Perseus exhaled with each strike of the hammer. In his mind, he was back in his uncle’s smithy, the fire from the forge heating his skin as sweat slid down his back in rivulets. Every muscle screamed with a familiar ache, but this was a good distraction. Holding the image in his mind, he let the rhythm of each strike and flying spark take him, and it worked until it didn’t. Another memory struck like a boulder through glass, shattering his trance.

  Crumbled walls, open air where roofs once covered, and shallow water lapping and lapping his feet as he waded through the wreckage that was once his home.

  His breathing quickened. He froze mid-strike as he glared at the glowing heat of the half-formed sword. When his eyes stung, he shut them tight. It was because of the smoke, not because of what he witnessed that day. It was the smoke.

  How could Athena do that?

  The question had simmered in his head for weeks, a constant torment. Thousands gone. What was the point of greatness if there was no one familiar to show it to? A stranger would never know how far he had come. Their applause would be empty, a dutiful offering to the powerful.

  How could she do this to me?

  If what the hag said was true, Athena also repurposed her goodwill, giving Suda what was once offered to Seriphos. They will be the new commercial capital of the remaining five islands. Temples, teleportation bridges, schools and a constant supply of healing and combat priestesses.

  He sniffed and frowned at the sound of a hiss. It seemed a drop of sweat had hit the sword’s still hot surface. His frown deepened when another drop fell. Raising a hand, he touched his face and blankly stared as his fingers came away wet.

  Vision blurring, he glared at the blackened roof. It started with a low chuckle that morphed to wild laughter mixed with shuddering sobs. Black hatred beat like a second heart in his chest. With each passing day, the madness of it poisoned his dreams and haunted every waking moment. And in all, he would hammer and hammer, crafting weapon after weapon for the hag. The labour had helped distract him, but lately even that was beginning to fail. Cracks were starting to form. There was something he must do, but he couldn’t tell what it was. He needed an outlet, and hammering away was no longer enough.

  Athena did this to me; she shoved into my life, tossed me into the inferno and killed my brother. The hammer slipped from his grip and hit the floor with a heavy thud. And the dark goddess, she…

  Clenching his fist, he wrestled his thoughts from that direction. The dark goddess may have been silent for weeks now, but she was too close, too seeing. Athena had ruined his life, but he had the feeling that the dark goddess could do much worse if he were open with his growing bitterness towards her.

  That is a lot of tears.

  Perseus flinched and whipped around, heart flying to his throat. Why speak now after so long? Had she read his thoughts? Despite knowing she couldn’t be physically present, he still looked around. He was the only one in the smithy, and beyond the open door, no one waited beneath the morning sun.

  You have been silent, he finally said.

  Yes.

  When she said nothing more, Perseus caved under the pressure to fill the silence. Your recovery?

  Come.

  Perseus blinked and appeared in her domain, standing on still waters, with the expected hill of black bones ahead, but she was nowhere in sight.

  I have found a way to speed up our recovery.

  Her voice came from his left, but he didn’t look. His fingers twitched at his side with more of that restless energy.

  “As much as it pains me to admit, I failed.” This time her voice was audible. “That girl survived.”

  So what? Do you wish to use me again? Even more bitterness churned in him. He couldn’t fight his scowl.

  “To fail at the only reason I exist.” A burst of dry laughter. “She continues to match the steps of the first thief, and my sister gleefully assists.”

  I don’t care. You promised power, yet I have nothing.

  He longed to escape back to the smithy. Hammering away usually blurred the passing of time. The hag had shown him interesting methods to speed up the smelting process; runes and lines in Theos Tongue that would have previously consumed him with ambition. Now, he was content with simply crafting and the trickle of satisfaction that came with each finished product.

  “Do you know what a death sorceress is?”

  “No,” he answered flatly. The trick was to maintain even emotions to keep the dark goddess from reading him too easily, but even that was failing in the wake of his increasing impatience and annoyance.

  “Recall the vision I showed you,” she continued breezily as if unaware of his souring mood. “Death sorceresses burn incense for the dead in wars, plagues, and disasters. They gather what life remains after death and offer it up.”

  Interest stirred awake as he recalled the vision. He had seen a woman in a white flowing robe, hands raised as wisps of smoke rose from dead bodies. “Like drain?”

  “Drain is a shameful copy of a sacred rite.” That familiar rage returned to her voice, causing the surface of the previously still water to ripple.

  Perseus wouldn’t call drain shameful. It had come in handy in the past, and that time he used it on the girl with the whip, the feeling had been rapturous.

  “Zeus, that ambitious cretin, twisted what was once pure into a mockery of death.”

  She appeared before him in a puff of black smoke, her blank focus lingering on the side of his face bearing the marking. Behind her, a massive thread snipper radiated an oppressive energy. “We may yet turn a misfortune into something… worthwhile.”

  Perseus flinched when she tapped his marked cheek. It didn't feel like a human touch, more like flaring energy in the form of a finger humming against his skin.

  “You…” she met his eyes. Soulless, black and excruciating. Throbbing pain spread from his eyes to the base of his skull.

  He wanted to beg that she stop looking, but he was pinned to the spot like prey before a cataclysmic predator.

  “I will make something of you.” Her lips twitched with a sharp smile. “Something far superior to the inferiority made flesh they created.”

  Only one thought raced through Perseus’ mind. Stop looking at me.

  As though she heard his pleading thoughts, she dropped her hand and broke eye contact.

  Harsh pants sawed through his lungs as he sagged where he stood. She remained before him, silent and ever watchful. Even the feel of her focus on him ached.

  “Would I…” his voice cracked, but he pressed on. “Would I be able to kill her? Is that even possible?”

  Her smile turned knowing as if she held an amusing secret that would shame him. “Kill who?”

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  “Athena.”

  She released a dark chuckle and turned around. “There is another on a similar race of hate.” She began walking ahead. “Between their fire and yours, I can't tell whose burns brighter.”

  Perseus trailed after her, curiosity offsetting his earlier painful discomfort. “A goddess perhaps?”

  “Oh, she's human.” She clicked her tongue, sounding angry again. “Slippery in death's grip that one.”

  Perseus marvelled at the revelation. A mortal also wished the goddess dead? She must have seen the true face of Athena. The hope that once lay dead stirred awake; he wanted to meet this mortal.

  “Is she also a blood carrier?”

  “Somewhat. You've met before.”

  Perseus' brow shot up, but before he could guess who, she offered the answer.

  “She's responsible for that lovely marking across your face.”

  Perseus’ hand flew to the spot. That girl? May? In the past weeks, he had come to view the marking as a passing, unfortunate event, nothing in comparison to the loss of his family and island. Even now, fury towards the girl refused to rise; instead, a strange competition stirred in him.

  “What?” Amusement laced the goddess’ voice. “Do you now see her with some sympathy after attempting to take her life? A sense of camaraderie, perhaps.” A derisive chuff. “How amusing the day would be when you finally see.”

  “That’s not—I do not…” Perseus gave up. It was hard to explain. Seeing her that day in the maze, the brutal efficiency with which she slayed beast after beast. He had felt some resonance and even admiration.

  The dark goddess stopped as an image shimmered into sight and solidified. An elevated slab about the length and breadth of a grown man. Glowing runes pulsed with blue light around its surface and gave off a similar energy as her thread snipper. Hovering above the slab was a replica of his sword, black veins and all.

  “Unfortunately, a war the likes of which Cosmolith has never seen is coming. Lives cut and cut and cut.” Stopping before the slab, she swept her fingers across its surface. “Two thieves are preparing to sit at the table—to sit on my table. To gorge themselves, ripping blood and lives, thinking to recreate.”

  Her rage washed over Perseus, the heat of it pulsing with the marking on his face like a heartbeat.

  “Who gave them the right?” The question, quiet and clipped, sliced through him like razors.

  She turned to face him. This time her gaze did not hurt, though it was still crushing. “There would be no compulsion, Perseus, child of Danae.” She held her hands before her, posture regal and expression blank. “That marking? I can remove it and disappear from your life. You may leave this instant if you so wish.”

  Perseus nearly laughed. Leave and go where? As much as he loathed his dependence, every other path led to destruction. “Would I be able to kill Athena?”

  “Eventually… if you learn faster than that girl.”

  That was all Perseus needed to hear. “What must I do?”

  She observed him for a silent moment, that probing stare causing the base of his skull to throb painfully.

  “First, we shall build your body through a series of… refinement.” She stepped aside and motioned to the hovering sword. “Take it.”

  Each step was heavy with the finality of his decision. Taking the weapon by its hilt, he waited for some reaction. When nothing happened, he turned a questioning gaze at the dark goddess. She was already moving. Grabbing the snipper from its hovering position, it shrank in her grip.

  A stab in the middle of the elevated slab and black lines spread out, forming deep cracks. The stone caved in, revealing pitch-blackness below.

  Before Perseus could react, the dark goddess snatched him by the arm and easily tossed him in.

  No matter how Lela thought of it, she couldn't understand why Phorcydes chose to keep the boy around. When they reached his wrecked island, and he had been left to roam, Lela had confided in Phorcydes, giving words to her concern.

  Instead of taking her seriously, the goddess smiled and pointed at the centre of her palm. “Do you see it?”

  Lela stared at her palm, straining her sight to glimpse what may be concealed. “I see nothing,” she finally answered, unsure if this was senility or something beyond her perception.

  “Once in a very long time, she speaks to me.” Phorcydes closed her palm as her focus returned to the boy who still looked around in a stupor. “Helps me avoid unpleasant circumstances.”

  “I do not understand what this has to do with him.”

  “For the first time in a long time, she spoke, and it concerned that boy.” Then she grinned. “We shall keep him around.”

  And that had been that. Weeks later, Lela was yet to relax. Even with his smithy and living quarters away from the village, that nagging wrongness remained. And despite the hag knowing that Lela despised the boy's company, she always, without fail, sent her to supply his meals, as was the case today.

  Ahead, smoke poured from the chimney, a sign that he was still at work. As she drew nearer, she frowned. Too silent. The expected sound of a hammer striking an anvil was missing. Her steps slowed, already wary. A sudden break in routine always spelt problems.

  Looking past the ajar door, she took in the dim interior. The furnace still burned, but in front of it was the boy's still figure. A hammer sat at his feet as he stared ahead. His eyes were strange. They shone like black marbles and released a trail of wispy black smoke at their corners. No blinking.

  Lela withdrew her dagger as she took a step into the smithy. He remained frozen, but she noticed his fingers twitching now and then. If he sensed her presence, he gave no reaction. Her frown deepened when she noticed the dry coolness of the place. Yes, she could see the burning furnace, but its heat was absent.

  What on earth's core was this? She felt ridiculous balancing a lunch tray and holding up a weapon. Should she strike him? But he was harming no one, just standing there being strange.

  A change began. Starting from the marking on the side of his face, lines of alien symbols formed, travelling down his neck, over his left shoulder, then abruptly stopping at his upper arm.

  “You're here.”

  His sudden words forced a gasp out of her. Taking a step back, she held up the dagger. “What was that?”

  He looked at her and smiled. His eyes were no longer completely black, and his posture was loose and at ease. He seemed happy, which was somewhat odd. Since his return from Seriphos, he had been quiet as he focused on crafting.

  “Ah, it's ruined.” He made a face as he took in the slab of metal sitting on the anvil. “Is that lunch?” He nodded at the tray she still held.

  Lela looked from the tray to his face, then the marking on his arm. “What was that?”

  His smile slipped. “What would you do if I told you? Run off to the hag and report the strange markings on her slave?”

  “Slave? How ungrateful.” Lela bristled. “You're under the ancient one’s protection. Working in exchange for safety from Athena is an undeserved favour.”

  She placed the tray on its usual spot, beyond eager to leave. Yes, Phorcydes had lived for centuries, but Lela would trust her intuition over the goddess’ words of assurance. There was something deeply wrong with this boy.

  “Hmmm.” He appeared to consider her words, then nodded slowly. “I suppose I should be grateful to the hag. Say? Can I speak with her?” He cocked his head and smiled again. “I have information. Valuable information concerning the future.”

  Another thing that irritated her was his perpetual disrespect. Referring to Phorcydes as ‘the hag’ and talking down to Lela despite it being clear she was at least ten years older than he was.

  “Tell me. I’ll pass it on to her.”

  That disconcerting smile only broadened. “This is only for the hag’s ears.”

  “Fine.” She openly stared at the markings along his neck and arm. “What are those? They weren't present yesterday.”

  He observed the markings, as if surprised by their existence. “I may answer if you satisfy a curiosity of mine.” He stepped forward. “Why did you do it?”

  It took great effort not to step back. “Do what?”

  “You’re part beast, are you not? Why taint your humanity?”

  Lela blinked at him, surprised. Now she understood the look of disdain he sent her way now and then.

  “And you? Using lightning, speaking Theos commands,” she nodded at the impressive pile of weapons he crafted, “and achieving that in mere weeks. Is that an ability a regular mortal should possess? Your borrowed power manifests that way, and mine manifests the way it does. There’s no tainting involved.”

  “A beast is a beast,” he said, her words seeming to bounce off without registering.

  What was she doing trying to convince this deranged child? She turned to leave and came face to face with Phorcydes.

  “Lela.” There was a smile in her eyes. “I see you continue to fulfil your duties.”

  She bowed. “I greet the ancient one.”

  “Oh, stop with that needless ‘ancient one’ greeting.” She patted her arm as her focus shifted beyond the door.

  “Perseus. I see there’s more life in your eyes today.” Her smile appeared bright and genuine as she waved him over. “Walk with me. I heard you have information.”

  “Indeed.” The boy rushed to Phorcydes’ side, all smiles as well.

  Perhaps both of them were deranged, Lela thought as she watched them stroll down the path leading to the village.

  The boy said something that made Phorcydes laugh. She patted his marked arm like he was a beloved grandchild, like she couldn’t see that the mark hadn’t existed the day before.

  “Ah, forget it.” Lela summoned her wings and took to the sky. When everything eventually goes to blazes, she hoped she would still be alive to tell Phorcydes, ‘I told you so’.