Chapter 28 Nyssa
Nyssa
Twelve gods, one demi-god, a cyclops, a satyr, two mortals, a dragon, a wolf, a manticore, a serpent, and several birds passed through the temple portal in Athenos only to exit from an identical one on the Isle of Gods — which sounded suspiciously like a really long-winded way to start a bad joke.
Pity Poseidon was otherwise occupied; it’s always so much fun to make him the punchline.
Immediately after passing through the gate, my eyes were assaulted with a larger-than-life statue of two gods twined around each other.
They were so precisely carved that it spoke leagues about the depth of devotion their creator felt — the hours, days, and weeks someone spent chiselling their forms out of marble.
Curiously, it was the exact same shade of stone that the Parthenon and Aetherion Palace were hewn from — which was a rarity in the mortal lands.
The female figure had one long leg draped around the male’s hip, and one dainty hand pressed against his bare, hairy chest. The other arm roped around his torso, her nails digging into the skin of his back, visibly dimpling the stone, dragging him in as close as she were able.
She looked up at him, her longing captured perfectly in the immovable material.
Even her marble skirts were so lifelike it looked as though a gentle breeze passing through the open temple would stir them.
They draped across her body keeping her dignity intact, though two peaked nipples still managed to push through the illusion of wispy fabric.
The male figure was enormous — even larger than his real-life counterpart.
Long, white hair hung down his chiseled back, half of the carved strands tangling around the woman’s arm, the other half hanging over his muscular left shoulder.
One hand gripped her ass to better wedge his thigh between her legs, almost like it would hurt, but then I remembered that they were, in fact, made of stone, and not living beings.
While she endeavoured to drag him closer, his face was turned to the sky and his upper half leaned backwards — like even as figures of stone, the only value she held for him was that which lay between her legs.
His other hand reached for the heavens, and clasped in a fist larger than my head…
Was a solid marble lightning bolt.
Zeus and Hera stood before me — hand carved by fastidious mortals long gone from this world.
I could not fault the craftsmanship. The subject matter, however, was a different issue entirely.
“Ugh,” Aphrodite scoffed, echoing my internalised revulsion.
Two hooded figures with slumped shoulders and downturned heads unpeeled themselves from the walls, bowing before us with practiced grace.
“Welcome to the Isle of Gods,” the one on the left began, her voice warbling only slightly. “We of the Zeuraion Sect have devoted ourselves to you for as long as mortals have worshipped gods. We are humbly at your service, and are eternally grateful you have deigned to visit us—”
“It’s not them,” the other interrupted.
“Hush, Ekho,” the first reprimanded.
“Hush, Ekho,” the second repeated, perfectly capturing her tone. “Io, it’s not them. It is not Zeus and Hera that visit us… it is others.” Her hooded face swivelled towards our haphazard group. “Many others.”
The first figure lifted her gaze from the floor to take us all in. Her surprise was palpable — so taken aback that her feet retreated a step, seemingly without conscious thought.
“My apologies,” she said, straightening as her voice strengthened. “I am Io, Head Priestess. No other gods have ever deigned to stand here, except for the two we worship and serve.”
Aros covered a sharp burst of laughter with a cough. “You backed the wrong pegasi there, ladies. Zeus is dead.”
They inhaled sharply, clutching at their robe-covered throats.
“Zeus is dead,” Ekho whispered, sounding strangely unconcerned, though with her hood still raised, it was impossible to tell for certain.
“Hera is also dead…” Aros continued, ignoring the interruption.
At this, we all shot him varying degrees of what-the-fuck-Aros stares, while Ekho once again mimicked him.
“... to us,” he finished.
Biting the inside of my cheek, I had to fight tooth and nail to keep the disparaging laugh from escaping, though it longed to snake past my teeth.
“I wondered…” Io murmured. “Last year, there was a violent storm. It came from nowhere, and vanished just as quick. We figured the gods were angry — that Zeus was angry — and that he wanted to show us exactly what he was capable of should we fail him again. But that wasn’t Zeus’ anger, was it?”
“Well, it was,” Caelus answered. “But not for the reasons you think.”
The figures startled again.
I’m concerned for their poor mortal hearts at this point, I conveyed to the giant violet menace curled around the pillars at the rear of the space. Somehow, the priestesses hadn’t noticed her — or if they had, they had not reacted.
“You’re his son,” Ekho breathed. “You’re the spitting image of him, so you must be.”
Caelus’ expression soured at the remark.
You are not him.
He shot me a quick, grateful glance, before continuing.
“I am the son of Zeus and Hera both. As such, I guess it falls to me to inform you that my mother murdered the late king, my father, leaving the realms without a ruler and on the brink of ruin, while the rest of us underwent a series of trials that would determine our worthiness to bear the Crown.”
Taking that as my cue to step up beside him, I allowed the juxtaposing crowns atop my head to blink into existence. As predicted, the mortals and their ever-thudding hearts damn near collapsed in fright.
“The daughter of Hades—”
“Hades?!” Io barked, slapping a hand over what I could only assume was her mouth beneath that cumbersome hood.
A rolling growl rumbled through the temple, silencing anything further she might have said.
Velira uncurled her long, scaled body. Her large golden eyes blinked once as her head came ever nearer, hovering over those of our entourage.
The priestesses shrieked, stumbling backwards, just as Lykos approached them from the rear. They screeched again and I was beginning to understand how they could stand to worship one such as Hera — otherwise known as she of the ever-piercing decibels.
But the growl wasn’t emanating from my bonded dragon’s throat.
Alright, I think they got the message, I teased my stormwielding bodyguard.
For their own sakes, they’d better have.
“Hades was my father’s name—”
“Was?” Io cut in with timidity.
“Was?” Ekho repeated in the same vein.
“Was,” I confirmed. “It is my name, too. As is Nyssa—”
“Queen,” Caelus growled.
“Highness,” Aphrodite purred.
“Majesty,” Aros quipped with a wink.
I threw my hands up, twisting to address the band of merry subjects. “How am I ever meant to get anything done with you three interrupting me?”
Aph cracked first. Her face split into a wide, salacious grin as the air filled with the mingling scents of spiked arousal.
Caelus shifted uncomfortably, staring at me with such intensity I knew that his thoughts consisted solely of the other night.
Aros groaned, readjusting his protruding bulge — thankfully not arm-sized today.
Apollo remained stalwart, although a muscle ticked in his jaw.
Athena gritted her teeth, standing rigid as she fought the urge to go to Nike, whose wings were flirting furiously with the goddess of warfare.
And I clenched my fists, fighting every urge to turn away from the man I loved and throw a scathing look at my roguish friend.
“Behave,” I spat out, dragging the word through both syllables, ignoring the wetness pooling in the crotch of my breeches.
Aph cackled. A heartbeat later, she shrugged and the overwhelming desire dissipated. A chorus of relieved sighs sounded around the open space — including from the two priestesses who were fanning themselves with the collars of their robes.
Furies, those things must be stifling.
“Why don’t you take those off?” I asked, curious.
Both hooded faces snapped around to mine.
“I — we — we haven’t dared—” Io stammered.
“We haven’t dared,” Ekho confirmed.
Io tried to explain, though I could hear her thundering pulse from where I stood. “It’s not allowed.”
“It’s not allowed.” Ekho shook her head.
“It is forbidden.”
“Forbidden.” Ekho nodded.
I frowned. “Why is it forbidden? And why do you keep repeating everything Io says?”
“Everything Io says?” she queried.
“Two questions require two answers, your grace,” Io answered diplomatically. Before Ekho had a chance to repeat her words, Io took a breath and plunged ahead. “The goddess Hera decreed it so.”
“Of course your mother was involved,” I muttered to Caelus.
“No woman wishing to remain here may set foot onto the Isle without first covering their features,” Io continued as if I hadn’t spoken.
“None may call it home unless they practice true altruism. By wearing these robes and dedicating ourselves to the service of our gods, we reject the notion of being distracted by thoughts of our own vanity.”
“More like you’ve been coerced into thinking that,” Aros interjected.
“No, it’s true!” Io implored.
“It’s true! We cannot possibly be jealous of this one’s long hair, or that one’s golden skin, or another one’s perfect teeth—”
“They get the point, Ekho.”
“They get the point, Ekho,” she mumbled. “The point that I was trying to make is that these robes shield us from each other’s envy so that we can better focus on our work and our worship.”
“You mean these robes shield you from my mother’s envy,” Caelus said gently.
“What? No,” Io said. “The goddess Hera—”
“Why is it that you repeat things, Ekho?” he asked.