The cave’s opening, a portal from the Upperworld, provided entry to the River Styx. It shone so brightly that Persephone shielded her eyes. The illumination was an illusion, meant to soothe souls into thinking they’d found the light. Without enough coins, it morphed into the end of their journey. Kharon was serious about collecting the toll, despite rumors that Hades had changed the requirements.

Wind carried the aroma of damp earth and enriched minerals through the passageway. It mingled with the stench of death that crept along the bank. Damned souls clawed at the edge and begged to be released from the endless rush of the river. They forgot they had entered when they grew tired of waiting for the ferryman.

She wanted to meet Athena in the Upperworld, hoping to gain energy from the sun. Unfortunately, she’d reached her travel limit after her trip to see Hestia. When she appeared in Olympus earlier, searing pain took root in her veins. The intensity overwhelmed her, and she fled back to the Underworld.

She waited for her aunt to step through the portal. Vibrant blooms burst unbidden through her hair, marigolds and yellow roses crowded close, their petals too bright, too hopeful. Thin sprigs of lavender thread between them like a fragile attempt at calm. The arrangement tangled and pressed, overgrown and suffocating, as if unable to decide whether to smother or soothe her. It is better to beg forgiveness, she advised Pandora. Here was her chance. Nausea rolled through her as the floral aroma asphyxiated her.

“My cousin believes she can control my Champion,” Athena scowled as she stepped through the shimmering cave mouth. The lavender sprigs shriveled as a chill filled her.

Athena’s appearance reminded Persephone of the sacred statues crafted by humans. Chestnut hair fell beneath her helm. The soft, cavernous breeze lifted the strands. A brass breastplate cinched her waist over her pale chiton, and she wore matching greaves and bracers. Draped over her left shoulder was a mid-length royal blue cape. Pushing the right side back allowed her to wield a massive pike.

“No, Auntie. I think it’s impossible for anyone to command Pandora.”

Her laugh sounded rich yet somber as she moved to stand before her. She was a head taller than Persephone and toned to lethal precision. Her stature inspired fear. If she flinched, Athena wouldn’t respect her.

“Tell me why she would come to your aid without involving me. She’s different since she returned. Distraction has made her reckless.” She removed her helmet. Beneath, the roots of her brown locks turned white. The change warned of danger as her anger intensified.

Pandora did not lie; she hadn’t told Athena about her affair. Persephone itched to tell the truth and create chaos. Her Champion slept with the God of the Underworld. The Upperworld would be in an upheaval. Not only did he kidnap Persephone, but now he claimed Athena’s Golden Champion? The consequences would be dire, but the aftermath could benefit her.

She remained silent.

“You’re covering for her, too?” Athena stepped closer. Despite her efforts, she flinched and stumbled away. Her aunt followed and maintained a breath of distance from her. She aimed to intimidate Persephone, and she succeeded. “What spell has he cast to make you so subservient?”

She recoiled as if someone had slapped her. How dare she insinuate she served anyone other than herself? “If we don’t save Hades, our Pantheon will fall. This concerns survival, not subservience. Maybe you should ask your Champion what is happening instead of bullying whoever you can.”

Silver irises turned molten as Athena pushed her against the slick wall. Jagged bits dug into her skin, but she wouldn’t bow down. The pain strengthened her resolve. She kept her posture straight and her gaze filled with indignation. The spearhead jammed into the stone next to her head, but she stifled a gasp.

“You would chide me for cruelty, when your tongue has spun lies for centuries? I have not forgotten how the story has darkened.” She leaned closer and snarled. This close, she smelled of old textbooks and the metallic tang of a forge. “Pandora had to slay a god during her previous life. Now she must rescue two of them, not even a month after her return. Other Champions were available for you to summon.”

More of Athena’s hair had blanched. She was on the verge of losing her temper. It would be so satisfying to keep goading. Another mention of Athena’s failures would set her off. Tiger lilies and snapdragons replaced marigolds and roses, reflecting Persephone’s agitation. Thorns pressed at the surface of her composure, but she held them back. She was no match for the Goddess of War.

Her resolve didn’t last long. Spiced florals overrode self-preservation as more blooms sprouted.

“You’re mad she would rather talk to the dead than to her own patron. She formed a bond with Hades and Nyx while she was here, recovering from a battle you started but could not end,” Persephone snapped as she ducked out of the blockade before she got herself hurt.

“How dare you speak of things you know nothing about?” Athena asked. Resentment deepened her voice into a guttural growl. “I should kill you and spare Hades the grief.”

The air grew frigid, and their breaths were cloudy puffs. Ice crackled along the metal of Athena’s weapon as she ripped it from the wall. She spun toward where Persephone had staggered. Her gaze held murderous intent that she had never seen aimed at her.

“Enough!” she yelled when Athena lumbered towards her. A trail of frozen footprints trailed her approach. “Your Champion needs my help, and I need yours!”

That stopped her, but the cold lingered. “Explain. I cannot hold my composure for long.”

She did. A gradual increase in temperature met every sentence. Each clarification colored a strand. After her explanation, minus the steamy romance, her aunt had returned to normal. A stark, pale streak remained at the front of her hairline and fell into her face.

“I see,” Athena mused as she focused on her breathing. “Let me lend you my strength. I am unsure how my power will interact with yours. It is not pure or meant to aid; it is full of anger and cuts down enemies.”

She pressed her hand to her temple and closed her eyes. A vibrant strand of energy spooled around her finger. Streaks of violent red and metallic silver intertwined with hallowed gold, Athena’s signature. The process took only twenty seconds, but it drained her. She teetered to the side but caught herself with her pike. A tempered glass bottle encircled the colored mass and concealed it.

“Thank you, Auntie.”

“Do not thank me. Help my Champion and pray that she has an explanation that doesn’t further incriminate you. I shall not be so cordial next time.”

Then her aunt was gone. Her legs wobbled, and she slumped to the ground. She clutched the jar to her chest. This was her last hope of saving them.

“May it suffice,” she breathed before her adrenaline crashed. Kharon gathered her into spindly arms and carried her to the ferry. She didn’t know when he arrived. Had he been there the whole time? It mattered not. Unconsciousness overcame her.

***

Athena departed, unable to handle her niece’s reply. She hated losing control when she wasn’t on a battlefield. It made her look weak and uncontrolled, like her half-brother. The thought displeased her more than Persephone’s current game.

He was the reason they were in this mess to begin with. If he weren’t already dead, she would execute him. The scar she purposefully bore on her abdomen was the only reminder of his betrayal. The Fates erased all else—his name, his face, his Champions—and required that everyone forget about him. Athena couldn’t.

She understood Pandora was independent; she usually appreciated it. News from the field reached her last because she trusted her Champions to do their job. Since Athena’s half-brother’s death, she had withdrawn further. She didn’t understand why it bothered her so much, but it did.

The Colosseum was empty when she reformed in her realm. Her claimed nook within Olympus was everything she desired. She had her training grounds and an expansive garden, done in gold and white. Her favorite colors. Several living quarters connected by hidden portals kept her Champions safe in case of an attack. They could handle demons, but only a deity could kill a titan. The gods had fought wars to keep the titans bound, but Athena doubted their imprisonment. Especially because Hades could not act if someone tried to free them from the depths of Tartarus.

She unleashed her fury when she was sure Warin and Helen were nowhere nearby. A sentient army of straw dummies filled the arena, led by a faceless version of her half-brother. A slaughter followed as she cut her way through the masses-toward him.

“Our sister is always so dangerous,” Clotho purred with delight. Athena sensed her arrival, but hadn’t wanted to answer. She detested dealing with the Fates, but found solace it was only her. She was the least infuriating.

“If you haven’t noticed, I’m not much in the mood for company,” she grumbled and tossed the scimitar she held to the dirt. The large amount of straw scattered in the arena highlighted her violence. The faceless dummy dangled in midair; three different weapons impaled it. It dropped unceremoniously when she looked at her.

“This is not a social call, sister.” Swathed in shades of pink and orange, Clotho appeared lively. Her milky irises tracked Athena’s movement, although she was blind. “I come to offer a bargain that may save your Champion’s soul.”

Editor: Lucy Cafiero