by C M Thorne
“It has been too long since we have left the land of mortals, cousin,” Oskar nodded.
Henrik said nothing else, moving towards the well slowly, eyes wide. It was a look familiar to the great god.
Oskar remembered the first time he had seen it, coming to beg his uncle for a drink, anything to increase his power and ability to rule. He had needed it then to contain the other immortal races of the realms that threatened his family. He did not yet know of the other deities on earth vying for the worship of the fragile mortals at that time. He learned quickly though, after sacrificing his eye and feeling the icy waters fill him with the knowledge of all that had been and could be. He wondered what a second drink would reveal to him now. His uncle was not truly there to demand fair payment as he had before. He looked away from the waters, which had drawn him in, turning to his cousin.
“Henrik,” he allowed his voice to grow loud and deep, pulling the man from the trance he found himself in as well. The man blinked slowly and looked to Oskar with confusion. “You may gaze into the waters to scry for my answer,” he lowered the booming power in his voice as he continued to speak. “How can we bring my granddaughter’s daughter to our family? How can we avoid war in doing so?” Henrik nodded and stepped forward, pausing as Oskar continued, “Is she Deirdre’s daughter?”
Henrik did not acknowledge his last question, only turned back and knelt at the stone edge of the well, peering down into the water. His body burst from its glamour, glowing bright white and silver. Oskar took a step back so as to not be tempted by the waters, watching his cousin peer through the well for answers.
A strange guttural sound rumbled in Henrik’s chest before he spoke, “Daughter of three upon three. One of many is she. Blood to blood, comes the call. She chooses none, she chooses all. In the dark, a shadow does come. War will spread, the gods will be undone. Daughter of three upon three. One of many is she. In her blood lies the key. Only she shall know victory!”
A blast of white light filled the cold cave from the otherworldly waters and Henrik fell back, collapsing onto the wet stone floor breathlessly. Oskar moved forward as his cousin drew in a long, ragged breath. His bright blue eyes found Oskar in the now dim, recovering light of the cave, a look of bewilderment on his face. “She is ours, cousin.”
“Yes, she is,” Oskar agreed and knelt close to Henrik. “She chooses none, though,” his words echoing those Henrik had spoken.
“None, but all,” Henrik nodded slowly, glancing back at the well. “She will not fall within the allegiances we know.” Oskar reached out a hand and Henrik clasped it, allowing himself to be pulled back up to his feet. “It is all blurring together now. “ He pinched the bridge of his nose, frustration knitting his brow.
“I remember your vision,” Oskar rubbed his cousins shoulder, guiding him back to the water that they had come through on the other side of the cavern. “I heard the words of your prophecy, cousin.” Henrik looked up just before Oskar pulled them into the water. “War is coming, without a doubt,” he said low as he stepped forward, pulling them away from the well, back through the cosmic tree toward their home.
After returning to Earth, Oskar moved himself and Henrik towards Gemma’s massive home in Copenhagen, their forms still incorporeal, lost to the flow of energy. The house was one of their more regular meeting places, a frequent place of respite for many of their family. The house was a grandiose statement from an age now gone, with dark wooden floors, wooden paneling, and old-fashioned, expensive wallpaper, on which hung oil paintings of landscapes and expert portraits. Antique furniture filled every room and was all coordinated, each room different from the last, but still fitting with the rest. It was a relic of a bygone age and a testament to his daughter’s sense of beauty.
Gemma was in her silver and blue sitting room, taking tea with her daughters. The girls startled a little as the two men took shape, though Oskar noted that Gemma still sipped her tea calmly. He could not take her by surprise. She wore a cream colored, knee-length tailored dress, smattered with a shimmery golden pattern. Her shining hair spilled around her shoulders in smooth, silky tresses. Her emerald eyes peered up at her father and cousin over her porcelain cup with an indifferent look.
Helena and Gisella complimented their mother, one is a silky, dark orange dress and the other in a scalloped-hem brown and bronze colored satin dress. They waved their hands over their spilled tea, looking embarrassed. Oskar nodded to his granddaughters and met his daughter’s jewel hued gaze.
“Something the matter, father?” Gemma asked, replacing her cup on the saucer delicately. “I didn’t know to expect you today.”
“Didn’t stop you from knowing,” Oskar winked at her before turning to Henrik, who still looked utterly shell-shocked. “We need the family to gather, actually,” he looked over his cousin, hoping the vision had not taken too much out of him.
“Let’s move to the first floor drawing room. It’s bigger,” Gemma nodded as she rose and set to calling on the family herself. Her daughters rose and took Henrik by either arm, leading him out of the room. They did not have their mother’s power, but they caught on to the scent of what was happening.
Oskar meandered after them, watching them guide Henrik downstairs and waiting on Gemma to finish. A moment later, she came to the top of the stairs, which had an earthly toned runner spiraling down all the floors. “Is Henrik alright?” She asked as she came up next to him quietly, gliding over the old wood that should have noisily betrayed her steps.
“He will be,” Oskar answered, confidence filling his voice, though he truthfully doubted the statement.
She nodded and went down the stairs in front of him, golden curtain of hair swaying behind her, reflecting the warm morning light that streamed through the windows along the stairs. If she felt his lie, she did not point it out. Oskar sighed, moving down the stairs and hoping Henrik recovered before the others went to grill him. His current state would cause a great deal of worry.
They found all of the family had already gathered in the large room downstairs, with its brown leather couches, burnished gold wall paper and massive Persian rug. A fire smoldered in the stone fireplace and the family’s chatter died down as Oskar’s presence filled the room. Helena and Gisella sat on either side of Henrik, who grasped a steaming cup of tea, though Oskar knew it had a good helping of whiskey in it, to calm his frayed nerves.
Oskar made quick work, moving to a deep red upholstered chair near the fire and retelling what had happened at the well to his family. He finished the prophecy slowly, “In her blood lies the key. Only she shall know victory.” The room fell quiet as his voice died down. Oskar looked at them in turn, waiting for their reactions.
“Why didn’t you tell us about a child of our blood before now?” Francesca asked, tone flat, yet secretly seething. He knew her too well to be fooled by her composure.
“I kept it quiet while I checked on what needed checking, and then I thought of a plan.”
“What is your plan then, husband?” Francesca practically spat out the last word.
Oskar met her eyes, confidently responding, “I am unsure what to do, especially in light of the prophecy. I thought now was a good time to bring it to the family, however.”
“Wonderful,” she rolled her eyes and slid off her perch on one of the couches and moved over to the drink cart.
“Mother,” Thomas said softly.
She looked at him and puffed out her cheeks, “Pfft!” She turned back to the drink she started making, gulping it down a moment later and setting to make another.
“Sounds like war is imminent whether we make a move for the girl or not,” Gemma seized the quiet that fell around the clinking of Francesca’s drink making. “I say we go to the Greeks and demand what belongs to our blood. We have just as much right as they do. A right to get to know her.”
Thomas nodded and agreed, “We should. Why stick to the shadows now that we are sure of her blood? Now that we have a prophecy foretelling doom and vic
tory at her hands.”
Gemma’s brother, Frederick, raised a finger before speaking, “I would much prefer to come out on the side of the victorious, if given the chance.”
Oskar rubbed his chin, “I do not disagree, children.” He looked to Henrik, who sipped at his tea slowly, eyes lost. “I just worry about how to approach the situation. The Greeks are in chaos and I do not want to come in, presenting the wrong face and intentions.”
“Zeus is dead,” Francesca said, downing another glass of whatever she was drinking. She poured out golden liquid into her glass and turned, a little less sure on her feet, and boozily sauntered over to the couch. “Your friendship with him is dead! Who is to say any in that family will honor alliances made of their blood?!” She jammed a finger forward at Oskar and her glass sloshed a little, spilling a bit on Mathias on the couch below her. He looked up at his grandmother with annoyance as he removed his wet blazer.
“True,” Oskar nodded and found a plan forming in his mind. “I think I have just the plan then.”
Gemma locked eyes with him and he saw that she too was thinking the same. “It just might work,” she replied to their silent exchange. “It just might keep the peace and get us to our blood kin.”
CHAPTER 17: VISION FROM THE PAST
AT HER DESK in the London house, Adella sat, not doing work, but lost in thought. She was glad for Herman and his family’s pledge, for the strength it lent her cause. He was known for being completely loyal and unchanging once he made up his mind. She hoped that others would come to see her reasoning now. For them to see the right in her claim and the danger of Nigel’s. Her uncle’s hunger for power knew no bounds, and, if she was honest with herself, the thought of what that could mean chilled her.
She remembered the days of the Old Wars and the peace that began to form as more pantheons swore not to attack one another. It was then that she first saw the truth of Nigel’s nature. The malice that lurked in the depths beneath his joviality and apparent loyalty. It had been Nigel who called for Zeus to sweep in and obliterate the weaker, smaller families. Her uncle lusted for dominance. Such was the will of the sea, to overtake and shape that which stood before it. She had never known him to be any different when she looked back across her long life. His nature was that of a storm.
Zeus had kept him in check, but Adella did not know what she would do. Herman had been goading her, saying she would need to imprison their uncle, but now that she stopped and thought about it, she wasn’t sure what her plan was. She knew that she could best him. With enough support, any kind of confrontation would sway in her favor. Imprisonment in the pit would be harsh, unless their fight got very dirty. Adella had always detested her father’s use of the prison. It was an inescapable, eternal punishment. But she felt in her gut that Nigel did not intend to cede the crown or the throne to her, even if she won it in all fairness. He had craved the power of it all for too long to be stopped by her and such diplomatic rules.
She turned off her desk-top with an irritated jab, turning her chair away to face the window that overlooked the back gardens. The sun was out, making for a pleasantly warm late March day in London. The trees swayed in the wind, and she enjoyed the scene out her window, which made her debate about going outside. Adella blinked hard to clear her vision. Down in the garden, a blonde figured moved, ancient pale orange robes fluttering about the figure and catching Adella’s attention. She took a breath and stepped forward, stepping through space and emerging in the garden, surrounded by the rows of manicured, budding plants.
Euthenia turned to her with a sweet smile, dark green eyes to meet her own. “Athena,” she spoke softly, hands still floating out at her sides, making small movements with the breeze that danced through the flowers.
“Euthenia,” Adella replied to her, wondering what her niece was doing here at her home. Unannounced at that.
Her long pale blonde hair blew out around her as she twirled with a strong gust of wind. Her skin gleamed golden and glowed completely unfettered. The flowers of the garden all bloomed into a brilliant show as she turned back to Adella. “Dear aunt, I call you to the heavens. The Great Titaness wishes to speak with you.”
Adella bowed her head, “I shall come then. I just need to inform those inside where I will be. I will be there shortly.” She waited for Euthenia to bow her head and then fade away, returning to the heavens.
She let out a long sigh and walked back up to the house, letting herself through the conservatory to the main house. She did not want to go to Olympus, feeling apprehensive about leaving the earthly plane with things so tense with Nigel, but she was curious about what Rhea could want. She had not seen her since the debate after her father’s death. The debate that had sparked the choosing of sides and a threat of civil war.
She found her sisters in the library. Diane was sitting by the fireplace on her laptop, rapidly clicking away, most likely on some business report. She had not been to the office since Thea had been in the house. Neither had Adella for that matter.
Thea was curled up on the couch, absorbed in some volume from their private collection. They looked up at her, nearly in sync as she took another step into the room. “Hello sister,” Diane greeted her cheerfully.
“Hello, sisters,” Adella replied with a slight smirk. “I need to leave you for a bit, unfortunately.”
“Where to?” Diane asked before Adella could explain fully.
“Home,” Adella answered simply, shrugging her shoulders, resigned to whatever was going to happen. “I have been summoned by, what was it now” she paused, remembering their grandmother’s current assumed name, “Sybil?”
Diane nodded and closed her laptop. “Any idea how long you will be?”
Adella shrugged, “Hopefully not too long.” She turned towards the door, but paused and added, “Go ahead and do whatever suits you two for the rest of the evening.” She did not look back at them as she stepped forward and disappeared, letting her energy move back to the heavens, towards home.
She reformed in the heavens, within the golden doors of the palace. Large white marble pillars veined with black and flecked with gold and silver soared up to impossibly high ceilings, which emitted a soft white light themselves. The floors were a cloudy marble, trimmed with black borders. Large silver braziers were placed strategically around the hall, which branched off forward and to the left and right, white flames dancing high along the wide corridors. Deities mingled around the halls, dressed in a mixture of styles. Some looked to Adella as she walked forward towards the Hall of Thrones. She hardly bothered coming to the palace any longer, but many seemed to never leave.
Adella kept her more human form as she walked into the Hall of Thrones, massive gilded doors opening for her as she moved at a confident pace, heels echoed across the marble floors. She held her head high as she moved, bracing herself for whatever this meeting was to be.
The walls of the room beyond were made up of great pillars, soaring up to support a dome of starry black night. The space between the pillars opened up to the mixture of the heavenly crossroads upon which the great palace of Olympus sat, partially composed of clouds and sunlight as well as swirling, starry cosmos and the unending night. The thrones were arranged almost in a complete circle, allowing a wide pathway from the doors in between the last two thrones. The great hearth lay in the middle, tended by Hestia, who appeared as she had many days ago following the death of Adella’s father.
Hestia looked up from the flames and smiled warmly at her. “Niece, you have come.”
Adella nodded and stepped between the thrones of Harry, who was absent, and Dionysus, whose whereabouts had long been unknown. She glanced around at the other thrones, noting that only Hera sat upon hers. It was directly alongside Zeus’ and faced the doors. Zeus’ was the highest and largest of the thrones, with its gleaming whiteness. Adella’s stomach clenched as she looked at the throne, now marred by the ugly, jagged crack running down the back. The throne was eternally empty of her father’s great pr
esence. That’s where Adella would sit.
Hera watched Adella walk closer to the hearth with burning, brilliant blue eyes. She was stylized much as she always was, hair on top of her head supporting her crown and a sweeping ancient gown, this time a pale blue.
“Sybil wished to speak with me?” Adella questioned as she drew nearer to Hestia.
Hestia nodded once, eyes glancing sideways towards her seated sister. “Yes,” she turned her attention back to Adella, “something about this new daughter.”
Hera sighed and pushed herself up from her throne, sandals scuffing the crystal steps of her throne deliberately. They turned their attention to her as she walked past them, casually, but angrily remarking, “We are to have a meeting about every ill begotten child of my late husband now? That itself will take an eternity. Have fun.” She stalked out of the hall, gown fluttering out behind her.
Hestia sighed and shook her head slightly, but Adella could not help but feel that Hera’s little show was just that, a show. Another child meant another claimant on Zeus’ legacy. Another child Hera herself did not bring about legitimately. They weren’t many of those in comparison to the rest of them. Adella herself was legitimate, but not by Hera. No, she was the only daughter of her father’s first marriage. It was that fact that made her claim to the throne and the crown so strong. She would have been a son, a son that would have carried on their family’s dark tradition of usurping their fathers, had her father not taken precautions.
“She has been uncharacteristically sullen and flippant as of late,” Hestia’s serene voice brought Adella from her thoughts. “Word of this new daughter has only made it all worse. I do not think I have ever seen her so,” she paused and looked back to her fire, “so willfully and purposefully uninterested.”
“Strange,” Adella nodded her head. The doors of the hall finished closing, blocking her view of the retreating queen of the heavens. “Well,” Adella sucked in a breath, “where is my grandmother?”