Page 42 of Heroines of Olympus

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Medusa says, sitting back down on the sofa and gesturing for Psyche to join her. “But I would love to listen if you do want to.”

Psyche smiles warmly and accepts her invitation. Once she is seated, they settle in and get comfortable. Medusa crosses her legs, resting her right ankle on top of her left knee. Psyche tucks her legs beneath her, knees bent toward Medusa.

“I was already heavily involved in The Allegiance the day they showed up at my Temple. I knew I wouldn’t be able to stay under their radar. I’m not as good as playing both sides as Dionysus is.”

“Dionysus?! The drunken buffoon who only shows up to drink wine and stumble through his duties?”

Psyche chuckles. “Puts on a pretty convincing cover, doesn’t he?” She raises an eyebrow and continues. “He and Hestia are the only members of the Pantheon that we have within our ranks that aren’t known to them, but I will get more into that once we set sail.”

“I’ll start at the beginning. What brought me to Alec, Cas, and The Allegiance. About twenty years ago, I had a lover. Her name was Selene. Yes, I know. The irony of a moon goddess falling in love with someone named Selene. She was mortal, like your father. Unlike your parents, we were not public about our closeness. We regarded it as a closely guarded secret, and it was - only a select few of our closest, most trusted, inner circle who knew. It turns out your closest, most trusted people can have their own motivations and duplicitous intentions.”

Psyche is looking forward but Medusa can tell that she’s far, far away, temporarily trapped in a memory, a look and feeling Medusa knows all too well. She gently takes Psyche’s hand into her own, causing Psyche’s attention to come back to the present. She smiles and squeezes Medusa’s hand and continues.

“One day, I woke up and Selene wasn’t in bed next to me. I thought nothing of it at the time. She regularly would wake up before me and go walk the gardens, often with a book in hand. I was starting to be concerned when I didn’t see her for breakfast, but there had been no note or anything. All of her possessions were still in our chambers. I was frantic by dinner time. I had searched the entire Temple, scoured the grounds, asked the Acolytes. There was no sign of her. An Initiate came running to me and delivered a letter from Zeus himself,” she says, biting his name out. “It merely said, ‘Did you think we wouldn’t know?’”

“No,” Medusa whispers, mouth agape.

“Yes,” Psyche continues. “I raced to the Temple of Olympus, but they had such a head start on me. What could I have even done, anyway? By the time I arrived, they told me I was welcome to retrieve her body from the dungeons and give her any burial I saw fit, for they did not care.” Tears stream from her eyes.

Medusa wraps her arm around her back and pulls Psyche into a comforting embrace. She merely says, “Shhh…” and strokes her hair as her weeping turns into sobbing. Medusa holds space for Psyche’s grief, allowing her to take a moment and mourn someone she clearly cared for deeply.

When Psyche’s tears subside, and her breathing becomes steadier, she says, “I haven’t even told you what happened the day they came for me.”

“We don’t have to talk about it anymore. If you need time, take it. I will always be ready to lend an ear if that changes,” Medusa says.

“No. I’m ok. I want to finish. I want you to know why I’m here. After what happened to Sel, I went back to the Lunar Temple and was a complete shell of a person. The Acolytes were the only reason I didn’t wither in my own self pity. They diligently cared for me and while I can’t say I was even close to happy, I was at least functioning every day, going through the motions, when Alec arrived here one day. He introduced himself, offered his condolences, and then took a tremendous risk. He told me everything about The Allegiance - they didn’t have the oaths yet- and said they were a small group of rebels, doing what they could to save people here and there when they could. They had little in the way of resources, but every one of them had a powerful reason to be there. He said they were tired of barely being able to help anyone while also gaining no traction in any way that could actual hurt The Pantheon. He thought I might be interested in joining them and I think he knew before he finished giving his grand speech that was going to say yes.

“I joined them and helped when I could, from the inside. I played nice with The Pantheon and ferried information over to The Allegiance, as well as going on missions and using my powers as subtly as I could to stay under the radar. Fast forward to five years ago and you will get the reason that the soul oaths were created.”

“There was a man who was a member of the Allegiance. We found out he had been playing both sides and he confirmed the existence of us to The Pantheon and even revealed that they had a god amongst their ranks.” Psyche pauses and takes a breath. A piece of hair falls into Psyche’s face and Medusa reaches up and tucks it behind her ear with a warm smile.

“The Pantheon sent a group of Heroes to raid the Isle of Remembrance, and my temple. I returned there the next day as I had been away. In lieu of me, The Pantheon slew every single Acolyte, every Initiate no matter how young. My Temple was a bloodbath, and it was all meant for me.”

So much violence and destruction. Medusa’s heart aches as she thinks about Hestia. Would they hurt or kill another god? If they will go that far with Psyche, what are they going to do with Hestia, who had been spying right under their noses?

“I went into a rage but had no where productive to direct it. I vowed to find a way to ensure that no member of the Allegiance could ever betray us again. I snuck back into my temple and threw myself into the library. I searched text after text, every pile of dusty scrolls, until I was positive I had pieced together enough magic to attempt an oath that was bound to your soul. With my abilities, I thought it would be doable. I crafted the Oasis in my own mind. Alec insisted on doing a test oath so we came up with one that would have minimal consequences if broken. I wrote out an oath that made him swear he didn’t like pistachios, something I knew to be a favorite of his, and the consequence would be that he stub his toe once randomly during the next hour.” Psyche chuckles at the silliness of the moment in the memory. A whimsical, bright spot in a tale of pain and horrors.

Medusa wonders what it would have been like spending the past eight years with these people, instead of alone.

“We finished the oath, and he made his declaration. Alec told me he felt a twinge in his rib cage as soon as the oath was broken. I asked him to report back once he stubbed his toe to make sure it worked, but we didn’t have to wait long. He stood up from his chair and went to leave, and immediately slammed his toe into the side of the table. Once we knew it worked, I wrote the oath for the Allegiance.”

Psyche wipes another tear from her eye and finishes, “and now you know why I haven’t been to the Isle of Remembrance in so long, and why moonberry tarts would be extra special to me. Thank you. I think I needed this.” She picks up one of the tarts and takes a bite. “Oh,” she says through a mouthful, “perfect as usual, Oren.”

They eat their breakfast, lightheartedly chatting about the items on the tray and why Psyche likes the ones she does. They keep the conversation easy to counteract the prior heaviness. By the time their bellies are full, their hearts are much lighter, and Medusa knows their bond has strengthened. She doesn’t know where things with Psyche will go, but this is one uncertainty that she finds she’s welcoming with open arms.

25

HESTIA

Pain rips through Hestia’s exhausted body as she finally opens her eyes. Her vision is blurry and her head is throbbing in a rhythm that feels like her pain has its own pulse.

When her sight clears, Hestia sees the bars that surround her, their rusted color telling her exactly what that pulse is - the heartbeat of a god cage. It takes all the energy she can muster to lift her head and try to get a better gauge of the situation.

She doesn’t have the strength to be shocked that these barbaric cages exist. Gods start out as children, like mortals. Also, like mortals, gods have their own scary tales told in whispers to keep children from getting into things they shouldn’t or as a manipulation tool to make them behave.

She can almost hear one of the old crone’s voices saying “naughty little goddesses end up in god cages. Do you want that, or do you want to be a good girl?”

She can’t make out anything beyond the perimeter of her cage. The magic in the bars emanates a light glow, but there’s nothing to be seen in the dim light it casts.

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