by Melody Rose
I wracked my brain for a suitable question. While I had a fair number, I didn’t know if Eros was the right god to ask. Most of them involved the Academy itself, what the General’s real name was, what his beef with me was, and what happened before my dad disappeared.
As I thought about my dad, my thoughts wandered in a different direction. There was something Eros had said the night before that bothered me, but I hadn’t given it a second thought at the time, mainly because all of my thoughts were consumed by Ansel and his hotness.
“What’s the Sight?” I asked. “And why do you think I have it?”
29
“Ah,” Eros said with a smirk. “I like the way you think, Cheyenne. That’s an excellent question to ask. And because I am so pleased with it, I will answer you honestly.” The god straightened his back, crossed his legs at the ankles, and cleared his throat dramatically.
“The Sight is the ability to see the future or know the past,” Eros explained. “It is very common throughout Greek mythology, such as--”
“Apollo cursed Cassandra with the ability to predict the future, but no one would believe her,” I recited automatically. “Tireseus had the ability and helped Odysseus, and Apollo was the god of prophecy, which spurred the Oracles of Delphi. And perhaps most famously as told through the three fates, or the Moirai.”
“Yes,” Eros said slowly and with weariness in his voice. “But those are perhaps the most famous Seers in Greek mythology. But there are many lesser-known ones.”
“You mean like, the sibyls or Nyx, the goddess of night herself had the ability?” I rattled on. “So powerful that even Zeus himself was afraid of her.”
Silence rang in my ears. When Eros didn’t respond to me right away, I paused my pounding and looked up at the god. His plush lips hung open, his sharp jawline swinging as he stared at me in astonishment. He looked as though I had just slapped him in the face rather than just told him some under-represented Seers in Greek mythology.
“What?” I asked, prompting the god to start talking again.
“How much do you know about the myths?” Eros wondered, his eyebrows still knitted together as if I were a puzzle he needed to solve.
“A lot,” I replied, though my voice shook a little, unnerved as I was at Eros’s tone and facial expression. “Why?”
“And how did you come across this knowledge?” Eros continued, unrelenting in his interrogation.
“I don’t know,” I answered, doubting his questioning. “Reading, I guess. The internet.”
“That’s a lot of reading,” Eros commented dubiously.
“Sure, but I found it interesting as a kid,” I defended. “That and blacksmithing, of course. Weapons from all different cultures were so interesting to study. There was this huge book at our local library that was in the reference section so I couldn’t ever take it home with me, but I would spend hours, flipping through the same pages over and over, reading all about the weapons--”
“I get it, I get it,” Eros waved away my explanation. “But go back to the myths. You’re telling me that you read every single Greek myth ever. Every play, every poem, even the Hesiod.”
His words gave me pause. I had read a lot of them as a kid, devoured them when other kids were reading Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings. The Greek myths were my fantasy novels. I just never thought they would actually be read. But it was unrealistic to think that I had read everything.
I opened my mouth to answer, honestly though confusedly, when Eros hopped off the workbench and sauntered over to me with a confident step and a suspicious eye.
“And how did you manage to retain all of that information?” Eros tapped the side of his head with a single finger, mimicking the rhythm of an analog clock. “You’re telling me that your childhood, mortal brain just absorbed everything it ever read about Greek mythology? Like a sponge?”
My mouth opened slightly as I took in a sharp breath. I didn’t know what Eros was trying to tell me, but whatever it was, I didn’t like it. I braced myself behind my anvil, using it as a barrier between the god and myself. However, he simply put his hands on either side of it and leaned forward, closing the gap between our faces. Refusing to abandon my post, my space as a blacksmith, I held true and let the god approach me, despite how intimidating it might have been.
“No, it didn’t,” I whispered, knowing the truth. “I just kind of always knew the stories. When I read then, more stories and facts just popped into my head until I had a whole encyclopedia that no one wanted to hear about.”
“Do you want to know why you have the encyclopedia?” Eros raised his eyebrows suggestively. “Why can you rattle off facts about Greek mythology like an auctioneer without having to give it a second thought?”
“I have the Sight?” I filled in the blank with the question, but I didn’t want it to be true.
“Bingo,” Eros said sharply as he pointed a finger at the center of my forehead as if he were pressing a button. “Past and future, kiddo. You got the past part down pat.”
I blinked a couple of times as I watched Eros flounce back to the workbench, taking Ruby’s old spot on the stool. He twirled with a cocky triumph, proud of himself for having figured out the Cheyenne puzzle.
I, on the other hand, stood at my anvil in complete shock. I didn’t want another power, something else that I needed to learn how to control. I was still struggling with the Eternal Flame and how all of that worked. Now, Eros told me I had the Sight and what’s more that I might have gotten it from my mom.
“I don’t want the ability to tell the future,” I said, unable to hide the whine in my voice even though I spoke softly, more to the anvil than to Eros.
“I don’t think that’s the kind of Sight you inherited,” Eros said with a know-it-all tone. “I think it’s the past like I told you. Which is why you were able to look into my eyes last night and know the entire story of the bow and arrow without me having to say hardly anything.”
Eros picked something out of his teeth with his pinky finger. “You didn’t see the future when you looked at me. You saw the past. Much easier to manage if you ask me.”
My hands immediately went back to forging the gold, though I needed to heat it up again since it had cooled. It was a natural reaction for my hands to gravitate towards blacksmithing in times of stress or turmoil. I didn’t want to have this conversation anymore. I wanted to just make the stupid bow and arrow and get this god out of my forge.
“Now your mother, on the other hand--” Eros began, but I drew the line.
“I don’t want to talk about my mom,” I snapped.
“Ooh,” Eros cried, hissing like he was burned. “Is that a sensitive topic? Is she dead or something?”
“She’s fine,” I replied harshly. “It’s just… she’s not a part of this. I know she’s not.”
“I’m telling you, daughter of Hephaestus,” Eros said, suddenly serious. “You have the Sight, and you sure as hell didn’t get it from your father. That leaves one very simple and very reasonable explanation.”
I couldn’t look at Eros as he said this. Instead, my eyes drifted to the comfort of the fire. The orange flames licked up the side of the forge, the heat making the image blur and go hazy.
There was no way that my mother had the Sight. She would have told me. All of our lives, she had always been honest with me. Us against the world and the fact that she would hide something like that didn’t seem like her at all.
Then again, she didn’t tell you about your dad, now did she? a wicked voice taunted at the back of my mind.
It pulled into question my mom’s integrity, and I didn’t want to do that. I needed her to be my rock, my solid place amidst the chaos of this other side of my life. But now, she might be just as wrapped up in it as I might be.
“Does the Academy still do study abroad trips?” Eros said randomly.
I yanked my gaze away from the fire and opened stared at Eros, wondering how the hell his brain had jumped from the Sight to talking
about study abroad.
“I have no idea,” I replied honestly.
“You know what would help you?” Eros said, wagging a finger at me like I was a dog. “A study abroad trip.”
“To where? Greece?” I replied sarcastically. The gold had reached the perfect sheen of white to begin bending it. I pulled it out of the forge and proceeded to manipulate the hunk of metal.
“No,” Eros clicked his tongue. “To work with the Cyclops.”
“The what?” I balked.
“The Cyclops,” Eros repeated. “Surely, you know who they are?”
“Of course I know who and what Cyclops are,” I argued, feeling defensive all of a sudden. I slammed my hammer down on the strip of gold, putting my weight behind each swing, a grunt piercing through each sentence. “Odysseus tricked them with the whole ‘no body’ thing. Poseidon sired a couple of them, including Polyphemus. But they originated from Uranus and Gaia, and the three brothers, Brontes, Steropes, and Arges, forged the lightning bolt for Zeus, the trident for Poseidon, and the cap of invisibility for Hades.”
Eros raised his eyebrows expectantly. “Go on.”
I didn’t know what he wanted from me, but I continued, unable to stop myself once I started. “They also built the first altar where the gods swore their allegiance to stop the war on the Titans. They were also known as wall builders, and some have the ability to see…”
The epiphany hit me like on the Cyclops lightning bolts, right as I slammed one time too many and caused the gold to snap in half. A piece clattered to the ground with a ring. Immediately after, I growled out my frustration at this stupid project. Gold was so fragile, and that’s why I hated working with it. Plus, this god hovered over me while I worked, telling me secrets about myself and my mother that I wasn’t sure if I ever wanted to know. Now he was going on about Cyclops while I continued to break gold piece after gold piece.
I closed my eyes and hung my head. I heard Eros chuckle echo off the walls of the forge.
“See what?” Eros prompted, wanting me to say it aloud. “What are the Cyclops known to see.”
I inhaled sharply. “The future.”
“Quite an unusual pairing,” Eros commented. “The Cyclops are both mythical monsters, and kind benefactors to the gods. Their powers are odd, don’t quite fit into any mold, not unlike yourself.”
I fought the urge to run over and smack Eros. I didn’t need this right now. I needed to make this stupid bow and arrow so my friends could be themselves again. So that the Academy could go back to normal. But instead of doing anything to help me, he just rattled on about life-altering things that did nothing for me at all except distract me.
However, through my frustration, my skills latched onto something Eros said. I kept my eyes closed, though I could feel my face relax as the pieces came together in my mind, as the perfect solution formed.
“That’s it,” I whispered under my breath. More pieces clicked into place, and the picture became clearer. I threw my arms straight in the air, like a referee signaling a field goal. “That’s it!”
Eros leaned away from me as if frightened from my exclamation. “What are you talking about?”
“I’ve been doing this all wrong,” I said, my words coming out in a rush. I bounced around the smithy, my feet carrying me as though I were wearing Hermes’s winged shoes. “Gah, why didn’t I think of it before?”
“Care to tell me what is going on?” Eros said. His head followed me like a radar as I dashed about the room, collecting the necessary materials. I paused suddenly in the middle of the forge, hands outstretched.
“I need to go to the pottery room,” I announced suddenly.
“Cheyenne, explain yourself right now or--”
“Walk and talk, Eros, walk and talk,” I ushered him forward and gave him a little shove off the workbench.
“How dare you!” he commented, though he landed on his feet as swiftly as a cat. “You cannot just shove me around like that. I am a god!”
“Sorry,” I muttered, though I wasn’t the least bit sorry. “But I’ve figured out how to make your bow and arrow.”
“I thought that’s what you’ve been doing this whole time,” Eros said as he followed me out of the forge.
I hustled out of the smithy and fast-walked down the path. Eros’s long legs allowed him to keep up with me without breaking a sweat, though the annoyance was still plain as day across his face.
“I can’t bend and manipulate the gold like steel or iron,” I explained as I walked. “It’s too fragile, and I can’t sense it like I do those other metals.”
“Yes, and?” Eros continued, ushering me along by waving his hands in little circles.
“We have to melt the gold,” I exclaimed, riding the high of my epiphany.
Eros didn’t catch on right away. “Then we will just have melted gold. What good is that?”
“We melt it into a mold,” I clarified. We zipped through the main quad, my energy increasing with each step closer to the pottery and sculpting studio. “Then it hardens in the form of the mold and voila! We have a new bow and arrow.”
“Where are you going to make a mold of my bow and arrow?” Eros said, as though he had popped the bubble in my precious plan.
“We’re going to make it,” I announced, with perfect timing as we stepped up to the doors of the art building. I held the door open for the god and bowed low, indicating that he should go in. “After you.”
“A bit of respect from you,” Eros scoffed. “How refreshing.”
I ignored that jab and walked in behind him. We ventured down the various hallways, though I had to push him again when Eros ran into a painting supposedly of him and Psyche that he was deeply offended by. I had to promise him that we could find it and burn it later, after the bow and arrow business was complete.
When we approached the door to the pottery studio, I paused for the first time since my brilliant idea approached. I hadn’t been in this room since I grabbed the broken scythes, since the harpy attack on Christmas day. It was where Esme and I had worked together on those scythes, where I thought she might be a friend. A fellow warrior and artist.
I wrapped my hand around the handle and took a deep breath before walking through. The room looked the exact same as it had a year ago. The various tables had a fresh round of clay stains on them, while the counter on the far wall was damn near immaculate, save from some specks on the sink. The kiln room was empty, but the heavy door stood wide open.
Pushing my nostalgia and anger aside, I bolted for the cabinets across from the windows. High on the shelves were cubes of clay, fresh and ready to be molded to our whims. I hugged two, one with each arm, and brought them down to the nearest table. They landed with a slam and a crinkle as the plastic covered clay stood solid. I ripped off the top of the packaging when I noticed that Eros hadn’t left the doorway.
“What are you doing, standing there?” I asked. “Come in.”
“I just noticed something,” Eros said, not listening to me and staying right where he was standing.
“What now?” I said, exasperated.
“You used the word ‘we,’” Eros pointed out, “when talking about the clay and the mold. You said, ‘We are going to make a mold.’ Did you mean--?” The god stuck out a finger and waved it between the two of us.
I nodded. “Yes.”
Eros turned his nose up at the clay I continued to unravel. “I’m not touching that with a ten-foot pole.”
“I need your help,” I said, my voice dropping to something just above a plea. “You’re the only one who knows what the bow looks like, really looks like. You said it yourself. You need to help me with the design. So you and me, together, have to make the mold.”
I dug my hand into a corner of the clay. It was cold and slightly stiff. We would have to warm it up with some water but not too much to drown out the clay, so it becomes mud, just like Esme taught me. A few flecks broke off and onto the table when I hauled out the fistful.
I held the clump out to the god of lust. “I can’t make it without you, remember?”
Eros opened and closed his mouth several times, caught in his own declaration from this morning. When he couldn’t work his way around an alternative, the god grumbled but closed his mouth. He stomped over to my station and scooped the clay out of my hand.
His face contorted into one of disgust, as if I had just handed him a pile of poop rather than clay. “This is disgusting.”
“It’s not my favorite either,” I sympathize. “But I’m telling you, this is the best way to make your gold bow and arrow.”
Then Eros plastered a smile on his face, though it was pained and forced. He uttered the words from earlier in the day, though with much less enthusiasm. “Where do we start?”
30
The bow and arrow took several days to finish, and I couldn’t have been more ready to finish a project. I’d always thought I wanted to meet a god. But after spending nearly every waking hour with one for at least three days, I was sick and tired of Eros.
He was an arrogant son of a bitch who was too attractive for his own good. Compromise was not his strong suit. He hated the word “no” and refused to talk about Psyche in any capacity, which I found strange and unusual. He would gossip about everyone else, as he quizzed me on the various extra-marital affairs of the gods and their offspring. But when it came to his significant other, she was off-limits.
“You never took another lover,” I recalled one day during the melting process. “That’s rare to be in a monogamous relationship in Greek myths.”
“Ah yes,” Eros said as he rolled his eyes. “The god of lust would have many lovers, wouldn’t he?”
“That’s not what I said,” I corrected him. “Monogamy is a fairly recent social construct, so it’s interesting to see you chose it so early on.”
“It is simple,” he said with a shrug. “There is no one else I would rather be with. As much as I would never want to leave her, I had to let her find her own way to me. But once she did, there was no turning back.”