54. SOPHIE
“Tartarus?” Sophie spat out the word. The angels had failed to tell her that the Hrabrost Trials were held on freaking Tartarus. Bastards.
Tartarus. The place where the ancient gods locked up the most depraved creatures and their deadliest enemies. It was a place worse than hell. It was hell for the beings that belonged in hell itself.
Sophie gulped.
Morpheus’s eyes danced with amusement, taking in Sophie’s reaction.
“It was Vestes,” Sophie groaned, rolling onto her back as the water lapped up onto her legs.
“Vestes?” Morpheus asked.
“That shit-eating wrinkled worm thought to punish me for being a half-breed. Oh and apparently I’m a traitor too.” Sophie scoffed. Vestes was a fucking idiot because not only would she get through this trial, but he’d also unwittingly made it to the top of her damned hit list. Not that she’d ever had one before, but she definitely had one now.
Morpheus whistled low.
“Tell me about it.” Sophie sat up from the ground and surveyed the dark seas before her. She just escaped a giant squid. A giant squid!
“Is that your doing?” Morpheus pointed to a giant floating form, peeking above the surface of the water.
Sophie narrowed her eyes, focusing her sight. The bumps and ridges of the giant squid’s purple-y black skin bobbed close to the water’s surface, a few hundred metres from the shore. It was awfully still. “Huh . . . I guess it is.” Sophie looked at her hands, she hadn’t realised her fire was so . . . capable.
“I’m impressed.” Morpheus pouted his bottom lip and nodded.
Sophie looked up at him from where she sat and beamed. “Fried calamari, anyone?”
Morpheus guffawed. “More like fried Charybdis,” he added before, lending Sophie a hand.
Charybdis. So that’s what the creature is called.
Sophie took Morpheus’ hand without hesitation. He pulled her up with ease and trudged ahead of her. The sound of the gritty sand squelched underneath his boots. “Chronos made it to the shore as well,” Morpheus explained as they walked. “We’ll rest along the edges of Baba’s Forest tonight. I take it you weren’t given a proper briefing for the trials?” He paused his steps, turning slightly so that Sophie could catch up.
Being five foot two on a good day did not give her any advantages. For every one of Morpheus’s steps, Sophie had to take two. Three, if there was a slight uphill.
“Nope,” Sophie sighed.
“The rules are simple. You come in with nothing but the clothes on your back. No wings”—Morpheus motioned to the red clips that had been attached to the tips of his wings—“just magic. Four trials. One week. Then it’s back to reality.”
“Well, shit.” Sophie couldn’t imagine it. Having the freedom of flight taken away. Even if it was just for a week. “Can we at least make weapons?”
“To your heart’s content.”
Good. Sophie couldn’t just rely on her two throwing knives and her mana. She needed to be more resourceful, especially if she needed to manage her mana for what was to come.
“And four trials?”
“Well, you already fried the first one. There should be three more. That’s if they don’t surprise us.” Morpheus winked as they neared the edge of the forest.
The god of sleep swiped his broad hand in a circle before him. The air rippled to reveal another angel sitting by a small fire. The flames’ orange glow was a stark contrast to the darkness that surrounded them, Sophie had to squint her eyes a little.
The angel that sat quietly by the fire narrowed her pitch-black eyes upon Sophie. Her white hair was wet and clung to her head. Champagne-coloured wings fastened with the same flight-inhibiting red clips as Morpheus, towered over her. Her paper-white skin was covered in black inky veins. She was devastating yet eery.
Sophie moved closer to the flames of the small campfire, its heat warming her icy skin. “You must be Chronos.” Sophie held a hand out to the angel. “My name is Sophie, demigoddess of—”
“I know who you are.” Chronos’s voice was like the weather, icy. Disdain accented each of her words.
Geez, what’s up her ass?
Sophie let her hand drop between them. “Nice to meet you too,” she mumbled beneath her breath. It was most certainly not nice to meet her. Clearly, the goddess of time had no time for Sophie.
Chronos returned to watch the flames, her brows knitted into frustration.
A palpable tension rose in the air.
“Take whatever spot you like, Sophie. There’s also some fresh drinking water if you like,” Morpheus cut the tension in half as he pointed to a small jerry can.
“Thanks.” Sophie gave him a soft smile.
He shot a quick glance at Chronos who seemed keen to focus on the flames and turned back to Sophie with an apologetic smile.
Sophie guessed being the goddess of time, the very thing that people wished they could stop, fast-forward or outwardly resented, was a tough gig.
Lifting the jerry can, Sophie poured a handful of water into her cupped hand. There wasn’t much water, so rationing seemed like the right thing to do. Sophie wet her mouth before swallowing.
Morpheus made a little pillow out of a log and lazed on the ground. Sophie joined him, sitting cross-legged and warming her fingers by the fire. “How many trials have you done?”
Morpheus counted his fingers. “This would be my fortieth. I’m a bit of a late comer compared to Chronos over here. What number are you up to, Chro?”
Sophie looked to the alabaster angel with black abysses for eyes.
An uncomfortable silence stretched between them all when Chronos didn’t even bother acknowledging Morpheus’s question.
I thought they were all friends. This is so fucking awkward.
A moment passed before Chronos stood up abruptly and huffed. She looked down her rim-rod nose at Sophie. “Slow us down and I’ll make sure time for you is painful.” She sneered before taking off, farther into the forest.
Sophie blinked, watching the goddess disappear into the brush.
“Yikes, who spat in her coffee?” Sophie asked, widening her eyes. Chronos seemed as friendly as a caged lion.
Morpheus let out a laugh and then sighed. “I’m not so sure you want to know.”