Chapter 8
Demeter hung from the ceiling by shining silver chains. Stripped of her heavenly powers her clothes were reduced to tattered rags, hanging off her bloody and bruised body. Her left eye was swollen shut. Yet as she hung there, as low as any goddess might be brought, she lifted her head to Athena’s arrival. Her eye was hard and cold, betraying no fear at what she knew was coming for her.
Once, even Athena might’ve cowered beneath Demeter’s rage – it made Hera’s own fury seem pale. That was when Demeter had been at full strength; now, she was but a shadow, angry and proud to the bitter end. One that said nothing as Athena stopped in front of her, not even as that gaze swept over the myriad of injuries.
“Zeus has proclaimed you a traitor and sentenced you to oblivion. You are going to die, Demeter,” said Athena.
Demeter smiled. Bemusement glittered in her gaze. “She’s coming for you.”
“You have a lot of faith in Andromeda – misplaced, I’m afraid. You see, our newest ally, attacked her with the Epirus Bow and she ran like a coward,” said Athena coolly. “She may have escaped unscathed but your daughter did not.”
For a brief moment Demeter’s eyes betrayed nothing – no roaring grief of a mother whom had just lost her daughter. It baffled Athena. This was the goddess who had raged against the gods, whom turned their gaze when her daughter was stolen away. A goddess that had only come to heel after striking a grudging compromise – one that had long bittered the goddess. So, Athena wondered, why wasn’t she grieving for the daughter she’d nearly started a war over? As she contemplated this in a fraction of a second Demeter let out a quiet laugh – it rose in her chest, grew louder, full of madness and delight until it rang through the room. Then it dawned on Athena. The connection Demeter had to Persephone. Athena had announced it, fully knowing that Demeter ought to have felt her daughter’s soul being destroyed.
Yet it seemed as though Demeter was not grieving but crowing with victory, her eyes smug. Athena spun out of the room, Demeter’s laughter following her, mocking.
Zeus was training with his private guard – minor, nameless gods that had been dressed in golden uniform, their faces hidden behind golden helmets. Zeus was sparring off with one of the soldiers, naked from the waist up and barefoot in the sandy arena. Off to the side, watching on with keen eyes, was Hera herself. The goddess was reclined on a plethora of cushions beneath a fluttering tent of white cloth. Her gaze flickered with interest to Athena, whom strode across to Zeus. Her father stopped sparring and ordered the men away. In a burst of golden light, the men vanished, leaving them alone. Hera rose, interest dark in her ancient eyes, and she joined them.
“You seem panicked,” remarked Hera.
Athena schooled her features and straightened up. “Concerned. Persephone survived.”
“Impossible, she was struck by the bow – unless Thanatos lied? He saw it cut her,” said Hera.
Despite the alliance Hera never liked Thanatos and only tolerated him because he schemed for the throne of the Underworld, not Olympus. She recognised him for the clever god he was – for what he lacked in power, he more than made up for in scheming and treachery. So long as his eye was fixed firmly away from Olympus, she tolerated him.
Zeus wasn’t paying attention to the myriad of emotions playing out on Hera’s face; rather, he studied Athena, as closely as he always did.
“How do you know she lives?”
“Demeter. Her connection to her daughter – when I mentioned Persephone had been struck there was arrogance in her eyes. She laughed when I said her daughter had been slain – then I knew. To confirm, however, I sought out the witches and they affirmed her immortal thread remains whole. They said they saw the line fray and nearly break but that at the last moment, it was remade.” Athena shifted on her feet. “She’s the goddess of death, like Thanatos but he was never able to reforge a soul. To hold it together and heal it before it broke completely. Did you have any idea she might be capable of that?”
Zeus glanced at his wife, whom now watched him intently, as if gearing for a fight with him. After a pause, he returned his stormy gaze back to Athena, reluctance and unease flickering briefly in his eyes.
“She was forged in the void of chaos, made to rule the Underworld. I suspected that once she took the throne that her power would rapidly grow.”
Athena felt a rush of anger that she quickly stifled. She’d known that Andromeda had been made in chaos, like the Titans. What she hadn’t been told was that Andromeda had been made to rule the Underworld, that by connecting to it, she would increase her power. She’d assumed that Andromeda’s takeover of the Underworld had been based on the fact it gave her an army, a safe ground to work from, and a throne. She realised that attaining the Epirus Bow wasn’t enough, that the steps she had taken weren’t sufficient.
She looked out across the training ground, pensive. “Is there anything else I should know?”
A pause. “Is that anger in your voice daughter?”
Her gaze slid to him, cold, calm. “I am rallying our defences to deal with this issue. It would be prudent to know all the facts. I had believed the Epirus Bow would be sufficient – now I must seek out a more effective method in putting Andromeda down.”
Zeus arched an eyebrow. “Now you know.”
She wanted to demand why he hadn’t told her. Had it been an oversight, an assumption that Athena would see Andromeda’s innate connection to the Underworld, and prepare for the possibility that that connection would strengthen her powers tenfold? Much in the same way that Olympus did for Zeus. Had it been a test for Athena, to see how she would react to Andromeda? If so, Athena had failed and that sat poorly with her. It was just as likely, however, that Zeus deemed to keep it quiet was because he wanted it quiet – a connection to the Underworld like Andromeda set a bad tone. Where Hades had been thrust intothe Underworld against his will so, as such, it never yielded to him like it clearly did for Andromeda. This fact, if known publicly, weakened Zeus, if he tried to take it from her. Not that anyone would resist him on taking her throne from her but it didn’t exactly strengthen him. It also raised the question if there was, by some chance, someone better made for Olympus. After all, Zeus had captured Andromeda’s siblings – ten, he told her. What if one of them escaped, somehow, and demonstrated a connection to Olympus that eclipsed Zeus’s own powers? It was a fear that she knew would gnaw away at Zeus. The chance that he was holding someone captive that, if given the chance, would rip him from his throne.
Hera let a huff of irritation. “I swear to chaos if your secrets lead us to ruin, I’ll kill you myself.”
She snapped her fingers, dissolving into thin air before Zeus could react. He looked to where she’d been standing, his face awash with anger. A thunderous gaze that slid back to Athena.
“Bring Hercules to me. Hebe, too.”
Athena nodded, wondering why she was suddenly fetching Zeus’s son – a God that had been living in exile for some time. Though, she suspected, it had something to do with Hercules military experience and Hebe’s own knowledge of Olympus. Andromeda would go after them – if she hadn’t already.
“Consider it done. Also, given that we cannot count of the bow being our key weapon, I wish to bring Epirus here. He can work with Hephaestus at the forge, make us something knew. Which brings me to my next-“
“You wish me to free Lupus,” said Zeus.
“Epirus will be easier to control if we have Lupus there,” explained Athena.
“Keep it quiet when you do. I’d like Remus to stay in his little hole of exile, oblivious to the world beyond that hovel.”
Athena nodded. “Of course.”
With nothing further to discuss she bowed and turned, snapping her fingers, appearing in her own private villa. She walked straight out into the court yard and sitting down by the pool of water, dipping her feet into the balmy water. With a satisfied sigh, she closed her eyes. She had a brief break until she had to attend to the tasks at hand.
Yet no sooner had she begun to relax just the tiniest fraction the door to her village swung open. She opened her eyes and looked to the intruder. Ares, all adorned in his war finery, a red cloak billowing behind him and a sword at his hip. It was hard to believe they were even related. He was the fire of Olympus, quick to war, whereas she preferred a smarter approach – war, if necessary and, if so, done swiftly and cleverly.
“Most enter my villa with a knock, rather than barging in rudely,” said Athena archly.
Ares’s fiery gaze narrowed. “Sometimes it is not appropriate.”
“Manners are always appropriate,” she said calmly, surveying him with interest.
Something had happened for him to storm in, all red-faced and angry. Well, angrier than usual. He looked as though he sorely wished to gut someone.
“Athena,” he said warningly.
“Well, now you’ve barged in, you have my attention – what is it?”
“Hestia. She’s abandoned Olympus,” he snarled.
Athena stood up sharply. “What?”
Athena tore the doors from the hinges with her mind as she stormed into Hestia’s private villa. The first thing she noticed was Hestia’s heart was out cold. She strode across the court yard and held her hand over the ash. It was cold. Behind her, Ares stalked in. She ignored him and went into Hestia’s bed chambers. She went through every chest and drawer, every conceivable hiding place. Then she tackled the other rooms, ruthlessly ripping the villa apart, searching for some explanation as to why Hestia bolted.
Hestia had never been overly fond of Zeus but enough to betray? Athena had checked on her a few days ago and her loyalty seemed firm. She’d even sworn without hesitation. That made Athena uneasy. If oaths were so easily dismissed, what was the true worth of any god’s oath anymore? Especially if it was so easily dismissed.
She finished her search in Hestia’s private library, inspecting every scroll on the shelves that lined the wall. Outside the door, Ares let out a series of curses. It seemed his own search bore as little results as hers. With a sigh, she reached for the last scroll and lifted it clear of the shelf when something fell to her feet with a clattering ring. She glanced down and froze.
A golden drachma stared mockingly up at her.
With a deep breath she picked it up and inspected the mark imprinted on the coin. It was a black sword wreathed by flames. She knew the markings on the sword – the very sword Andromeda had driven through Hades. It wasn’t Hades mark, nor that of Thanatos. It was Andromeda’s mark.
The door behind her opened. Ares filled the space, looking at her – somehow, he knew from Athena’s expression, what she had found and what it meant.
“She’s gone to Andromeda, hasn’t she?”
Athena hurled the coin at the wall with a curse. “Gods dammit! When the hell did Hestia and Andromeda even meet? Hestia hasn’t left Olympus since she arrived after the Titan war!”
Then, realisation dawned. She looked at Ares, shock on her face.
“She’s already broken into Olympus before. Oh gods, this changes everything.”
ns 15.158.61.20da2
