Chapter 64
"So… you just came back?"
Euryale sat perched on a flat rock, one leg crossed over the other, looking down at Medusa. The smaller Gorgon sat on the ground before her, head bowed in a posture of submission.
"Yes, Sister."
"And you… brought a guest?" Euryale's crimson eyes, sharp and amused, flicked over to where Atalanta leaned against a tree some distance away, looking distinctly uncomfortable. The hunter pointedly stared at the treetops.
"Yes, Sister."
"You're as dull as ever," Euryale sighed, picking up a stick and poking Medusa's hooded head with it. "You spent all that time with that human and learned nothing."
"I am sorry, Sister."
"Tsk. Mount Olympus," Euryale murmured, her playful tone fading. "The gathering place of the gods. He likely cannot… no, he will not be coming back."
Medusa flinched as if struck. Her head drooped lower, almost touching her knees. "Then I will wait here. He is blessed by the Lord of the Dead. He cannot die. For a hundred years, a thousand, ten thousand… forever. I will wait here, right here, for him to return."
Nearby, Atalanta's teeth dug into her lower lip hard enough to draw a faint coppery taste.
"What a foolish little sister we have, don't you think, Stheno?" Euryale said, reaching down to cup Medusa's chin and lift her face.
"Oh, indeed," Stheno's voice came from behind the rock. She was lounging against it, gazing at the clouds with her typical languid boredom. "You've always been this way, Medusa."
"I am sorry."
"Then go find him," Euryale said, her voice softening. She pinched Medusa's cheek gently. "For a hundred years, a thousand, ten thousand, forever. Search every inch of this world. Don't stop until you have him in your sight again."
"Sister…?" Medusa's voice was a small, shocked whisper.
"Who said you could be such a troublesome little sister?" Euryale sighed again, this time with a fond exasperation. "That boy's journey has no end in sight. But you can walk beside him. All the way. Until the day he chooses to stop."
"Go," Stheno said, a rare, genuine smile touching her lips. "Our foolish, lovely little sister."
In the shadows of the trees, Atalanta silently adjusted the quiver on her back and checked the string of her bow.
She couldn't do that. She didn't have the ageless lifespan of the Gorgons. She couldn't promise an eternity of companionship. But she would never give up. She was the hunter who had chased her prey to the very gates of the Underworld. Even if the chase had no finish line, she would keep running.
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Mount Olympus
"Can I leave now?"
"I've already seen the expression I wanted to see, but sadly, I'm greedy. I want to see more," Hermes said with a cheeky grin. He plucked a whole roasted pheasant from a passing platter held by a shimmering nymph. "Want some? Might calm your nerves."
"A feast of the gods," Cyd muttered, his eye twitching as he took in the impossible scene. "Is it really appropriate for a mortal to be here?"
"Normally, absolutely not," Apollo said, appearing at his other side and clapping a hand on his shoulder. The sun god's usual radiance was dimmed by a look of profound sympathy. "But… circumstances have conspired. Even I can't help you this time, my friend. Women, huh?"
With a melodramatic sigh, Apollo produced a lyre from thin air and began to play a slow, mournful dirge that made Cyd feel like he was already marching to his own funeral.
Then Cyd saw the epicenter of the trouble, and he was sure he was.
At the center of a cleared space on the glittering floor lay a single, perfect apple. It wasn't just golden; it seemed to contain its own light, and a single phrase was etched into its skin: To the Fairest. Circling it like sharks were three figures who radiated power, beauty, and a tension so thick you could choke on it.
"This was supposed to be a wedding celebration for Thetis and Peleus," Hermes whispered, rolling his eyes. "Then that showed up. It's hilarious. Each one is a paragon of wisdom in her own way, but mention 'beauty' and they turn into squabbling nymphs."
"So?" Cyd said through gritted teeth. "They're all impossibly proud. There's no way to convince one to back down, or to convince the others to concede."
"Exactly!" Hermes said, puffing out his chest and adopting a mock-serious, Zeus-like tone. "Therefore, we need an impartial judge! A being of repute and fairness to decide who deserves the apple! Let it be… the Pure White Hero, beloved of mortals!"
Cyd's blood ran cold. His face went utterly blank.
"Oh, and that was Zeus's idea," Hermes added cheerfully, nodding toward the head of the banquet table.
Seated on a throne of lightning-wrought marble was Zeus himself. The King of the Gods had his chin propped on a fist, watching the unfolding drama with the amused detachment of a spectator at the theatre. He noticed Cyd's horrified stare and gave him a slow, benevolent, utterly terrifying smile.
Okay, he looks friendly. Cyd thought, a cold sweat breaking out on his back. But the looks from the three goddesses are… significantly less friendly.
"Greetings, Cyd. It has been too long."
The voice was calm, measured. Athena, Goddess of Wisdom and Warfare, stepped forward. Her storm-gray eyes were intense, her silver hair bound in a severe yet elegant braid. She ignored the other two goddesses completely and took Cyd's left hand in both of hers. Her touch was cool and firm.
"I have watched your journey with great interest," she continued, her thumb tracing the jade bracer on his wrist. "You have never disappointed me. Your mind is sharp, your will is strong, your heart… mostly pure."
So. You know who the correct choice is.
Hermes, having successfully lit the fuse, whistled innocently and melted into the crowd of reveling gods.
Apollo, still playing his mournful tune, took several large steps backward.
"Consider this," Athena said, her voice dropping to a low, compelling murmur meant only for him, "my final test for you. Prove your wisdom. I will grant you my blessing." She tapped the crystal on his bracer that represented her incomplete favor.
Just as Hermes had said. Wisdom herself, addled by a golden apple.
In any other circumstance, Cyd might have jumped at the chance. Athena was notorious for finding loopholes to avoid giving her blessing. This rare moment of divine vanity was a golden opportunity. Miss it, and it might never come again.
But…
"I will grant you my blessing!"
Two more pairs of hands shot out and seized Cyd's arms.
Athena's not-so-subtle hint was impossible to miss. Almost in unison, Aphrodite, Goddess of Love, and Hera, Queen of the Gods, stepped forward, their grips like steel bands.
"Choose me," Hera commanded, her voice regal and imperious.
"Pick me, sweetheart," Aphrodite cooed, her smile dazzling and her scent intoxicating. "And you'll have so much more than a blessing you'll have the most beautiful women in Greece."
Cyd shot a helpless look at Athena.
The terms are equal now. But…
Ow! Gods are strong! Stop pulling! I'm not a wishbone!
Zeus watched, that infuriatingly amused smile still in place. But beneath the joviality, Cyd caught a glimpse of something else—a deep, calculating watchfulness.
"This undignified tug-of-war serves no one," Athena announced suddenly, releasing Cyd's arm. She smoothed her peplos, her expression returning to one of cool, detached intellect. "A blessing should not be bartered for in such a crude contest."
"Hmph. You're right. It merely levels the field," Hera conceded, letting go with a disdainful sniff.
"Oh, fine," Aphrodite pouted. But instead of releasing Cyd, she pulled his arm tighter against the soft, scandalous curve of her side, sticking her tongue out at the other two. "But I'm keeping him warm!"
SHIIIIINK—THUD!
A spear the color of dried blood materialized from nowhere and embedded itself in a marble pillar inches from Aphrodite's face, severing a single, perfect curl of her golden hair. It quivered with lethal intent.
Ares, God of War, stood across the hall, having barely moved. He merely opened one eye, gave Aphrodite a look of pure, icy warning, then closed it again, as if the throw had been a mere reflex.
"Eep!" Aphrodite squeaked, instantly letting go of Cyd and crouching down, her hands flying to her head.
Athena turned her head away, but not before Cyd saw her shoulders shake with a single, silent laugh.
Serves you right.
Cyd took a slow, careful step back. The spear had been aimed with chilling precision—a warning shot. But having a weapon of war zip past your nose was a bit too stimulating. Definitely staying away from the goddess of love.
From her place beside Zeus's throne, Artemis, who had an arrow nocked and half-drawn, gave a small, satisfied nod and lowered her bow.
"What a shame," Hermes sighed from somewhere in the crowd, sounding genuinely disappointed. "It was just getting good."
"Indeed," Zeus rumbled, his eyes glinting. He and Hermes shared a look and, with perfect synchrony, reached out and gave each other a low, conspiratorial high-five.