18. Nyssa
Nyssa
It took longer than I cared to admit, but I finally saw Hermes’ first test for what it was: an illusion, designed to keep us running in endless circles — wasting time, energy, even power.
Frustration sharpened into something harder. The challenge wasn’t about finding a way out. It was about realising there wasn’t one. Not unless I made it myself.
The walls weren’t a path to be navigated. They were meant to be broken.
So, I fucking shattered them.
Exhaling slowly, I pressed my palm against the cold stone blocking the way forward. Shadows danced at my fingertips before seeping into cracks and fissures in the wall.
At first, nothing happened. Whatever magic Hermes had used to craft this semi-sentient maze was ancient — tricky.
It hummed against my skin, resisting me.
But my power was darker. More patient. Utterly relentless.
I willed it deeper, attaching to the heart of the wall like an insatiable rot, devouring everything in its path.
Finally, the stone beneath my palm fractured. With a resounding crack , the wall crumbled into a pile of scorched rock and dust. I waited for the air to clear, then stepped over the broken, blackened stone — and straight into Hermes’ second test.
A circular arena opened before me, its walls gleaming and smooth, unmarked by time. At the far end, directly opposite, was a narrow pathway sliced through the stone. But standing between me and the exit was a creature I recognised on sight.
Of course Hermes had found — or bribed, or stolen — one for his trial.
Unblinking gold feline eyes tracked my entrance into the arena.
She made no other move. The gaze in her human-like face was sharp and intelligent, weighing my every step.
She sat poised in the arena’s centre, her lion’s body, muscular and lithe, lay still.
Feathered wings draped gracefully across the dusty floor, and pools of fresh golden blood surrounded her.
A low groan broke through the trance of her stare and snapped my attention left. Sprawled haphazardly in the dirt were the ravaged and discarded bodies of Leander and Tychon, barely breathing. Their weapons lay discarded beside them.
The sphinx finally stirred — to lick her gold-stained claws clean. A subtle warning perhaps. Most likely, a threat.
Idiots.
It didn’t take a genius to see their brawn had overpowered what little brain they possessed. They’d tried to fight their way through the pathway’s guardian.
This was not a test of physical strength. It was one of mental tenacity.
I shifted to take in the rest of the arena again and noticed three others had made it out of the never-ending maze.
Caelus stood a few feet to my right. Aphrodite just beyond him. And Aros lounged lazily on the floor, recovering from the Aros-sized hole he’d hacked through his section of wall.
I ignored the males — and what their presence did to my traitorous body — opting to greet my friend.
Aph had been sorely underestimated by the other champions, and if I was being honest, by me too.
She’d moved through these trials with ease.
She would make a magnificent Queen of Olympus.
If only that didn’t make her my rival too.
I longed to throw my arms around her. But my habitual aversion to touch, and her instinctive aversion to death, had always kept us apart in that regard. Instead, I smiled warmly, not giving a fuck about the two gaping witnesses to my unusual pleasantness.
“Hey, Nyss. It’s good to see you in one piece,” she teased, grimacing briefly at Leander’s broken form slowly knitting itself back together.
“Aph.” My grin deepened. “I didn’t realise the goddess of beauty title came with a self-cleaning feature,” I teased, gesturing to her impossibly immaculate ivory gown, clasped daintily at one shoulder with a gleaming, golden pin.
It was not one I’d seen her wear before — an odd change from her usual dainty jewellery designs.
It was fashioned in the shape of a longsword, with a crown dangling from its blade. A subtle nod to her sharp wit in the trials, perhaps.
Her ensemble was a far cry from my black and bronze armour. With Charon’s help, I had selected a black tunic, leather breeches, and ankle-high boots. Over it all, a bronze-and-leather cuirass and matching vambraces.
If Ares had drawn the card for today’s trial, it could easily have involved hand-to-hand combat. There wasn’t a chance in Tartarus I’d be caught unprepared for that one.
Aphrodite winked slyly. “Magic.”
“Not to break up the unexpected reunion,” Aros cut in, “But do either of you have any idea as to how we get past Whiskers over there?”
“Yes, actually,” I began, hoping the Sphinx hadn’t heard him. “I was told stories as a child. I never put any stock into them being real. But between her and the hydra in Artemis’ trial, I have been forced to reconsider.
“There was once a creature,” I recited, “born not of love, nor war, nor even the whims of gods. A creature born of riddles and ruin. It was said she was sent by Hera.” I looked up at Caelus, his expression unreadable, but eyes fixed on me with that trademark intensity.
“The Sphinx waited on the road to Thebes, blocking the way forward. No blade could cut her down; no brute force could move her. Only wit could overcome her challenge. If a traveller wished to reach the city, they must first answer her riddle.”
“What was the riddle?” Caelus spoke gently, his voice lacking the fervour his eyes carried.
“Fuck that, what was the answer ?” Aros scoffed.
“It doesn’t matter,” I answered both. “She never asks the same riddle twice.”
Wanting to get it over with before my mind whirled away from me, I took a steadying breath and approached the guardian.
My footsteps were slow, stopping a respectful distance. I raised my chin, unsure how to proceed. The sphinx tilted her head, and an amused smile played across her eerily human lips.
Well met, daughter of Hades.
Her rich, velvety voice reverberated inside my skull, though her mouth remained closed. Disorienting, but I managed a nod of greeting.
“Well met, Sphinx.”
Answer my riddle correctly, and I shall allow you to pass unscathed. Answer incorrectly, and you shall be… she paused, seeming to consider her words. Scathed.
I nodded again, bracing myself.
I have no mouth, yet still I whisper.
I am born in silence, yet die in time.
I am the thief with empty hands,
Stealing things you cannot find.
What am I?
The riddle hung between us, settling in the stillness as my mind ticked over. The air around me shifted, humming with static — until a confoundingly familiar presence settled at my side.
Caelus.
The gilded eyes of the Sphinx flicked to him, her lioness tail swishing coyly. She was enjoying this.
Caelus’ eyes widened slightly, brows twitching upwards. She’d spoken to him, too, somehow bypassing me. His jaw clenched, and he glanced my way — subtle, but I caught it.
The storm-wielder flared his fingers, lowering one hand to rest on the handle of his shiny, silver dagger. A gift from Daddy, perhaps, but a warrior’s reaction nonetheless.
He was wary of the sphinx, and rightly so.
She turned back to me.
Have you an answer to my riddle, child of death? she purred.
“Yes,” I said, hesitating. If I was wrong, she would eviscerate me. If I was right… I’d be leaving Aphrodite behind.
My morals were slippery fuckers at the best of times. Right now, they taunted me with the choice: save the realms, or help my friend… and whatever Aros and Caelus were trying to be.
Fear not, child. You may pass if you are correct. The goddess Athena was quick to answer hers — I’d hazard a guess that she passed through an hour ago. You may yet catch up.
It figured the goddess of wisdom answered quickly. I rolled my eyes at her somewhat unfair advantage, earning a cackle from the Sphinx.
“An echo.”
As I spoke, she fell silent. Her brows lifted in surprise; her tail no longer flitting from side to side. Caelus braced, hand clenching the dagger tighter. Something that looked a lot like concern passed over his features.
Impressive, she crooned. You may pass.
I dipped my head slightly, grasping for my usual mask of indifference, but found it harder to slide back into place. Just as I reached the passageway, her silken voice flitted through my mind once more.
Beware, child. For even the shadow fears what it becomes in the absence of light.
I chose not to react, not to turn and face her warning.
I already knew how deep the darkness inside me ran.
I was nothing but darkness.
Still, a chill that had nothing to do with the icy pathway meandered down my spine as I continued on, without so much as a backwards glance.
Eventually the path ended. The temperature dropped with every step. A tactic, no doubt designed to weaken our resolve before facing whatever came next.
A weathered wooden door stood before me, jarringly out of place against the rest of Hermes’ labyrinth. It had a faintly blue facade and a rusted bronze skull in its centre.
Just above the disturbingly lifelike door knocker was a message scratched into its surface:
Vres ton eafto sou gia na vreis tin exodo.
Find yourself to find the exit.
I sighed, mentally exhausted by the psychological tests and their cost.
I had expected more from Hermes.
I reached out to push the door open, but as my fingertips grazed the frozen metal face of the skull, its jaw twisted open. To my utter horror, the leering drawl of the god of thieves oozed out. I cringed at the juxtaposition.
“Ahh, I wondered how poorly you would fare — and yet you’ve managed to pleasantly surprise me. Breezed past my glorious Sphinx, did you? Demeter’s champion pissed his pants when he saw her,” the Hermes-skull laughed.
Charming.
“But the weasel still managed to answer her riddle correctly. Hasn’t made his way out yet, though. Don’t know that he will,” he sneered.
I shoved at the door, done with his incessant chatter.
Odious god.
“WAIT!” the Hermes-skull screeched. “Wouldn’t you like to know what’s behind the door?”
Its mouth twisted into a grotesque smile, equally as slimy as the god himself.
“Do go on,” I drawled, arms crossed, irritation increasing by the second.
“Yourself.”
I swore if that door had hands, I was sure it would be happily clapping in delight at the deliverance of that line. I sighed, levelling a furious glare at the skull, knowing Hermes was the true recipient of my ire.
“To find the exit,” he continued, “you must find what I have stolen from you. ”
My dark brows twitched, teeth gritting together.
What had he taken? What had I unknowingly lost?
“Find what is missing, and the exit shall appear. If you don’t — like dear Thallo — you may lose more than what I’ve claimed. You may lose your mind instead.”
His cackle echoed, then faded, retreating with his presence.
The skull went still.
My fingertips danced along my scarred thigh rhythmically, agitation trying to bleed out through my extremities.
Breathe, Nyssa. No one is here to save you today. Only you. Only ever you. Find what was stolen. Show them all what you’re capable of.
I took a few deep, fortifying breaths —then shoved the door open.