But the rose was dead. Daddy was dead. My life was nothing but thorns.
Nero put his hand on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Meg.”
His eyes were sad, but his voice was tinged with disappointment. This only proved what I already suspected. Daddy’s death was my fault. I should have been a better daughter. I should have trained harder, minded my manners, not objected when Nero told me to fight the larger children…or the animals I did not want to kill.
I had upset the Beast.
I sobbed, hating myself. Nero hugged me. I buried my face in his purple clothes, his sickly sweet cologne—not like flowers, but like old, desiccated potpourri in a nursing home. I wasn’t sure how I even knew that smell, but it brought back a half-remembered feeling of helplessness and terror. Nero was all I had. I didn’t get real flowers, a real father, a real mother. I wasn’t worthy of that. I had to cling to what I had.
Then, our minds comingled, Meg and I plunged into primordial Chaos—the miasma from which the Fates wove the future, making destiny out of randomness.
No one’s mind should be exposed to such power. Even as a god, I feared to go too near the boundaries of Chaos.
It was the same sort of danger mortals risked when they asked to see a god’s true form—a burning, terrible pyre of pure possibility. Seeing such a thing could vaporize humans, turn them into salt or dust.
I shielded Meg from the miasma as best I could, wrapping my mind around hers in a sort of embrace, but we both heard the piercing voices.
Swift white horse, they whispered. The crossword speaker. Lands of scorching death.
And more—lines spoken too fast, overlapping too much to make sense of. My eyes began to bake. The bees consumed my lungs. Still I held my breath. I saw a misty river in the distance—the Styx itself. The dark goddess beckoned me from the shore, inviting me to cross. I would be immortal again, if only in the way human souls were immortal after death. I could pass into the Fields of Punishment. Didn’t I deserve to be punished for my many crimes?
Unfortunately, Meg felt the same way. Guilt weighed her down. She did not believe she deserved to survive.
What saved us was a simultaneous thought:
I cannot give up. Apollo/Meg needs me.
I endured for another moment, then two. At last, I could stand it no more.
I exhaled, expelling the poison of the prophecy. Gasping for fresh air, I collapsed next to Meg on the cold, wet stone. Slowly, the world returned to a solid state. The voices were gone. The cloud of ghostly bees had vanished.
I rose to my elbows. I pressed my fingers against Meg’s neck. Her pulse pattered, thready and weak, but she was not dead.
“Thank the Three Fates,” I murmured.
For once, I actually meant it. If Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos had been in front of me right then, I would have kissed their warty noses.
On his island, Trophonius sighed. “Oh, well. The girl might still be insane for the rest of her life. That’s some consolation.”
I glared at my deceased son. “Some consolation?”
“Yes.” He tilted his ethereal head, listening again. “You’d best hurry. You’ll have to carry the girl through the underwater tunnel, so I suppose you might both drown. Or the blemmyae might kill you at the other end. But if not, I want that favor.”
I laughed. After my plunge into Chaos, it wasn’t a pretty sound. “You expect a favor? For attacking a defenseless girl?”
“For giving you your prophecy,” Trophonius corrected. “It’s yours, assuming you can extract it from the girl on the Throne of Memory. Now my favor, as you promised: Destroy this cave.”
I had to admit…I’d just come back from the miasma of pure prophecy, and I still didn’t see that request coming. “Say what, now?”
“This location is too exposed,” said Trophonius. “Your allies at the Waystation will never be able to defend it from the Triumvirate. The emperors will just keep attacking. I do not wish to be used by Commodus anymore. Better that the Oracle is destroyed.”
I wondered if Zeus would agree. I had been operating under the assumption that my father wanted me to restore all the ancient Oracles before I could regain my godhood. I wasn’t sure if destroying the Cavern of Trophonius would be an acceptable plan B. Then again, if Zeus wanted things done in a certain way, he should’ve given me instructions in writing. “But, Trophonius…what will happen to you?”
Trophonius shrugged. “Perhaps my Oracle will reappear somewhere else in a few centuries—under better circumstances, in a more secure location. Maybe that will give you time to become a nicer father.”
He was definitely making it easier to consider his request. “How do I destroy this place?”
“I may have mentioned the blemmyae with explosives in the next cave? If they do not use them, you must.”
“And Agamethus? Will he disappear as well?”
Dim flashes of light erupted from within the spirit’s form—perhaps sadness?
“Eventually,” said Trophonius. “Tell Agamethus…Tell him I love him, and I’m sorry this has been our fate. That’s more than I ever got from you.”
His swirling column of darkness began to unspool.
“Wait!” I yelled. “What about Georgina? Where did Agamethus find her? Is she my child?”
The laughter of Trophonius echoed weakly through the cavern. “Ah, yes. Consider that mystery my last gift to you, Father. I hope it drives you insane!”
Then he was gone.
For a moment, I sat on the ledge, stunned and devastated. I didn’t feel physically hurt, but I realized it was possible to suffer a thousand bites in this snake pit, even if none of the vipers came near you. There were other kinds of poison.
The cave rumbled, sending ripples across the lake. I didn’t know what that meant, but we could not stay here. I lifted Meg in my arms and waded into the water.
Mind your p’s and q’s
When you are arming bombs or—
SPLAT—trample jelly
I MAY HAVE MENTIONED: I am not the god of the sea.
I have many fascinating abilities. In my divine state, I am good at nearly everything I attempt. But as Lester Papadopoulos, I was not the master of one-armed swimming underwater while encumbered, nor could I go without oxygen any longer than a normal mortal.
I clawed my way through the passage, hugging Meg close, my lungs burning in outrage.
First you fill us with dark prophetic bees! my lungs screamed at me. Now you force us to stay underwater! You are a horrible person!
I could only hope Meg would survive the experience. Since she was still unconscious, I couldn’t very well warn her to hold her breath. The best I could do was make our journey as brief as possible.
At least the current was in my favor. The water pushed me in the direction I wanted to go, but after six or seven seconds I was pretty sure we were going to die.
My ears throbbed. I groped blindly for handholds on the slick rock walls. I was probably destroying my fingertips, but the cold rendered my nervous system useless. The only pain I felt was inside my chest and head.
My mind began to play tricks on me as it sought more oxygen.