7. Nyssa
Nyssa
I stepped through — landing not on solid ground, but on the treacherously shifting surface of sand.
My boots sank, grains already worming their way inside, further souring my irksome mood.
Wobbling precariously on the crest of a scalding, red dune, I resented the heat, the sand, the sun god, and the Rite in its entirety.
Fucking prophecies.
Once I’d regained my balance, I scanned my surroundings and realised two things.
First, I was completely and utterly alone. No footprints, nor animal tracks. Nothing moved except for small handfuls of red grains, scooped up in the hot breeze.
Second, there was nothing else to see. Just dunes, stretching for miles in every direction. And with the sun glaring directly overhead, I had no way to get my bearings.
What was it Apollo said?
Find your way to me.
But where in this fervid hellscape would he be?
The longer I stood still, the more my pale skin burned under Helios’ blistering sun.
For the first time in two decades, I lamented my usual choice in attire — black leather was the worst possible option for this trial.
My dark armour clung to my skin, sweat pasting it down, the midnight hue drinking in every ounce of heat the midday sun could throw.
A breezy chiton from Aphrodite’s wardrobe would have served me much better today.
I wondered how my friend was coping. Had she managed to figure out which way to go?
She would undoubtedly be suffering in this miserable desert — but Aph had more fortitude than anyone gave her credit for.
Neither gods nor mortals knew what she was truly capable of.
I was certain she’d not only pass this trial, but would outlast most.
I looked skyward again. The sun had inched across the sky, no longer directly overhead, but slightly to my right.
If it rose in the east and set in the west, then surely I was facing south.
Would Apollo align himself along the sun’s path, then? Logically, it made sense. And if he did, would he wait where it started, or where it ended its day’s journey?
I figured I had about a fifty percent chance of guessing correctly. I turned west, bracing for the sun’s assault, but I figured there was nothing for it but to soldier on and complete the trial.
An hour later, with skin the colour of a ripe strawberry, half a dune’s worth of sand in my boots, and an unquenchable thirst clawing at my throat, I was no closer to the end.
I had seen nothing but red dunes and blue-grey skies with every trudging footstep. No champions dotted my horizon and no bird graced the skies. Not even a whisper of desert-dwelling serpent, rodent, or critter scurrying along at my feet.
Just silence.
Just emptiness.
Forgotten.
As if all life had been sucked right out of it.
For the hundredth time, I tried to coax my shadows into forming some sort of veil, some kind of barrier between the heat and my skin.
But they resisted, just as opposed to the light as I was to the heat.
Inky darkness pooled in my palms, stubborn and slow.
No matter how gentle I was with it, the shadows refused to budge.
Frustrated, I watched as they bled back beneath my skin.
Temperamental bastard.
I huffed into the dry air and stomped forwards. My foot landed so hard that the ground trembled. As I stepped again, the sand rumbled once more.
Perplexed, I paused.
The land shuddered so violently I stumbled sideways. The vibrations intensified just as the ground where I’d stood exploded in a spray of red.
A creature born directly from my nightmares hissed at me from the gigantic crater it had erupted from.
An enormous copper-toned serpent reared up, fangs bared and dripping with clear venom; jewel-coloured eyes narrowed and fixated on my every breath.
It was huge — rising higher than two horses stacked on top of one another.
I barely dared to blink.
The serpent stilled, its muscles tense and ready. The creature had sized me up, made its decision. I was lunch.
Not today, ophis.
My shadows seemed to understand — finally — and coiled into the shape of a longsword. I clutched the hilt with both hands, shifting my feet to shoulder-width, bracing.
Waiting.
The serpent lunged, snapping at the air inches before my face. I deflected its killing blow, my blade knocking its nose aside.
It hissed again, spittle coating my face in big, disgusting globules. I grimaced, backing up a few paces, attempting to keep distance between me and those forearm-sized fangs.
The ophis shimmied, seeming more irate than ever. It followed my footsteps as I continued back up the dune behind me, slithering slowly up the scalding sand.
Just as I crested the top, the serpent slithered free of its burrow.
I stared down in horror as a second fanged head rose to greet me — positioned precisely where its tail should be.
Not an ophis, then. An amphisbaena.
Wonderful.
Two glaring serpent heads rose high into the sky, each baring a set of deadly fangs coated in venom capable of turning my skin to stone. Its long, scaled body formed a semicircular shape that shimmied leisurely across the sand, pursuing me like it had all the time in the world.
I twirled my shadow blade, gritted my teeth, and waited for the perfect moment to strike.
The left head pounced in the blink of an eye — and that was all the time it had.
My sword punctured its right eye with a sickening squelch, drawing twin shrieks of pain.
Both mouths squealed as the injured head flailed, offsetting the balance of the other.
The amphisbaena tumbled back down the dune, coiling protectively in on itself.
Its right head rose again, glaring, and snapped forward as I approached cautiously.
Its body unravelled slightly, driving forwards.
This was it. My moment.
I darted sideways in a flash. The head flew past, jaws snapping shut on nothing but air, leaving its thick neck and serpentine body unguarded for the briefest second.
My shadow sword swung through the air with a quiet whistle, slicing through the creature’s mid-section with a dull thunk. Both heads once again shrieked as I hacked messily through its hide until I severed it in two.
The screeching ceased instantaneously. Both halves dropped lifelessly to the blood-soaked sand with a whoosh of dusty air.
I huffed a few quick breaths, barely believing what I’d just done.
There was no way Charon would ever believe me — amphisbaenas were extremely rare — save for the already drying crimson stains on my skin.
Gods did not bleed red. Creatures and mortals did — most of them. Some, the more grisly beings dripped black. A sure sign they hailed from the depths of Tartarus. Things found their way out every now and then.
I retraced my steps past the corpse, past the giant crater it left in the sand, and trudged up the next scarlet-coloured dune. I had been exhausted, frustrated, and dehydrated before — now I was drained and furious, my mouth as dry as the desert beneath my feet.
Halfway up the monstrous hill, the sound of shifting grains stopped me in my tracks. Wincing, I slowly rotated and peered over my shoulder and down at the giant, severed serpent. To my horror, the two halves were realigning, melding themselves back together, one piece of stringy flesh at a time.
I gagged, racing up the dune, knowing more than lunch would be on the creature’s minds now. Retribution had moved to the top of the menu.
I stole another glance and my stomach churned again.
The serpent was once again whole, its heads facing each other, moving in an eerie unison.
The right mouth opened wide, and the left head slipped calmly between its fangs.
The right mouth closed gently, locking the left in, forming a complete circle with its body.
Its slitted pupils honed in on my form atop the sandy hill. They narrowed as the serpent began to roll forwards, looking like the creepiest fucking wheel I’d ever laid eyes on.
“Oh, fuck no,” I breathed, launching into a sprint. I made it to the bottom, in the valley between two enormous red dunes just as the serpent-wheel made entirely of nightmares crested the one I’d just bolted down.
Luck was not on my side today.
I knew the amphisbaena would pick up speed on its way down and race up the next side before I could make it to the top.
I sent up a prayer to whoever was listening — ironic, considering I was a god and we rarely listened — and threw my hands out before me, begging my shadows for help.
They surged out, spurred on by the shade of the dune in front of me, forming a narrow archway just wide enough for me to leap sideways through.
I came out atop a distant sand drift, my footing lost to the force of the jump. My body tumbled down the slope, rapidly gaining speed as I ploughed downwards.
The scratch of sand touched every inch of exposed skin. I inhaled it, coughing and spluttering as I clenched my eyes shut, waiting to reach the bottom.
My back struck something rock solid, and I grunted as that something roared in unexpected agony. I dreaded opening my eyes. I did not particularly want to know what else was lurking in this devilish desert, considering the evil I was currently outrunning — or outrolling.
“What the fuck?!” yelled a familiar deep voice, though the pain-laced tenor was new.
I cracked open my sand-caked lids and stared up at a sun-kissed face. His wide, silver eyes swirled furiously, like thunderclouds whirling in the heavy winds of a storm-laden sky.
Caelus.
His white brows smashed together, wild confusion evident in every line of his pretty face.
“Well? Are you going to lie there drooling, or tell me why the fuck you attacked me?”
I sat up quickly, swiping the back of my hand across my mouth, suddenly terrified I had been doing exactly that.
“I’m not drooling. And I wasn’t attacking you,” I snarked right back, gingerly finding my feet.