Page 7 of Prometheus' Priestess

And why had she bought aguest?

“Has word reached you of what is going on in the humanrealm?”

Prometheus shook his head again. “Zeus’ eagle still circles. I am essentially under housearrest.”

Amara hissed in a breath at hearing the ancient confirm what had only been rumoured, that his punishment from Zeus for giving the humans the element of fire had not been the rock but a shunning from society, and proceeded to choke on an olive. While Athena shot her a glare, Prometheus smiled wryly and pushed her cup of wine closer towards her. Amara clutched at it and washed down the vestiges of the olive that had caused such adisplay.

“Sorry,” she gasped.

“It is quite alright, child.” Prometheus chuckled.

At Athena’s inquisitive gaze, he realised he had not chuckled since the last time he was in the presence of humans. It was an … odd sound to hear again from his ownthroat.

“What has been going on in the human realm?” He turned to ask Athena.

“Fear eats at them,” Athena informed him. “It’s a dry rot that lurks beneath their skin. They age slower but die faster. They live longer but their lives are blander. They create but never replenish. In their desperation to guarantee their survival, they actually push themselves closer to extinction. Each collective move takes them one step further into the abyss.

“They’re killing Gaia too. You know her patience usually knows no bounds but even she has a tipping point. She has become restless, heaving underneath human feet while conversing with Uranus, Zeus’ grandfather and our Sky Father. You must have feltit.”

Prometheus’ eyes turneddark.

“I warned Zeus this would happen,” he said quietly.

“Youdid?”

“When Hera banished us from the human realm,” he continued, “I knew the humans would rely on the tools we taught them − science, medicine, legality … you know how they watched us, like a child watches a parent to learn what we do. But when we left, they had no one but themselves to turnto.”

“And so the fear that was supposed to keep them alive, keep them safe from us, was turned in on themselves,” Athena finished.

“Exactly.” Prometheus nodded, moving his big hands through curls that brushed the nape of his neck.

“They won’t survive three centuries,” Athena told him and for this she received a look of deep, unfathomable pain.

“You’recertain?”

“Yes,” she said softly, knowledge in her eyes that said she knew the trick Aphrodite had played on him all those years ago. “I have aplan.”

Prometheus’ jaw tightened again. “No, Athena. I know you. You will treat this like it iswar.”

“Itis.”

“No, it is a human affliction. The Moirai should never have dragged you intothis.”

“Well they have and I will not have one of my father’s precious creations − albeit by your hand − be destroyed. As an old friend, I came to ask for yourhelp.”

“Inwhat?”

Athena paused and looked at Amara, who had been quietly eating and sipping her wine, watching two ancients discuss human civilization like it was a chess match. It was fascinating. No priestess was ever given such a rare honour. When Lysia had taken her to Athena and the goddess had outlined the task she had wanted Amara to undertake, every cell in her body had screamed yes, that this was her destiny, that she’d finally be who the Fates wanted her to be. But when both sets of eyes bored into her, she suddenly realised that being close to two gods, one a Titan no less, was perhaps not an honour so much as potentially a very poor survival move on her behalf.

“Amara here is the most talented alchemist left inOlympus.”

Prometheus grunted. “Is thatso?”

He stared at Amara under bushy brows as if considering something before reaching for her glass. He turned and filled the remaining half with water. Half water, half wine, he returned the glass in front of Amara. Instinctively, she knew what he was asking of her.

Closing her eyes, she placed both hands on the stem of the glass. Repeating the incantation in her head until every fibre of her being believed that she would taste pure wine when she lifted the cup to her mouth, Amara felt the cells change in her fingertips and travel up the thick glass stem made of pure crystal. Only when she was certain that the process was completed − that the glass now only contained wine once again − did she open her eyes and push it across the island to Prometheus.

Not taking his eyes from her, he picked up the glass and drank. When it was finished, he placed it back down and wiped at lips that Amara couldn’t seem to tear her eyes from. They were full-bodied and when he spoke, the voice that came out of them made every cell of her being fidget in attention. She watched him, half fascinated and half terrified. His face revealed nothing until he said, “You are talentedindeed.”

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