Athena reformed in the heart of Olympus after leaving Hades. Golden sunlight warmed her, carrying the scent of blooming flowers and honey. Her home was perfect. Up here, the world below felt distant.

When she approached her father’s quarters, a harem of women lounged throughout the open space. They gawked at her in shock. No one dared show up unannounced, but she was beyond caring. A buxom brunette sauntered forward, hips swaying and breasts barely contained by thin silk.

“Lady Athena, this is unexpected. May I offer my assistance?” She asked, her tenor sultry.

Athena recoiled before the woman could touch her. Zeus surrounded himself with beautiful, malleable things—females content to smile when he wanted them to and disappear when he tired of them.

Complete control always appealed to him.

The women were what baffled her.

She spent her existence guarding her autonomy like a fortress. She couldn’t fathom opening her gates and handing anyone else the key.

But no one had ever forced her to relinquish it.

Maybe they had.

“Chryssa, tell my father that I demand an audience with him.” She leveled her with an expectant glare. “Now. I’ll wait in his office. He has fifteen minutes before I seek him myself.”

Chryssa scurried off, unable to disappear because she was mortal. Others followed in her wake. They feared Athena’s presence. The remaining females busied themselves. Only one more approached her, asking if she required refreshments.

“Leave before he appears. Each of you. This is not your discussion.” She stepped through the threshold into Zeus’ office. Before she shut the panels, she glanced over her shoulder. “I’ll grant no mercy.”

The heavy doors slammed with a resounding boom.

Zeus shared Hades’ fondness for floor-to-ceiling windows, though his view was more indulgent. Beyond the glass, sculpted clouds formed an elaborate swimming area, their waterfalls spilling into a crystalline basin suspended among the heavens. Baby Pegasi soared overhead, brilliant wings casting shadows.

Nymphs, mermaids, and other ethereally beautiful creatures drifted through the pool in various stages of undress. Her father’s latest collection of obsessions.

Few would remain by next week. His appetite ensured it.

A nymph slipped below the surface, unaware of her audience. Her silken navy-blue hair resembled spilled ink as she disappeared.

Athena shifted from the window.

She’d never understand how Hera put up with Zeus. His affairs were no secret, and Hera had long since stopped trying to curb his insatiable appetite. Their marriage did nothing to make matrimony appealing.

Perhaps it was also why Hera threw herself into building an all-women’s Championship. Whatever their purpose, Athena had counted at least fifteen. The rumors were boundless.

Her attention shifted to the ornate desk at the center of the room. Sculpted from clouds, its legs bore the likenesses of four of Zeus’s daughters: Hebe, Athena, Artemis, and Eileithyia. His other children adorned the panels, each carved with an uncanny resemblance to their living counterparts.

Athena had adored those details as a young goddess.

The memory abated something inside her despite herself. Zeus laughed whenever he caught her studying it, but he never discouraged her fascination. Instead, he’d taught her how to create with her own power. She had returned to her chambers afterward and reshaped them piece by piece until the place in her imagination surrounded her.

For all his faults, he had given her that.

The doors crashed open on a wave of electricity. Lightning crackled over Zeus’s skin as he stormed into the room. Then he spotted her, and his dramatic display vanished.

There were perks to being a favorite.

“My precious Athena! I don’t see you enough!”

She sighed and dropped into his chair before he could sweep her into a hug. His arms fell to his sides, and Athena winced.

Perhaps she should go easy on him.

Then she remembered his spoiled triplets.

Not this time.

“Stop,” she snapped as he reached out to touch her.

He stilled. Electricity crackled within his stare, his earlier affection vanishing beneath a flash of divine fury. No one spoke thusly to the King of the Gods. Not even his prized daughter.

“Watch your tongue, Athena.”

“You mistake this for a familial meeting, Father. My tone stays until you listen.” She feared no man, least of all him. “I am going to declare war on your triplets.”

His fists struck the counter with a thunderous boom. “You are my flesh and blood, but you shall not threaten my children.”

“Sit.”

The command cracked between them.

Zeus glared at her.

Athena scowled in return.

He sat.

“Your precious Fates damned my Champion. They’ve ruined her life.”

“I don’t understand.” His anger faltered as he searched her face for the lie.

“Those harlots cursed Pandora to a forbidden love, and I demand retribution. Fix this before my temper overwhelms me.”

Athena planted both elbows on the heavy oak desk and leaned into his space.

“She has served me well, and this cannot continue.”

“I have no authority over what they decree. Their word is final.”

The sentence had barely escaped his mouth before his eyes widened.

Athena went still.

A slow grin spread across her face.

“Then they have a war coming. Their word might be law, but my strength outmatches theirs.”

The silver in her irises tarnished. She considered showing him why.

“Please calm down,” he pleaded, holding his palms up in surrender. “I’ll speak with them and bring their decision to you.”

His concern was for his darling Fates. Of course it was. Zeus knew what Athena could do. More importantly, he believed she would.

She inhaled slowly, forcing her rage to recede. Then she smiled.

Zeus’s expression tightened.

“You have three days. After that, blood means nothing. Sisters or not, I intend to tear them apart. My Champions are worth more to me.”

She rose to her feet, sending the chair crashing to the floor.

Zeus didn’t flinch.

“One more thing.” Athena paused before dematerializing. “If you cannot undo what they’ve done, you are going to lose Hades too.”

***

Zeus dragged a hand over his face after Athena’s departure. His daughter was deadly. Ruthless when provoked. Whether she could outmatch the three goddesses who controlled destiny, he didn’t know. What troubled him was that he couldn’t say she wouldn’t try.

“Atropos,” he called.

Atropos was the most likely to answer. She was the most human among them—not kinder, but capable of understanding why those bound by fate fought against the destinies handed to them.

A moment passed, and Zeus thought she would ignore him.

Then she appeared.

A pair of ancient scissors dangled on her fingers, thick ichor coating the blades. Her unseeing eyes veered unerringly toward him, and she grinned.

The shears vanished. She clasped her hands behind her and paced.

“The King interrupts my important work to beg for my compassion.” Atropos drew out the syllables in a mocking sing-song. “How interesting.”

“Why have you cursed her?” he demanded without preamble.

“Cursed?” A hint of amusement colored Atropos’ tone. “Pandora escaped the grave when Hera dragged her soul back into the living world. Then she killed a god.” She spun on her heel, finding Zeus with unnerving precision. “We thought it appropriate that she spend the rest of her existence intimately bound to the very thing she twice defied.”

“Death.” The word echoed from nowhere and everywhere at once.

“I implore you. Change this.” Zeus rose and approached her, slipping into the role of a concerned brother. “Forget the girl. Hades does not deserve such treatment. You’ve already damned him.”

Atropos tilted her head. Her milky stare traced his features.

“You are a Golden God, Father. Why should you care for someone inferior to you?” Her smile widened. “You offered him no sympathy when you believed he assaulted Persephone.”

She stepped closer.

“What changed?”

“Do not play games with me, Atropos,” he growled as white-hot energy bubbled within his skin.

Clotho appeared behind her sister, a spindle in hand with a single length of thread wound around it. Lakhesis materialized beside her, empty-handed.

The tool dematerialized as Atropos’ scissors had, and the sisters linked hands. Silence followed.

Clotho broke the chain first, releasing an exasperated sigh.

“You beg for the sky while offering only grass,” Clotho said. “We cannot give what you seek. We can only offer a stand-in for her desire.”

Zeus frowned. “She would crave another?”

Three smiles answered him.

He mistook their silence for confirmation.

“Our decrees carry consequences,” Lakhesis declared. “Change demands balance.”

“There will be no return once his destiny changes,” Atropos added. Remorse touched only her countenance.

“What does that mean?” Zeus demanded. “Why would he want to go back?”

“Love.” Atropos paused, waiting for her sisters to silence her. Neither did.

“The emotion between Hades and the Champion is genuine. Forbidden, perhaps, but no less real. He cannot surrender his memories.”

Zeus stared, confused.

“Once broken,” Lakhesis added, “she’ll never love him again. Regardless of how often he remembers her. Or how deeply those reminders break him.”

Clotho reached for her sister’s arm.

“The curse breaks under a single condition.”

The trio fell silent.

“What?” Zeus asked, his voice trembling. “Whatever the price, I am prepared to pay it for them.”

Their heads moved in unison, tilting towards the sky.

“You cannot afford this fee. Only Hades can.”

Radiance burst from them as their voices joined.

“Hades must create a Champion from a lost soul. He will become her newest fate, and she’ll love him with no memory of the god who came before. Hades need only agree—and watch.”

Zeus stared at his daughters.

The bargain might very well kill whatever humanity Hades had remaining. Worse, his brother would accept. He would sentence himself to remember Pandora forever if it meant freeing her from the pain of loving him.

This was cruel.

Even for the Fates.

“He’ll find romance with Persephone?” Zeus looked away, unable to stomach the sight of his daughters. “If he accepts, you cannot condemn him to an eternity of misery.”

“He has always found affection for Persephone.”

Zeus faced them again.

Only Atropos remained.

Something resembling pity softened her features, though he knew better than to mistake the imitation for genuine emotion.

“The question you should ask,” she continued, “is whether he can attain peace with her.”

“Yes.”

“He’ll find happiness. But part of him shall yearn for the Champion. No matter how many centuries pass.” Atropos angled her head. “Allow him this chance, Father. They deserve to move past something so forbidden.”

Zeus glanced away.

“If Hades agrees, then so be it.”

The declaration rang hollow. King of the Gods or not, Zeus held no sway over this decision. It belonged to his Hades.

“You may leave.”

“As you wish.”

And just like that, she disappeared. Zeus remained, left to contemplate a devotion deep enough to rewrite the stars.

Editor: Lucy Cafiero