Page 3 of Heroines of Olympus

“I know you have so many questions, Lyra, and we are more than happy to answer them. We only ask that you keep this hood on. It is through its magic, my magic, that we can see you as we do, and not suffer the fate of so many who have been before us.”

Medusa considers carefully, cursing herself for being distracted by the beauty of this woman. She quickly dismisses the thought as a random moment from a lonely mind. No one would have interest in a monster like Medusa.

“I will keep this hood on and hear what you have to say under the condition that you remove your hands from me immediately.” Medusa says, glaring up at the man, who still has a death grip on her upper arms.

“Happy to oblige now that we are all in agreement that the lovely hood Psyche has provided will stay on, so that I don’t end up an accidental, or intentional, statue.” He releases her immediately, his tanned hands dropping to his side, and she relishes the sudden lack of contact. Not that she dislikes being touched, but she cannot accept the violation of her consent. Which is precisely what had gotten her into the mess that is her current situation — wait… did he say Psyche?

Her gaze returns to the woman, and her eyes widen. “Surely he’s not implying that you are, Psyche?” She intends to say that with a scoff, but the glint of the rising moon on her dark hair overwhelms her and it comes out in more of an awed whisper.

At that, the woman’s equally dark lips curve into a smile. Medusa finds herself once again distracted by her radiance. The contrast of her copper skin to the darkness of her eyes, lips, and hair is absolutely captivating. Medusa curses at herself internally for losing her focus on what are more pressing matters. These people have rocked her world, but all she could think about was how soft her skin might be, her lips.Stop it.

The woman takes her time answering, as Medusa tries to hide her flustered reaction. “I am indeed Psyche. This is Alec, and the unfortunate victim of your gauntlet is Yiorgos. However, that is not what’s important. The time has come for you to remind the gods whoyouare. Are you truly content to live in exile, constantly fighting for your life?”

“Of course not, but it was this, or let them hunt me down, looking over my shoulder even more than I do now. Does that seem like the better option to you? Has your immortal lifespan made you so out of touch to the mortals and the demitheos like me?” It surprises Medusa how quick she is to anger. As an Acolyte, she never would have dared to speak to a god like this. Perhaps it is the isolation, or the part of her that has always fought against everything, even when it comes with consequences. Likely a combination of the two, and only one of those is within her control. Medusa cannot deny that she is truly intrigued now, and she feels these people have brought great change.

2

APHRODITE

The air is thin and cold, causing her pale pink skin to pebble as Aphrodite walks through the maze of catacombs beneath The Temple of the Owl, Athena’s temple. Using the guise of a visit to her dear friend, she made the journey here as quickly as she was able.

They spent the day together laughing, dining, and enjoying each other's company. Aphrodite only slipped away once Athena retired for the evening.

While the diversion had been quite pleasurable, it had been impossible to keep her thoughts from wandering to her plans.

Weeks of poring over scrolls and texts had finally produced a promising lead.

Aphrodite pulls out the folded map she inconspicuously tucked into the folds of her dress and holds it close to one of the lit torches along the walls. The flames give off a slight green tint and she smiles at the first confirmation that the dusty old book she found was right.

The presence of the fabled everflames down here indicates the use of ancient magic, exactly what Aphrodite has been looking for.

She is not sure what she will find down here. The book had merely said thata crucial key has been placed within the catacombs of the athene noctua. May the accompanying map guide those who seek it.

There had also been warnings and declarations of the horrors any mortal would face in these tunnels, but Aphrodite is no mortal.

After almost an hour of twists and turns, she comes to a dead end, its only occupant, an old wooden door that pulses with magic.

Aphrodite reaches for the handle, hissing when it burns her hand.

A voice fills her head that is both male and female, both high and low. “Daughter of the theos, what do you seek here?”

Prepared to face obstacles such as this, Aphrodite recites the words from the book that will allow her access, “I come for knowledge and knowledge alone.”

A wave of consciousness slams into her and courses through her body in an effort to detect her true intentions. She grits her teeth against it as she forces her will to be nothing other than what she stated, a bead of sweat running down her face with the effort.

The presence rushes out of her as quickly as it had entered, leaving her gasping from the exertion.

The sigh of the magic is palpable as the door creaks open, granting her entry to a tiny, dark chamber. Against the back wall is an altar with three exquisitely decorated bowls, three ceremonial daggers, and a book that looks older than time itself.

With a few quick steps, Aphrodite crosses the room and reaches for the vial that hangs from her neck by a delicate gold chain - its contents another fortuitous find from the old tome.

The potion inside of it makes her hesitate for a single moment, assessing if the risk would be worth the knowledge she is not even sure she will gain.

Throughout her quest for power, Aphrodite has been watching over her shoulder, waiting for the Guard to be at her door, waiting for the Oracle to see her plans and pass them along to the king of gods. This potion, however, should prevent that.

Every action committed by a person, god or mortal, is tied to their eternal soul, making it extremely lucky that the book also contained the recipe for a potion. Made of the rarest plants found all across the realm, it puts the soul to sleep for a short period of time, and any actions during that window cease to exist. If not mixed properly though, paralysis will set in, leading to a very slow and painful death, even for a god.

Aphrodite’s lips tingle as soon as they touch the top of the vial, and she braces herself for the bitter taste of the nightshade, valerian, and foxglove. The powerful odor has her fighting off a gag as the last of the contents empty into her mouth.

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