by Melody Rose
“What are you doing?” Temperance whispered, as though she knew she was interrupting something.
“Shh,” I hushed her, and my friend leaned back against the bench, closing her mouth dutifully.
I held the sash in my two hands, laying across my palms like an offering. I closed my eyes and focused my energy inward. I applied the same techniques I’d used on Calypso's island towards the sticks, or in the forest with the Nymphs, or even out on the ice, trying to free the Argo. I slowed my breathing as my thoughts ventured to sensitive topics.
It began with anger as I thought about the sadness on my mother’s face as she remembered her young love and the promise he made and then later broke. I thought about how Eris had scared my dogs and threatened the livelihood of this entire military, all for a stupid misunderstanding. Sadness stirred inside me at the loss of Ruby and my half-brother Erich. I wanted so much to learn more from them and about them, but I would never get the chance to.
But then something shifted inside of me. I thought about happy moments, too, like hanging out with my friends in the kitchens, or the pride I felt when I shocked all the students in Mythology 101 on that first day. I remembered Ansel’s lips on my own and the different kind of inner fire that ignited.
Finally, I thought about how I felt in the forge. It was the happiest place in the world for me. There was nothing that could replace that feeling of accomplishment when I completed a project. I recreated the atmosphere in my mind.
The clanging of the hammer.
The singing of the metal.
The sizzling of the fire.
As if on cue, the sash in my hands replicated that very same sizzle. The fabric caught fire right away, and to my utter surprise, it was blue.
The blue flames spread along the sash. Quickly, I put all three of the weapons into the fire. Once I established a connection with the flame I’d created, it turned a lime green color. This wasn’t the one to communicate with the Fates, but the one that indicated the fire was hot enough to melt metal.
Then I went to work.
I had everything I needed in order to make my greatest masterpiece yet. The organization of the forge was so ingrained in my mind that I didn’t even need to go searching for anything. It was as though the space had been built for me, as though I had been working in it for years.
Soon, the familiar smells and sounds filled the air. I was the conductor of an orchestra, manipulating every part of this masterpiece. It was obvious that the end result would be a scythe of some kind, as that had been plaguing my thoughts for the past two years.
I stretched the metal and modeled it into the ideal curved shape, two for each side of the weapon. The fire attached the metal with vigor, magically heating it to the necessary temperature.
The Helm was the blade for one of the scythes while the scissors took up the other blade. I stretched the bow longer as the handle, but it was still just a bit shorter than I wanted it to be. I could see the uses to having the double-bladed weapon having a shorter handle, but I also needed a little bit more reach.
The necklace was the perfect solution. I used the pieces as a sort of chain between the bottom of the two hands. Then I crafted a way for the handles to connect, concealing the chain in the middle. So I could wield the weapon like a staff or like nunchaku.
I stopped dead as that thought occurred to me. I could wield the weapon? It was my choice? Since when was I taking possession of the Ultimate Weapon? That wasn’t my job. All I was supposed to do was make the damn thing, and then I could pass it off to someone else. Someone stronger, better, more of a hero than I ever would be.
My hands continued the process of making the weapon, but my mind whirled, suddenly distracted. I realized that this whole time I’d been making the weapon for me. I couldn’t remember the last time I had done that.
Ever since Ansel stepped into my old-timey forge three years ago, I’d only ever made weapons for other people, other soldiers. I worked on commission for the Military of Olympus, but also for the Olympic Gods themselves.
I had lost sight of my desires as a blacksmith. While this was another weapon I was making for someone else, I realized that it didn’t have to be.
“Fuck the prophecy,” I muttered to myself as I dipped the blades into the oil. Steam rose up into my face, almost as though it was cleansing my soul and my pours.
“What was that?” Temperance asked from the other side of the room.
“I said, fuck the prophecy,” I hollered back. Unashamed, I added a laugh to the end of my sentence. As the steam cleared, all Temperance saw was a laughing demigod. I probably looked as though I’d lost my mind, but I didn’t care.
I didn’t care who “the child of the betrayed” was. No one did. It was vague and unhelpful. So who was to say that it wasn’t me? I claimed ownership of this weapon and styled it to my hands, my grip, and my technique.
As I sharpened the blade, I leaned into my desires and paid extra attention to the spots where I knew I could connect.
The metal spoke to be throughout the whole process. It guided me through the details, molding it into the ideal shape. We worked in tandem, and our wants complemented one another. These were all pieces I made before. All I was doing now was reworking the metal into something new. Not only was the metal transforming before my very eyes, but so was I.
However, one of the blades was shorter than the other. It made the weapon out of balance and felt awkward in my hand. I examined the metal and knew that if I thinned it out any more, it would be too brittle to be useful. It wouldn’t hold up under the weight of a full battle.
“Dammit,” I cursed as I put the weapon on the anvil and took a step back to examine it.
“What now?” Temperance wondered.
“I need more metal, but I don’t have any more to work with,” I informed her.
“Uh…” Temperance gestured around to the plethora of materials around us. “What do you think all this is for?”
“No,” I said as I shook my head. “It had to be special metal, blessed by the gods, for it won’t work. Gods!” I cursed again, my frustration coming through. “I only need like this much.” I held up my fingers to measure out about two inches.
But when I saw the size, something struck me. A memory from not too long ago as Hephaestus held up a small figurine just that size.
“Holy shit,” I muttered to myself as I slapped my thighs in search for the one thing my father had actually given me.
“You gotta stop doing that,” Temperance scolded as she crossed her arms over her chest.
I pulled the algana out of my pocket. “Voila!” I exclaimed.
“What is that?” Temperance asked as though I pulled a dead mouse out of my pocket rather than the metal figurine.
“An algana of Hephaestus,” I answered, the light coming back into my eyes as I approached the forge. “It’s supposed to make your hammer swing true. Hopefully, it will do the same for my scythe.”
Then I threw the figure into the fire and watched it melt.
After manipulating the final piece of the puzzle, the metal told me to stop. I held the weapon aloft to examine it in all of its beauty.
It was a glorious piece. The rod in the center was nearly six feet long, whereas the scythe blades curved in opposite directions, almost two feet themselves. It was a beast of a weapon, intimidating to anyone who saw it.
Temperance whistled when I held up the completed piece. “So, now what? Who are you going to hand this off to?”
I shook my head, my eyes never leaving the blade. “Nobody. This one’s all mine.”
34
“You ready?” Temperance said pointedly. She got up from her spot on the stool and crossed her arms over her chest.
“Yes,” I said with confidence. I swung the scythe in the air, twirling it a full three-sixty. The blade cut through the air with a whistle.
Temperance shook her head slowly, a smile on her face. It was a clear sign of her approval. “You’re going to be
one dangerous motherfucker out there.”
“Damn right, I am,” I agreed.
“I mean, that is if you can get out of the pit,” Temperance said with a smirk.
“Oh, don’t worry,” I said, returning her smile with my own devious one. “I will.”
Then, surprising both of us, Temperance reached out her hand and put it right atop my chest. I felt her solidness there, the pressure of her touch, and allowed it to comfort me. But she didn’t linger. Instead, she shoved me backward. It was a simple push, but I found myself toppling backward.
I felt as though I was falling down the pit again, like Alice down the rabbit hole. This time, however, I was awake when I found the bottom. My back slammed against the dirt ground, and my breath expelled from my lungs as if someone was giving me CPR.
I heaved, my chest heavy from the lack of air. I thought I’d broken every bone in my body for a second, but then realized I could move. Inch by inch, I sat up and examined my surroundings.
All around me was dirt. It squeezed against me like a coffin, with barely enough room for me to turn around in. I looked above to see how far I had fallen and saw a crack in the dark sky, streaks of light shining through.
“Hello!” I hollered, but it seemed as though Echo herself swallowed my cries. My voice extended down the length of the crevasse but refused to go upward towards the surface where some rescuers might hear it.
I used the Ultimate Weapon to help me up to my feet. Even though I knew that it would come with me from the dreamscape, I couldn’t help the relief that spread over me, knowing that it was in my hand.
I looked up at the climb before me and swiped any perspiration from my forehead. I twisted the handle of the scythe so that the two sides came apart, revealing the chain that had once been a necklace. The two pieces swung nicely, and I weighed both of them in my hands for a brief moment.
With a grunt, I slammed the tip of the first weapon, still wrapped in flame, right into the dirt wall. Some brown bits flicked off onto me, but I brushed it off and buried the second scythe in a little high.
So I began my climb.
It was grueling, and there were many times I wanted to quit the whole process and let myself fall back down to the bottom. I didn’t know how often I wished for Ansel’s chariot, or a pegasus, or Hermes’s winged shoes. Anything to make this easier.
But I wasn’t a child of Apollo, Poseidon, or Hermes. I was a child of Hephaestus, and as much as I despised the man, I was going to use everything he gave me to succeed.
By the grace of the gods, I hauled myself over the edge of the crack in the earth and allowed myself to take a single minute to recover. I didn’t have a lot of time to waste. The sun was halfway up and soon would be at its peak. I knew I had already missed the start of dawn, but I had to hope that Eris hadn’t finished her entire plan yet.
There was still a chance. And even if there wasn’t, I was going to carve one out for myself.
I found myself running again, this time towards the clear commotion that was coming from the direction of the amphitheater. The campus was otherwise deserted, and as I ran, I knew this was the end. This was the culmination of everything I had worked for over the last three years. It was here that I would either succeed or fail.
In my mind, there was only one acceptable outcome.
The amphitheater was completely made of stone and built into the side of one of the hills on campus. It emulated the ancient Greek amphitheaters where Greek tragedies were performed at the festivals of Dionysus. It was in the shape of a semicircle, with the stage on the lowest level. The seats receded upward to many levels, though they were just stone benches, not actual chairs. When I reached the top of one of the rows of stairs leading down to the stage, the sight took my breath away.
There wasn’t another word for it. The scene was utter chaos.
As I thought about it, war itself was often chaos. Some civilizations tried to rectify that with their formations and polite marches, but at the end of the day, there was nothing more chaotic than one group of people fighting another.
Soldiers battled in groups, almost like pods, throughout the amphitheater. They attacked with everything at their disposal. Metal weapons, magic powers, their own two fists. Everything and anything seemed to be fair game.
Blood slicked down the stone in some areas. Those trails often led to an unconscious body lying with broken limbs across a stretch of seats.
In addition to the soldiers, monsters joined the fight. A pack of harpies flew overhead, dive-bombing down to scoop up a soldier and drop them from a threatening height. A minotaur was locked in a wrestling match with Arges, the only thing large enough to fight hand-to-hand with a minotaur. I even noticed a pack of snakes sliding through the isles and biting the ankles of soldiers with their venomous fangs.
I noticed right away what Temperance had been talking about in regards to comrades fighting against one another. I saw Janet, my former roommate, locked in a duel with her own boyfriend, Rick, who had been deployed earlier that semester. Even the Olympic Officials were in on the fray, with Officer Buck running around in his Hulk form, smashing the ground with his fists, creating mini earthquakes.
The one Olympic Official I didn’t see right away was the General. I thought for sure that his lightning strikes and weather powers would be the first thing we would have to contend with. But I wasn’t going to complain that we were fighting in the light of the sun rather than the middle of a tornado.
I paused for a mere moment to search the battlefield for my friends. It was the most intense game of I Spy I’d ever played. Luckily, I found Violet and Darren running around as a pair. She seemed to be his bodyguard as the healer ventured from body to body, rejuvenating the hurt. Benji was in a fierce battle with another Gi soldier, throwing vines and rocks at one another.
Esme lobbed clay bombs at the faces of the opposition soldiers. It was an effective way to distract them while causing minimal harm. She smacked them straight in the face with her clay, blinding the soldiers. This caused some of them to lose their footing and fall down a couple of rows, but that was survivable for many of the demigods.
Finally, I spotted the face I’d been dying to see for weeks. Ansel wasn’t using any of his magic. Instead, he relied on his skills with a sword, trapped in a one-on-one battle with a Spartoi, an undead skeleton-like creature that was born from the planted teeth of a dragon.
It was the end of that duel, however, because Ansel dodged a sideswipe from the Spartoi and came around with his own level cut, right across the Spartoi’s neck. The skull tumbled off the monster’s head and rolled down the nearby stairs with a clatter. The rest of the Spartoi’s body fell, still and silent.
Ansel bent down and picked up the fallen monster’s sword, now dual-wielding. Suddenly, his back went rigid as if he sensed something. Then he stood up and looked right at me.
For the briefest of moments, the raging battle around us stopped. Everything seemed to fall away as I lost myself in his green eyes. I missed that chiseled face and calm gaze. Even though he had streaks of blood running from his ear, dirt plastered on his arms, and the beginnings of a black eye, I loved him so much at that moment. I resisted every urge to race down there and kiss him.
Instead, Ansel and I stayed put, realizing the urgency of the situation. While I might not have been able to show my love in the way I wanted to, it was enough in that moment to know that he was alive and well.
Ansel’s eyes roamed over my body and widened when he saw the scythe, knowing immediately what it was. Without a second thought, Ansel held out one arm, pointing down the benches with his sword.
“There!” he shouted.
It was a miracle that I heard him over the noises of throats being ripped, bloody murder screams, and clashing metal. But I did, and my gaze traveled in the indicated direction.
On the stage, at the center of everything, five figures stood, another kneeled next to them. Eris was in the center of the group, overlooking everything. He
r daemon children circled around her, like a protective shield. She stood a little taller than the rest so she could look on the carnage with glee.
I also noticed that Algea had taken my dogs prisoner. They sat on either side of her, pained expressions on their faces. She petted the tops of their heads, and each dog winced though they barely moved, as if they themselves were made of stone.
A surge of fury rippled through me at the sight of Khryseos and Argyreos taken captive and in pain. As soon as I got the chance, that daemon bitch would pay for what she had done.
On his knees, next to the goddess, was the General. He wore handcuffs and an iron collar, all connected by a single, stiff rod. The sight confused me, and I wondered why, of all people, they were holding the General captive, apart from the rest of the battle.
Nevertheless, I finally had my mark. Hundreds of rows and countless mini battles stood between her and me. But I wasn’t going to let that stop me. As far as I was concerned, this ended now.
With a battle cry worthy of the Greek heroes of old, I ran down the aisle of steps, scythe held aloft. I whacked through the soldiers in front of me. I did what I could to slice through nonessential organs or body parts. I aimed only to wound, not to kill.
However, when it came to a monster, those bastards were free game. I skewered a sphynx that rose up on her hind legs, foolishly exposing her belly to me. I tossed a rattlesnake up into the air and sliced it in half, the blood of the beast raining down onto the stone seats. When a harpy dove down, talons outstretched to rip the scythe from my hands, I rotated the weapon like a windmill, and the harpy screeched in pain as I removed those clawed legs of hers.
My body powered forward as I cleared a path down to the goddess. I felt the power of the Ultimate Weapon, as it sang with the power of the gods. The metal warned me of incoming attacks and helped guide my movements. This was especially useful when a Spartoi charged down from behind me. The zing of the metal ran up my arm, to the back of my neck, so all I had to do was jab the scythe behind me, and I ran him straight through without even looking. The grunt was enough evidence for me to continue on and not look back.