Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Like most great tragedies, it all started with a simple wager.

‘Are you normally this insane, or is there something particular this night?’

‘Face it trouble,’ Eris said, leaning back on the rug with a cocksure grin, ‘You are nothing without those fancy boons your family gives you.’

Melinoë stared at her friend, a look of sheer confusion and disbelief on her face. The pair were curled up against each other, tucked away into a shaded corner of the Crossroads, the sounds of gentle music and the bubbling river filling the night air.

Mel blinked repeatedly, eyes searching Eris’s face for any sign of a joke, any hint towards a punchline. She received no such indication. She pushed herself upright slowly, ‘Let me be clear on what you are asking… You want me, to cross the Thessaly Strait…’

‘Yep,’ Eris said, pulling out another bar of Cyclops Jerky.

‘Ascend the entire of Mount Olympus…’

Mmmph, Eris nodded, mouth full.

‘Then defeat the Father of All Monsters Typhon, without any boons or assistance?’

Eris swallowed the mouthful of questionable meat, ‘No assistance from the Olympians only, I’m not crazy. I’ll let you have your ghost twink’s little gadgets.’

‘Please stop calling Icarus that.’

‘I will, when he stops being a twink and/or a ghost. Do we have a deal babe?’ Eris extended a hand out to shake, still greasy with jerky oil.

Mel shook her head, her voice growing incredulous, ‘Wait, no, hang on. Why would I ever agree to this impossible task? What, for your approval? You regularly shoot me in the face every night.’

‘Well, not just mine, Nemmie also thinks you aren’t hot shit without the Gods, and she has told you to your face.’

Mel grimanced, Eris was right about that. Nemesis had not been subtle about her disdain for the Olympians blessings. Most nights the comments came across as friendly ribbing, as a way to get under each others skin. But sometimes… Sometimes Mel wondered if her lover also thought less of her.

‘PLUS!’ Eris leapt to her feet, black wings flicking out to gyro her upright. Mel flinched back at the sudden flurry, black feathers fluttering down into her hair, ‘I will make a bet with you!’

‘A wager?’ Mel glanced around the corner of the Courtyards, the sum total of Eris’s worldly possessions; a mountain of jerky and rubbish. ‘What could you possible offer me?’

Eris cocked a hip, tapping her chin as she pretended to think. She snapped her fingers, ‘Me!’

Mel fixed her with a look. ‘Eris, we just had sex like twenty minutes ago.’

Eris scoffed, waving her hand dismissively, ‘Not that, silly. I mean Me, on the other side of the Strait.’ She raised her hand up, as if promising a solemn vow; a pose that was undercut slightly by the jerky crumbs on her tunic. She put on a voice, her best imitation of Lord Zeus’s stately tone.  ‘If you succeed in my tasks, I will bestow upon you a boon of amnesty.’

Mel’s eyebrows shot up, her green and red eyes widening. ‘Wait, you mean you will stop trying to attack me when I journey to Mount Olympus?’

Eris nodded, wings preening with pride at her idea, ‘Yep! Full amnesty, Trouble. I won’t even try to stop you before hand. That’s how much I think you can’t do it.’

The possibilities swirled within Mel’s mind. Her fight with Eris had grown routine, the stand off on the moonlit beach a simple part of her trek up the mountain; but the possibility of avoiding it, of not facing the barrel of the Rail every time she stepped off the boats… The idea was a tempting one. An incredibly tempting one.

‘How am I to know you would keep this vow? You could still turn up anyway. And what do you get if I lose?’ Part of her could not believe she was even considering this task, the idea of ascending one of the most dangerous places on earth by herself was a daunting task. And yet…

‘I’ll swear before Heccie and the Moon, I’ll swear whatever witchy shit you want me to.’ Eris placed a hand over her heart, leaning down towards Mel, ‘As for what I get in return…’ she got close to Mel’s ear, whispering quietly. Mel jerked back, staring at Eris in stunned silence.

‘By the Gods Eris, that could start another war,’ she said after a second, eyes wide with shock.

‘I know right?! It would be so much fun!’ Eris laughed, hovering slightly as her wings beat in excitement. ‘Come oooooon trouble, you know you want to! Don’tcha want to prove it to me and old Nemmie? Prove you don’t need the Gods?’

The worst part was, Eris was right. Mel did want to prove herself. Prove that she did not need her family, that she could accomplish great things underneath her own power. That her drive to connect with her family was out of love, not out of some need for power.

‘You swear not to mess with me outside of the Beach? And I can keep my Arcana?’ Mel asked, after considering ‘Yep! Any weapon too, and you can keep your little frog guy too.’

‘And only not allowed to accept boons from the Olympians? Anyone else is fair game?’

‘Yep, even the scary poison lady in the city, whats-her-face, Lady Madden.’

‘And you’ll swear this unbreakable vow before Selene?’

‘Yep, she can also keep an eye on you, make sure you don’t cheat!’ Eris stuck her hand out again, eye brow raised expectantly. It was the most still Mel had ever seen her be. After a moment staring at her friend/partner/rival, Mel let out a sigh - cursed her own warped sense of pride - and took Eris’s hand.

‘It is agreed.’

I have witnessed this vow. The ethereal song voice of the Goddess of the Moon echoed through their corner of the clearing, the Silver Sister officiating their pact this night. Eris ignored the voice, instead pumping Mel’s hand enthusiastically. She cackled wildly, wings fluttering with joy.

‘I can’t wait to see you out there! Oh, this is going to be so much fun!’ She grabbed the Adamant Rail that was leaning off to the side, never far from her grasp. ‘I’ll see you soon Trouble!’ she said, bracing to leap into the sky.

‘Wait Eris,’ Mel gripped her wrist, staying her flight.

Eris looked down at her, cocksure grin back on her face. ‘Aww, giving up already?’

‘No,’ Mel said, a small smile creeping onto her face. ‘You cannot leave yet.’

Eris cocked her head, confusion flickering in her eyes.

Mel’s eyes slide down to the weapon in Eris’s grasp, the titan-slaying power of the Adamant Rail.

‘You did agree; any weapon…’

Eris’s face fell as the realisation hit her, her face falling. Fruitless whines and bargains were already bubbling to her lips, as the pair heard the melodic chuckle of Selene’s laughter drift down from the Moon.

Lord Zeus, Patriarch of the Gods of Mount Olympus, was rather bored.

He sat in the stately garden of his palace, the eternal dawn filtering through the trees to stretch languidly across the marble floor. Next to him, his devoted wife Hera observed the world below, eyes clouded as she listened to the prayers and devotions of those who pledged to her. Times like this - calamity unfolding, dead rising, unfettered war - they were a difficult time for the Queen of Olympus. It was hard to exchange vows and start a family when shamblers were tearing people to shreds.

But still. The great beast Typhon climbed up the side of the mountain, bearing down on the Palace hidden amongst the clouds. And while Zeus was happy for the reprieve, he had to admit that the siege of Olympus has been a rather stimulating, exciting to be wielding thunder and fury again like the old days. He had began to look forward to when the young princess of the Underworld would climb the mountaintop, the telltale compulsion to send his aid, like a siren song for his mighty boons.

As his were indeed the greatest of the Gods, the most sought after blessings. The Young Princess was eager to snatch them up, her excursion render fruitless without his aid.

Lord Zeus had began to long for the moment where he was able to leap into battle and strike down the Father of All Monsters again, the roar of the beast as it was thrown from the mountain by his hand - and his power wielded by lesser beings.

He was especially eager ever since he had received word that the Fates were missing. Those interfering spinsters, dictating what he may or may not do like he was some mortal, claiming the credit for his great deeds as if they wrote them into being! No longer! Now was a chance for him to stretch his legs, to really show the other Gods of Olympus why he was King, why he was to be respected.

Maybe once this Typhon business was sorted, before the Fates were returned, he might spend some time punishing those mortals who stood against them. A good storm of two, something to get them grovelling again, in fear of the Wrath of Olympus.

His musings were interrupted by a sharp elbow into his ribs, shocking from his pleasant fantasies of lightning storms and torrential rain. He glanced up, rankling to see the expectant stares of his fellow Gods around the garden, all watching him as if waiting. He turned to admonish his wife, chastise her for breaking his focus, when the sound of a deep roar cut him off.

Zeus started, his shock coming out as a rather undignified hurumph and a small thunderclap. ‘Is the Young Princess already at the Mountaintop?!’

‘Yes, Lord Husband, she is facing Typhon as we speak.’ Her voice was a sarcastic drawl, the honeyed words always twisting the most sincere of titles into a barbed insult. Even this short sentence made his haunches raise, his temper spike.

No time for that now. He clicked his fingers, eyes fogging over as he gazed down at the summit from above. His voice called out, a calamitous boom that shook the air, lightning reaching from the clouds at his whim, striking the monster square in its gigantic face.

He withdrew back to himself, the deep rasping rumble of ZUUUUUEEEEESSSSS chasing him. Zeus blinked several times, clearing the fog of omniscience from his gaze. He felt the eyes of his heavenly court still upon him, the stares burning into his skin.

He cleared his throat, getting to his feet. ‘I say, the Young Princess took me quite by surprise. She made excellent time this go through, and is already well on her way to slaying the great beast.’ A distant roar echoed, as if to back his words, as the Father of All Monsters was thrown from the summit for another night. ‘Let us greet the young lady, congratulate her on her victory.’ He straightened his tunic, brushing an imaginary mark off his shining golden breastplate. He made it two steps before his brother’s booming voice cut through the silence, the mocking tone of the Sea God making Zeus’s jaw clench.

‘It’s not like you to be caught with your sails down, dear brother!’ Poseidon called, stepping across to join the Lord of Olympus, his arrogant stride carrying him with purpose. ‘I am surprised you were not there at the bow of her attempt, ready to lend your paddle to her voyage!’ His hand clapped into Zeus’s back, the faintly wet slap against the armour echoing through the garden.

Zeus pried his jaw apart, the embarrassment and anger threatening to overflow. ‘No, Poseidon,’ he said with a measured tone, ‘I did not supply my blessings this time. It seems you are the one to claim the honour this time. Well done.’

Poseidon bellowed a laugh, tilting back with the force of his outburst. ‘Not me, dear brother! Our niece was reluctant to partake of my bounty! She must have been focused on her beloved Grandmother, or Lady Aphrodite there with her paltry offerings.’

Aphrodite twitched, her loving grin shifting for just a split second at Poseidon’s barbed words. ‘Alas, dear Poseidon, the little one had no space for love in her heart this time.’

‘Nor any wish to speak to me,’ Demeter said, not looking up at the pair, her eyes affixed as usual to a small portrait of herself and her daughter in her hands.

Zeus glanced around at the other gods, all attention on him now. As his gaze fell upon them in turn, they each gave a subtle shake of their head - even his daughter Athena, readily upon the front lines to greet the young witch. ‘Nobody?’ Zeus’s tone was incredulous, glancing around the garden for some explanation. ‘None of you here assisted her? Artemis?’

The Huntress dropped down from a tree, the leaves drifting from her to the marbled pavestones, where they vanished instantly. ‘No Father, I checked through Ephyra on my way up here, but I must have missed her. Hermes as well, outside of his deliveries. Apollo did not either, he would have stopped playing if Melinoë had called.’

The faint voice of the Goddess in question sounded, the request to open the sealed gateway from the Summit. Zeus glanced at Hera, seeing the thoughts racing through her mind same as his, before making his way through to the reception area. Hera quickly moved into step behind him, shadowing him on his left side. Her whispered words were for him, and him alone.

‘What is the meaning of this, Husband. What do they mean, no-one helped her?’ Her expression was neutral, as always, but Zeus had long since learned to read the panic in her tone, the suspicion she kept close to her heart.

‘I do not know, Hera.’ Zeus’s whisper was that of a gentle thunderstorm, a distant retreating tempest. ‘We shall see for ourselves.’ They took their place in the greeting area, the gentle song of Apollo filling the pleasant space as they awaited the arrival of the Princess.

It did not take long for the young witch to cross the prismatic gulf, the barrier stretching between the Summit and the Palace. From their waiting area at the head of the bridge, Lord Zeus could see the young woman approaching, hand raised to shield her eyes from the blistering light of Eos. The light threw the pale skin and silver of the witch into sharp detail, the light glittering off the silver imbelli- Is that Exagryph, the Adamant Rail?!

Tucked into the crook of Melinoë arm, the cumbersome but deadly shape of the Titan-slaying weapon imposed itself in her silhouette. Unlike the form seen in the hands of the troublemaker Eris, the weapon had become similar to the version seen in the hands of her Brother, except this time dappled in silver and emerald. Embellishments of moon sigils and hex scrollwork twined around the barrels, the weapon taking on a much more sinister air than had ever been wielded by the Elder God Hestia.

So taken aback by this development was Zeus that he was still gaping at the weapon when Melinoë ascended into the courtyard, dripping with blood and sweat. Hera aroused him with another swift elbow to his ribs, quickly pulling his Godly countenance back into place as the witch approached. Despite the blood dripping from her, she appeared to be mostly unharmed, the gore apparently from another source.

‘C-c-congratulations dear Niece, you have slain the great monster once again!’ He stumbled over his words, shock holding his tongue in an icy grip. ‘You are made it here rather quickly, and… if I may ask, is that the Adamant Rail in your hands?’

‘Ah yes!’ Melinoë said, pulling the weapon off her hip. ‘I managed to get this Eris for this journey, and have found it a rather efficient weapon, all things considered. It made getting here quite straightforward, and it was especially delightful to see Eris fighting with a spear. She was easy prey for me with this!’ Callous was her tone, arrogance seeping into her words. A smug grin played across her lips, her tone speaking of a secret joy like an unspoken joke.

The hair on Zeus’s neck rose, her tone slipping into the darker parts of his mind. It awakened a buzzing part of himself, the rumbling of the oncoming typhoon. Hera cut in, her voice a silk-clad knife, ‘And who did you have to assist you? We have asked around for whomever was able to aid you, but we are unable to ascertain your benefactor.’

‘None, Lady Hera. I decided to attempt this journey without any assistance from my family here on Olympus. It was a… I decided to try and see if I could do it alone.’

Ichor froze in Zeus’s veins, paradoxically as heat ran through his being. He felt the same stiffening next to him, Hera having the same reaction to the young witch’s flippant blasphemy. Melinoë seemed unaware of the implications of her words, waving her hand to banish the weapon away to a mysterious other place. Apollo sensed the tension that had filled the air, stepping in to offer his congratulations on the victory.

‘Well done, Sunshine! A very impressive feat!’ His gentle words were quick to try and soothe the issue, gentle warmth to heal a bruise. Apollo had never liked conflict within the family, and was a ready peacekeeper within any conflicts. ‘But, nothing is solved until we can get Typhon down for good!’

Melinoë wiped away the blood from her arms, some magic spell causing the ichor to vanish into non-existance. ‘Oh, we have a solution for that actually! I managed to collect the last of the reagents just then.’ She was absentminded with her words, seeming distracted with the act of cleaning herself.

Apollo seemed taken back, glancing up at Zeus and Hera. ‘O-oh, tha— that’s great! What is the plan? What do you need from us?’

‘Hmm?’ Melinoë looked up at Apollo, blinking owlishly. ‘I am terribly sorry, can you please repeat that? I am still a little woozy from the fight.’

Apollo’s grin twitched, his face becoming strained at the disrespect. Zeus could hear the thunderclaps brewing in his ears, feel the static in the air of his fury. ‘I said, what do you need from us Sunshine? How do we defeat Typhon?’

‘Oh, no need! It is a rather complex spell, but I have all the ingredients and the reagents, and I should be able to banish Typhon next time I ascend the mountain.’ The young goddess placed her hands on her hips, pride in her solution firming her stance.

Zeus twitched, rather violently. He was glad Melinoë was turned the other direction, otherwise she definitely would have noticed. ‘Do you mean to say…’ he took a deep breath, calming himself, trying to not let the indignation creep into his voice. ‘That your witchcraft is capable of doing what all the power of Olympus was unable to?’

‘I mean, yes?’ she said, with a shrug. ‘I think, it should work.’ She blinked unsteadily, her wobbling getting more and more apparent. Her face grew a little pale, eyes unfocused. ‘If.. If you would excuse me, I might need to head back to the Crossroads now, it is getting a little hard to focus.’

The three Olympians stared at each other, as Apollo dumbly summoned a Boon for the young witch. With a slightly staggered step, and a breathy goodbye to her family members, Melinoë vanished with a flash of light.

Hera fixed Apollo with a glare, and the Sun God quickly departed, almost fleeing from the Garden area. Hera, satisfied they were alone, turned back to her Lord Husband, her gaze icy and sharp.

‘We need to talk.’

Headmistress Hecate crouched over the prone form of her student, lying sprawled out within her tent. The shade Dora hovered anxiously nearby, having been the one to summon the teacher when Mel had collapsed in the circle.

‘Just a concussion. She will be right as rain after a good sleep, Night willing.’ Hecate sighed, pushing herself to her feet.

‘That explains her weird comment as she arrived - something about socks.’ Dora’s perpetually bored tone did little to hide the concern for her friend that was otherwise evident in her body language - or the closest a Shade could have to body language. ‘She doesn’t even wear socks, what the hell?’

Hecate looked down on Mel’s sleeping form, a mild poultice upon the girls brow to ease some swelling. ‘She must have been raving utter nonsense after the fight. I hope she did not say anything too rash while she was up there.’

When Melinoë next entered the Palace of Zeus, it was with the winds of victory at her back.

The spell had been a success, the monster was dead. In Mel’s pouch floated the ethereal reagant ‘Entropy’ the metaphysical concept of a loss of a life. Some distant part of Mel struggled to comprehend the death, to come to terms with the fact she had finally taken the life of another creature. All her other foes would eventually return, eventually reform or re-emerge from Void; except for this one. Typhon was gone, for good, the monster finally laid to rest, the rampage of destruction brought to an end.

Yet despite all the good that will come of that one true death, a part of Mel had died along with it.

 She shook her head, working through the learned mantras to calm her inner turmoil. She would have to reconcile with her actions, with her self. But for now, she had a task to do; a family to save.

A titan to kill.

She made her across the brightly lit bridge, the sun bearing down on her as always. No matter how many times she had come here, she would never get used to the blistering light of Eos - so unalike her sister, the gentle Selene.

She whisked away her weapon as she walked, the faithful Lim and Oros vanishing into her pouch. Part of her was nervous, the blurred memory of their last meeting weighing heavily upon her. Artemis had assured her that she had not done anything to offend anyone, and that everyone was at peace, if not a little entertained by her antics.

Mel could not even believe she had suffered something as pedestrian as a concussion, after so many long journeys. Usually such injuries were reserved for those unprotected by magic. She hadn’t suffered such since her early days sparing with Nem. Her friend had laughed a great deal at her expense, that she was lain low by such a trivial matter.

Mel was thankful at least that this trip had been spared the black wings of Strife, the beach clear of intrusion upon her arrival on the shore. Not that Eris could have disobeyed the vow, not with Selene watching over them, but Mel was half expecting Eris to have found some way to slither out of it. She shuddered to think of the consequences had she lost - Eris’s whispered request. She was not even sure where she could have found that many pomegranates.

Putting such dark thoughts aside, Mel could see the crowd in the courtyard, a larger collection of her family ready to greet her. It was a time for celebration, she supposed, given that they were all now free to leave the fortress of Zeus’s Palace. She was looking forward for the chance to see everyone, to share in the grand feasts and great parties she had heard about. Maybe her spell, the bending of the will of the Fates, could extend to her Brother and Father, allowing them to join her on the mountain upon their rescue. Her father had expressed contempt for his siblings - referring to them with no small amount of scorn - but she was sure he would come around.

Not only that - a small greedy part of her mind would say - but now the Gods owed her a favour. Now she could request clemency for her many friends; the cursed, the bound, the suffering. Arachne, Narcissus, Echo, maybe even Heracles. They could all be freed from their burdens, free to live as they wanted. It was not as if the Gods would deny her. Not after everything she had done for them, what she had achieved here.

Cleaning herself off the best she could, Melinoë jogged down the long terrace, past the many statues of the Gods of Olympus. All of her relatives - her great aunt Hestia, grandmother, Aphrodite - proudly on display. A part of her rankled, noting the lack of statues for her immediate family. She knew that they were no longer living on Olympus, but neither was Hestia, yet she had a statue? Maybe she could have some commissioned, at least one of her father and mother. Once they were free. Soon.

Waiting in the reception area were a larger number - though not all - of her family. Immediately upon entering the space, Mel was struck by a strange feeling of tension in the air. She had expected celebration, congratulations, but for some reason there was a stillness, as if the space were holding its breath. Her uncles waited for her, Hera by her husbands side. Apollo was silent - his lyre mysteriously absent - standing alongside her cousin Ares, blood dripping perpetually from his stained hands.

Hephaestus was there also, his posture in his chair showing signs of discomfort, as if he were unused to being outside his forge. Athena stood, armour doffed, with a hand resting on the back of his chair. All others were missing - Aphrodite, Demeter, Artemis. Part of her was saddened by their absence, wishing to finally celebrate their success upon the summit, the smiting of the great Beast. Nonetheless, there would be time for that later. Mel let a grin spread across her face, the relief and joy flooding through her finally.

‘My Lords and Ladies,’ Mel said, curtsying before the group, ‘I am most pleased to announce that the monster Typhon has been destroyed, once and for all.’ She bowed her head, awaiting the flow of congratulations.

Silence followed her words. She remained in the awkward pose, waiting for a heartbeat longer than natural, waiting for some response to her words. She glanced up, looking around the gathered crowd of her family. Their grim expressions were set, not relaxed as Mel had expected. The firm line of Zeus’s mouth had set even further, as if the news was an unpleasant one.

‘So it is done?’ The smooth deep tones of Lord Ares broke through Mel’s confusion, a voice like blood languidly dripping down a blade. ‘The Beast is dead, removed from life and reality?’

Mel caught herself, her mind stumbling over the unexpected reaction of her family. ‘Y-yes my Lord, the spell was a success. We banished the Father of All Monsters into the void, removing his very essence from creation. He will never again plague this mountain.’ She glanced around again, a part of her hoping these words would get the reaction she was looking for. No such luck, as the hardened expressions again met her gaze.

‘Is… Is everything alright?’ Mel asked, her voice trembling slightly with confusion. Had she interrupted something?

Apollo was the one to answer, stepping forward to place a hand gently on her shoulder. ‘It’s alright, Sunshine. Everyone is just tired from all the fighting.’ His expression was cheerful, his smile warm and wide, but something in his eyes made the hairs on Mel’s neck rise. They lacked the warmth of his tone.

Every instinct was screaming at Mel that she was in danger. But why?

‘It’s about time we get you home, yeah?’ Apollo stepped up beside her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, pinning her to his side. ‘I’ll pull up a boon for you. You have a difficult task ahead of you still.’

Words were forming on Mel’s lips - the trepidation creeping up her spine demanding she make her own way home - when the boon formed directly in front of Mel. Not the same, blank pale-golden orb she was used to, but one that glowed fiercely with Apollo’s light. In the split second it took to register, the orb erupted with a blinding flash of light.

Eye’s searing, Mel lurched backwards, trying desperately to dive away from the blinding light. Apollo’s firm grip on her shoulders did not loosen, his other arm coming up to wrap around her front. She heard the bellow of her uncle Zeus, the cried instructions to ‘Grab her now!’

Heart racing fast, Mel’s instinct kicked in and the words of her recall spell formed on her lips. She was halfway through the incantation when a thick broad hand gripped her throat, cutting off her speech with a gurgle. She looked blearily into Zeus’s hard eyes as she was hoisted from the ground, the sheer strength of the Lord of Olympus dwarfing her own. She felt Apollo pull away, ripping her pouch away as he moved.

‘Get the chains, Hephaestus, now!’ She heard her uncle call out, his grip tight around her windpipe. She struggled, held aloft in one hand like a doll.

She heard Apollo beside her, calling words he must have thought would be soothing. ‘—just don’t fight it Mel, we aren’t trying to kill you, everyone is just a little scared of you, it will all be okay, just—’

Her vision cleared of the remaining dark spots and she took in the scene before her. Her heart expected shock and violence - expected swords to be drawn, weapons at the ready in her defence.

But there were none.

Zeus, holding her aloft, face still bearing the firm scowl as if she were some sort of threat. Poseidon, Hera, Areas, Athena. None of them had moved, none of them had leapt to her aid. They were all looking at her, like…

Like she was a monster - to be destroyed.

Athena approached, a set of ornate manacles and chain in her grasp - Hephaestus contribution to this conflict.

Tears bubbled in the corners of Mel’s eyes, as panic flooded through her system. Why were they doing this? Would she be bound? Would she die? Would she ever see her family? Would she ever see home again?

Face flashed through her mind, the last glimpses of her life as she felt herself losing consciousness in her Lord Uncle’s hand. Nemesis, Icarus, Moros, Eris, Odysseus, Dora. The picture of her family. Her father alone in the depths of Tartarus. Hecate, her teacher. Hecate, her guardian. Hecate, her... The tears flowed down her cheeks as she desperately sort anything, any weapon, anything that could free her from this.

Nothing.

As her vision grew dark, Mel heard muttered words from the Queen of Olympus. ‘That’s it girl, stop fighting.’ She had no spells without her voice, no weapons without her pouch. Her fists and nails were useless against the solid iron grip of her uncle, the flesh as unyielding as the stone beneath their feet.

A sharp whistle broke the silence, the streak of a green that cut through the darkness in her vision. An arrow, long and delicate sprouted from Zeus’s wrist, barely a hairsbreadth from the tip of Melinoe’s nose. A voice screamed out, cut through the blood pounding in Mel’s ears.

‘MEL, RUN!’

Lord Zeus roared in pain, his voice a thunderous bellow that cracked the marble of the courtyard floor. His grip loosened, his hand slacking in the iron grip around Mel’s throat. But that was all she needed. She gripped his wrist, fingers finding the gigantic thumb, and twisted. With the satisfying crack of bone breaking, Zeus’s hand fell away, allowing Melinoe to drop to the floor.

As she fell, in the seconds of free-fall before she hit the cold hard marble, her lips formed the instinctive spell.

Return to Shadow.

Hecate was standing at the Crossroads, chanting her usual call to the Shades of the Underworld, when a saffron and silver shape plunged into her cauldron.

Chapter Text

Odysseus watched as the river Cocytus pulsed with magic. The Full Moon above turned the river into a bath of silver light; Selene blanketing the Crossroads with her full strength. Hecate knelt in the shallows, holding Melinoë gently afloat as the magic waters cradled her prone and battered form, slowly healing her injuries.

The Good Witch’s cloak swirled around her, drifting in the current like a shadow in the depths. Her back was to Odysseus, with her pale green hair freed from her normally ever-present hat. She whispered quiet incantations into the river, pleading for the forces of Gaia to speed the recovery and aid the work of the Moon.

The whole of the Crossroads had been rattled by Mel’s sudden and violent reappearance, as she plunged directly into the centre of the camp. The shades were working to right the great iron cauldron that had been upset by her entrance, the Sister shades redrawing the magical runes around its base.

Odysseus tried to keep himself outwardly steady, to be a pillar of calm for the anxious shades that watched on. But he had to hide his hands within his cloak to prevent any from seeing them tremble. Every moment of silence left him hearing the echo of the sickening wet crack Mel’s head made as it struck the rim of the cauldron.

The Princess had faced many dangers in her life, suffered many wounds in her pursuit of her task. But there was a particular violence to this, an unsettling edge to this night that shook Odysseus to his core. The fact she had yet to wake, or to show any sign of recovery, made everyone all the more tense. Nothing had kept her down for this long before.

Odysseus sat on the river bank, his legs in the water. Nemesis had paced for a while, her simmering fury bleeding out into a palpable quality in the air, before finally storming off. Odysseus suspected she meant to expend some of her excess energy on the unfortunate shades of Erebus.

He envied her, being of similar nature; a person of action rather than idleness. However his place was here, offering quiet support. Not just for the young Goddess, but the Headmistress as well.

‘You are staring, Odysseus.’ Hecate said, breaking the silence. She looked back at him over her shoulder, one green eye visible.

He had - not that he had been hiding it. There was no hiding from the Good Witch.

‘Aye,’ he said, shrugging his shoulders, ‘Is that a problem, Headmistress?’

‘Perhaps, if you remain particular to your current form.’ Her retort had a sharp edge to it, a bite to the old joke that betrayed the depths of the fear that pulsed through her. She had already confirmed that Mel’s injuries were healing, that her student would recover with time, but until then they were left with naught to do but wait.

Odysseus pushed himself to his feet, wading out to join her in the river. Standing, the waters came up to his waist, bringing him even with the kneeling Titan. The height difference had been intimidating when they had first met, but that was many years ago now.

His voice lowered, only for the two of them.

‘You froze.’ He had no accusation in his voice as he looked at her. It was simple observation. ‘In all the years, I have never seen you freeze.’

Hecate let out a deep sigh, shoulders slumping. The greatest skill he had learned in his time with the Unseen was the uncanny ability to read what was on Hecate’s mind; it was most likely what drew them together into this fragile something that they had. That, and raising the young Goddess together.

‘I did,’ she replied, voice tinged with guilt, ‘When she first appeared, she was… terrified. Utterly consumed by her fear. I could taste it, so thick in the air. And it petrified me.’

He noted her stiffened shoulders, the way she drew the prone form of Melinoë closer to herself. He kept his tone neutral, concerned for his friend but not wishing to further sting her pride. ‘It’s not like you - nor her - to shy away from fear.’

She held the silence for a time, as if pondering exactly how much of herself she wished to expose. Odysseus waited patiently. ‘This fear… It is different, more visceral. It will hold a part of me within its grasp for the rest of my life, I would think. It is not so easily dissuaded, nor recovered from. I could face Typhon a thousand times without blinking, yet still flinch in the face of this fear.’

It was a subtle gesture, so small that anyone else would have missed it, but Odysseus saw the subconscious flex of Hecate’s left arm, the arm she kept permanently wrapped in gloves and fabric. Her arm which he had only seen in the few times they had been intimate, in the rare moments she let her guard down enough to feel something. Her arm, covered in scars that spoke of terrible suffering.

In those rare moments where he was allowed to glimpse beyond the tall walls Hecate put up, Odysseus witnessed a gulf of fear and fury. The fear dwarfed any he had ever felt - even when staring down the maw of Charybdis. But it was the fury that drove her, that was fuelled by her fear, which truly terrified him.

He cleared his throat, quickly moving the conversation onwards from the dangerous waters of Hecate’s past.

‘The shades have confirmed that Typhon has been defeated for good. So, if the Goddess had succeeded in her mission and slain the monster… what caused this? Did she succumb to her injuries later, or was she ambushed by some remnant of Typhon?’

‘No, I am afraid it was something far worse.’ Hecate gently brushed the hair away from the side of Melinoë’s head, tilting her face slightly back to expose her throat.

Odysseus sucked in a breath, shock gripping his lungs. Spread across the width of the Goddess’s throat was a deep purple and black bruise, pockets of red blooming where the blood pooled beneath her skin. The bruise was wide and deep, a giant handprint that encircled her entire throat and dwarfed the young witch. White burn marks spread up and down her neck, branching out from the bruise like she had been struck by lightning.

‘No…’ he breathed, horror in his voice as the realisation dawned on him.

‘Yes,’ Hecate muttered, ‘It appears the favour of Olympus has run its course.’

‘Lord Zeus did this? But why? I know the Gods to be a fickle bunch, but his own niece? Despite all she has done to help them, slaying the Father of All Monsters?’

‘I suspect it was not despite, but rather because. Twas not a small feat, sending an enemy such as Typhon back to the Void. Such magics have a way of making people nervous.’

Odysseus looked up to see one of his shades waiting silently on the riverbank, just out of earshot. He glanced back at Hecate, anger twisting his features. ‘Nervous is gripping your sword a little tighter, or steering wide on a storm. Not strangling your saviour in your own home.’ His fists clenched in rage, he turned and stalked out of the river.

‘Yes, but we are not gods, dear Odysseus.’ Hecate called after him.

The shade he met was one of his scouts, the fragment of a young man from Crete. Formless in death, he delivered his report in a breathy whisper, pressing a bound scroll into Odysseus’s hands.

Returning to the riverbank, Odysseus squatted along the edge. He stared at the scroll in his grip, feeling the pit of his stomach fill with dread.  The message was written on velum - calf’s fetus specifically, a cruel indulgence - and bore a wax seal embossed with the seal of Olympus. There was only one place this could have come from.

‘The Shades say Hermes dropped it off within the bounds of Erebus. Delivered to one of the passageways to the Crossroads.’ He scratched his chin, his mind whirling with the possibilities. ‘I don’t know what this means, Headmistress. Is he warning us? Delivering an apology?’

‘Simply read it, Odysseus.’ Her tone was a strange mix of resignation and dread, as if she knew the scrolls contents already.

He cracked open the seal, deft fingers unrolling the precious material. The message was opulent, even for the Gods. He scanned the page, eyes narrowing as he read.

He cleared his throat.

‘Lord Zeus, King of All Gods, Slayer of the Titans, Lord of the… Headmistress, may I skip the preamble?’

‘Please do so, otherwise Chronos will conquer us before you get to the point.’

‘Ectera, ectera… On behalf of all the Gods of Olympus - more preamble, they do like to brag - demand that the Witch of the Crossroads does surrender the Goddess known as Melinoë, Daughter of Lord Hades, to her rightful family. The Goddess and the Witch of the Crossroads shall travel to Mount Olympus, where they shall be interned…’ He paused as his eyes scanned ahead, voice faltering at the demands.

‘Keep going, Odysseus.’ Hecate murmured, stroking Mel’s hair.

His voice faltered slightly, as the meaning behind the flowery words sets in. ‘…where they shall be interned in perpetuity, as recompense for defying the will of Olympus and the heinous crime of Blasphemy against the Gods. The aforementioned have until the next dawn to send word of their surrender. Failure to do so will result in… wrath.’ he swallowed as he rolled the scroll back up, hands shaking slightly. ‘So say I, Lord Zeus, ectera ectera. And it bears the seals of all the Gods of Olympus on it… Even Lady Artemis and Lord Hermes.’

‘That in itself does not guarantee that they have betrayed us. Lord Zeus would have marked their seals regardless of intent. He would have insisted on a unified front,’  she said, continuing to stroke Mel’s hair. ‘… thought that does not mean we should let our guard down, however.’

Odysseus fumbled, hands worrying at the delicate scroll in his hands. ‘This is… They are threatening war Headmistress…’

The magic around Hecate faded, as she stood from the waters. Mel’s form lay limp in her grasp, but the bruises and burns had faded somewhat and colour had returned to her face. Even her burning feet glowed with a renewed ember. The headmistress turned, carrying the Goddess up the riverbank and through the camp.

Odysseus trailed behind her, head bowed as he worked through his thoughts. ‘This is… This is bigger than Chronos. Fear of war with the Gods was what spurred the pact of Queen Persephone, it… Headmistress, this could be the Titanomancy all over again.’

Hecate walked in silence, carrying the Princess in her arms with great strides, pulling her student close to her chest. She bent her head to duck into Mel’s tent, and Odysseus realised that her hat had been left back on the riverbank.

Odysseus waited outside, giving the two space. He had grown close to them over the years - he had practically raised the girl alongside the Headmistress - but this moment felt more private.

When Hecate re-emerged, her shoulders were set, back straight and tall. She once again had a calmness and authority about her, the earlier apprehension gone.

Odysseus waited, hands behind his back. He knew the look on her face. And in that moment, he desperately sought guidance.

‘Summon the Unseen.’ Her voice was clear, confident. ‘All of them.’

With a wave of  her hand, her hat materialised in her grasp. She stepped past Odysseus, striding back towards the now upright cauldron as she affixed her hat back in place. ‘We will need everyone here, if we are to wage a war.’

Chapter Text

Melinoë slowly became aware of familiar voices and a dull ache.

In that gentle twilight she floated, her awareness dredging itself from the land of Hypnos. Voices trickled in, colouring the swirls of reality within her. She saw without seeing - the familiarity a warm comfort in the rapidly approaching reality - her two people close by. She was safe.

‘-kinda funny, actually, I don’t know much about my home- well, if you could call it home, truly - but my father always said it was wonderful.’

‘Well, it certainly was a sight to behold, dearie. The days grew hot as Asphodel some days but the breeze off the coast was amazing.’

Mel’s eyes cracked open as she drew back into the waking world, the gentle light of the tent overwhelming her tired and aching eyes.

‘I remember it, from the my first flight. I would love to visit again one day. Apparently they named the island where I’m buried - well, my body, at least - after me. I’ve heard they do a great red wine.’ Icarus, his voice fumbling and soft, her sweet gentle boy.

Arachne laughed, her lilting sad laughter that always spoke of an inner pain. ‘That was after my time, I think. And I was more inland. But yes, that region had very good wine. I used to enjoy a glass or two while weaving. Excellent coffee as well.’

Mel groaned, as returning awareness brought with it a dull ache that seemed to permeate her entire being.  The conversation cut off at the sound, the rustle of moving fabric preceding the dimming of the light. She squinted her eyes open to see Icarus leaned over her, his great wings spread wide to shield her from the light.

‘Meli? I think she’s awake, Dora can yo—?’

‘Already on it, fly boy.’ The soft whooshing sound of her shade friend vanishing reached her ears. Mel raised her head slightly to see where her friend had gone to, but the pain escalated to a burning tear as soon as she moved her muscles. A cry forced its way from her throat, and her eyes slammed shut again, as the pain threatened to pull her back into oblivion.

‘Woah woah, hey there my friend,’ Arachne’s voice sounded from nearby, gentle lulling tones. ‘Don’t you move too much, ya hear? You gave everyone quite a scare.’

Mel swallowed to ease her dry mouth, licking her lips slightly. ‘… Am I… Am I home?’ Her voice was a raspy croak, barely a whisper through her battered throat.

‘Yes, Meli, you are home, you are safe. We have some fountain water here for you, if you can manage that? Dora just left to fetch the Headmistress, she’ll be back in a second.’ A cup was placed to her lips, and Mel eagerly drank the cold refreshing liquid. She could feel the subtle magic of the water working at her injuries, the soreness of her throat easing slightly.

She coughed, taking a shaky breath. She could open her eyes fully now, the light no longer searing her retinas. Icarus crouched by her bed, great wings folded neatly behind him. Arachne perched on a stool next to him, a half-made silk scarf flowing over the seat. Her heart warmed to see her people here, but their presence - here, in her tent, the crossroads… ‘What are you two doing here? Is everything alright?’

Icarus and Arachne shared a look, before they both let out small relieved chuckle. ‘That’s our Meli,’ Icarus said, gently stroking her cheek, ‘Could never imagine that we were here for you.’

‘The tall glass of water - the horned one? - came and fetched us both,’ Arachne added, ‘Told us of your dramatic entrance, and we have been here since, keeping an eye on you.’

Icarus gestured at Arachne, ‘We have been here for most of the night, while everyone else has been running around in a panic out there.’

Confused, Mel pushed herself to sitting upright, gritting her teeth as her muscles screamed at her. Her head spun with the effort, blood pounding in her temples. ‘Why is everyone upset?’

The two share another veiled look. ‘…You arrived in a rather… extreme manner, sweetie,’ Arachne said gently, ‘and in quite a state. Everyone was worried for you.’

Mel felt relief at their words. ‘Ah, yes,’ Mel said, smiling at them. ‘Chronos must have known that we would ultimately defeat Typhon - perhaps aided by the Titan of Foresight - and weaved some sort of trap within him. I was confronted with a terrible illusion after I struck down the monster. It caught me by surprise, but I managed to escape. But, nevermind that; what word from Olympus? Are they sending their forces to aid us, now that Typhon is slain?’

The two shared another glance, before Icarus carefully said, ‘Meli…’

The pain on Icarus’ face stopped Mel short, concern creeping up her spine at the sudden tension amongst her lovers. ‘What is it? Was I not successful against Typhon? I felt the spell activate, I wa—’

Arachne interrupted her, voice pitched upwards. ‘No, no sweetie, you did. It’s just… Afterwards, you said there was an illusion?’ Mel nodded, glancing between the two.

Icarus’ wings shifted uncomfortably, ‘Meli… it wasn’t an illusion. It happened.’

Mel’s stomach dropped.

‘What?’ she whispered. ‘No, it was a trick, it has to be.’

‘We received an ultimatum from the Gods,’ Arachne replied, rubbing her legs together nervously. ‘They are demanding your capture, saying you defied their will and committed blasphemy.’

Mel’s heart stopped, her body plunging into a ice bath of shock. Her words slipped from her lips, a rapid mumble that bypassed her mind. ‘No, no it can’t be…’

Icarus’ eyes were filled with sadness, Mel almost recoiling at seeing him pity her. ‘We are not sure what you did to upset them, but you have injuries, from being attacked. Everyone is waiting for you to wake, to fi…’

Icarus’ voice faded out, a numbing buzz growing within Mel’s ears. Like a bone-chilling rainstorm, the sound grew and grew, Mel’s body growing distant with each second.

just don’t fight it sunshine, we aren’t trying to kill GET THE CHAINS you, everyone is just a little That’s it girl scared of you, it will Stop fighting all be okay, just RUN MEL

She heard the roars of anger around her, felt the hungry stare of Ares, the shame of Hephaestus, the fury of Zeus. She was isolated, pinned, the hand choking her throat, cutting off her air. The pain flashed through her, stretching from her head to her toes, burning agony of lightning stabbing through her.

The Gods, mighty and just, and their stares,  that viewed her as nothing.

Less than nothing - a monster.

The Gods rose up around her, towering over her. Why was she being punished like this, had she not done enough? Did they blame her for not going fast enough? Could she had done it differently? Had she not done enough? She could do more, could fight more, she could prove herself. She just needed time, please.

Please, she could be better.

Please, don’t hate her.

Please, she could be useful.

Please.

“Melinoe, on your feet!” a familiar voice spoke the familiar phrase in a familiar tone. Mel leapt from her bed, feet shoulder width apart, hands clasped behind her back. Then she sucked in a sharp breath against the wave of pain rocking through her. Still, she grasped at it, desperate to stay in the here and now. She squinted against the dazzle of the light to make out the person standing before her.

As her vision cleared, she saw Headmistress Hecate scrutinising her with a single piercing green eye. She waved a hand, and the lights in the tent faded to nothing, the interior lit only by what light crept in from the Crossroads. Mel bit back a sigh at the relief the darkness provided.

Her teacher continued watching stoically as Mel got herself steady. Icarus and Arachne were nowhere to be found. Had it all been a dream? Everything they said…

Hecate noticed her eyes darting around the tent, and smothered her hopes in the cradle. ‘They came and found me once you collapsed again, and stopped responding to them. They told me that you were confused, unable to remember what happened clearly?’ Hecate held out another flask of Fountain water, the mineral rich smell of the drink making Mel’s mouth water.

Mel nodded slowly, taking a large gulp of the cool water. Her throat sung with relief, aches easing with each swallow.

‘They…’ brief flashes hit her mind again, the memories threatening to overwhelm her, but she pushed through, her drive to obey overriding her mind. ‘Was it all true? Was it not a hallucination, or a venom of Typhon?’

‘No, Melinoë… `Twas no trick, nor deception. What you experienced on the mountain was the truth.’

Mel had known in her heart that it was the truth, but she felt dizzy at the reality of it laid out so plainly.  A part of her had been waiting, hoping, begging for Hecate to tell her it was all a dream, or a test. No matter how hard her mind would rebel, she would believe any word from her Headmistress’ lips.

‘Tell me everything.’ Hecate commanded, and Melinoë obeyed. The words streamed out of her, a detailed combat report - as if last night were the same as any other. Mel felt her lips move, heard her voice speak, but they were distant, as if someone else were using her mouth to give a detached retelling of her life falling apart.

When she finished her report, silence filled the tent. The Headmistress had not commented, nor responded in any way, not even when Mel described the sensation of her windpipe being crushed, or her breaking of Zeus’ thumb.

In the silence, Mel waited for her next orders. She force her breathing steady, and blinked back against the flood of tears she felt just behind her eyes. She wanted to break down, wanted to scream. But she couldn’t, not yet. Not while there was work to be done.

She needed guidance, someone to tell her what to do. Her teacher was the rock that Melinoë built herself on, the teachings in her life. Whenever she needed guidance, she knew she could count on the Titan, could receive her orders and follow them without question. She bit her lip against the urge to beg Hecate for instruction. Despite herself she knew her eyes were filled with her pleas as she stared at the Headmistress.

Hecate watched her face, expression unreadable. For what felt like an eternity the silence seemed to stretch, as Mel saw the tiniest flicker of conflict within Hecate’s bright green eye. It was so quick that Mel almost missed it, but there was debate going on with her teacher.

The moment stretched to almost breaking point when her teacher broke the silence.

‘Now, we keep moving, and we plan our next steps.’

The words rang through the tent, adding weight to the air like a storm cloud.

All at once, the tears vanished from Mel. The flood behind her eyes dried up instantly, and her mind slammed shut like the gates of the Underworld. The turmoil, the pain, the panic, it vanished to a part of herself that sealed itself off from the remainder. Her Headmistress had given her orders, and she was to set herself to the task.

‘I have gathered the Unseen, to deliver the news. I will attempt to call Artemis, given what you said about her aid. The Gods have demanded your capture, as well as mine. We will not give them the satisfaction.’ Hecate looked Mel up and down, a searching gaze. ‘Are you well enough to attend the meeting?’

Mel nodded, silently beginning her meditations and mantras to calm herself. She knew what she had to do. She had been given instructions, and a task to complete. It was just another task.

After a short time for Mel to compose herself and , they both stepped from the tent into the Crossroads.

A wave of noise swept over her, a far cry from the usual gentle tranquillity. The hub was filled with shades, a mixture of fully formed and amorphous green. They congregated around Odysseus, who was standing on his desk issuing orders and commands.

Never before had the Crossroads looked more like a war-camp than now, and Mel was a little taken aback by it all.

Hecate chuckled, noticing her confusion. ‘One forgets how deep Master Odysseus’ network truly runs, until you see it in full.’

They walked together towards the scrum, parting the movement of the shades like a ships prow through the tides. ‘I understood the immensity of his role,’ Mel said, watching the shades offer a small salute to Hecate as they passed, ‘I just was not expecting this… magnitude.’ She started, glancing behind her. ‘Wait, was that Queen Dido?’

‘Focus, Melinoë. Odysseus has shades from every area of the world, both above and below it. He is working to make sure we are fully appraised of any developments as they come.’ Hecate motioned briefly, drawing Odysseus’ attention towards them.

A warm smile broke across his face when he caught sight of Mel, relief evident even from this distance. He leapt down from his table, motioning one of his lieutenants up into his place. He stepped through the crowd, weaving through the mass as a fish through water.

He stepped up and immediately swept Mel into a firm hug, pulling her close to his chest. ‘Goddess, I am so very glad to see you alright.’

Mel stuttered, caught off-guard by the sudden display of affection. She hugged him back, feeling herself begin to relax into the warm embrace, before shaking herself. No, she needed to remain focused.

She pulled back, fixing a smile to her face. ‘Thank you, Master Odysseus. I am doing much better, and I am ready to discuss next steps.’

Odysseus frowned, his eyes flicking between herself and Hecate. His jaw tensed as he took her in, something indecipherable passing across his face. Mel was surprised to see him dare to glare at Hecate, a wordless admonishment on his face.

Mel spoke up, words spilling out in a babble, ‘I am okay, I promise, the Fountain Water was a great help, truly.’

Odysseus focused on her again, his expression softening. ‘I am very glad to hear that, Melinoë.’ His voice had a gentle quality to it that - coupled with the absence of nickname - left Mel even more wrong-footed.

‘Come,’ Hecate interjected, derailing Mel’s attempt to puzzle out his tone. ‘We will all meet at the Taverna. `Tis the most private place, for now. We shall also summon Lady Artemis.’

Odysseus nodded, his expression unreadable. ‘Before that, Headmistress, a word?’

Hecate gestured for Mel to move towards the Taverna, and turned back to follow Odysseus. Mel started towards the space, but something made her stop. She had never seen that expression before, never seen that level of anger. Not even after the time Hecate turned Odysseus into a sheep during an argument.

She crept around the garden feature, the pair having stepped aside to the dock area. They had just stepped away, but already their quiet conversation had grown heated. Their figures were obscured, but their voices were clear.

‘-to the girl, I sent Arachne and Icarus in there so she would people there to support her—’

Hecate cut him off, voice harsh. ‘She was given that space, and it almost destroyed her. I gave her direction, gave her focus. She needs structure.’

‘Structure?! She doesn’t need a commander, she needs family, she needs a m—’

‘Utter one more syllable and I’ll take your tongue.’

Silence fell, and settled for a long moment.

Odysseus was the first to speak. ‘She can’t keep going like this.’

Hecate’s voice had grown softer, ‘She will need to. We cannot afford her to not.’

Melinoë felt sick to hear her two masters doubt her so terribly. They thought her weak. Her failure made them believe she wasn’t strong enough to handle the task.

She pushed herself away from the garden, stumbling slightly as she hurried to the Taverna. She had to get there before the Headmistress and Odysseus finished, and noticed her eavesdropping.

She needed to prove herself. Needed to continue the task.

Mel walked through the Taverna, crossing the short bridge over the River Cocytus. The gathering space had been cleared out, Mel feeling the magical wards for silence as they crossed into the lounge.

The space was instead filled with the other members of the Crossroads, members of the Unseen.

Moros and Nemesis sat astride a bench, quietly talking with their heads together. They were so deep in conversation that they failed to notice Mel entering, their words seeming to bear heavy weight.

The other witches had taken a table, Circe and Medea bowing their heads slightly in greeting. Selene stood with Charon, both children of Nyx who are prone to solitude. Icarus was awkwardly perched at a separate table, chatting with Arachne. Seeing her as she crossed into the Taverna the two perked up, their calls to her alerting Nemesis and Moros. Icarus pushed himself to his feet, wings flaring out to propel him forward.

The young shade pulled her into a fierce hug, eyes budding with tears. ‘Meli! We were so worried about you, you just froze up on us, we couldn’t get through, we are—’

Mel stroked the back of his head, wrapping her arms around him. ‘It’s alright Icarus, I just needed a moment. Headmistress helped me work through it.’

Moros had joined them, Nemesis turning in her seat to watch them, his flowing comfortable voice a balm on her soul. ‘And you are doing better now?’

Mel smiled at him, reaching up to stroke his cheek gently. ‘Yes, much better, thank you.’ She looked at each of her partners, gaze lingering. ‘Thank you, all of you. I love you all.’

Nemesis nodded silently, shoulders hunched. She was not the best at showing her emotions, nor handling uncertainty. Anything she couldn’t punch, she didn’t know how to handle. Still, despite that, Mel could see the affection in her gaze, her worry evident in the divots on the table carved by Nem’s clenched fingers.

Mel glanced around, searching. ‘Where is Eris?’

‘Probably off doing something strange and malicious,’ Hecate said from behind her, crossing the short bridge into the Taverna. Odysseus trailed behind her, several large scrolls tucked under one arm.

‘Should we wait for her?’ Mel asked, as Hecate stepped towards the centre of the area, drawing the attention of all to her.

‘No. I would not want her here for this. I know your feelings for her - not that I understand them - but with this I do not trust her.’

Mel felt a flash of anger burn, indignity at the insult to one of her - admittedly more unpredictable - partners, but the feeling was quickly buried off as Hecate waved her hand. Lights flared around the Taverna, the Crossroads beyond the space fading out slightly.

‘I appreciate you all coming on such short notice, for Time is of the essence.’

The members of the Unseen gathered close. Mel found her seat, surrounded by her partners’.

‘Artemis has been summoned, but has yet to respond. We have to assume she is… indisposed.’

Hecate crossed her hands in front of her, standing with a regal bearing. Gone was Hecate, Mel’s confidante. She spoke now as Leader of the Unseen, Witch of the Crossroads.

‘I come today with grim news. As of the next Dawn, Olympus will declare war on the Chthonic Gods.’

Silence followed her words, a stunned emptiness as the gathered members processed the decree. Mel saw several share incredulous glances. She knew they did not doubt the Headmistress, but were merely taken aback at hearing something so unthinkable.

‘Following Melinoë’s defeat of the great Monster Typhon, the Lords and Ladies of the Heavens sought to imprison her for the crime of Witchcraft.’ Mel watched as those around the area reacted, shock and fury etched on their faces. Nem’s grip tightened on the table in front of her, the wood splintering beneath her fingers.

‘After young Melinoë made her escape - aided by Artemis - they sent this message via Lord Hermes, demanding she surrender to their detainment, as well as myself. Under the threat of divine wrath.’ Hecate held up an ornate scroll, the words and seals visible from Mel’s seat.

‘Is there anything else that might appease Olympus, to hold off the arrival of War?’ Selene asked, her quiet melodic voice echoing in the night air.

Hecate shook her head, eyes downcast. ‘I believe not. The letter lists the charges as Blasphemy and defying the will of the Gods, but from Melinoë’s account she did no such thing. I believe that, in the power that defeated Typhon, they witnessed their own mortality.’

She gestured towards the great cauldron, the light visible on the other side of the camp. ‘They fear magic itself, not merely the wielders. If they could strip us of our powers they would. But they do not understand our connection to Gaia. They seek a king to slay, when we all are rulers and serfs both.

‘They fail to grasp the knowledge we share, the power we build over time. They do not realise that any one of us could complete the same spell, utter the same incantation, were they to have the requisite reagents. The power we wield is not ours alone, but instead borne aloft on the shoulders of your siblings.’

Hecate gestured around the gathered people, each powerful in their own right. ‘And it will not stop with us. Once they realise the power of witchcraft, they will seek to imprison anyone who could access it. Once they realise - through Gaia and Mother Nyx - that any being could wield the strength to challenge them? They will never rest, never stop fighting until we are all dead.’

‘Tale as old as the stars,’ Lady Medea muttered, Circe nodding in agreement next to her.

Mel felt the nausea threatening her again, the tightening in her gut that came with fear. She swallowed it down, focusing on her breathing exercises. Just another task.

‘There is no appeasing them. They will seek to burn us out, root and stem. They will find us a stubborn weed to slay.’ Hecate nodded towards Odysseus.

The tactician stepped forward, ‘I have gathered reports from as many shades as I could, sending out others to scan for any signs. Early reports say that after the defeat of Typhon, Olympus has been swift to reclaim their mountain.’

He gestured with one of the scrolls under his arm, placing them on a table. ‘This is all I could gather in the time we’ve had, but it looks like without Typhon and his Brood, Olympus has been able to push Chronos’ army back across the Strait. The boats still continue, but Poseidon seems to be focusing on them. It won’t be long before he unmakes the strait entirely.’

Hecate spoke up again, ‘Once they clear their mountain, they will direct their attention towards the Mortal world, and to us.’

Odysseus nodded, unrolling another of the scrolls. It bore a rough map of the world, cities and areas marked out with colours and tiny scrawled words. ‘I have had shades check the remaining City States, the ones that have survived the last few years. The disruption caused by the Underworld being open has thrown the world into disarray, not to mention the loss of Thanatos. Peaceful death is no longer an option for mortals.’

Moros raised his hand slightly, ‘Our siblings, the Keres, have been working hard to keep pace, extending themselves beyond just violent death. But even they have their limits, and as such the dead do not always stay dead.’

Odysseus grimaced, ‘Hard to keep things together when the Dead don’t stay underground, and dying in your sleep is not in the cards. As such, most of the mortal cities have fallen, or scattered. The big ones remain, and they all declare for Olympus. The cities that worshipped the Chthonic gods were amongst the first to fall when the Underworld opened, built as near the entrances as they were.’

Hecate sighed, ‘So that rules out the possibility of seeking aid from the Mortals.’

‘And even then, all the Shades of Elysium would fight for Olympus. God Worship is everything. We are very outnumbered.’ Odysseus gestures towards Moros and Nemesis, ‘What about the Children of Nyx? I know we have you lot, what about your siblings?’

‘While it is true that we number many,’ Moros began, as Nemesis began to sardonically chuckle, ‘we are not a monolith, as you have seen with Eris. Some may stand with us, as part of the compact with the Underworld. But others may ignore us. Not only that, some of our abilities are closely tied to our aspects, and would be difficult to wield outside of those.’

Mel found her words, her throat aching as her voice ripped out of it, ‘What about Chronos? We still have him to deal with.’

Odysseus sighed as he rolled up the parchment. Hecate stepped towards Mel, ‘Chronos may have to wait. We noticed that Olympus took your reagent pouch, taking away the final ingredient needed for the dissolution spell. Without that, we are again out of options.’

Mel started, fumbling around her waist. In the flurry she had completely forgotten, her pouch an ever present companion by her side. The loss of it had her aching from another blow to her soul.

‘Do they hope to use it against Chronos?’

Hecate shook her head, ‘No, they would not know the first thing about the magic. They most likely think they can handle Chronos themselves, or seal him in Tartarus.’

‘Are the Crossroads safe?’ Circe asked, her swooping tone a strange dissonance to the serious discussion.

Odysseus shrugged. ‘We know from Mel’s story that Artemis did not betray us, and - while we are uncertain where he stands - Hermes never visited the Crossroads directly. As such, the obfuscation wards should hold, with the shrouded pathways. However, against the full might of Olympus it won’t hold for long. And that’s excluding…’ He glanced towards Hecate.

Hecate finished his thought, ‘That is excluding the possibility that Olympus may extract the truth from Artemis by force. Zeus has always been rather imaginative in his punishments.’

Bile bubbled up Mel’s throat, and she swallowed desperately to keep it down. The idea of Artemis - sweet, kind, friendly Artemis - being tortured because of her. Because of her weakness, her failure.

The wet sound of the arrow burying itself in Zeus’s flesh thundered in her ears, and she could hold it no longer. Melinoë scrambled over the chair, diving for the riverbank. She just made it above the cool waters as the nausea tipped over, and she vomited into the river.

Acid burned her throat, her stomach tensed. She felt every muscle in her body scream, cry wrath and fury against her, as the shame burned her face. Her core flexed, trying desperately to evacuate anything, anything that could hold her down. The panic and fear that flooded through her, it was a poison her body was trying to purge.

She felt a gentle hand on her back, a hand that seemed to dwarf her. She glanced up to see Nemesis kneeling next to her, gaze fixed into the distance.

‘Nem?…’ she said weakly, throat ripped raw from the bile.

Nem wordlessly handed her a piece of fabric to wipe her face, holding a flask of water in the other hand. The giant woman waited in silence for Mel to clean herself up, rinse her mouth out with the flask.

When Mel stumbled and swayed upright, Nem leaned over to steady her, gripping her tight. There was no conversation, no platitudes from her lover. Just firm, caring stability. Mel felt her heart ache, her mind overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of emotions.

They both stepped back into the circle, no-one commenting on Mel’s spontaneous evacuation. The mortals all had looks of sympathy, Odysseus with a pained expression. Mel felt the shame return, her face burning. She was weak. She needed to be stronger. To show them she could be stronger.

Mel drew herself back, setting her shoulders. She crammed down the part of herself that felt the fear, severed the part that felt the guilt.

‘What do we do now? If they will not stop until they kill us all, what do we do?’

Hecate folded her hands in front of her, taking her place back in the centre of the circle. She held everyone’s gaze, moving from person to person, before settling on Mel.

Her tone was light, calm; though her words were anything but.

‘We kill them first.’

Chapter Text

The remainder of the meeting devolved into a discussion of logistics, with Odysseus taking charge of organising scouting routes and information pathways. Hecate and Melinoe had taken up the task of reviewing reports on troop movements and city militia numbers.

Moros, Icarus, and the mortal Witches had been sent on mysterious tasks, each heading out without much fanfare. Arachne headed off with Charon back into the mists of Erebus, amd Selene returned to her task in the sky.

It had not taken long for the numbers to begin to make Mel’s head spin, the logistics of full scale warfare a glaring hole in her education. Her injuries had healed fully, but her mind was foggy, the toll of the last few nights wearing on her psyche. She bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood, in an attempt to force her rebellious thoughts to focus. She was determined to show her potential, to make sense of the overwhelming numbers and battle-lines being drawn. Nevertheless, as she found herself re-reading the same passage for the third time, Hecate plucked the parchment from her grasp and banished her to the Training Grounds to spar with Nemesis.

Normally she would relish the chance to cross blades with Nem - recently their bouts had begun to blur the line between combat and foreplay - but in that instance her mind was occupied with memories that spiralled and echoed.

We slay them first.

Stop fighting girl.

Sudden sharp pain across her face ripped from her thoughts, a stinging blow throwing her from her feet.

‘You’re lucky we decided to do brawling today, otherwise you would be waking up in your tent right now.’ Nemesis stood over her, hands on hips. Her armour was discarded, the pair stripped down to their shirt-sleeves. The red fabric was already soaked with sweat, the pair having spent the last hour working out some of their energy. Nem had kicked Commander Schelemeus out, taking his place for their sparring session.

‘Sorry,’ Mel muttered, pushing herself back to her feet. ‘I just have a lot on my mind, Nem.’

‘Isn’t that the point of this sparring?’ Nem wiped her brow, ‘For you to stop thinking?’

Mel stepped back into the circle, crouching low with a grunt. That was easier said than done. Every interaction kept replaying through her mind. Ever conversation with the Gods, every comment, every backhanded insult the Olympians had levelled at her.

She tapped hands with Nem across the ring, and the two gods burst into motion. Nem dived forward, hands seeking Mel’s waist. Mel slapped the hands to the side, twisting around the broad shoulders to throw Nem off balance.

In a surprising display of agility for her size, Nem kept her footing to shift behind Mel’s back, hands circling Mel’s waist. Nem’s hands locked on the front, her thick arms almost the width of Mel’s torso. The god of Vengeance heaved backwards, her strength easily enough to yank Mel off her feet and into the air.

Mel cleared her mind and used her magic to fade out of space, slipping from Nem’s grasp. She flipped out of the suplex, coming back into reality to try and land on her feet. But her sparring partner was wise to her tricks. Nem’s foot lashed out, taking Mel’s legs out from under her while in the air. Mel tumbled, crashing heavily to the floor with a painful thud.

She quickly rolled to her front, hands under her to push herself upright. The second she got to her feet, Nem slammed into the back of her, causing her knees to buckle slightly. Her arm slipped over Mel’s head, and the big bicep came tight around her windp—

GET THE CHAINS

She scrabbled desperately against the hand cutting off her air, fists and nails failing to dent the unyielding, Godly flesh. Her head spun, as the agony of betrayal tore at her heart. What were they going to do to her? Why were they chaining her? Why wasn’t she good enou-

Melinoë fell to her knees, gasping and clutching at her throat. A tall, broad figure moved behind her, casting a shadow across her and she scrambled forward, desperately seeking to escape. The figure followed, the sound of a voice shouting echoing in her ears. She rolled onto her back, raising her hands to shield her neck as they reached towards her.

Distantly, the sound of their voice began to reach her, as if through cotton stuffed ears.

‘-eathe for me Mel! Slow breathes with me, like this okay?’

Her hand was grasped and pulled away from her throat. She tensed, but no choking grasp claimed her. Her hand was instead pressed against a firm, warm chest that rose and fell under her touch.

“Breathe like this, Princess. In… and out…”

She did her best to obey - she could be good, be better, please don’t get rid of her - and slowly the looming figure above her resolved into Nemesis. She lay supine in the dirt of the Training grounds, gasping as she stared up at her lover. Her heart hammered in her chest, her skin was on fire. She felt every touch of air, every sound was amplified. Her thoughts raced through her mind like scared rabbits, too fast to properly examine.

Mel’s free hand dropped to the ground, fingers digging into the dirt. Closing her eyes, she focused on the feel of the ground beneath her, the sensation of Gaia in her grasp. Her breathing slowed, the remaining fear leaking out of her pores like sweat.

‘You back with me, Princess?’ Nem asked, still clutching Mel’s hand to her chest.

‘… I am okay, sorry,’ Mel gasped, tugging her hand free and pushing herself into a sitting position. ‘I just.. Sorry.’

‘Lets take a break for a second,’ Nem said nonchalantly, as if Mel had not just had an undignified breakdown.

Nem plonked herself in the dirt next to Mel, kicking up a puff of dust. She stared into the distance, out over the wild twisting reaches of Erebus.

They sat in silence, Mel working to keep her breathing slow and calm.

A thought struck her. It had plagued her for a while - squatting in the back of her mind - but now it demanded to be heard.

‘Nem…’ Mel said, unsure where to start.

Her partner grunted.

‘You once said that things were better during the reign of Chronos, for Mortals. What do you mean?’

Nem took a swig of water before answering. ‘…My family - the children of Nyx - we’ve been around a while Princess, longer than any of the gods. People seem to forget that Mother Nyx is one of the Primordials, the same as Gaia. We were around when Mortals were first created, to help guide them in their short lives.’

She paused, working her jaw. ‘Things weren’t perfect, but they were better for the Mortals. Prometheus cared for them dearly. Loved them as his children, having created them. The Titans were more like Lord Hades, rather than Lord Zeus.’

‘In what way?’ Mel tilted her head, trying to remember the stories of her father.

‘Your Father ruled the Underworld like it was a job, like it was a task. He spoke high and mighty, but he acted like he owed the mortals something. He didn’t do things just for fun, or to be cruel. The others on Olympus…’ Nem jerked her head over her shoulder, back towards the main camp, ‘You only have to speak to your little friends back there to know what they do to Mortals.’

‘Like Arachne…’ she murmured, remember the tale of her friend. A competition between God and Mortal, a deliberate and cruel humiliation of the greatest weaver for the crime of being proud.

‘Not just her, all the other witches have their own stories. You haven’t met Circe’s sister - witch known as Pasiphaë - but you’ve heard of her son, the Minotaur right?’ Mel nodded, remembering the stories of her brother’s conquest through Elysium. ‘Yeah well, word of advice, don’t talk about Poseidon around her. It’s not a pretty tale.’

Mel shook her head, confused. ‘But… Chronos, he ate his own children rather than give up power. Why would he be so benevolent to Mortals?’

Nem gestured at the shades around the Training Grounds, the vague green shapes of commonfolk. ‘He wasn’t. They were just beneath his notice. He spent his energy and time on his children and the other titans. He didn’t give a shit what the Mortals did, or who they worshipped. It was the Gods who started demanding tribute and worship.’

Mel’s brow furrowed, her mind whirling with even more questions. ‘So, what? The mortals would be better off if the Gods just… weren’t around?’

Nem leant back onto her elbow, stretching her legs out. ‘Hey, you asked. I spent my time amongst the mortals, from the highest of kings to the lowest of the scum. I heard what they said, saw what made them happy. Odysseus can tell you what happens when Gods and Mortals mix. It’s rarely good.’

‘Mortals and Gods mixing is what lead to me…’ Mel said, her voice quiet. Her grandfather had been mortal, an acolyte of Demeter. The thought of her grandmother sent a stab of grief into her heart, the layers of betrayal slowly being peeled back.

Nem scanned Mel’s face, her eyes searching. ‘I said rarely.’ Nem said, her voice quiet. Something seemed to pass across her face, a brief moment of reflection. ‘I… I once… I did the same, fell for a mortal.’

Mel turned to face her lover, eyes wide with shock. Nem never spoke of her past, never liked to talk about previous partners. She waited, handling the vulnerability like a delicate flower.

Nem sat in silence, seemingly struggling to piece her words together. ‘It… It wasn’t much, but I settled down, fell in love. Had a kid. Probably would have been a lot better for everyone if I didn’t, since she was… a bit of a handful.’

Mel gasped, unable to help herself. Her voice was a whisper, leaning in close. ‘You were…?’

Nem laughed, a sardonic chuckle. ‘No, not me. Leda, her name was. She bore the girl. I merely… contributed.’ Mel smiled as the blush started across Nem’s cheeks, unable to hold in a laugh at the idea that her big, strong, confident partner would be embarrassed by this.

Mel desperately tried to stifle her giggles, knowing how rare this level of openness was from Nem. ‘Sorry, it is rather funny, after all we have done for you to be embarrassed by something like that.’ She breathed, steadying herself. She shot an apologetic look at the blushing Nem, ‘I think it’s rather sweet, actually. The idea that you fell in love, wanted to create life.’

Nemesis shrugged, having turned away in a huff.

‘Nem, please,’ Mel said, leaning over to touch her lover on the shoulder. Nem relaxed under her touch, shifting slightly so Mel could lean her head onto her shoulder. The fogs of Erebus moved in the distance, the gray clouds reflecting the last of the starlight in a beautiful display. Mel turned her head, shifting to stare off at the oncoming dawn.

The encroaching sun filled her with dread, rather than warmth. The countdown played at the back of her mind, ticking away the moments until the deadline.

Nem felt her movement, following her gaze to the dawn.

They sat in silence, each knowing that there was nothing left to be spoken.

A soft gold light caught her eye, a premature dawn in the corner of her vision. It illuminated the ground in front of her keepsake cabinet, light spilling out from the thin strip at the bottom of the door. It seemed to pulse, gently, like a soft flow of breath.

Mel pushed herself to her feet, stretching out her aching muscles to the heavens. She placed a gentle kiss on the top of Nem’s head, before wandering over to investigate the mysterious light. The growing sun was washing out the light, but she could feel the hum in the air as she approached the heirloom.

‘What is it?’ Nem called out, still seated at the other end of the Training Grounds.

‘I’m not sure,’ Mel replied. She opened the cabinet, the warm gold spilling from the cabinet to illuminate the packed earth of the Training Grounds.

The Gorgon Amulet thrummed with power, gently pulsing with light.

She took the small trinket from its place, turning it over. There was no heat to it, no power thrumming through it. Why was it glowing?

The glow faded, as the dawn light fell above the amulet.

A horrifyingly familiar whooshing sound filled Mel’s ears, as the revelation dawned on her.

Blistering golden light filled the air, as a rain of heavenly spears plummeted from the sky.

She dived out of the way, as several of the spears slammed into the cabinet, shattering the precious heirloom. A loud metallic screeching ripped through the grounds as the spears drove into the ground, scattered all over the Training Grounds.

The dirt was kicked up, the packed earth of the grounds turned into a sandstorm by the blows. Mel curled into a ball, making herself the smallest target possible. As the screech faded and the faint patter of falling clods of dirt rained down, Mel rolled onto her front and cracked open one eye to peer through the dust.

She had dived to the other end, sprawled in the dirt amongst her familiar’s resting areas.

Spears littered the grounds, sticking from the dirt like the remains of a great battle. Hundreds of them, one through each shade, lining the entire outside of the grounds.

Mel stared, as the dawn light spilled over the horizon, and into the grounds. The golden light stretched to touch the body of Nemesis, pinned to the ground by several spears.

A scream wrenched itself from her chest, a primal cry of anguish at seeing Nem’s ichor seeping slowly into the dirt. She scrambled towards her lover, healing spell was already on her lips. As she began to rise to her feet, a firm and heavy boot stamped upon her spine.

The breath rushed from her lungs, as she was pinned to the floor. The foot was gigantic, impossibly heavy against her back. She felt her ribs crack, the sides of her chest splintering with the impact. Pain shot through her, as she screamed in agony. She was blinded, unable to see anything until the pain cleared from her eyes.

Footsteps broke through her torment, the soft clatter of feet on the training dirt. She raised her head, even that gentle movement on her back causing agony to bloom. Her eyes struggled to focus on a pair of golden sandals, glittering with a halo of divine light. Athena stopped in front of her face, spear coming to rest by Mel’s outstretched hand. Mel’s blood ran cold.

‘Greetings Cousin.’ The voice dripped with authority, an arrogance borne from ability not merely status. ‘I have been tasked with apprehending you and delivering you to justice. You and your vile teacher.’

Mel struggled beneath the massive boot, unable to see who had her pinned. Fear drove her limbs, the desperate need to flee from the Goddess.

‘You will find Heracles a difficult burden to shake,  Cousin. Do not attempt it, as my Father wishes you to be returned alive.’

A groan emerged from Mel’s lips, as the foot dug in slightly. ‘Heracles… Why?’

The deep rumble of Heracles voice sound above her, an seemingly impossible distance above her. ‘I told you little witch, I do what I am paid to do.’

Another person crouched beside her, sharp blue eyes fixing her from a seemingly sparkling face.

‘Lady Athena, is this demon truly worth our time?’ The man was handsome, elegant in his dress and appearance. ‘They share the beastly eyes of a menace I once faced in Elysium, but surely they are beneath your divine gaze!’

It took Mel a second for the words of the warrior to break through, to slot into place within her mind. When it finally clicked, she could not help but chuckle, despite the agony it brought.

‘You brought Theseus,’ she groaned, her voice a low croak as she felt the blood pooling in her lungs.

‘I did indeed, Cousin. I had thought you would put up more of a fight, but clearly I was wrong.’ Athena crouched low over Mel’s face, turning her head roughly to study her scowl. ‘I fail to see what is so intimidating about you, Cousin. Where is the great power that has my Father so worked up?’

She pushed herself back to her feet, brushing the dirt from hands. ‘No matter. Theseus, fetch the chains. We return to Olympus.’

The sound of chains filled Mel’s ears, the dreadfully familiar clatter. It made every muscle in Mel’s body tense up, her mind begin to scream in panic.

A blur of gold streaked across the corner of her gaze. She watched Athena whirl around to deflect the golden spear with her shield. The missile flew out of the grounds as the shield rang out a loud chime, and Athena turned to face her attacker.

Nemesis stood with a spear still lodged in her chest, ichor pouring from wounds. She reached up, and yanked the spear free, twirling it in her grip to hurl it at the trio.

Athena beat her spear into the ground, and the golden spears in the area winked out, including the one mid flight. Athena chuckled, her voice low and dangerous.

‘Nemesis. It has been too long.’

Nemesis did not respond, merely rolling her shoulders with a deadly silence and look of fury.

Athena jerked her head towards her companions, ‘Heracles, handle this.’

The gigantic weight left Mel’s back as the demigod stepped off her, hefting the  club over one shoulder as he approached the God of Vengeance. ‘Lady Nemesis. I have long sought to face you. I would have liked the honour of defeating you at your peak. It is unfortunate that you are injured.’

Nem rolled her shoulders, the ichor spurting from her wound with the motion. ‘Are you going to keep talking, or are we going to do this, lion boy?’

Heracles chuckled dangerously as he approached Nem, each step heavy and deadly. He shifted the club of his shoulder, the tip of the heavy oak cracking the flagstones as it drags behind him.

Before they got close, Heracles’s massive bulk shifted suddenly. He swung his club up in a lazy arc, the big man using the force to aid him as he leapt into the air. The weapon went up, looping gracefully as Heracles let out a deep monstrous roar. He came down hard on the Goddess of Vengeance, club slamming into her with a cataclysmic boom.

The pair met with a resounding boom, shaking the very ground of Erebus. The dust of the training ground was kicked up by the force of their impact, the shockwave slamming into the watchers.

The dust cleared over the pair, as Nemesis gripped the club in both hands. The goddess had been driven to her knees, the ground beneath her cracked and cratered. Her muscles bulged as she wrestled with Heracles, the mortal bringing all his weight and strength down on her.

They fought, teeth bared, before Nem suddenly twisted the club to the side. Heracles was caught off balance, and Nem surged to her feet in one swift motion. She drove her knee into the stomach of the big man, the force lifting him temporarily off his feet.

Nem used her knee to hold him back as she pulled the club from his grip, rearing back to drive her knee again into his chest. Heracles let out a hollow heave, as mortal blood splattered over Nem’s clothing.

Nem tossed the club wide, the thick tree trunk flying over the trees of Erebus. Heracles gained the advantage in her distraction, gripping her shirt and sinking a giant fist into her face. The crack of flesh and bone rang out, as he struck her again and again. Each blow whipped her head back, the impact forcing Nem back in a way Mel had never seen.

Ichor sprayed from her mouth under the onslaught, as her nose and skull were cracked and broken. The heavy blows came thick and fast, each one forcing Nem back a step. Mel’s heart stopped as she watched the relentless beating, fear creeping up her spine. Nem’s grip on Heracles arm weakened, as each blow drew more and more ichor from the Goddess.

Heracles paused in his blows, studying the goddess of Vengeance. His head tilt seemed to speak of contempt, Mel only able to imagine the look on his face. Nem’s lips moved slightly, as she whispered something to the gigantic mortal. Heracles paused, pulling her in to listen to her words.

His shoulders stiffened as Nem whispered into his ear. Her words had an immediate effect on him, as he seemed to shake and twitch. Mel could see his skin growing red, see the rage building within him. Heralces let out a deep anguished roar, his head tiled back to scream into the sky.

The mortal reared a fist back, a blow that seemed to pulse with power and fury. As he swung a meaty hand towards Nem, Mel feared she would see the end of her lover.

But Vengeance is swift and deadly.

Nem had set her feet while he was distracted, squaring herself in his grip. As the wild swing careened towards her, her body shifted as she easily broke out of his grip. Dipping her shoulder down, she coiled down beneath him, crouching low. Heracles’s savage blow flew through the empty space where her head was, his momentum taking him off balance.

Like a cobra, Nem struck. Her body shot upwards, fist slamming into Heracles’ chin with a bone-rattling crunch. The big man flew off his feet, arching backwards through the air to crash onto the cobblestones of the training grounds. The impact of the demigod shook the groun, sending barbs of pain through Mel’s injured chest.

Athena sighed deeply, twisting her spear up into a ready stance. ‘Foolish mutt of a child.’ She muttered to herself. ‘Theseus, hold her. I shall finish this mess.’

‘You can try.’ Hecate called out, as the Witch of the crossroads swept into the training area. She stood between the group and the fight, her form shifting as her duplicates flowed from her.

Athena paused, eyes bouncing between the now triplicate Titan. Nem pulled Heracles to his feet, glancing up towards the Headmistress with an unspoken question. Hecate gave an almost imperceptible nod, which seemed to satisfy Nem. The Goddess of Vengeance sank a blow into Heracle’s face, gripping him by the tie of the pelt at his throat. She spun him around, back facing out over Erebus, and kicked him bodily in the chest.

The demigod straked through the air, flying clear out of the training grounds. Distant cracks sounded as trees fell in the forests beyond, signalling his landing. Nem spat a glob of ichor onto the floor, and leapt after him, disappearing into the fog.

Athena had not moved, her spear deathly still as she seemed to analyse her opponent. The raiments of the Witch faded into wisps of magic, twisting themselves into her regular battle attire. Her twin flames burned brightly behind her, the flickering light throwing shadows over Mel’s face. Her teacher had not looked to her, instead keeping their gaze firmly fixed on the Goddess of Wisdom.

Athena stepped towards Hecate, conjured spear twirling around her in a blur to come down firmly in her grip.

‘Our Goal is not to kill you, Titan’ Athena called out, pointing her spear at the Titan. ‘We can have this resolve quietly.’

‘The state of my apprentice contradicts your words, Goddess.’

Athena turned slightly, to speak over her shoulder to her companion. ‘Theseus, holdfast. I will deal with the witches and return shortly.’

‘You have one chance to leave peacefully, Athena.’ Hecate commanded, her Titan bearing towering over the Goddess. ‘We reject Olympic authority in this matter, and refuse to obey.’

Athena set her feet, stance wide. Her shield was raised, the perfect image of a Hoplite. ‘All those who dare oppose our rightful rule shall be given no quarter.’

Athena blurred into a golden streak as she charged towards the witch.

In that moment, while Theseus’s gaze lingered on the other battles, Mel acted. She had worked her hands beneath her, cradling her broken ribs in her arms. Muttering a quick incantation, she channelled the magic of Gaia into her bones, firming the cracks in place, the bones setting with a sharp stab of pain. She would have to break them again to properly set them later, but for now they would hold.

Mel twisting her body to the side, swinging her leg to sweep Theseus feet from under him. Her shins caught the Athenian King at the back of his knees, causing him to cry out in surprise. He quickly rolled as he fell, righting himself in a flash of movement, but it was enough time for Mel to stand.

As she got to the feet, a sharp ripping pain spread through her torso, the soft flesh of organs burning. She coughed as she felt her lungs spasm against the blood that began to pool within them. Every breath deepened the ache in her chest. Maybe that hadn’t been the best spell for this scenario.

Theseus laughed loudly, brazen in his sense of superiority. ‘Hold, fiend! You'll walk not one more step toward freedom, as long as I stand.’

Mel grunted, wiping the blood that trickled from her mouth, one hand clutched around her ribs. She had to end this fast. ‘Lord Theseus, what a pleasure. I believe you have met my brother, the delightful Prince Zagreus?’ She winced, every word causing pain to shoot through her.

Theseus started, his eyes going wide. He spluttered as he stepped back, ‘Blah! That hellspawn is your kin?! No wonder Olympus seeks your head, for you must be a cur of the lowest order!’ He drew his sword, a wicked edge that gleamed in the dawn light. ‘Now, surrender yourself to my blade!’

Pain frayed the last of her nerves, chipping away at her patience. Talking hurt, breathing hurt. She sighed and flipped him off with her ghostly left arm.

Theseus scowled, clearly furious at her disrespect. He dived forward, sword arcing high to slice at her neck.

She dived to the side, ducking to allow the blade to pass over her. She slammed her palm into the ground, conjuring a magic circle under their feet. The magic sought to grasp at Theseus, holding fast to his legs. He snarled, swinging his shield low to clip the back of  her head.

The rim of the shield caught her in the side of the head, the pain causing stars to appear in her eyes. She flew forward, the force of the hit leaving her sliding across the packed earth.

As she pushed to her feet, flashes of light illuminated the the courtyard. Reflected spells and golden spears filled the air as the fight between Athena and Hecate raged at the other end of the Training Grounds.

Theseus was on her in a second, dashing close with teeth bared. His words were barbed, pointed, no doubt some dramatic flair, but Melinoë could not hear over the sounds of battle - the thrum of magic, the deep crashes of Heracles and Nemesis fighting in the woods.

 The sword slashed down towards her, as she rolled quickly to her feet. She twisted and ducked, using every lesson taught to her to evade the deadly blade. She struck him again and again, taking each opening to strike hard at his face. Theseus fought with true skill, blade turning the air into a storm of sharpened metal.

Several times the edge nicked her skin, the xiphos cutting into her flesh with a stinging pain. She blocked one of his blows with her ghost arm, the metal slicing through her ethereal flesh without resistance. The metal caught bone, leaving chips floating in the bright green magic.

She felt herself begin to ebb, her pierced lungs draining the vitality from her. Each dodge was slightly slower, each strike weaker. Her blows were slowly whittling him down, but she was beginning to slow as well.

She needed to end this fight. She needed a weapon.

Theseus was too quick, too fast. Every time she tried to manoeuvre towards the circle, the Hero slipped through to force her back and away. Her spells were dodged, her blows weathered. She needed space, and Theseus was not giving it to her.

Theseus’ shield came up, and she was a fraction of a second too slow. The rim caught her in the chin, flipping her over and sending her sprawling before her altar. Theseus leapt forward, sword angled down to stab her cleanly through her chest.

A resounding clang sounded, as Theseus’s blade was met by a broad shield. A cloaked shade stood over her, shield gripped in both hands.

‘Hello there, King.’ Odysseus said, voice straining beneath the shield.

Theseus’ eyes bulged, his face going red with rage. ‘Master Odysseus?! You would betray the very Gods themselves?!’

Odysseus slammed the shield upwards, twisting to force the Athenian king backwards. The Ithican shade chased the Hero down, armed only with the broad wooden shield. Theseus quickly regained his feet however, and was quick on the counterattack.

His sword slashed down, forcing Odysseus to nimbly jump over the sweeping blade. ‘You dastardly fiend, how dare you turn against the Gods!’ Theseus twisted his shield, swinging it up to slam against Odysseus’. The two shields slammed together, a clang of steel sounding like a bell as Odysseus was forced backwards.

The Athenian had the strength advantage, battering the wooden shield out of the way. Theseus swung again, pressuring Odysseus backwards step by step. Taking advantage of the reprieve, Mel scrambled forwards towards the Silver Pool. She dived towards the closest altar, the magic of the pool swirling to form the Nocturnal Arm in her grip.

The Athenian, no longer caught unawares, was playing with Odysseus, taunting the shade as he beat him down. ‘You misbegotten, shameful, unfilial maggot!’ Each word punctuated with a heavy blow with his shield, the final one catching Odysseus in the side of his head, sending him sprawling onto the ground.

‘Who are you to defy the will of the gods!’ Theseus cried, standing over the prone shade.

‘A better man than you, King.’ Mel’s voice rang through the training grounds, goading the Athenian to turn.

A breathy whine filled the air as the Black Coat rose from its altar, the armament folding into place around Melinoë. Theseus’s eyes widened as Mel swept forward with a burst of magical speed. The clang of silver on bronze echoed as Melinoë slammed into Theseus, gigantic fist crunching around his sword hand.

The Black Coat flared, the strange magic of the armament adding power to Mel’s blows. She crushed his hand in her fist, pulling him closer to punch the Hero squarely in the face.

Theseus screamed, wrenching his hand uselessly to free himself. He jammed the shield upwards, striking at her face in desperation. The Black Coat pulsed, a translucent force of magic appearing before her to block the blow and the shield rebounded with a dull hollow clang.

Mel pulled at Theseus’ hand, wrenching the sword from his mangled grip. The hero screamed as his sword flew away, tossed to the side like trash.

‘You blaggard!’ He screamed, making one last desperate swing at Mel’s face.

She pulled him off his feet, twisting him around before pulling back and slamming one gigantic fist into his spine. Theseus flew through the space, bouncing repeatedly along the ground like a discus before crashing into the far wall. The Black Coat whined, and several missiles shot from her back. They blazed through the air, each slamming into the prone form of Theseus, obscuring him in a cloud of fire and smoke.

As the dust cleared, Theseus’ body had vanished, the final splash of Stygian liquid marking the last trace of him.

Mel turned, one hand pulled free of the Cloak to cradle her injured core. Every breathe hurt. Every movement hurt. Mel breathed shallowly, her face a faint green. ‘I am in so much pain right now,’ she muttered to herself. Looking over, she saw Odysseus laying unconscious, a deep bruise spreading across his temple. The sounds of thunder and crashing of trees had silenced, the distant fight between the giant warriors reached a conclusion. One way or another.

The silence was pierced by a strangled cry, a familiar grunt of pain. Hecate was sprawled across the floor, hat discarded. The titan was bleeding from multiple wounds, her deep green blood glistening in the dawn light.

Athena withdrew her spear from one of the clones, the magical copy vanishing with a sage pop. The goddess was also wounded, and clearly exhausted. But she spun her spear, bringing the tip down level with Hecate’s face.

The titan whipped her arm up, a burst of moonlight magic leaping out towards the Goddess. But Athena’s light swelled, the golden shimmer around her flashing as the spell deflected. The orb sped off into the sky, as Athena stepped forward to loom over Hecate.

Horror filled Mel, as time seemed to slow. Despite the pain running through her chest, Mel felt her legs burn with exertion as she leapt forward. The Black Coat screamed the rage of Night as she sped forward, fists raised.

Athena spun to meet the new threat. The spear tip came up first, a deadly golden blur that went right for her chest. She dodged to the side, her fist rushing over it towards the Goddess. But as she lunged, her fist slid over the empty air, the golden magic forcing her blow off target. She could only watch as she missed, time slowing momentarily to a crawl as the Olympian’s shield came up to her jaw. The blow had her seeing stars, her head spinning as she flew to the ground.

Mel landed in a tumble next to Hecate, head ringing as she smashed into the stone rim of the Training Grounds. She felt the bones in her chest grind against each other, her spell failing to withstand any more damage to her internals. Her misplaced ribs punctured her lungs deeper, the slow leak turning into a flow of blood in her airways. She lay in a pile, breathing heavily and painfully as she felt blood start to fill her lungs.

Athena stood over them both, breathing heavily, skin shining with sweat. Ichor bled from scatterings of wounds, the attacks and blasts that had gotten through the Goddess’s wards.

Her spear was steady, but her eyes blazed with hate.

‘You think you can fight me, you? I am Athena, Goddess of Wisdom and Battles! I know what you plan the second you stand before me. Stay down, you disgusting creatures. You are facing your betters.’ Her voice was a snarl, spat through gritted teeth. Golden ichor covered her exposed fangs, adding a feral beauty to her fury.

‘You, I have to bring back alive.’ Her spear pointed at Melinoë, the tip a hand-span away from her nose.  ‘Killing you sends you back to the Styx, and to Chronos.’

‘But you.’ The spear moved to Hecate’s face, Athena’s voice growing deeper with anger. ‘You, Titan. I can cut you into little pieces, and you will just reform. Olympus might prefer if I return you in a sack. And I do owe you retribution for making me bleed.’

Mel tried to push herself up, tried to right herself. But the instant her muscles moved across her ribs, agony rushed through her, ripping a scream from her throat.

Hecate shifted next to her, breathing heavily through her mask. She bled from several deep wounds, her chest cavity opened to the bone by Athena’s spear. When Athena turned and raised her hand for the chains, the dropped restraints flying across the arena, Hecate gripped Mel’s wrist. ‘Return to shadow. I will hold her focus while you flee up the River.’ Her breath was a desperate whisper, her eyes locked on Athena.

Mel tried to shake her head, she refused to leave her Headmistress. If she fled, they would take her, would torture her on Olympus. She couldn’t bear to have that on her conscience, couldn’t bear to have her teacher suffer because of her.

‘Melinoë, now. Run.’ She was insistent, her grip firm. Again, Mel shook her head, tears building in her eyes. She couldn’t. She just couldn’t.

Athena turned back to them, the twin pairs of chains dangling from her grip. Her gaze was hard, eyes alight with fury.

A whistle sounded through the air, and Athena’s head suddenly jerked to the side.

Wet flesh showered over Mel, as a half destroyed Golden Apple rolled to a stop in front of her. Pieces of shattered apple dripped from Athena, gold juice running down her armour. Athena turned slowly, gaze burning a line up to the winged figure perched on the Pitch Black Stone.

Eris, Goddess of Strife, black wings flared as she lazily juggled another Golden Apple in one hand, a cocky grin on her face.

Athena stiffened, her voice a deadly whisper. ‘You.’

Eris’ grin widened, ‘Me.’

‘Now is not the time for your games, Strife.’ Her command rang through the air, carrying the regal bearing of the Mountain behind her words. ‘Your feud with the Witch can wait, this is Olympic business. Leave at once.’ Clearly dismissing the daughter of Nyx, Athena turned back towards the pair on the floor, chains clattering as she bent towards them.

‘Oh, no can do darling. Baby girl there is always my business.’ The words rapidly grew louder, as her black wings carried Eris down to crash into the side of Athena. The Olympian was thrown from her feet, tumbling through the Training Ground dirt in a puff of dust.

Eris landed in her place, Rail raised against her shoulder. She turned slightly to the pair on the floor, ‘Hey there, Trouble. You look a little rough.’

Mel could only let out a wet gurgle, as she heaved herself further upright.

‘Nah babe, you hold tight. I got this.’ Exagryph rattled as Eris drew the slide, racking the deadly ammunition. ‘I’m the only one who gets to penetrate you like that.’ She punctuated her comment with a wink, Mel groaning despite the pain it caused her.

Eris turned back to Athena, who was climbing back to her feet. The Olympian spat ichor into the dirt, the golden liquid dribbling from her lips to her chest.

As Athena readied herself, a change came over Eris. The Goddess tilted her head back and laughed, as her eyes began to flash and glow with magic. They pulsed, a random mix of her green, reds, and blues. Her wings fluttered, seeming to stretch longer as she laughed. The sound grew into a maddening cacophony, a frenzy of joy and chaos.

‘Oh! Oh baby!’ Her tongue lashed out to taste the air, ‘this is going to cause so much trouble, I can practically taste it!’

Athena swung her spear around, poised behind her wide shield. The air around her pulsed with magic, seeming to build with her fury. ‘I will enjoy taking my revenge on you, misbegotten wretch.’

Eris whooped back, ‘Let’s dance, darling!’

Athena leapt forward, feet dancing across the packed earth. She seemed to fly, each step a blur as she closed the gap within the blink of an eye.

But Eris was already gone.

Athena’s spear penetrated empty air. Mel heard her gasp, her steps faltering at the lack of resistance. ‘…What?’

Bullets streaked down from above, a torrent of hellfire that ripped up the earth. Athena dived to the side, her movements erratic and rushed. Her shield came up at the last second, the metal ringing as the bullets slammed into it.

Eris swooped down from out of the mist on high, a streak of black winged chaos that ripped through the air. Her knee slammed into Athena’s face, sending the Olympian’s head whipping backwards.

Golden ichor splattered through the air, droplets splashing across the Pitch Black stone. Athena roared her fury, ichor dripping down her face. Her spear lashed out, catching Eris clean through the shoulder.

The blow did not stop Eris, it instead seemed to excite her further. The mad goddess let out a cry that was halfway between a scream and a moan. Reaching up, she pulled the spear deeper into her flesh, sliding down the shaft, with black ichor staining behind her.

Before Athena could do more than flinch at the appalling act, Eris was on her, cruel grin wide in the face of the Goddess of Wisdom. She extended a long serpent-like tongue, trailing it up the side of Athena’s face. As the Olympian recoiled, Eris reeled her head back and slammed it into Athena’s face. The headbutt caused the Olympian to bleed even further, her regal nose a shattered and ichor covered mess.

Eris laughed again, before kicking off the Olympian. The sound of the spear leaving her body had Mel choking back a gag. The Olympian stumbled upright, screaming into the misty sky, where the flash of Eris had already vanished. ‘How are you doing this?!’

Immediately, the Olympian was bombarded by bullets, a hail of metal that kept Athena’s shield up and magic occupied. Her focus was wild, the Olympian trying desperately to track the impossible black blur of the winged goddess.

An explosive shell flew down, the canister slamming into the ground at Athena’s feet. The explosive ripped a hole in the earth, like the giants themselves rising from Tartarus. Athena threw herself forward, tucking into a roll to leap to her feet.

Sweet dripped down the Olympian’s body, her armour dripping with ichor and exertion. She had panic on her face, her movements frantic. ‘Why can’t I read you?! I am the Goddess of Wisdom and Battle!’ A dark laugh echoed through the air. No matter how their eyes strained, the Goddess of Strife remained invisible to both Mel and the Olympian.

The black streak burst from the trees, both feet driving into Athena’s back. The Goddess flew forward, sliding through the dirt as her weapons tumbled from her grasp. Her helmet came loose, the golden headpiece clattering away from her.

Eris straddled Athena’s hips, full weight pressing into the Olympians lower back. One hand gripped the back of Athena’s hair, forcing the Goddess’ face into the dirt. Her wings spread wide, wider than Mel had ever seen them. The air around her practically danced with divine energy, the aura of Eris vibrating with pure chaos. Her laughter echoed through the training grounds, louder than any one person should be.

The earth muffled Athena’s words, but Mel could hear the gasping cry. ‘Why can’t I predict your actions?!’

‘Because,’ Eris cried out, gun glowing with power, ‘there ain’t no wisdom in anything I do!’

She laughed again, a mad cackle, as she pressed the barrel of the Infernal Arm against the back of Athena’s head. The Goddess cried out, ‘No, stop, I comma—’ before her voice was cut off by a resounding bang.

The wet crack of Athena’s skull exploding echoed around the training grounds. A burst of ichor splattered up Eris’ torso, the thick liquid coating her face and chest. Golden fluid dripped from her chin and cheeks, slathering across Eris’s manic smile.

As Athena’s headless body was taken into the earth by heavenly light, Eris rode it down to to the packed earth. She slid down to her knees, cradling her gun as she gasped heavily. Her eyes were glazed over as her aura faded and her wings returned to their regular size. She absently ran a hand up her cheek, using her middle two fingers to scoop up the thick dripping ichor, before bringing them to her lips. Pulling them into her mouth, she sucked her digits clean with a soft - and disturbingly familiar - moan of delight.

She pulled her fingers out with an audible pop, her voice high and wispy as she let out a deep sigh. She turned to face Mel, a wicked grin across her face that was all teeth and violence. She leaned backwards on her knees, reaching her arms out and arching her back as she languidly stretched like a cat in a sunbeam.

‘Mmm, thanks for that Trouble. I really needed that.’ She flopped down onto her back, absentmindedly running her hands across the ichor spread up her chest, smearing the viscous golden liquid across her the skin of her collarbones.

Mel could only stare at the horrific sight, her partner languishing in the battlefield, reclining as if she did not just kill a War Goddess. Gone was the fierce energy, gone was the terrifying majesty of Strife.

Laying on her back, she was simply Eris once more.

She rolled over in the ichor of a goddess, folding her arms before her and pillowing her head atop them. Glancing up, her gaze locked with Mel and Hecate’s incredulous and horrified expressions. She cocked an eyebrow at them.

‘What?’

Chapter Text

The pain was excruciating, but Melinoë couldn’t stop coughing.

Her lungs kept filling with blood, a slow constant seep from around the rib cage. She could feel it, every time she coughed up blood, she could feel the slow sinking sensation as her chest slowly grew heavier.

She didn’t need to breathe, not as Mortals do, but the echo of Mortal life in her mind screamed in terror at the sensation. It was an incessant monkey, beating at the walls of its cage. Screaming at the lack of air, screaming at the touch of blood in her lungs.

No matter how hard she tried to repress the instinct, her body betrayed her in its spasms. Each cough caused her flailing rib-cage to grind and crack even further, the bones sounding like a millstone in her chest.

She knew she could solve this. Mel knew she didn’t need to be lying in the centre of her tent, hacking up mouthfuls of blood. She could call for Hecate, have her injuries healed without delay.

But she can’t. She can’t call for aid, like she can’t quiet her spasming lungs. There is a visceral reaction to the though, a deep unsettling disquiet that spikes whenever she gathers her breath to shout. The disquiet brought flashes, memories leaping into her mind to beat her down.

Eris, so unfazed by Athena that she takes to the skies to find more ‘fun’.

Nem, climbing back into the training grounds, black ichor dripping from savage bites and cuts. Bloody Lion’s pelt gripped in one fist like a grisly trophy of war.

Hecate, her injuries healing without pause, her titan physiology working to pull her dark skin together. The muscle sheaths and nerve fibres crawling their way across her exposed ribs, joining together as she worked to heal others.

The Unseen took to their work, shrugging off their injuries and pushing forward to do what needed to be done. All Melinoe could do was quietly keep herself from drowning in her own blood.

She had almost thrown up from the pain whilst limping back to her tent, doing her best to keep her injuries hidden from the others. It had not been an easy task, but she had finally made it beyond the Privacy charm on the tent door, and collapsed to the floor.

Now, she lay there, deep hacking coughs the shook her whole body, spasms that caused her to vomit thick clots of blood onto her rugs.

She just needed a bit of time. There was nobody else here, nobody in the tent who could see her being weak. She just needed to get to the mystic circle at the back of her tent.

As Melinoë slowly eased off her silver gorget, Dora swirled into being in front of her.

‘That was super exc—… whoa! Hey, you okay Mel?!’

The sudden appearance of her friend startled Mel, and she could not help but shove herself backwards, battle instincts overriding her self-preservation.

Her bones ground together with the movement, forcing a near soundless scream from her. She bent over double, instinctively clutching at herself to protect against the source of the pain. She was dimly aware of Dora floating around her, concern clear her voice as she asked more questions.

Mel gritted her teeth, lacking the air to be able to respond. She moved while she still could, using the last of her energy to stumble into her clearing and collapse onto her knees in her healing circle. The sharp jolt as she crunched into the cold stone set darkness creeping at the edge of her vision. She could feel the pull of the mystic circle, the siren song of relief promised by the magic healing.

But she had one last obstacle to overcome, a payment for strength borrowed. Mel fumbled out a series of gestures above her chest, her breathing hitching slightly as she tried her best to prepare for what came next. Heracles had done extreme damage to her core, and while her spell had held off the worst of it, she needed to get it properly healed as soon as possible.

The spell flashed, as the magic shot into her chest. The sound of two dozen ribs breaking simultaneously filled the grove, as Mel reversed her earlier desperate spell. She had to bite her lip bloody to prevent herself from screaming, the sharp flash of excruciating pain making bile rise in her throat.

Mel heaved herself forward, enough for the magic circle to catch onto her and lift her gently from the floor. She felt the tender embrace of magic pull at her, lifting her slowly from the earth. The touch of Gaia was a balm to her injuries, the circle pulling at her magic to work on her injuries.

She felt a dull wet clicking sensation as her ribs slid back into place. Her lungs reinflated, her forced gasp morphing into a groan as she felt a shard of bone slide out of her organ. She was thankful that she was floating in the circle, for otherwise the pain would have caused her legs to buckle beneath her.

Dora gasped, hovering around the edge of the circle. ‘Oh, I heard all that from here, you are definitely not okay babe. Imma gonna get you some help.’

Mel quickly raised a hand in an attempt to stay her friend. When she tried to call out, she began coughing as the magic forced the last vestiges of clotted blood from her windpipe. Mel wiped the blood and spit from her chin, panting to catch her breath. ‘Dora… I´m fine Dora, please.’ Her voice was weak, her newly healed lungs tender. She coughed again sending a final blood clot splattering to the floor. ‘Please, I just need a minute. Please don’t tell anyone.’

‘Don’t…? Mel, you just broke your own ribs on purpose! I have never seen you cough up blood like this before! What happened? Everyone is saying it was Athena? Isn’t she on our side?’

‘Heracles…’ Mel croaked, energy drained. ‘And not anymore.’

‘Heracles? But… Are you sure you don’t need…?’

Mel just shook her head, too exhausted to force out the words. The floating circle cradled her softly in its grasp, the gentle flow of the healing magic easing the aching in her limbs. She felt her awareness of the world sifting away, the gentle embrace of Hypnos pulling her down to sleep.

Her dreams were not pleasant.

These were not premonitions, or messages from the past. No insight into the world at large, or snide words from Chronos.

Bursts of emotion, punctuated by the flashing echoes of pain, nightmares that seeped into the reality of her memories. Shame that had taken root within her blossomed in this space, pulsing painfully to tint her visions.

Zeus’s hand gripping her neck, the electricity dancing across her vision as the rest of Olympus laughs.

The terrible weight of Heracles on her back, feeling her bones crack and splinter. He and Theseus taunting her, lamenting the lack of a worthy opponent. The strength that fled from her limbs, barely able to keep the beastly man at bay. The way he pressed down on her, his full weight crushing her beneath him.

The sight of Eris kneeling on the floor, covered in golden ichor, as her cousin begged her for help. Her tongue, impossibly long, stretching to lick the viscera directly from Athena´s gaping head wound. The deep red flesh probing deeper into the corpse, searching for morsels to consume.

The look of disgust on Nemesis’ face, the contempt she held for the Princess of the Underworld. For the pampered Goddess, too weak for the task, good for naught but pity.

So weak. So pathetic. Always needing to be saved.

Mel was roused by Odysseus’s voice calling through her tent. ‘Goddess? Are you up?’

Melinoë cleared her throat, swallowing back the taste of copper and bile. ‘Yes, Master Odysseus, I am here. Is everything alright?’

‘The Headmistress calls for you, Lady Artemis has returned.’

Relief swept through Mel. ‘I’ll be right there, thank you!’ Only when she heard her tent flap fall closed once more did she pull herself from her meditation pose. Her legs burned as she uncurled them from beneath her and she was unable to prevent a wince crossing her face as she forced herself to her feet. Her joints ached, protesting the movement, her muscles still sore from the dislocations.

As she moved to re-enter her tent, Dora re-appeared in her way, scowling with her arms crossed. She had grown more substantial over recent times, ever since regaining her memories. Some days Mel could see the faintest outline of features, legs that extended below her amorphous form.

‘Whoa, hey Mel… Whaaat are you doing up? I can see you’re still not done yet. Like, yeah, I know you spent all day healing, but that still doesn’t seem like long enough, yeah?’

Mel limped slightly as her muscles warmed up, taking some tentative steps around the tent. ‘I´m fine, Dora, thank you. I didn’t need much, just a little healing.’

Dora remained unconvinced, her eyes flicking up and down Mel´s body. ‘A little healing? Babe, I could hear your bones moving from inside the tent. You were coughing up blood! I don’t think that’s enough.’

Mel waved her friend off, a reassuring smile plastered over her internal grimace. Truth be told, she felt like death. It felt like a weight was pressing on her lungs, like she still could not take a full breath. She knew that she did not truly need to breathe, but being constantly on the edge of gasping ate away at her with every attempted inhale; a desperate panic building that she had to constantly suppress. Both her instincts and training told her she needed to return to the circle - heal even further - but she crammed that impulse down.

Artemis was back. Melinoë needed to see her. She needed to see with her own eyes that her weakness had not cost her the life of her sister.

As Mel stepped out of her tent, her eyes were drawn to the figures congregating around the garden area. Tall, lithe figures, humans with touches of wilderness and animal qualities. One pair bore antlers and leaves through their hair. Some had hints of fur and fang; others, designs of swirling greenery tattooed on their skin.

Mel watched the newcomers, confused. Nymphs? Those were a very rare sight in the Crossroads. Occasionally one might pass through with Artemis, but this many of the nature-folk outside their homes was completely unheard off. Some of them were wounded, with the others attending to those with greater injuries.

The ache of her legs prevented her from running, but she could not stop herself from hurrying. She limped through the Crossroads, following the familiar sight of a tall black hat. Moonlight dappled the area of the memorial gardens, Odysseus and Hecate standing before the fountain of Hades. An unfamiliar forest Nymph crouched beside a stretcher laid upon the soft grass which bore the form of Artemis.

The sight of wounds weeping golden ichor drew a cry from Mel, as she rushed forward to fall her knees besides the stretcher. ´Sister Artemis! What happened?’ Mel said, looking towards the stranger.

The Nymph was a larger woman, her skin sun-brown with a thick pelt of fur across her arms and shoulders. Her hair tied back into a deep brown braid, thick and coarse that seemed to flow down to join her partial fur. A great broadsword - made of dull steel and twisting roots - lay to the side, as the Nymph was carefully tending to Artemis´s wounds.

Hecate stepped forward, gently placing a hand on Mel´s shoulder. ‘Peace, Melinoë. Artemis is in no danger, merely resting now. This is her follower, Callisto, who was responsible for bringing her back to us.’ The large Nymph nodded to Mel, before returning to tending Artemis´s injuries. ‘We were just asking Lady Callisto to fill us in on their story, and how Sister Artemis came to be in this state.’

Callisto spoke up, her voice a deep but quiet grumble. ‘Hail, Melinoë. Artemis has spoken on you often, of your strength and your trials. I am glad to have finally met you, although I regret the circumstances.’ Callisto raised a hand to shake Mel´s in greeting. Mel´s hand felt tiny within the Nymph´s giant paw.

Odysseus was sprawled on the edge of the fountain, his legs stretched out and crossed in a lackadaisical fashion. He appeared to be at ease, but Mel could see the signs of tension in his posture. ‘Lady Callisto appeared while you were asleep, bringing the Nymphs and Artemis through the surface entrance.’

Callisto nodded, ‘We fled from our forests at the base of Mount Olympus. I knew of the entrance at Ephyra, and this was the safest place I could think of.’

Odysseus grimaced sardonically as he sucked his teeth, ‘tch… Unfortunately we have to disappoint you my lady. The Crossroads are no longer as safe as they were previously.’

Callisto´s shoulder seemed to slump, as if exhausted by the shades words. ‘… Artemis always spoke of this place as a sanctuary.’ She raised her head to look between Mel´s teachers, ‘What has happened?’

Hecate waved a hand to cut off Odysseus´s next words, stilling the shade. ‘Too much in this short time, and much has yet to happen still. May you please tell us how Artemis came to be in this state?’

Callisto shifted backwards to sit on the soft grass, sighing as she rested her arms on her raised knees. ‘Artemis appeared before us at the Woods, in the middle of our celebrations. She was scared and ragged, as if she had been running for a long time. She told us that Zeus had gone mad and attacked Melinoë after she defeated the monster Typhon. She bid us to flee, as close on her heels were the forces of Ares.’

‘The Blood-Stained…’ Odysseus muttered, his face growing grim.

Callisto nodded, ‘He took to the forests with spear and flame. We held him off where we could, but our forces are hunters, not soldiers. We barely managed to escape his forces with the help of some allies, but Artemis was forced to face Ares on the battlefield.’

Callisto leaned forward to gently stroke the hair away from Artemis´s face. ‘He struck her down, but she managed to wound him in turn. We brought her with us, fighting through Chronos’ forces to make our way here.’

‘Even leaving an injury upon the God of War is a mighty task,’ Hecate muttered, gazing down on the unconscious huntress. ‘She is incredibly brave, this Sister of ours.’ Mel nodded, a lump in her throat.

Her friend was in this position because of her. Forced to fight for her life, and the life of her friends, all because Mel needed saving. She felt the tide of guilt swell within her, the whispering ache that tore at her soul. She did this. She was the one to blame for this pain.

Callisto, oblivious to Mel´s internal self-destruction, looked up at Hecate. ‘What happened here? Have the wards fallen?’

‘The wards hold, for now, though they will not hold for long.’ Hecate reached into her pouch, pulling out the Olympus’s scroll of terms. ‘Zeus has declared war on the Chthonic gods, charging Melinoë with the gravest of crimes. He has demanded her capture - and mine - and is willing to burn the Underworld to get at us.’

Callisto scanned through the letter, eyes growing wider with every word. ‘This has been stamped with Artemis´s seal, but that is impossible. She joined us soon after the defeat of Typhon, and she swore that she had no idea of their intent.’

‘It seems that the King of the Gods believes he can do whatever he wishes, whenever he wants.’ Odysseus said, tossing an apple between his hands.

 Hecate shot him a chastising look. ‘When dawn came this morning, Athena used her connection to Melinoë to breach the wards. She arrived with spear and fury, bringing with her the heroes Heracles and Theseus. We fought them off - rather, Eris, a Child of Nyx, was able to finally slay her and send her to the River Orlias.’

Callisto leaned backwards, ‘Huh… That explains why it was only Ares attacking us. We are quite lucky for that. Ares is powerful, but he is all blood and rage. If Athena had joined the battle, we would have been defeated in a heartbeat.’

‘Then we are most pleased to have been a suitable distraction,’ Odysseus smiled slightly, a small sardonic grin. ‘But I have a question for you, my lady: how did you escape the attentions of Ares? He is rather dogged, if I recall. You said you had assistance from allies?’

Calisto inclined her head slightly, ‘Ah, yes. We had the help of the another group of Nymphs, under the leadership of Ariadne. We have traded with them in the past, so we gladly accepted their assistance when they appeared and offered to distract the enemy forces.’

Hecate´s head perked up, her gaze shifting from Artemis to the nymph. ‘Ariadne? The follower of Dionysus?’

Callisto nodded, ‘We keep in contact, seeing each other regularly through the forests. She and the other Maenads were able to distract Ares, waylaying his forces while we slipped away.’

‘Dionysus?’ Mel was confused. ‘He has refused to help during the war against Chronos, why would he help now?’

‘I am unsure,’ Callisto said. ‘She said she was sent by Dionysus after he learned of Artie´s attack on Zeus. He told them to come and help us escape the attentions of Olympus. She asked that I pass on a message: Lord Dionysus has requested a meeting, at his club in the depths of Oceanus.’

Odysseus hummed quietly, his brow furrowing slightly. ‘Oceanus… Outside the woods, but not on the Surface. It would make sense… Do we trust them? It might be a trap.’

Hecate stroked her mask absently, eyes distant, ‘I believe we can trust Lord Dionysus. Trickery such as this is not within his nature. He is - if anything - an annoyingly honest individual.’

Odysseus rubs his chin, deep in thought. ‘It could be a way to lure the young Goddess from hiding, if the machinations of Olympus are compelling his actions… But with Athena still recovering, Olympus would be greatly outmatched in a straight conflict. It would have been much less risk to just have left the Nymphs to the mercy of Ares, rather than this contrived ambush.’

Hecate nodded, ‘I agree.’ She sat up straighter, adjusting her hat with one hand. ‘Furthermore, Dionysus has cause and motive to side with us. Putting aside from his distaste for war, he believes he owes me a great debt.’

Odysseus cocked his head slightly, pausing on the brink of tossing the apple again. ‘A debt, Headmistress?’

‘`Twas long before the Unseen,’ Hecate said. Mel perked up in place, eyes finally shifting away from Artemis to focus on Hecate. The Headmistress very rarely shared details of her past. ‘I cured a young Dionysus of a curse of madness. Since that day, he has been quick to offer me aid, despite my repeated assurances that the debt has been paid.’

‘…Headmistress, I have never heard this of you,’ Mel said. ‘It must have been an incredible feat to free a God from a curse.’

Hecate waved off her praise, ‘Nonsense, `twas an simple task. One you could accomplish with your current skills. The caster´s focus was elsewhere at the time, and her spell work was rather… pedestrian.’

Callisto chuckled. ‘Hera no doubt, failing to clean up Zeus’s messes,’ the Nymph offered wryly, ‘as per usual.’

‘Yes, that is what he suspected,’ Hecate murmured. ‘Nevertheless, ever since that day, he has been quick with his hospitality, although we have not spoken in many seasons. I am firm in my belief that he will treat us amicably, and will allow no harm to come to us under his care.’ She brushed the dirt from her hands, before she pushed herself to her feet with a sigh. ‘Thank you, Lady Callisto, for your time and for your service. You and your kin are welcome to share the bounty of The Crossroads with us. I am confident we can find you space to rest. As to a guarantee of protection and safety, I confess that I am markedly less confident…’

Odysseus perked up, snatching the apple from the air with a deft swipe. ‘ I'm certain we have a bit of time before any forces of Olympus return, Headmistress. For now, we can offer good food and good hospitality.’ He flashed Callisto a cocky grin, one that she returned distractedly, before returning to tending to Artemis.

Hecate nodded firmly, ‘Melinoë, we make for Oceanus. Are you ready to move out?’ At Mel’s nod, she continued, ‘Good. We will leave shortly.’

Mel’s ribs ached terribly, pulling her attention as the group began to separate. Despite the pain, a particular comment from the conversation continued to linger in her thoughts. Before he could move too far away, Mel reached out to gently tug at Odysseus’s sleeve. ‘Master Odysseus…’

Odysseus stopped in place, closing his eyes and sighing. ‘Oh, that’s never good,’ he murmured. Mel frowned in confusion, but pressed on.

‘What did Lady Callisto mean by her comments? What did she mean about Lady Hera? Cleaning up what messes?’

The shade paused, as his expression grew pained. ‘Ah…’ The single syllable hung in the air, a sound weighted with reluctance and shame. Mel’s confusion deepened.

Odysseus sighed, ‘… It’s probably long past time for this,’ he said quietly, as if to himself. He turned back to Melinoë, ‘Come, Goddess. Let’s take this somewhere quieter, hmm?’ He ushered her towards the training grounds, pausing briefly to speak with a Nymph and making some sort of exchange before following.

The Training grounds had undergone patchwork repairs while Mel had healed. The cracked and broken flagstones had been replaced with packed earth and cobblestone. The blood had been scrubbed clean, undoing the traces of the great battle. Commander Schelemeus was nowhere to be seen, with his usual congregation of shades absent from the sparing area. Odysseus led her in the direction of the Commander’s clearing, guiding her gently towards the open but solitary space.

Before Mel could ask again, Odysseus raised a clay gourd - apparently what he had acquired from the Nymph - and bit into the cork. Unplugging the jar, he took a sniff before whistling and holding it out to Melinoë. ‘Here Goddess. We are going to do this right, as my family has always done. We each take a few drags, and then we’ll get into it.’

Mel took the gourd, sniffing gingerly at the neck. The pungent aroma and flood of flora scents made Mel wrinkle her nose. Odysseus chuckled at her expression of distaste. ‘It’s better if you don’t take it slowly, Goddess.’ Mel glanced at him, before tilting the jar back and taking a big swig.

The crisp, acidic alcohol bit into Mel’s tongue. She swallowed, mostly out of alarm, before coughing  as the sour taste lingered on her palette. She choked back the urge to cough as she passed the gourd back to Odysseus. The strain of holding back the spasms sent another wave of pain through her chest.

Odysseus took the gourd, raising it to his lips. ‘Apologies Goddess. Wine is a poor drink after a life of Nectar and Ambrosia, but my family always drank wine when discussing delicate matters. I rather wished to continue the tradition.’ He scrunched his face up as he swallowed, a noise like a cough and a gasp coming from his throat. ‘By the gods, that is strong though.’ He passed the drink back to Mel, as he took up a slow pace around the clearing.

She took another tentative sip of the alcohol, the taste was beginning to grow on her. Mel glanced at him sideways, as she fell into step beside him. There was a tension about Odysseus that reminded Mel more of going into battle, than one of teaching. It only served to fuel her curiosity and anxiety both. ‘My lord-’

Odysseus cut her off. ‘Please just call me Odysseus here. We have no need for formality, in this conversation.’

Mel nodded, forcing herself to relax slightly, ‘Odysseus, why are we talking out here, like this? Is it a great secret?’

Odysseus chuckled darkly, ‘Not a secret, insomuch. No, we are here because this is how I learned painful truths. My great grandsire taught his sons, and they taught their sons, and my father taught me. Be glad I have not broken out the training staffs - my Father taught me of Siring children while beating me black and blue.’ He flashed a grin, and Mel couldn’t help but giggle at the image of a young Odysseus recieving ‘the talk’ while defending himself. She suspected that he had found the conversation more painful.

His grin faltered slightly, as he took a more serious edge. ‘He also used this time to teach me more personal complexities. Like how - whilst he raised me and called me son - he was not the one to conceive me, and my bloodsire was a man whom he and my mother had both loved dearly. Not that it mattered, as he was my father and I was his son, but at the time I took it… harshly. But regardless, this is the way I learned to discuss things of a serious nature.’

He took another swig from the gourd and passed it back to Mel, before producing another apple from thin-air. ‘So,’ he began, lightly juggling the apple as he walked, ‘you wish to understand Lady Callisto’s comments about Queen Hera and Lord Zeus?’

Mel nodded, taking another mouthful of the strong wine. ‘When we were discussing Lord Dionysus, she said that he was one of “Zeus’s messes”. And that Hera was trying to clean him up, by cursing him. What did Callisto mean by that?’

Odysseus nodded, his features hard as he considered her questions. He paused the juggling for a moment to take the gourd back, taking another long draw of the pungent liquor. ‘The answer to that has many layers, unfortunately, so we will have to break it down into pieces. Firstly, Hera.

‘You know the depths and power of love, the way it grips the heart. Gods are no exception to Aphrodite’s influence, in this regard.’ He gestured back towards the Crossroads, over Mel’s shoulder. ‘But the way that you feel love, the freedom you express within your group - what did Artemis call it, your Polyeros? - this way is not always the way of others. Even the Gods.’

Mel cocked her head as she processed what the shade was saying. ‘So, not every God feels as I do? Others experience… Jealous? Envy? Possessiveness?’

Odysseus nodded, flicking the apple up in front of him, twirling wildly. ‘Yes, and for some, this jealousy can turn into something more...’ He snatched the apple from the air with his other hand, ‘venomous. Queen Hera has a sordid reputation for this sort of reaction. Many myths within the Mortal World chronicle her legendary jealousy.’

‘That might explain some of the comments she has made, about me finding one person and settling down…’

Odysseus chuckled. ‘Yes, exactly. The Queen has a certain way of seeing the world, and does not take kindly to others disagreeing.’

Mel paced in silence for a moment. ‘You said there are stories. Do the other Gods know this? Lord Zeus?’ Odysseus nodded, watching the apple twirl in the air. Mel frowned, ‘Then he chooses to still seek other partners, despite this?’

‘Yes, Hera’s jealousy is well known, even upon Olympus. Why Lord Zeus continues to tempt her wrath, is his reasoning alone - although one can assume the reason.’

Mel nodded, ‘Sex is very fun,’ she said, causing Odysseus to splutter and cough on the mouthful of wine he had just taken. ‘What I don’t understand is the mind of the mothers. If the stories are as widespread as you say, I can not understand what possessed the mothers to lie with Lord Zeus. Especially if he is prone to losing control and fathering children.’ Swirling the almost empty gourd, she tilted her head back, pouring the last of the dregs into her open mouth. 

Mel only noticed that Odysseus had stopped his pacing from the sound of the apple falling to the floor. She glanced back, and was shocked to see an intense look of shame on the Shade’s face. She stopped short as concern blossomed in her chest. ‘What is the matter, Odysseus?’

Odysseus grimaced, taking another long swig of the wine. He coughed, wiping his chin with the back of his hand before tossing the bottle to her. He motioned for her to drink, and only after she managed to swallow a few mouthfuls did he continue.

‘That is the difficult part, Melinoë. They do not have a choice.’

Mel’s brow furrowed, ‘What? In what way do they not have a choice?’

Odysseus tilted his head back, his shoulders slumping as the words seemed to drain him. ‘What I mean, Melinoë… is that Lord Zeus frequently forces himself upon others, through either violence or guile.’

Mel jerked backwards, as if the words struck her like a punch. Disbelief flushed through her as she managed to stammer out a response, ‘Forces himself? You mean to say he rapes people?’

Odysseus stood in silence, before slowly nodding. Mel’s chest grew tight as she desperately searched the Shade’s expression for any sign of falsehood - that this was merely a cruel trick, a joke made in the poorest of taste, a lie spun to test her. As the silence stretched, and Odysseus’s expression did not shift from grim resignation, Mel felt a storm of emotions rising within her.

‘Wait… Wait, wait wait… Lord Zeus is a rapist? Why… Why has no-one alerted Olympus? Or Queen Hera? Surely they could band together to stop him.’

The Shade raised his mournful gaze to meet hers. Mel’s stomach dropped at his expression of pity. ‘That’s the thing Melinoë. They already know. Everyone knows.’

Mel spluttered, her words a jumble that failed in her throat. ‘Everyone except me you mean?’ she finally spat. She raised a hand to cut Odysseus’s response off, her mind whirling with conflicting thoughts. ‘Wait, you mean to tell me that Queen Hera not only knows of his crimes, but that she still curses the women and children? His victims?!’ Her voice cracked on the last word, unable to control herself as the torrent of emotions flooded through her. She could barely make out Odysseus’s response, the thunder of her pulse in her ears drowning out his confirmation.

‘So, he forces himself on women, forces them to bear his children, and then Hera comes in and curses them to misery and death?’ Mel resumed pacing, her footsteps playing a soundtrack to the turmoil occurring within her. ‘And nobody stops him?’

Odysseus nodded, ‘It is said that most of Olympus merely look the other way… at best.’ He paused, something unspoken echoing in the air.

Mel paused, staring daggers at him. ‘What?’ The single word dripped with the frustration that was slowly building within her.

Odysseus grimaced, his jaw working as he seemed to chew his words, before saying, ‘According to stories, many of the other Gods often do the same.’

Mel’s blood ran cold, as she felt her non-existent breath catch in her throat. Odysseus must have noticed the way her muscles tensed, because he quickly added, ‘Not all of them. Some, like Poseidon and Ares, maybe Apollo. I understand it can be hard to learn of this side of people you know. I was there during the war an-’

Mel cut him off with a swift gesture, her hands shaking. Out of the pool of turmoil in her chest, a great bubble of rage had risen to the top and burst, flooding her system with a blazing fire. The rage aligned into a single thought, that echoed louder and louder within her mind. She felt heat on her face, her muscles twitching, the pain in her chest forgotten. ‘You said everyone knew.’ She locked eyes with Odysseus, her fury in her gaze enough to force him back a step. Her voice was flat, but dripped with barely contained anger. She felt apart from herself, as if she were awash within a sea of herself. ‘Everyone?’

Odysseus nodded, his face grown rather pale.

 ‘Everyone except me. You knew, Hecate knew, Artemis knew. And you didn’t tell me.’

Odysseus paused, before shaking his head. ‘We… We knew that, if you were to be able to face Chronos, you would need to parley with your family, to call upon them for their boons. And we thought that it would be easier for you if you weren’t wary around them, while trying to earn their favour.’

Mel twitched, fists clenching tightly. It was all she could do to hold her words steady, so great the anger burned within her, ‘You left me in the dark. If I had known… If I had… I went to their palace, I… If I knew they were like this, I would have been on my guard, I could have defended myself from their attack! You lied to me! The whole camp lied to me!

‘I defended them! I stood there and…’ Waves of memories crashed over her, her past words sitting bitterly in her mouth. ‘Oh my god, I argued with Prometheus… He knew. They all knew. I stood proudly, declaring the Gods to be good and just, and everyone knew the truth.’ Shame and embarrassment mixed and fed into the flame of rage, stoking it to greater heights as she suddenly felt the stares and sneers of those she had unknowingly condescended to. Looking on her with contempt, branding her as a naive child.

Her eyes went wide. She was a naive child. She had ignored all the signs, all the ways that others spoke of Olympus, the way…

It was all too much for her. She felt her hands grasping at empty air, the shaking in her limbs. She needed to move.

Mel turned suddenly, moving with long, desperate strides towards her Weapon Altars. Odysseus called out to her, lurching forward to reach out to her.

‘Don’t!’ she cried, her voice hard and sharp as she slapped away his reaching hand. Odysseus froze, taken aback by the rage and anguish in her voice. ‘Don’t touch me. I… I need to go. I will meet Hec- Headmistress in Oceanus. I…’ she paused, before looking up into Odysseus’ eyes. ‘…You lied to me… I can’t even look at you right now.’

Mel turned before she could see Odysseus’s face, his reaction,  instead snatching up the Sister Blades and rushing towards the gateway to Erebus.

Chapter Text

If only the dead could bleed, Erebus would have been an abattoir that night.

Melinoë took to the mists with axe and blade, the twin sisters Lim and Oros flashing as they cleaved through her enemies. Neither rest nor mercy was granted, for Mel had naught but pain in her heart.

The sister blades cried out for violence and blood, clad in the aspect of a dark god. They craved the warmth of steaming blood on snow, the heat of battle. Melinoë, conversely, merely sought solace.

The night had begun with a plan: clear her head through rituals of exercise and training. But the more she moved, the less clarity she gained. With each shade slain, she found the serenity of the kill absent, and so she pushed herself harder, faster. She craved the clear-headed feeling she had in combat, the flow that she fell into that made everything in the world so simple. But it remained just beyond her reach, no matter how hard she pushed.

Instead her mind grew clouded with swirling fog. It enveloped her, a blanket smothering all within her and obscuring her thoughts. She felt nothing but a strange, overwhelming giddiness. It was a desperate chaos within her, a hypocrisy in her mind both numbed all feelings but made wild laughter rise in her throat.

Her focus began to slip through her fingers and her blades faltered. The shining silver cut through both air and shade - she struggled telling the two apart. Her swings grew wilder, a feral intent overwhelming years of training.

With each clearing, the shadows grew longer, the darkness deeper, and her grip on reality slipped. Her mind began to play tricks on her, throwing the empty visages of the cursed shades into sharp relief. Their normally blank faces took on haunting eyes, piercing stares that cut her deeply.

Judgement began to form in the eyes of the cursed shades, wordless accusations biting at her no matter how many she killed. They watched her, always watching, their dead eyes tracking her as she fell amongst their ranks.

A flicker in her mind - the part of Mel that still kept its feet grounded in the world - balked at the wrongness about her. In a quiet voice it spoke to her, telling her to flee from Erebus. But the more she fought, the smaller the voice became, and the more the cursed shades seemed to watch her. She began leaping at the shadows, seeing cursed shades hiding from her blades. She would strike at them, only for her silver to whistle through empty air.

Other shapes joined the glares of the cursed shades, shapes in the darkness that seemed to always follow her. Familiar figures she saw out of the corners of her eyes. Despite their facelessness, Mel recognised them: Nemesis, Hecate, Father. She saw the pity in their postures, sadness and disappointment in the way they watched her. Without words, Mel felt their judgement weighing upon her, finding her wanting. They demanded answers, explanations. The echo of Odysseus words were in their stares. It was an ugly wound, and the eyes of the cursed shades salt poured in the cut. The horrific revelations granted to her were but fuel for their hatred of her, for it was certainly hatred they felt.

They hated her. Each shade watched her, judged her. They were disgusted by her, pure contempt in their eyes as she cleaved through them. The shadows that watched from the sides, the silhouettes of her loved ones, they also hated her. Of course they would. She was a failure, a pitiful creature. She had failed to help, failed to stop them, and failed to see the horrors that were happening right before her eyes.

 This certainty chipped away at the restraint she was trying desperately to hold. There was too much in her mind, too much for her to hold back. She could not focus with the eyes of the shades watching her, and she could not think through the syrupy wine that clogged her mind.

It was an intoxicating elixir, the numbing tonic that flooded through her. It smothered all other feelings, leaving nothing but a delightful numbness that trickled down her limbs. Every emotion was swallowed by the tide, the fear and the anger melting into the joyful floating sensation.

Her limbs were light. Pain was a distant memory. Nothing existed for her but the thick liquid that tickled at her. The sensations birthed a euphoric laughter that lodged in her throat. It carried with it a wave of wild joy, her body shaking with mirth even as she clawed at her throat.

She fell to her knees as the cackle tore itself from her. She clapped her hands over her mouth to still the giggles, but to no avail. The laughter grew, the mania feeding on the thick syrup within her. Wild bellowing laughter ripped itself free, her throat tearing with the force of the outburst.

The thick wine within her swelled higher, a tide that swallowed the last fragments of her consciousness. Her hands gripped her weapons, moving of their own accord. As she felt herself slipping beneath the waves, she watched the silver flash in the moonlight, wild strikes that were accompanied by her continued manic laughter. 

Nemesis trudged into the next clearing, her dread mounting with each step.

She had followed her partner into the darkness of Erebus, after Odysseus had come to the Crossroads ranting and raving. Initially Nemesis had harboured her own doubts as to the necessity, but her concern grew greater as she followed Mel’s path. Though, trail of destruction would perhaps have been a more apt description, as Nem stepped through the twisted remains of Erebus’s shades. Heads separated from bodies, corpses rent in twain, Wastrels torn apart as if by her bare hands.

Nemesis kicked at a body with her armoured toe, grimacing at the state of it. She crouched down next to the ruin of a tree, checking the sheer destruction of the trunk. If she were not following a specific person, she would have suspected that Cerberus had been through here instead.

‘What the fuck is going on,’ Nemesis muttered, pushing back to her feet.

The goddess of vengeance strode through the remaining clearings, for once not instantly beset with cursed shades. The bodies littered the forest floor - some slain wildly, some hacked to pieces.

She came across the remains of a Root-Weaver, the warden of Erebus strewn about its clearing. Strangely though, the head of the creature was missing, the neck roughly hacked away. Chunks were taken from the surrounding treeline, signs of desperate raving swings. Absent was the skill and finesse Mel normally exhibited. No, this was something deeper; this was brutality.

Nemesis frowned at the mutilated corpse at her feet, and drew her sword. Just in case.

Nemesis finally found her partner in the chamber of Hecate’s battleground. Nemesis usually gave this room a wide birth, trying to avoid the attention of the Headmistress. But the trail of devastation was clear, leading into the clearing.

Melinoë stood within the clearing, her weapons hanging loosely by her side. Her posture was slack, almost as if she were asleep on her feet. Her head had rolled backwards, tilted away from Nemesis. On her belt hung the severed head of the Root-Weaver, strung up by the frond-like hair.

‘What the fuck…’ Nemesis whispered to herself, as she carefully approached her partner.

Whether it was her footsteps or her words, Nemesis was unsure, but something in her approach alerted Mel. The Goddess’s head snapped around, eyes locking onto Nemesis. The sudden movement caused Nem to freeze, as she was trapped by Melinoë’s gaze.

Her eyes were glassy, distant and absent her usual spark. There was an emptiness to her expression, the complete lack of recognition. It was as if there were a shadow across the woman’s gaze, blinding her to reality. For a brief moment, Nemesis felt the sharp trickle of fear creep up her spine.

‘Oh my dear Nemesis,’ Mel murmured, chuckling darkly to herself. ‘You are always right behind me, aren’t you?’ Mel’s voice slurred, soft and dreamlike.

‘Hey Princess,’ Nemesis said, gingerly stepping closer. ‘You doing okay?’

Melinoë did not answer Nem, nor show any sign of even having heard her. ‘You are always watching, aren’t you, my beloved Nemesis.’ The Goddess raised her dagger, staring down the blade towards Nemesis. ‘Always right on my heels, always waiting for me to fall.’

‘Waiting…?’ Nemesis asked, frowning in confusion,  ‘Princ- Mel, What are you talking about? Listen, Odysseus was worried ab—’

Mel lunged forward, closing the gap in the space of a heartbeat. Nemesis only just managed to raise her blade in time to meet the slashing silver, Stygius ringing as the sister blades struck again and again. The strikes were fast but lacked killing intent, feints and taunts designed to test responses.

Between blows, Melinoë kept speaking in the same dreamlike fashion, as if to the empty air. ‘Have you enjoyed watching me?’ Her voice was steady, despite the constant exertion. ‘Watching me flounder like a fool?’

Nemesis leapt back to disengage, leaving the clearing ringing with the echo of steel and silver. She shook her head, struggling to understand her lover’s strange behaviour. ‘Mel, please.’ She said, working to keep her voice calm, despite the anger rising within her. ‘This isn’t the time for sparing, Ody—’

‘Even now you remain silent,’ Mel twirled slowly as she paced, weapons held loosely in her grip. ‘Always the silent one. Silent silent silent.’ Her voice trailed off as she stared into space, distracted by something only she could see. Her vacant gaze snapped up to meet Nemesis’s, mismatched eyes alight with a sudden cold fury. ‘Even when I defended my family, you remained silent. Even when you knew they were monsters.’ Her voice rose to a yell as Mel darted forward, rushing towards Nemesis’s chest.

Nemesis’s limbs were leaden with shock, as she tried to snatch at the girl. Mel easily dodged under her hands, slipping beneath her fingers to come up behind the big goddess. A swift elbow to Nemesis’s ribs almost sent the woman flying, the goddess only able to just keep her footing as she barked out a flabbergasted response. ‘What the fuck are you talking about? Your family? Olympus?!’

‘Was it enjoyable for you, to watch me stumble around blindly, hurting my friends through my ignorance. Is that why you never told me about what they were? ’ Mel bounced from foot to foot, her weight shifting effortlessly as she pranced around Nemesis. ‘Or maybe it was vengeance: your revenge for Hecate choosing me over you?’

Nemesis tried to breath, desperately trying to contain her building fury. Something was wrong here -  someone had told Melinoë about her family’s crimes, and she was not reacting well to the knowledge. ‘Mel, we can talk about this properly, later, when we aren—’

Pale skin flashed as Melinoë surged forward, her fist lashing out to catch Nemesis in the jaw. The Goddess of Vengeance staggered, a thin trail of black ichor dripping from her lips.

Nemesis saw red.

Melinoë lunged in close, keeping low to the ground. She held her dagger underhanded as she strafed left and right. Nemesis was wise to her showboating, however, forcing Mel’s hand by striking at her back as the girl feinted low. Melinoë cackled as she whipped her knife up, blade flat to guide Nemesis’s fist over her body. This left her open for Nemesis’s true response, as a firm knee connected with the side of Mel’s head. The young goddess tumbled to the ground, thrown clear by the force of the impact. Nemesis winced as her wrist burned, a long thin slice up the side of her wrist from the parry.

Across the clearing, Mel sprang to her feet, glancing down to her blade as if seeing it for the first time. The Princess’s face erupted into a wide manic grin, her eyes alight with joy at the sight of Nem’s blood. Mel chuckled to herself as she resumed stalking Nemesis.

‘Or was there something else, my beloved?’ she asked, voice still bearing the strange intonation, and lacking any sign of exertion. ‘Another motive to your deceit? There must be a reason you let me go to meet them in person without knowing the full story, was there not?’

Nemesis shook her head, clearing the sweat from her eyes. She wanted to argue, to scream her reasons, but she knew her words would fall on deaf ears. There was no getting through to Melinoë now, no path to understanding. Instead, Nemesis tracked the princess’s movement around the clearing, Stygius raised and held ready.

Mel burst into life once more, dashing forward to bring their weapons together with shriek of metal on metal. There was no holding back from the Princess now, no games being played. She struck, seeking blood.

Mel brought Nemesis in close, body to body. She used the cruel beak of her axe to lever the warrior’s sword, hooking the blade to force Nemesis forward onto unstable footing. Nemesis twisted into the pull, rolling to her knees to whip her blade up to an upward slice, but Mel was quick to dodge away from the deadly blow. The princess kicked off the kneeling goddess’s chest, her dagger slicing upwards to leave a long, burning cut along Nemesis’s face.

Mel landed gracefully as Nemesis stumbled back to her feet, the dagger raised to her lips as she ran her tongue over the ichor-covered edge. The larger goddess was floundering; she was hesitant to use her full strength against the Princess, fearing that she would be unable to trigger her recall spell in her current state. What would happen if she were to die? Would she return to the Styx, to be delivered to Chronos’s waiting hands? Nemesis grimaced as she regained her footing. She couldn’t take that risk. She had to end this quickly - and without killing her.

Mel’s voice snapped Nemesis from her musings. ‘Maybe that was it; a mix of it all.’ The Princess tapped her chin with her dagger, face twisting in an exaggerated expression of thought. ‘Maybe it was revenge. That’s why you let me go to Olympus alone, without warning.’

 ‘Maybe you were hoping it would also happen to me.’ Mel’s expression fell as she dropped the act, her dagger whipping up to point accusingly at Nemesis. ‘Hoping I would be hurt by Olympus, that their violation would break me. Then you would finally get a shot at Chronos, like you have always wanted.’

Nemesis froze, her heart growing cold as Mel continued her insane ramblings. ‘It makes sense, does it not? My Monster of an uncle preys upon me, and you get to swoop in and assume the Task - save the day.’ The Princess was flailing her arms around, as if she were giving a lecture to a classroom. Nemesis could barely breathe, so tight was her chest at the implication in Mel’s words.

‘You have always thought I was weak, always wanted me to stay at the Crossroads, and always wanted to claim ownership of the Task.’ Mel spread her arms wide, as if waiting for applause. ‘You get to do all of it. And all it would cost is me getting attacked - well, and maybe raped. A good deal for you, isn’t it?’

Nemesis stopped walking, sword held limply by her side. She could not believe what she was hearing, what the love of her life was accusing her of. The depths of depravity she would have to reach to even consider such an act went against Nemesis’s very soul. She would sooner set herself aflame then allow such a thing to happen. And yet, the love of her life continued to talk, rambling out her beliefs as if she were not stabbing Nemesis’s heart deeper with each word.

Mel’s face twisted into a manic grin, an agonising grimace that seemed involuntary. ‘It’s a fair trade. It’s not like you ever really cared for me - I’ve only ever been an obstacle for you, one solved with fucking rather than a sword! Now, you don’t have to worry about any of that!’ Mel laughed softly, her tone merry despite her painful words . ‘You get to be the Hero, and you get to be free of me!’ Another manic laugh, edging into to hysteria. ‘Win-win!’ Mel’s body shook with wild laughter, as she collapsed to the floor.

Nemesis looked away as Mel lay cackling upon the ground; resentment and disgust bubbled within her. She spared one final glance back to the woman before turning and marching from the clearing, the manic laughter chasing Nemesis the entire way back to the Crossroads.

Mel was awoken by a cool gentle sensation flowing through her. It was a strange waking, not at all like being roused from slumber. It was less like she had been asleep, but instead focused intensely upon some thing in particular. Her awareness came back to her, accompanied by a terrible ache within her limbs that threatened to consume her. It was as if she had completed some great trial with no care for herself, like she used to do as a foolish child.

She let out a quiet moan as she tried to move, her muscles painfully protesting. A shadow passed over her eyelids as someone leaned over her, a gentle voice shushing her softly. A cup was pressed to her lips, and ice cold water gently poured into her mouth. It was a balm for her raw throat. Her whole body felt like it had been wrung of every drop of liquid. She drained the cup before coughing, blinking away the tears that formed.

Her bleary eyes cracked opened, flinching as the normally soft light of Erebus burned her retinas. She was on the ground, on her back being cradled by a stranger. She could not see much, her vision still distorted and blurred. She tried to raise her hands to her eyes to rub at them, but the stranger above gentled her movements, tutting softly.

The cup was again brought to her lips, more water that she desperately drank. Her vision cleared slowly, each blink driving back the distortions. Soon she was able to make out the stranger above her, holding a worn wooden chalice to her lips. She had olive brown skin, and was clad in soft purples and lilac hues. Faint but intricate tattoos dappled her chest and throat - a flowing series of vines and flowers that seems almost to sprout from her skin. Her robes were worn but beautiful, clearly handmade and well-loved over many long years. The woman hummed gently as Mel drank once more, one hand cradling Mel’s head and gently stroking the young goddess’s hair. Her smile was like the sunrise, offering gently warming radiance.

Mel swallowed the water, her throat finally relaxed enough to talk. ‘Who…?’ she asked, voice coming out as a faint croak.

‘My name is Ariadne. I am a friend.’ The woman’s voice was warm and heavy, curling around the words like smoke. ‘Are you feeling better?’

Mel nodded, taking another sip of the water. It was the truth, somehow. The fog and wine that had clouded her thoughts had faded, as her mind finally became aware. ‘Where… My head…’ Where was she? She felt like she was just waking up, like she had spent the last few hours in a dream. ‘I feel like I’ve been…’

‘Drunk? Close.’ Ariadne said, helping Mel to sit up fully. The woman held up a small vial containing a vivid purple liquid. ‘You were under the effects of a Bakkheia - or revel - an intense period of…. Revelation, so to speak. I pulled you from it, as it looked like you were suffering greatly. May I ask, which Maenad was guiding you? It is not wise to be alone during a revel…’

Mel stared at the glass vial, dread rising in her stomach. The purple was familiar, the colour bringing to mind the sour taste of the wine she drank with Odysseus. ‘Oh dear…’ She wiped the remaining tears from her face, her hand coming away the same purple. ‘Oh gods, Odysseus…’

‘Odysseus?’ Ariadne’s expression flickered slightly, ‘… Are you the goddess Melinoë?’

Mel nodded, struggling to push herself up to her feet. Her limbs shook with the strain, her muscles failing before she could get her feet under her. Ariadne pulled her back down to her lap, tutting quietly. ‘Oh no,’ she said, pushing the water back into Mel’s face. ‘No, you need far more. You were deep in there; deep enough I could feel you from Oceanus. I understand my Lord has a reputation, but you need not partake in Dionysian wine simply to meet with him.’

Mel drank deeply, feeling sensation returning to her limbs with every gulp. With sensation came an increase in the pain however, the perpetual weight on her chest returning with a vengeance. ‘It was an accident,’ she coughed, ‘I drank some wine from the forest Nymphs, with Master Odysseus. It was meant to be just normal wine.’

Ariadne flushed slightly, ‘Oh dear, we traded them some wine for… later activities. It must have been mixed up. You were very deep in the middle of the madness, very emotional.’ She helped Mel drink another two cups of water, each magically materialising within her humble wooden chalice. ‘You would have been seeing things, unaware of your surroundings. Do you remember anything?’

Mel shook her head, her last solid memories were from soon after she entered into Erebus. Intense feelings of rage and sorrow, then a rising, wild joy, and then nothing. Brief flashes of violence and rage, but all attempts at grasping them slipped through her fingers like mist. ‘I think I remember fighting…’

Ariadne nodded, ‘Well, that would explain that…’ The Maenad gestured downwards, tapping a weight on Mel’s belt. Mel glanced down, gasping softly at the sight of the head of a Root-Stalker tied to her belt. She grimaced as she fumbled at the knot of frond hair, letting the head fall to the ground. It immediately sank into the soft earth, returning to the soil.

Ariadne helped Mel climb back to her shaking feet. Mel grimaced as her limbs struggled to hold her, as if she had been running for days without pause. ‘I am just glad it is over now…’

‘That’s not how it works, I’m afraid.’ Ariadne shook her head, holding up the purple vial. ‘The revel is a process that involves time and patience, space to process and understand. All I did was pull you from it early, the emotions that caused this turmoil still fester within you. You mu-’

The sound of cracking branches interrupted the pair, as the trees of the clearing parted to allow Hecate to step into the arena. ‘Ah, there you are.’ The Titan strode towards them, with a sense of urgency in her steps. Her gaze flicked to Ariadne, tone growing more formal and respectful. ‘Greetings, Lady Ariadne. It honours me to greet you once again.’ Ariadne bowed her head briefly in greeting, still supporting Mel’s arm.

Hecate stopped by Mel, looking her over with a piercing gaze. ‘Are you well? Odysseus informed me you had left for Erebus.’

Mel shuffled her feet, unable to look her teacher in the eye. She felt embarrassed by everything - her reactions, how she spoke to Odysseus, that she had been so utterly lost in the revel that an outsider had come to her rescue. Ariadne, seeming to notice her awkwardness, spoke before Hecate could prompt her again. ‘Young Melinoë and I were merely exchanging greetings. I decided to wander up into Erebus and got into a spot of bother. The Goddess here rescued me, and was just catching her breath.’

Mel glanced towards the Maenad, who gave her a subtle wink. Hecate nodded, apparently seeing nothing wrong with their explanation. ‘Good, then we can continue forward into Oceanus. If you would accompany us, Lady Ariadne? I have been reliably informed that it can be quite dangerous.’

Ariadne smiled. ‘There is no need, Lady Hecate. My Maenad’s have cleared the way for us. It would not do to appear before my Lord tired and battle-worn, after all.’

Mel took a careful step forward, grateful to find the shaking of her legs finally abated. She nodded to Ariadne in thanks, as the Maenad stepped forward to greet Hecate properly. Mel patted herself down, removing the dirt and dust covering her armour. She moved to holster her weapons, pausing as she noticed a strange substance marring the blades.

A thick, black liquid coated the silver metal, leaving shadow streaked over the gleaming surface. Mel raised the blade to the light of the clearing, studying the blade in confusion. What manner of infernal beast had she slain in her madness? She knew of nothing that dwelt within the bounds of Erebus that would leave black marks, let alone this viscous fluid.

The sharp voice of her Headmistress roused her from her musings, and Mel quickly wiped the blades clean. Holstering the silver armaments, she jogged to catch up to the pair as they left the forests of Erebus.