“I was wondering,” Hestia continues. “If it would be possible for me to have a private audience with the Oracle, off of the official record.”
They bristle, and the same girl continues to speak for the group.
“We do not wish to displease you, goddess, but this request is highly irregular.”
“I understand, and do not wish to put you in a difficult position. However, the nature of my business with the Oracle is highly sensitive and quite urgent. I beseech you to reconsider.”
They huddle together and whisper amongst themselves before the girl reluctantly nods her head and instructs Hestia to follow her.
The hallways are bright despite the lack of windows. The pale color of the marble reflects the glow of the sconces that are peppered along the wall, washing the entire space in a golden aura.
“Wait here, please, goddess,” the girl tells Hestia, and then slips into one of the large double doors before her.
Much quicker than expected, the door opens again, and she gestures Hestia inside.
The golden hue is gone and replaced with a room as dark as the night sky on a new moon. The only illumination is a faint glow in what is presumably the center. Hestia drifts close to it, careful not to bump into anything in the blackness.
Somewhere on the other side of the light from her comes a voice. “Sit, goddess, I’ve been expecting you.”
Now that she is closer, she can see the light is coming from a basin on a table. The swirling liquid inside glows and sparkles as if they scooped from the cosmos. In its light, she can barely make out a chair, and she takes a seat.
A hand reaches over and takes one of Hestia’s, revealing bronze skin that has seen many decades of life. How much of that time was spent in this dark room of prophecy and divination? The Oracle dunks Hestia’s hand into the basin with no warning and it feels like time is standing still. The hairs on her arms stand on end and the air feels both stagnant and electric.
“Think of that which you came here seeking. Perhaps the Fates will answer.”
Hestia closes her eyes and pictures Hera, her warm smile, the laugh that lit up every banquet hall and gala. Her heart aches at the absence of her friend, and her anger bubbles to the surface as she replays the inaction of the Pantheon in the wake of Hera’s disappearance.
“Hmm.” The Oracle huffs in frustration and pulls Hestia’s hand out of the basin.
“What’s wrong?’ Hestia asks, only slightly distracted by her hand being completely dry.
“The Fates cannot see an answer. Something is amiss. They were unaware Hera is no longer at Zeus’s side. You must return to me. This is very alarming indeed, and the Fates and I will commune intensely as we try to find our missing goddess. They told me this, though, Knowledge Keeper. You will soon have an unlikely ally in your quest, so they strongly caution you to not be too quick to dismiss anything too hastily. Keep your eyes open, goddess, trouble is brewing.”
As soon as the last word leaves the Oracle’s mouth, every lamp and sconce lights up, revealing a near empty room. The table and single chair are still there. The basin is now clean, no longer filled with the glistening light of the universe. Hestia gets up from the table and leaves through the door she came. The young acolyte is waiting to see her out of the building.
* * *
The hallsof the Olympic Temple are much more tranquil than the chaos of the city itself. Besides the occasional Acolyte going about their duties, Hestia has barely seen anyone in the complex.
She makes her way past the open courtyards, their beautiful blooms signaling that Persephone must be on this side of the Mysts.
The long corridor of meeting rooms and planning spaces feels eerily silent until she hears voices coming out of one of them. Her instincts are tingling as she ducks into an alcove.
As the conversation gets closer, she listens intently.
“What makes you think Perseus can’t handle her?” Hestia immediately recognizes the voice as Athena.
“I think you underestimate her, and overestimate him. I’m going after her myself. This has taken long enough.” The gruff voice in response is that of Poseidon.
“He’s one of my best warriors. We sent him with my shield, the sandals. We will kill the beast once and for all and be done with this. You’ve interfered with my plans enough with your lust and lack of self control. End. This. Now.”
“I don’t know who in Tartarus you think you’re talking to, you shrew, but don’t worry. I’m on the next ship. As you know, the tides are always in my favor.”
Two sets of footsteps retreat in different directions as Hestia digests what she overheard. Poseidon is going after Medusa. Hestia pokes her head out of the alcove and heads straight for her library as soon as the coast is clear.
Her pace is brisk, the silk fabric of her skirts swishing against her generous thighs as her heart pounds with every step. The light from the sconces flickers along the walls and floors. Combined with the soft echoes of her footsteps, the shadows almost seem to take on a life of their own.
The Allegiance has to get this information. The risk of working with them is immense. If she were to be discovered, it would be straight to a god cage. Every time she has to transmit something to the rebel group, her body is held hostage by the barrage of nervous energy that never fails to present itself. The cost has never been enough to make her reconsider, however.