The path starts to slant downward, and an odd plunking noise sounds every so often. Weird, rippling shadows appear on the wall ahead of us, and the tunnel opens up into a wide cavern with yet another sign waiting for us.
From crystal’s end
Drink one single drop.
But touch flesh to the lake,
Your journey will stop.
I groan and rub my forehead. These signs are only making my headache worse. If the Oracle doesn’t want to be found, she shouldn’t have a pathway to her cave.
Royce and I step forward into the vaulted space. Unlike the cavern filled with gold, this one is filled with pristine crystals. They grow like sharp daggers from the cavern walls. Some are long and slender while others sit like squat shrubs against the ground. Still others have fallen from their bases, laying either whole or in shattered pieces along the sandy cave floor.
The sand slopes down toward a round lake. In the center of the lake, a giant crystal hangs from the roof of the cavern. Every few seconds, water drips and falls into the lake, creating a giant ripple that cascades across the water and laps onto the shore.
“So I guess that’s the crystal we’re supposed to drink from,” Royce says.
“How are we supposed to get out there if we can’t touch the water?” I ask.
But my words cut off as the tunnel we walked through seals in with dirt. I scan the rest of the cavern. There’s no other way out. Great. Now we’re stuck here until we can figure out how to get to the center of a lake we can’t touch.
We decide to go opposite ways around the lake. Using my torch, I prowl along the edges looking for anything resembling a boat. Too bad I can’t go back for the gold one I saw in the last cavern.
My feet crunch over ground-up crystal fragments as I move along the shore. But there’s nothing hiding behind the towering crystals except more crystals. The only other thing I see is my golden reflection sliding across the fragmented surfaces to stare back at me.
“Find anything?” Royce asks from the other side of the lake.
“No,” I call back. “Nothing.” I kick at the bits at my feet as the large crystal continues to send droplets careening into the water below.
After circling the lake twice, Royce and I collapse near where we entered. He grabs a handful of crystal shards in his hands as we think. The unending plunk of droplets echoes continually off the walls.
Plunk.
Plunk.
Plunk.
“Maybe we could knock the main crystal down somehow?” he says.
“But we don’t know how deep the lake is. It could sink,” I counter with a heavy sigh.
Plunk.
“Do you think there are enough crystals that we could throw them into the lake and pile them up enough to walk on?”
“I doubt it,” Royce says. “Besides, there are only a few broken ones. It would take ages to get the rest free.”
“We’ve got ages,” I reply. Next to me, my torch burns lower and lower, signaling we may be trapped in darkness for all those ages. I swallow down the panic that rises at that thought. I have to find a way back to my father, my people, before Dionysus tries anything else.
“What if we hollowed out one of the crystals?” he asks. “Maybe there’s one long enough that we could use it as a sort of channel to catch the water from the crystal.”
It’s a good thought, but as we both stare around the cavern, it’s clear no crystal is long enough to reach the middle of the wide lake.
We fall back into silence.
Plunk.
“That sound is going to drive me insane,” I say, covering my ears.
Royce pulls me against his chest, careful of the gold on his jacket. “Don’t worry. If anyone can get us out of here, it’s you. You’ve spent years thinking about how Dionysus weaves words. You can figure this out.”
I stare at the ripples on the water’s surface as they jump up and down.
I go over the sign’s words again and again. Drink from the end of the crystal. Don’t touch the lake.
I bite my lip. I’ve still got nothing.
Royce has picked up a shard of crystal about the size of his forearm and is turning it over in his hands, running his finger along the crack zigzagging across the outside. He brings it close to his face.
“Anything?” I ask, leaning in closer, trying to see any secrets the glassy crystal might hold. “Another riddle? A map?”
He shakes his head and lets it fall away. He absently drills the end of the crystal into the ground over and over again.
But it drills a thought into my mind right along with it, and I jolt forward.
“What is it?” Royce asks.
“The sign never said that crystal.” I say, pointing to the one in the center of the lake. “Why not any crystal?”
His eyes shoot to mine. “It’s worth a shot.”
I pull him to his feet, and we move to the edge of the lake.
Together, we drag a thin crystal to the edge of the lake. Royce insists on going first as I dip the end into the water and then hold the crystal high enough for a drop to fall into his mouth.
Then Royce does the same for me. The moment the water touches my tongue, the cave rumbles, revealing an opening at the other end.
“Another test down,” Royce says, a triumphant smile spreading across his face.
“Hopefully it’s the last,” I reply as we make our way down into the new tunnel. But the moment we step into the tunnel, the walls disappear and light flares up around us.
We’re standing outside on another pathway with high mountain peaks ahead of us in the distance. A fierce wind wraps around us. It tugs at my cloak, pulling me toward a small gravel path. A path that leads to another cave.
“There.” I point. Could this be the Oracle’s cave at last?
My heart thuds in my chest. I blame it on everything we’ve been through and not on meeting the woman whose prophecy led to my father becoming king—and ultimately to him being cursed.
The entrance to the cave is tall enough that neither of us have to duck. Tiny purple flowers bob their heads on either side of the entrance as the wind catches them.
Darkness hangs like a curtain just inside the cave. I swallow.
Fear roots me to the mountain.
Maybe we shouldn’t have come. Maybe the Oracle is no better than the god who gave my father The Touch. Maybe she just likes to manipulate lives and make people miserable too. Maybe I’m next on her list.
My throat is dry as I look to Royce. “Do you think that’s it?”
He shrugs. “When it comes to the Oracle, who knows.”
His body is tense, and his hand rests on his sword hilt.
“Maybe I should go in alone,” I say. Dionysus’s search for me is why we are here, after all.
Before he can reply, a voice calls, “Both of you, come in. I’ve been expecting you.”
CHAPTER 7
My blood runs cold as Royce and I look at each other before turning to the entrance of the Oracle’s cave. The Oracle I’ve feared my whole life.
My stomach feels as if a river rages through it. The only thing worse are my thoughts. Maybe we shouldn’t have come. Maybe the Oracle will simply kill us. Maybe she’ll make some prophecy about me that will ruin my life—just like she did to my father.
There’s only one way to find out. And I have to risk it to save Lagonia.
We step into the cave.
As soon as we cross the threshold, all traces of the wind stop tugging at us.
The walls of the cave are smooth and cold. It smells similar to rich, fresh earth, like the palace garden in springtime. Long, carved columns rush up toward the ceiling as we make our way through a short entryway that guides us to a much wider, deeper area. As we walk, I notice levels of concentric circles make up the floor of the cave. Heavy stones jut out of the sides of the circular layers, offering an uneven staircase that leads to the center where a woman sits crossed-legged next to a fire.
Billows of smoke shoot up through an opening at the top of the cave.
Oddly, the cave doesn’t smell of smoke at all.
The woman’s hand streaks out, gesturing us forward. She’s more petite than I expected, with a frame as thin and short as that of a child.
The wrinkles on the dark skin of her face look like a rose from above, deep crevices striking out in a circular pattern around her face. Bracelets line her thin arms from her wrist to her elbow while a thick shawl slumps over her shoulders. But as we get closer, it’s her eyes mine keep going to. They’re entirely black and darker than any night I’ve ever seen, and yet, there’s a vastness about them, like gazing into a starless sky. It’s not so much staring into two orbs as it is staring through them to the endless landscape beyond. The harder I look, the deeper I see, each passing moment promising that if I just probe a little longer, I’ll discover something—some secret, some truth—hidden there amongst all that darkness.
The woman’s cracked lips move slowly, breaking my gaze. “Welcome, my children.” Her voice is ageless as it rings out softly and yet loud enough to absorb as it passes through me, somehow managing to reach to my very bones, to the very core of my being.
I quickly lower my head, afraid to look in her eyes once more, as we make our way down the stone staircase. “You knew we were coming?”
She weaves her hand through the smoke in front of her, causing it to spin and twist upon itself. “I know many things, Princess.” When we reach the center, she gestures for us to sit on the side of the fire opposite her. “Although you took much longer than expected for someone with so great a need. It’s only when one truly needs it that I allow my cave to appear.”
“So it didn’t matter which path we took?” Royce asks, eyeing her sideways.
She laughs. “Of course it mattered.” A sly smile slides across her lips. “All paths have different destinations. Some just lead to them faster and some lead to them not at all.”
Royce and I share a look.
She wags a thin finger at us. “You have fallen into the trap many humans do. You assumed the signposts and the scenarios you encountered were meant to test who you are.”
“So they’re not?” I ask reluctantly, wondering what the point was then.
“The signposts foreshadow what may be to come, and if you cannot overcome those small challenges now, there is little hope you will in the future. So my guidance would be useless.”
“So those are things we’re going to face in the future?” Royce asks, perplexed.
“Yes. No. Not exactly. Perhaps,” the Oracle replies, steepling her hands. “There are many answers to that question. And the final one always depends on what choices you will make when the time comes. But by passing through those trials, I now know with more certainty which path you are headed toward, and you’ve proved yourself worthy, that your need was so great you’d give up anything to get it—something you may well need to remember in the future.” She stares at me as she says the last part.
I look away, unable to meet her gaze. I tell myself it’s because of her eyes, the way I can see myself in them. A blink of gold amongst all that darkness. But it’s also because of the shiver in my spine at the memory of the vision I’d experienced by the river. The one where my skin was no longer gold and Royce left me behind.
If I continue down whatever path the Oracle spoke of, what will I lose in the process? Royce? My powers? My kingdom?
Some part of me shouts to leave, to get out of there before her words tie me to a future I don’t want. And yet, I can’t leave. Not without answers.
The Oracle continues. “You see, you first proved to me you wouldn’t give up on your country no matter how many times you walked in circles. You took the same path you’d taken before, one you knew wouldn’t end well, and walked it despite knowing what waited for you at the end. Then, you showed me you wouldn’t put yourself and your wants and needs above your goal when you had that vision offering you everything you could have wanted. Next, you showed me you wouldn’t give up on each other, that you would carry each other through anything, especially when the other may not be able to carry themself. Finally, I tested your minds. For where your path may lead, you’ll need your wits. You’ll need to find solutions others can’t, to see the pathways through words, through truth and untruth.”
“Dionysus,” I breathe. He is the greatest at wordplay, the trickiest one at weaving words into offers that sound like good deals but are actually thinly veiled conquests on his part.
The Oracle’s lips thin, but she doesn’t respond.
“He’s why we’re here,” I start. “Why is Dionysus, the god who gave my father The Touch, after me?” I venture.
The Oracle again motions for us to sit, and Royce and I settle in on the other side of the fire.
The smoke eases so that we can see the Oracle more clearly. She stares at us, her hands resting on her knees.
“The god you seek to know about is very powerful.” Her words are slow, but they wind toward me, causing me to lean closer to hear her. “Very powerful,” she repeats absently. “But I wonder why you do not ask what you really need to know.”
I scrunch my brow. I have no idea what she’s talking about. “What should we be asking?”
Her eyes hold the reflection of the flames dancing back and forth. “You won’t fare well against the tongue trickster, Dionysus, if you don’t get your words under you now.”
I think again. “How do we cure my father?”
The Oracle shakes her head. “Only Dionysus can undo that magic, since any other option is currently out of the reach of mere mortals.”
I drop her gaze and stare into the flames. Orange tendrils spiral around, burning through the dry, cracked wood already blackened by the blaze. My eyes shoot up, the memory of the man who could burn through things fresh in my mind.
“Then can you tell us how to stop Dionysus?”
A small smile flickers across the Oracle’s lips. “A more fruitful question. But first we must understand the god you wish to defeat. To understand one’s past is to understand their present. And there is much of Dionysus’s history that still afflicts him today.” She twists her arms in front of her, and the flames send out even more smoke, which she twirls until it balls up in front of her. An image appears in the collected haze. Small shapes that mirror what’s in the ball reflect in her glassy eyes, which have taken on the white hue of the smoke.
“In the beginning, when Olympus was first made, there were many gods. Zeus, Hera, Poseidon, Demeter, Athena, Apollo, Artemis, Ares, Aphrodite, Hephaestus, Hermes, and our very own Dionysus.” Figures swirl to vivid life in the smoke. Some are tall and lean, others are shorter and softer. Some men have long beards and some women have luscious locks streaming over their shoulders. Each wears a plain white tunic that gleams brighter than any sunbeam I’ve ever seen. The largest figure holds on to a lightning bolt and laughs boldly and can only be Zeus. He has bright blue eyes and tanned skin. If he’d been standing before me in person, he’d be taller than my father. A curly beard spills down his chest, and even though his hair is white, he doesn’t look old. There’s something timeless about his wrinkleless skin.
I marvel and lean in closer, inspecting each god and goddess in turn. They’re oddly beautiful. Each one shimmers in the light, like the sun catching the tip of a wave. They move with more grace than I could ever muster as they converse with each other.
Only one figure stands apart from the others. He’s hard to make out in the smoky shadows.
The Oracle continues. “But Dionysus is not like the other Olympians. He was the last and was born of a mortal mother.”
The scene in the ball shifts, swirling to focus on Zeus, who shrinks down, donning a human disguise that somehow does little to hide the bravado with which he carries himself. He swaggers forward and presses his lips against a smaller figure, a woman with dark, wavy hair that hangs loosely down her back. The smoke grays and expands, revealing a new image. The woma
n’s belly now extends far out from her body, heavy with child. She beams upward, looking toward the sky. But another woman appears above her.
Hera.
Her brown hair and eyes stand out against the white smoke filtering around the scene.
She and Zeus stare down at the pregnant woman. Their arms fly accusingly at one another, though I can’t hear what they say. Eventually, Zeus storms off, his cheeks a ruddy shade.
Hera glares after him before looking down to the woman cradling her stomach. A sickening smile stretches across Hera’s face, and with one last look in the direction Zeus took, Hera dashes off.
“Hera was jealous,” the Oracle continues as the image shows a hooded Hera in front of the entrance to a dark cave. The opening stretches so high it could swallow any mountain I’ve ever seen. “She planned to release the Titans from Tartarus to destroy the woman’s child, but she wasn’t strong enough. Yet she tricked Zeus into thinking she had.” Hera transforms into a tall, monstrous figure and appears before the pregnant woman.
“Zeus rushed in to stop what he thought was a Titan bent on destroying his unborn child.”
Zeus grapples with the Titan, sending lightning bolts flying in all directions. But one of the lightning bolts strikes the woman.
Hera laughs, shrinking back into her form to reveal she hadn’t released a Titan after all.
Zeus rushes over to the woman’s side and kneels next to her, but her head sags backward when he lifts it. He cries out toward the sky with a roar so loud it shakes the world itself.
“Zeus saved the woman’s child by sewing it into his own leg to continue growing,” the Oracle adds. “Giving the child the moniker ‘twice-born’ when it finally burst forth from his skin. Zeus knew he had to keep the child safe from Hera. So he created an island, one that would go where Hera hadn’t been powerful enough to travel—Tartarus, the dark abyss where the Titans wait entrapped. All day, his island would travel across the ocean where Zeus’s brother Poseidon would protect it, and at night, it would sink beneath the waves and reappear in the depths of Tartarus.”
Royce’s eyes go wide. “You’re saying Dionysus lives on Jipper?”
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