Muse Unexpected

by V. C. Birlidis

  Georgia held it in front of her, making sure to catch the firelight and as she predicted, pinpoints of light shone around the room. The guardians screamed in pain, as the light caressed their rocky flesh.

  This can’t be it.

  The guardians had moved towards the opposite end of the chamber for protection, but she knew it was just a matter of time before they would regain their confidence, and she didn’t know how long the salt or the candles would last. She flipped through the still-blank book, testing the brooch’s prism effect in case it might uncover the now hidden text, but nothing she tried seemed to work.

  Tears welled in her eyes as she realized she had lost complete control of the situation. She closed the book and hugged it close to her heart.

  “Please, Yiayia. Help me. Tell me what I need to do.”

  A breeze rustled through the trees and the scent of wild jasmine surrounded her. A single name burned its way through her confusion.

  Athena. The goddess’ name produced a spark in her mind, which blossomed into fireworks as all of the stories Yiayia had ever told her came flooding back.

  “Athena, I beg you, help me. I know I’m not worthy to call you from the heavens. Athena, please grant me an audience. Please, Athena.”

  The guardians surrounded her on all sides; their grotesque mouths open as the rust-colored slime oozed down their torsos and dripped onto the floors, sizzling on impact. One legless guardian scraped its body toward the edge of the circle, its eyes in line with Georgia’s and its once slackened mouth now even more grotesque as it grinned horribly back at her.

  “Death, little one,” it said with a gravelly, rock scraping against rock voice. It spoke in a strange dialect of Greek Georgia could follow with some difficulty.

  “We shall tear you apart, piece by piece, and feed on you while you scream for mercy.”

  Without thinking, she grabbed another handful of salt and flung it at the talking statue.

  “Oh, shut up,” she shouted.

  The guardian laughed, in spite of the sizzling sores the salt caused. It crawled closer, careful to avoid the circle of stones, then leaned in so the moss-ichor dripping from its wounds seeped onto them. The slime sparked and bit-by-bit ate away at the marble.

  In frustration, she threw the remaining salt into its face and the guardian reeled back and fell over screaming.

  “Athena, I call to you.” She raised her arms upward. “I beg you to come to my aid.”

  She scrambled onto the altar, unhooked the brooch’s sharp pin and, taking a deep breath, jammed it into her palm and scraped it toward her wrist.

  “Athena, I give you my pain, my blood, even the most precious object I have, as an offering to you.” She threw the brooch into the fire and raised her head towards the heavens. “Please Athena, hear my call. Come to me, now.”

  Georgia could feel the tears collect in the corners of her eyes. She blinked hard, attempting to keep them deep inside, but she was losing faith. One of the guardians kicked away a marble stone, breaching the protective circle and she waited for what she knew would be a painful death. Looking towards the heavens and kneeling down on the altar, she let her arms drop to her sides, with her palms facing forward. Following her mother’s example, she began reciting the Lord’s Prayer, over and over again.

  As her voice echoed off the walls, she saw the white dove that had been watching her from its roost, take flight. It soared into the air, its body taking on a silvery tone and glowing with a shimmering light. The guardians froze. The bird circled the room twice and then made a spiraling dive as it grew in size. Within seconds, it was twice as tall as even the largest guardian; with a wing span double its height. The glow from the dove’s feathered body filled the chamber and the guardians bowed down, moaning and screaming in frustration.

  Feathers morphed into flesh, talons melted into legs and the creature’s shape took on a more human female form covered by a long tunic and plates of silver, feathery armor. As the being’s feet touched the ground her wings folded behind her and melted away. The feathers around her face grew into a long mane of dark brown hair. Her head was crowned with a shining silver headpiece.

  She pulled out a long sword with a large red jewel at the bottom of the hilt.

  “Enough.” The goddess shouted at the guardians, her voice making the very trees tremble at the sound of it. With one enormous thrust, she plunged her sword into the ground and a blast of light shot from it, sweeping over Georgia and beyond the altar. It washed over the guardians, who moaned and shuddered as cracks formed on their exterior shell. The guardians began to glow and there was a moment of deadening silence before they exploded, sending shards of stone in every direction.

  Georgia cowered and covered her head, but when she didn’t feel the impact or any pain, she opened her eyes. The room was filled with flower petals, floating in all directions, reminding her of the military parades she had once seen as a child. There was no trace of the guardians.

  She faced the goddess, falling to her knees in gratitude.

  The goddess walked closer.

  “Child,” Athena began, with a calm and gentle tone. “Why have you summoned me? This modern world has lost its way and I grow weary of seeing its destruction by the hand of man caused by his hunger for war.”

  “Forgive me, wise goddess. Forgive a believer, who is not worthy,” Georgia replied.

  “Do not be coy with me child. I am no fool. You have taken a journey, fraught with risk. You summoned the guardians of this temple, which is a great feat of magic for someone who knows nothing of such things. I do not know what you are, but I can say with great certainty, you are not unworthy. I see your thoughts as clear as if they were my own. You come here for what was once yours, but was taken away. A birthright.”

  “Yes, Athena,” Georgia began. “For as long as I can remember, I have been told of our family’s history. I am told we are descendants of the Muses themselves and I have—”

  “You are not the first to beseech me with such claims of glory,” Athena interrupted, examining Georgia. “Why should I believe you, above all of the many who have claimed similar birthrights? Do you dare to believe you are any different from those who are more worthy?”

  Knowing her time was limited, Georgia paused, wracking her brain for the right response. She knew Athena was known for her compassion, but she also knew even the compassionate Athena could be temperamental. She reached down and picked up Yiayia’s book.

  “In here is our family history,” Georgia said, looking down at the restored pages of her book, which were now filled with the recently missing text and drawings.

  Athena interrupted with a dismissive motion of her hand, tearing the book from Georgia’s grip and sending it skidding across the temple floor.

  “I know this book. It is full of mere words written on a page. Stories told to a grandchild do not a birthright make. Careful, child, I have damned others for doing much less than wasting my time with fairytales. I once blinded a man, who by accident glanced at me while I bathed in a hidden lake.”

  Georgia’s cheeks burned with embarrassment and tears swelled in her eyes.

  Athena stepped closer and took Georgia’s bleeding hand into her own. A tingling warmth washed over Georgia’s wounded hand and she lifted it and watched the wound close up and heal.

  “Thank you, Athena. I am who I claim to be, a descendent of the—” Georgia began again.

  The room darkened. “Do not waste my time, girl,” the goddess spoke the words through a hiss. “Although no temples are built in my honor anymore, I am even more significant and powerful today than ever.”

  Georgia searched the goddess’ face, trying to understand what Athena wanted, but then her gaze shifted toward what remained of her smoldering herb bundle with the brooch in the middle. Georgia reached for it, surprised to find it cold to the touch. An idea shot through her mind, something Yiayia had said to her about an answer to a question being found in the question itself. She humbly placed the p
in on the ground in front of the goddess.

  “You know I speak the truth,” Georgia said and Athena glared in response. The room darkened further.

  “Forgive me,” Georgia began. “You are wisest among the gods. You said you have continued to receive the prayers of others. That many have called upon you with similar claims of birthrights linking them to the gods.”

  Athena’s manner softened. “Yes, they call to me, begging for help. These voices, throughout centuries, beseech me to deliver them from their misery and unto the heavens. I even hear those who walk in the Valley of the Shades.”

  Georgia looked into Athena’s eyes. They were like dark chocolate vats, flickering with flecks of starlight. Keeping her voice steady and unemotional, she said, “I was once told that sometimes the answers I seek can be found in the questions I ask. I ask you, Athena, why me? Out of the thousands you hear, why answer my call?”

  If I weren’t speaking the truth, Georgia thought, how would a goddess know of Yiayia’s book? A book handed down for generations to be kept safe. A book containing magic so strong its pages change at will. Athena had to know it was the book giving me directions and spells to take on this journey.

  “I was meant to do this,” Georgia continued. “And if I was meant to do this, clearly directed to do it by the gods, then how can you deny me?”

  Although the goddess remained still, the room lightened and Georgia continued, “Restore what is rightfully mine. For too long I have wandered with a veil covering my eyes and I beg to have it removed. Forgive me for saying this, but the answer to your question is found in the mere fact that you stand before me, asking it.”

  Athena reached down and picked up Georgia’s brooch. It seemed tiny in the goddess’ hand, but glowed brightly, and Athena smiled.

  “Clever girl. You are a very clever girl.” With one blurred motion, Athena reached behind her and removed the sword from where it stood and threw the brooch into the air. As it fell back toward her, she swung her sword, shattering it, the sparkling pieces shooting all over the room.

  Georgia stopped herself from protesting the destruction of Yiayia's broach as she noticed the roots gripping the Muses’ statues begin to unfurl and retract. Athena walked to the closest statue and struck it at its base with her sword. The resulting crack worked its way to the top of the statue; the marble façade shattered and a woman in a flowing white gown flew out of the debris. The Muse surged into the air, arching her back and stretching her arms as if she had just woken from a nap. She fell backward at a ferocious speed, stopping a few inches from the ground, and placed her feet gently on the floor.

  One by one, Muses emerged from their sleep, shattering their marble prisons and soaring into the air as if they had been shot out of a cannon, the space above Athena and Georgia looking like the billowing sails of an armada as each Muse joined the group gathering behind the goddess. Yiayia’s jeweled pin reappeared with a crack of lightning and clattered into the tiled pit. Georgia rushed to retrieve it, holding it close to her heart.

  Athena turned her back on Georgia and spoke with her fellow Olympians. The old book, which had been forgotten, shook violently and slid across the floor, stopping at Georgia’s feet. It slammed itself open, hitting the ground with a loud thud and Georgia glanced down to see the words and diagrams begin to melt and swim on the page. The ink raised itself off the page, collecting into a large pool mid-air. It surged towards Georgia and she gasped as it took the form of a woman, wearing a heavy black gown and a long, flowing black veil. Both the gown and veil appeared to have no end. The stranger did not acknowledge either Georgia or the goddesses, but walked toward the tiled pit, where she chanted, swaying side to side, raising her arms towards the heavens. The room grew brighter and Athena and the Muses ceased their conversation to watch with apparent anticipation. One of the Muses whispered the name “Aletheria” and another murmured “the Oracle.” Georgia wondered where she had heard those names before.

  Aletheria made a horizontal movement with her hand and the ashes and remaining debris in the pit flew across the room and rested at the base of a column. She threw into the pit several pieces of what appeared to be small rocks and the pieces rose from the floor, assembling midair in the pattern in which they had landed. Georgia crossed herself, fearing the woman might be evil. But then she remembered Aletheria was an Oracle, a powerful witch, someone Yiayia's oldest stories had mentioned – a magic rooted in her own family tree.

  But that was centuries ago. Aletheria, how could you possibly be here? I guess anything is possible in this temple.

  Aletheria spoke, her English heavily accented, her voice deep and threatening.

  “How dare you. How dare you begin this journey. You have drawn me back to my former prison. For what? To witness your foolish actions that could lead to the destruction of this world? You have disturbed and defiled this temple and awakened Athena and The Nine Daughters of Zeus by breaking through the veil separating the Olympians from this world. Do you know what risk you have taken? By calling them forth, you have risked setting others free. Others that were locked away for the sake of humankind.”

  Georgia stood seething, her face flushed with heat.

  “You have corrupted the thread the Fates had for you, and now you have two paths to select from. This path is a curse never meant for my descendants. It will lead to great peril for your soul. There are others meant to carry this burden, and yet you come rushing forward to embrace it. My foolish child, my dearest foolish child, do you understand what you are asking from these Olympians?”

  Georgia walked a little closer to Aletheria. “Yes, I do,” she said.

  The woman pointed at the girl, which sent the masonry pieces flying towards her. They hung in the air inches away. Georgia could see the pieces were polished stone etched with ancient Greek letters. As Aletheria walked toward Georgia, they orbited around the girl.

  Aletheria opened her hand and the tiles stopped and fell into her palm. The Oracle glanced at them and shook her head, “Do you not see Athena is using you to enforce her will onto this world? Her actions are as selfish as your own. You see this choice, this path as a way to escape to something better. But it also is much more dangerous than your young mind can comprehend. You must understand. You must have the clarity to see this decision will change your life and the lives of your descendants.”

  Aletheria bent her head towards Georgia and let out an exasperated sigh. Again she threw the stones into the air to encircle Georgia. She repeated this seven times, faster and faster, until she pointed downward, making the stones fall to the ground in front of the girl.

  “The casting stones do not lie. I see two choices. One choice is filled with happiness, love and family. It is a long and prosperous life.” Aletheria crouched down to examine the tiles.

  “I also see another choice, full of moments of incredible glory and excitement that are overshadowed by a journey filled with great sorrow, regret and risk. I look into your eyes and see the temptation and hunger growing inside of you. You will risk everything to satisfy this hunger for power and glory. Do not do this.”

  Georgia looked at Aletheria and shook her head. “I know who you are and I have heard your warnings, but no matter how powerful you are, I have free will and claim this as my destiny. Fate has placed me here. I will not be denied. Like so many others, you would have me grovel for whatever crumbs this miserable life would give to me. I refuse to live like my mother, made bitter by a husband who abandoned his family for another woman. I refuse to end my life as an old woman in a crumbling villa, in an old, black dress, with a face lined with many years of starvation and worry. You are a fool to think I would accept this, Aletheria. Now, go away.”

  Aletheria grabbed Georgia’s arm, her touch strong and cold as her nails dug into Georgia’s flesh.

  “Georgia, you are damned by your own greed. One day, you will remember my warning and wish you had listened,” the Oracle said, as the hand holding onto Georgia transformed into blacken ash.
“Remember my words and understand that those you love will come to curse your name.”

  Horrified, Georgia tried to yank her arm free as she watched Aletheria’s face collapsing into itself, exposing her skull underneath. The witch was disintegrating before her eyes. Georgia scrambled away from what remained of the Oracle.

  The trees and jasmine vines swayed, as the room dimmed again. The nine women faced Georgia with hands joined, as a strong wind swept across the sanctuary. The wind gathered Aletheria’s ashes and bones into the air and held the debris suspended, creating out of them a ceiling of dark clouds that cracked with lightning and thunder.

  Georgia backed away as the nine women glided toward her, their gowns creating a billowing white cloud behind them. The storm grew stronger and lightning bolts struck throughout the room. Athena stood among them, smirked, then raised her arms and disappeared into an explosion of light.

  The Muses, whose feet still did not touch the floor, surrounded Georgia. She was terrified. Some of the women chanted, others sang, as their voices joined into a single wall of sound. Their bodies floated around her.

  “I’m ready,” Georgia shouted above the roar of the wind.

  The Muses circled faster and faster, seeming to merge into a single, blurry form. A Muse crowned with a wreath of grapevines broke away and moved closer.

  In ancient Greek the Muse said, “Forgive me.”

  Before Georgia had time to ask what she needed to be forgiven for, the first of nine lightning bolts struck her.

  Chapter 2

  Columbus, Ohio — Present Day

  Callie could hear the buzz, buzz, buzz of her daughter’s alarm clock through the bedroom wall. It had been going off for the past ten minutes. She assumed Sophie was too lazy to reach over and hit the snooze button.

  Dear God. How does Sophie use that annoying alarm rhythm to lull herself back to sleep? Would it be too much to ask her to wake up and get ready for school without me having to pound on her door?