The most surprising thing was the three-sided directory sitting in the middle of the cabin like it was located in a shopping mall. On one side was a map of Mount Ida and the nymph valley surrounding it. A little man-shaped sticker holding a sword was stuck over a cabin with "You Are Here" written beside it.
"Real funny, Da," Ace mumbled.
"What’s this?" Chloe had moved around to another part of the directory.
The picture was of a ruin––three crumbling columns with chipped rocks and eroded boulders scattered around them. She could see where other columns had once stood on the huge circular base that the three remaining columns still stood on. In the center, was a sort of partly constructed altar or maybe even a chair of some kind. Maybe a stool.
At the top of the picture it read: The Past. The Present. The Future.
And at the bottom it said: It all ends here.
"What does that mean? What is this?"
"This," replied Strafford, "is the ruin of the Temple of Apollo in Delphi, your site. And tha' there," he pointed at the pile of rocks she thought resembled a chair, "is the Delphic Tripod. It's the greatest source of your power."
She frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, if you're ever able to prophesy using the Tripod, then you'll be the greatest Oracle to ever live."
"She's already that," Swindle mumbled, looking very intrigued by the picture.
"Maybe," Strafford shot back, seeming put off by the idea, "But it'll be incontestable if her mind is strong enough to power it. There hasn't been an Oracle tha' could for centuries. If it turns out tha' you can, well…let's jus' hope tha' you can't."
"Why?" She was becoming more confused by the second. "What's so special about it?"
Strafford half-smiled, but he wasn't happy. "It's the only way you can look into the future of a god."
"I believe you all should have a look at this," Dropper called around to them from the other side of the directory. They migrated over to where he was with her still pondering what Strafford had just said.
Behind the fiberglass of the third side of the directory were newspapers––like the thick scroll Swindle had shown them in Corinth, The Enlightener. They were placed one beside the other in a sort of kid's art project type of manner and were written in Greek. The only thing she was able to make out on this part of the directory was "Enlighten Yourself" written in English at the very top of the directory.
Strafford and Swindle took turns translating the headlines for her:
"Hydra dragon attacks are up 40 percent."
"A Hephaestus forge explodes killing dozens."
"Plato's Academy Philosopher still missing––-The twice eclipsed moon long search continues."
"Lord Apollo moves up date of major Earth tour." Strafford rolled his eyes at that one.
"Infamous Nicolai the Ker accused of several murders––still at large." Chloe's heart skipped a beat when she heard that. Nicolai hadn't caught back up with her yet, but she wasn't stupid enough to think he had just given up.
“Look at this.” Dropper pointed.
“The Regalis Stella in PERIL––Constellations disappearing without a trace.”
There was a brief silence, and she realized why back in Adel, she hadn’t been seeing very many stars at night.
“Could this mean the bloody Zodiacs have gotten loose?” Ace asked.
The Zodiacs? She thought. As in, the twelve Zodiacs?
“Would explain the Scorpion in Corinth,” Swindle said, “My father seemed surprised to hear we’d seen it.”
“What’s so important about the Zodiacs?” She questioned.
Swindle leaned against the directory. “To the gods, they represent the passage of time. Without them, time may stand still, and for them, that’s bad. For all of us, that’s bad.”
“Why?”
“Because if time doesn’t move forward, then Chaos will do whatever he has to, to get the ball rolling again.”
“Chaos?”
“Yeah, the entity that created Myth.”
She could guess the rest. “So Chaos would become Mr. Construction. He’d demolish the heavens of Myth and build new ones on top of it.”
“Bingo.”
“That sucks.”
“Know wha’ else sucks, if the Scorpion we fought is the Zodiac, tha’ means Orion is back,” Strafford said.
She blanched. “As in, the Orion? Like the constellation?”
“Yup. He was killed by the Scorpion and they were set in the Regalis Stella together. They’re connected. If the Scorpion fell, so did he, I bet.” And based on his expression, this was bad news as well.
“Why are they falling?” Dropper asked her. “If it is true what I am, it is vital that we find out. I want to know what has happened to me.”
She agreed, but she had no clue how to go about doing this and it was frustrating the crap out of her.
Continuing to discuss the Zodiacs, the demigods moved their conversation to the sitting area. Dropper, intrigued, joined them but Chloe stayed back and studied the picture of the Temple of Apollo, looking for answers.
She felt a connection to this Tripod, like she was staring at the answer. The answer to what though? She didn't know, but the pull was strong. The Tripod was the key, it would be the difference between victory and defeat, this she was sure of. The key to what though? It was all rather exasperating, this feeling that she should know more than she did. She had heaps of knowledge piled upon heaps of knowledge in her head. The Fates had gotten all cozy and residential in her subconscious and still she felt like it all meant nothing. None of it was making sense right now.
Hours later during dinner, with her frustrations threatening to blow the roof off of their cozy cabin, Chloe threw down her spoon, pushed away her bowl of Swindle's delectable lamb stew and exclaimed, "You guys had better tell me everything you know about me and this prophecy, the truth, before I scream!" She crossed her arms and looked around to see whose mouth was forming a reply.
Strafford calmly looked up from his porterhouse steak. "For a non-royal, you sure do issue a helluva lot of bloody orders." She just glared at him. He chuckled and gestured at Ace. "She's all yours."
It was clear Ace was honored to have the privilege. He immediately stopped eating his roast beef and broccoli au gratin, took a drink and began. "Two thousand years ago," he said, seeming to already be aware of what she wanted to know, "during a solstice tribunal of the gods, a great prophecy was made tha' was so complex and cryptic, even my Da couldn't figure out wha' it meant."
She was shocked. "Really? How could that be?" How could a prophetic god not be able to decipher his own sooth-saying?
It was like Ace had read her mind. "'Cause my Da didn't prophesy it. The Fates did."
Her mouth formed an "O". "What did it say?" She asked.
Ace shrugged. "The gods still don't know anything abou' it and neither do we. Well…I take tha' back…we do know one thing."
Her eyes narrowed. "What?" Her fingernails were cutting into her palms they were balled so tight. But she didn't know if it was out of terror or excitement.
Ace was staring at Strafford, asking his permission with his eyes. "Ah, bloody tell her," Strafford said, "'Bout time she learned jus' wha' she's been dragged into."
"Yes, bloody tell me," She snapped, though not meaning to. She saw the corners of Strafford's lips turn up as he chewed on a bite of steak.
"Well," said Ace, after a swig of his drink, "they know the prophecy is abou' you."
"Me?"
Oh man, do you guys have some serious explaining to do…
Of course, the Fates said nothing in response, but she hadn't expected them to.
"Aye. And the Fates left no doubt 'cause they prophesied abou' you by name."
She gasped. "Chloe?"
"Nah. Pythia. The prophecy is abou' the Oracle Pythia. It's the only thing the gods are sure abou'."
Things were starting to make sense now. "So that's why I'm being blamed for the tro
uble on Olympus."
He nodded. "Yup. You're the subject of the only prophecy ever manifested by the Fates for the Olympians. Tha's serious business, wan."
"But how does anyone know that this prophecy even exists?" Dropper questioned.
"And what makes them think I'm the Oracle this so-called prophecy that no one besides the gods has ever heard, talks about?" She said behind him.
"The day in the library," Strafford spoke up, putting down his fork and steak knife, "when you swore the oath to the Oracle's Dictum, your blood revealed your fate right then. As you should know, it was already decided. You are the Pythia of the prophecy and there's no way around it." He glared at Dropper. "And the bloody prophecy exists." Dropper just shrugged.
"Strafford's right," Swindle concurred, "There has to be a prophecy and I think this prophecy is in direct connection with it. There is something about the Great Unknown that rattles the gods enough to joggle stars out of the sky. And if the Olympians are shaken up about it, then we should probably be too."
They didn’t have to worry about that. She was.
*****
XXVI. Chloe
That night, Strafford kept watch instead of sleeping and that pissed her off. She had been looking forward to having another flirt-and-blush session with him.
Oh. Well.
Besides, she could fool herself, but couldn't fool her body into thinking it wasn't exhausted. After a long, hot shower in their fancy bathroom, she had dropped into bed. As soon as her head hit the pillow, sleep claimed her. And so did the dream.
*****
"I have failed, my queen," Hecate said, her red eyes dimmed in shame. She cracked her whip and her accompanying hellhounds scampered off into the darkness.
The queen did not respond for quite some time. She stood there, amongst her garden, dressed in her customary black gown of silk and damask. Her skin was pale as the wind and her hair was wild and black as death. The queen felt like death, she always felt like death, but in her garden, she felt alive. Maybe it was because it was the only place where much of anything was alive in this deadland she was forced to call home.
She walked the circular path of her garden and admired a few of her favorites. There was the Asphodelos, with its ghostly grey flowers and edible roots. The Asphodel was plenty and grew all over her homeland as a primary food source for its inhabitants. There was Krithê––barley––a favorite of her mother's. In the time they spent together, they would drink barley, honey and mint daily and at home, the queen used it in her ale and ambrosia. The Krokos, which made saffron for spicing foods, was her favorite flower of all. In her younger years, she and her many companions would spend hours picking Krokos, purple Agallis, blue Hyakinthos, violets and lilies in the meadows of her childhood home. Those were the days when her life had been filled with happiness and laughter. Time had passed and she had almost forgotten how to even smile.
She turned to the center and glared upon the fruited tree planted there. It was an insult to her to have the tree of her shame planted right in the center of her beloved garden. But her lord and master had insisted. Of course, it wasn't his shame; it was his trophy. He had taken her under it that fateful day so many moons ago. Had taken her with as much violence and contempt as befit him, and all against her will. That day, she became his for all eternity and not even her father had been able to save her from such a fate.
"You have failed," the queen finally repeated, spitting in the black soil at the base of the tree. "That is what happens when you send dogs to do the work of the divine."
"My queen is right," Hecate replied. "I was foolish. I could have sent the godlings, but I did not wish to risk their lives. I do not have many, my queen, and with dissension brewing on Olympus, I feel there will be war soon. I will need them to fight beside me, whatever our role in it may be."
The queen did not care to hear about preserving the lives of godlings since she didn't have any of her own, godling or pure born. "But the fallen star was in the company of the Oracle Pythia, was he not?"
"He was, my queen.”
“And the Most Beautiful?” Hecate only shook her head.
“Borno had secured the star…until he was cut down by the half-breed Sun Prince."
The queen sat down on the stone wall surrounding the tree of her shame. "So your most beloved hound saw an honorable end, courtesy of that cursed Son of Apollo."
"Yes, my queen. As was the Scorpion."
“Such a waste.”
Hecate dropped to the ground beside her. "Allow me to avenge him, my most loyal hound, and return to you what is rightfully yours. I will find the fallen star and lay the Most Beautiful at your feet. I would see the Black queen happy again, whatever I must do."
The queen's dark eyes gazed upon Hecate. "Whatever your observations have concluded, I have not been happy since I roamed the meadows of my youth and I do not seek happiness now. I strive only in this matter to regain what is mine."
"And I wish to give it to you."
But the queen shook her head. "We will not waste precious moments reliving your failure. I will deal with Pythia alone. I have another mission for you."
"Whatever you wish, my queen."
The queen reached into the bodice of her gown and pulled out a nugget of pure onyx, otherwise known as the black magic. "Find the Ker, Nicolai, and give him this." She placed the onyx in Hecate's waiting hand. "If he is still true to form and can be bought by the highest bidder, he will abandon his current endeavor to hunt down the Oracle and become an agent of mine instead."
Hecate could not hide her disappointment at being replaced. "But if it is Pythia you would have found, why not let the Ker keep his path? There are many who seek her."
"But I wish to hunt another, young goddess. Before it is too late."
"Who, my queen? Who would you see captured instead of Pythia?"
The queen looked at her, her pale skin almost translucent, and smiled. Then she rose, picked a Krokos flower for her hair, and disappeared into the darkness.
*****
XXVII. Chloe
Chloe woke up to four very confused faces staring down at her.
Lifting her head up off of the desk she was laying across, she rubbed her eyes, leaned back into her chair and tried to search her foggy mind for how she had ended up there.
"We didn' know you were such an artist," Ace mumbled, pointing at a canvas sitting on the easel next to the desk.
Blinking away the sleep, she looked. And screamed.
Indeed, there was a painting there. It was quite the detailed creation of an exquisitely terrifying creature with the repulsive hulking, veiny body of a man and the head of a bull with horns that could smash through a concrete wall if provoked, easy. It was standing in some sort of dark corridor, its huge body filling up the entire space as it poised to attack. It was some pretty scary crap to see.
"Who––I––," She looked down at her paint covered hands and clothes and sucked in a breath. Used paintbrushes lay scattered in front of her. "I couldn't have done this. I can barely scribble out stick figures, let alone, paint!"
"From the looks of it, you can paint, wan," Strafford said, his expression hard as stone, "And you're pretty good at it too."
"But…how?"
"Tha's not the question we need answerin'. The question is why?"
"I don't know!"
"You most likely dreamed it," Swindle said, leaning forward to get a better look at the painting. Dropper moved to do the same, commenting that the painting was fantastic.
"I had a dream, but that thing wasn't in it!"
"Could have been an entirely different dream. Oracles dream a lot."
"I only had one."
"That you remember," Swindle replied, glancing between her and Strafford, "Your mind has many layers, so you dream in spectrums. Some nights you'll dream all night long. Others not at all. You can even have simultaneous dreams. Might be the case here, which could be why you don't remember it. Instead, your mind gave you an
outlet." He gestured at the painting. "You didn't want to forget."
Strafford squatted beside her. He seemed really distraught. Not something she was used to seeing on him. "But I need you to try to remember, Red. Try to remember wha' you dreamed abou' the Minotaur."
Hearing the name was like a trigger, and she saw it all. It was simply terrifying. A gruesome scene that she would never forget.
She looked down to find her knuckles turning white from gripping the edge of the desk so hard.
"It eats…people," She gasped.
"Aye." Strafford's tone was gritty. "Now why did you dream this?"
"Bro," Ace said, stepping forward, "Stop it."
"Tell me, Red."
"It eats people."
"I know tha'. Tell me wha' you've seen!"
"Stop it, Strafford."
For some unfathomable reason, Strafford listened. But it was clear that it took everything in him not to grab her shoulders and shake it out of her. Not that she could have given him any explanation. She had no idea why she would have dreamed about the Minotaur. She knew what it was. An ancient half-human, half-bull monstrosity born of a union between the Queen of Crete and a bull...who had really been Poseidon, the god of the Seas, in another form. Weird. But as to why she would have dreamed about it was a mystery.
Strafford rose. "Summon Iris," He ordered his little brother, "Send the paintin' to the Chateau. Address it to Mystic and no one else." Ace got right on it and with his anger barely in check, Strafford began to walk away.
"I know who sent Hecate," She said.
Everyone froze. "Who?" Ace questioned.
"The Black Queen."
Looks were exchanged. Strafford squatted beside her again. "Persephone?"
"Is she the Black Queen?" He nodded it was. "Then yes, it's Persephone, and she wants Dropper, too." From the Knowledge, she knew Persephone was Hades' wife, and that made things even more confusing––the last thing she needed them to be.
This dream had been different. With the first one––the one with the crazy beautiful woman with the floor-length hair––she had been an observer. She had only known what she could see. But with this one, she could feel what was happening. She had shared their emotions and understood their thoughts. It was strange and unsettling, and she knew deep inside that it was a sign of her mind's power growing even stronger, and she wasn't quite sure she was ready for that.
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