Page 96 of A Tribute of Fire

But the image Theano had just painted?

It was of a bloodthirsty deity who hungered for more carnage.

I supposed it wasn’t entirely inaccurate, given that the furious and vengeful goddess had cursed my own lands.

“Who is the savior?” I asked Io.

“No one knows. There’s an ancient prophecy about Ilion turning their backs on the goddess and that it would put us in danger. It says that a savior would rise up to protect the Ilionians and restore the goddess’s glory. And that we will know the savior because they will be flame-kissed and bear the mark of the goddess.”

She pointed to a spot against a far wall of the gymnasium to indicate where we were going, and I followed her. “What do those two attributes mean?”

“Again, no one is quite sure. There’s lots of guesses, though. The flame part—maybe someone who has been burned in a fire? Perhaps a metalworker or swordsmith, who works with intense flames? Someone infected with a fever? A person with red hair?”

Fury grabbed me by the throat. I’d only ever seen one person with red hair. The man who had pulled Quynh out of my arms. “Are there many Ilionians with red hair?”

After I’d secured the eye and my life mage and restored Locris, I would return to Ilion with the sole intention of tracking that man down and making him die slowly.

“There is a kingdom north of here called Thrace, and many Thracians have red hair and fair skin. Some move here and marry.”

A Thracian. But there might be many with the same heritage. That didn’t narrow things down for me, but that was a problem for a later date. “But why flame? Why not earth-kissed?”

“Fire gives new life. It burns away old undergrowth, creating ashes that nourish the soil, and makes it possible for new things to grow.”

I nodded. There was still so much that I didn’t know. “What about the mark?”

“Again, there is only speculation. The general consensus seems to be that it means a birthmark.”

“Which is why you asked me if I had one,” I said.

Io nodded. “Every child in Ilion is carefully checked when they are born.”

“Maybe it could be a tattoo,” I said.

“Perhaps,” she agreed. “We’re all just conjecturing. The only thing we all agree on is that the savior will come. I’ve prayed for that every day of my life.”

It seemed silly now that she had asked me whether I had a birthmark. Why would an Ilionian savior be born in Locris?

And what Locrian would agree to fill that role?

My adelphia gathered against the wall as Antiope stepped forward. Her voice boomed out of her, echoing against the walls. “Women of the temple, what do we say to the outside world?”

“Never again!” everyone around me yelled back, the sound overwhelming as every priestess and acolyte said the words in unison.

“Why do we train?” Antiope demanded.

“Never again!”

“Why do we prepare?”

“Never again!”

“Why do we fight?”

“Never again!”

“Never again!” Antiope roared the words back. “Never again will a priestess of this temple be defiled, taken captive as a plaything for men! Never again will any woman here cower to a man because of his strength! You are warriors, capable of vanquishing any foe!”

Everyone in the gymnasium began to stamp their feet as quickly as they could, hooting and hollering their agreement.

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