Her arms were on fire, and blood dripped down her fingers from the tear her bone stuck through.

Now sober, Medusa chided herself. I have only one body; look what I've done to it. This would take months to heal. I was foolish. But Rico. Her eyes stung.

“Your water cat will likely die in a month’s time,” Demeter said with grating nonchalance. A vial appeared in her hand.

“I respect the Moirai too much to leave you in this state.” Grabbing Medusa’s jaw, she forced her mouth open.

Though it tasted awfully like blended spinach and salt, the relief Medusa felt was instant.

Straightening, the goddess turned. “Take her away, Nestor. I need to focus.”

When the roots fell away, Medusa straightened and blinked in awe as the bruises, flayed flesh and broken bones repaired itself. Then her focus shifted to the spot Rico had vanished.

One month.

“Why?”

The goddess paused. “Do you know what this place is?”

“I know this is Tartarus.”

“Do you?” The air around the goddess sharpened as she turned around. Though her expression remained placid, Medusa sensed rather than saw her rising rage. “Or were you fooled by the lie of Plutus?”

As Demeter’s voice rose, so did the plants around her. Tree branches lengthened, and roots creaked as they pushed through the earth. There was also the subtle smell of cut grass. “Do well to suppress your irritating boldness, mortal; I no longer find it amusing.”

It took every ounce of mental will to hold the goddess’ stare. The pressure in the air was so heavy that breathing was a painful struggle. But she had to say it. “I… I will not let Rico die.”

Demeter flashed a smile that surprisingly added a touch of life to her dead eyes. “By all means, try.” Shifting her focus to Nestor, her voice returned to its monotone. “After her entry trial—no matter the score—draft the brat to the Dog House.”