Chapter 16
The Wrath of Apollo
“You’re wrong.”
Manto downed the rest of the wine and threw the empty amphora to the side.
Danae did not move. “If the gods wanted me dead, I’d be on my way to the Underworld by now...wouldn’t I?”
“That’s what they want you to think.”
Danae opened her mouth then closed it again. Everything Manto said was infuriatingly vague.
“I’m going to need something stronger.” They reached into their bag and pulled out a pipe and a small pouch of herbs. “Don’t go anywhere.” Lithos whined as Manto lit the pipe from the fire, then sat down again and took a deep drag. Smoke curled from their lips. It had a sweet, earthy quality.
“I was a child when they took my father. The last thing he did was make me swear I’d become the watcher and when I found you, I was to help you at all costs.” They shook their head. “What a fucking disappointment.”
Danae tried to keep the irritation out of her voice as she knelt on the ground, pressing her fists into the earth.
“I’m sorry about your father. But I have no idea what you’re talking about.
I came to Delphi to be cured of a curse.
I don’t know how I destroyed the oracle or who the Children of Prometheus are. ”
Manto looked at her as though she’d just said she didn’t know who Zeus was.
“The Children of Prometheus are the enlightened outlaws who follow the teachings of Prometheus, the liberator of mankind. We fight for knowledge and free will. And it is our sacred duty to preserve the Titan’s prophecy and facilitate the coming of the last daughter.
” They pointed their pipe at Danae. “You.”
She swallowed. Every child in Greece grew up hearing the story of the Titanomachy and the Titans’ eventual defeat at the hands of the Olympian Twelve. She could see her mother now, sitting by the hearth, smoothing her tunic as she prepared to tell the tale.
Before mankind walked the earth, the Twelve Gods were locked in a cosmic battle with the Titans.
The stars wept and the heavens rang with the terrible cries of war.
It seemed like the destruction would never end, for both sides were strong and fairly matched.
But then Prometheus betrayed his evil brethren, telling Zeus of their secret encampment in exchange for his freedom.
The gods staged an ambush while the Titans slept and threw their enemies down into the depths of Tartarus, a prison from which they could never escape.
The war was won, bringing peace to the earth.
As a gift for his new lord, Prometheus fashioned the first man’s body from river clay, and Zeus breathed his divine spark into him, creating mortal life.
But by nature, Prometheus was devious. Ever seeking a way to gain power, the Titan stole one of Zeus’s thunderbolts and gave it to the kings of men, so they might revolt against their creator.
But they were weak and even in possession of a holy shard of lightning they were no match for the might of Olympus.
The rebellion was quashed, and as punishment Zeus chained Prometheus to the highest peak of the Caucasus Mountains at the end of the world, forever to be tormented by an eagle ripping open his stomach and eating his liver, only for it to grow back and be devoured again the next day.
“What’s the prophecy?” Danae whispered.
Manto took a drag. Smoke twisted from their mouth as they spoke. “When the prophet falls, and gold that grows bears no fruit, the last daughter will come. She will end the reign of thunder and become the light that frees mankind.”
The hairs on Danae’s arms prickled, as if an unseen breeze had blown over her skin. She shuddered and pushed the feeling away.
“Why do you think it’s about me?”
“You broke the oracle.”
“It could be referring to a different prophet.”
Manto fixed her with a sardonic stare. “Ah yes, because oracles are common and people destroy them all the time. And what did you say earlier about a golden apple tree?”
Gold that grows bears no fruit.
Danae pushed the words from her mind. “It’s a coincidence.”
“There are no coincidences. Ask the fates.” Another lick of smoke curled from Manto’s lips. “You are the last daughter, whether you like it or not.”
A weighted silence fell between them.
“Does everyone in Delphi know what happened to the oracle?” Danae whispered.
Manto snorted. “Of course not. You think the priestesses of Apollo would want the world knowing a fisherman’s daughter walked right into their sacred oracle and destroyed it? Think of the coin they’d lose.”
“Then how did you know?”
Manto’s mouth twitched. “What do you think I’ve been doing all these years, sitting on my ass? I know people. The ones no one notices. The ones they send in to clean up.”
Danae repeated the prophecy in her mind. When the prophet falls, and gold that grows bears no fruit, the last daughter will come. She will end the reign of thunder and become the light that frees mankind.
“What does the prophecy mean?”
Manto slumped against the earthen wall, their eyes red from the effects of the pipe.
“Not sure about the fruity bit,” they chuckled. “But the rest pretty much means you’re going to storm Olympus, kill Zeus and free us all from the tyranny of the bastard Twelve.”
Danae flinched. “You can’t...don’t say things like that.”
“Why not?” Manto gestured broadly around the cavern.
“I’ve blasphemed at least three times since we’ve been here, and I haven’t been struck down.
Let me tell you something about the gods, they want us to believe they can read our thoughts and hear everything we say, but it’s a lie.
” Manto slouched even lower. “Who was your patron deity on Naxos?”
“Demeter.”
“Right. I bet you all slaved away to produce offerings and pay her temple tithe. But despite all your devotion, all your piety and sacrifice, people still died and starved and joined the Missing, and your goddess did fuck all about it. The gods aren’t as powerful as people think.”
Nauseating cracks appeared in Danae’s reality.
“You know what’s funny.” Manto was practically horizontal now. “I thought you’d be this fierce warrior with a magnificent plan—a female Heracles. But look at you. The fates have a sick sense of humor.”
As Manto spoke, their thumb slipped from the barrel of the pipe, and Danae spotted a familiar symbol captured in flaking paint.
The golden apple tree.
She pointed. “That’s the tree, the one from my visions.”
Manto held the pipe close to their face, then lowered it and grinned at Danae.
“The tree of knowledge. Those teeny golden apples symbolize the gift of truth Prometheus gave us. That’s what my father told me, anyway.
The Children of Prometheus draw it places so we know who to trust and where. ..” Manto yawned “...we’ll be safe.”
Gold that grows. Burning hands reaching for golden fruit.
“Are there many of you?”
Manto shrugged. “I’ve got a handful of contacts in the holy city. Sometimes I receive instructions, but I don’t know who from. The Children guard their anonymity. It’s how we stay alive.”
Danae stared at the ground, her head whirling with disoriented thoughts.
When she looked up, Manto’s eyes had closed, and the pipe had tumbled into their lap. Lithos trotted over and nudged the smoldering barrel away from their robe, then curled up against them.
She could leave now, find her way to a port and sail back to Naxos. But she was the girl who’d destroyed the oracle. She couldn’t risk bringing such danger back to Naxos.
As much as she wanted to run from Manto and whatever sacrilegious schemes they were involved in, they had saved her from almost certain death. Perhaps these Children of Prometheus could help her too.
There might be hope of a cure after all.
Danae was jolted awake by Lithos barking. The fire had died to ash, but an orange light shone through the passageway. She became aware of other noises outside, crashing and screaming. The air smelled acrid and bitter. Above them, the ground rumbled, and clumps of earth fell from the ceiling.
“Out, everybody out!” Manto was already on their feet, bag slung over their shoulder. They turned to Danae. “Come on.”
Manto and Danae joined the crush of people piling through the passageway.
Danae nearly fell as the earthen walls shook with the force of another collision.
Once free of the tunnel, they ran across the arena, stones rolling into their path from the crumbling seats above.
They ducked through an entrance and, once clear of the gymnasium, Danae’s legs stopped moving.
Billows of black smoke boiled up from the burning city. A light appeared in the sky, a streak of fire searing through the darkness to explode into the buildings below. Then came another and another.
“Lithos! Lithos!” Manto cast around frantically.
They were answered by a gruff bark, and the dog pelted toward them. Manto gathered him in their arms and stared up at the sky.
“He’s here.” Their voice shook like the rocks at their feet.
As Danae looked up, she realized there was something at the center of the roiling clouds.
A dark shape formed of more than smoke. Then the wind blew, and for a moment the tendrils parted.
He was so far away, she only caught a glimpse of wings and gold before the blackened sky swallowed him again, but it was enough.
He looked just like his counterpart standing guard over his temple.
Dread seeped through her. Apollo.
As she stood, petrified, another fireball crackled into being from where the clouds shrouded the god. It hurtled toward them and crashed into the roof of one of the brothel buildings. A moment later, a man staggered from the doorway, screaming as the flames melted his skin like wax.
“Hetaria!” Manto’s glassy eyes reflected the fire spreading from one wooden structure to another. In moments the entire row was blazing. There was no way anyone inside had survived.
The screams were terrible. Liquid terror coursed through Danae’s veins. She felt like she could do nothing but stand there and watch the city burn.
“This can’t be because of me...it can’t...it...”
“Come on.” Manto hoisted Lithos under one arm and grabbed Danae’s hand with the other. “I swore I’d protect you and I’m not going back on my word.”
They ran past the smoldering brothel houses just as another blast hit the gymnasium. It collapsed in on itself, belching a cloud of dust into the fiery air.
The streets were thick with people fleeing their homes.
Some were weighed down by piles of belongings, others hadn’t even put on their sandals.
The air was so dense with smoke, Danae could barely breathe.
Manto pulled her through the burning streets, both of them tripping and skidding over a sea of lost belongings and broken pottery.
Half blind and head pounding from the smog, Danae clutched Manto’s hand like it was a lifeline.
Eventually, they hurtled out onto the sacred way.
The stone buildings that a day ago had looked so grand and pristine were blackened and crumbling.
A plethora of burnt body parts protruded from the rubble.
Those that could still run were fleeing the city.
Pilgrims, priestesses, guards and citizens alike, all flocked to the gates.
Danae and Manto were carried forward by the crush of people, out of the city onto the road at the base of Mount Parnassus.
Here the crowd forked, some hurrying left around the base of the mountain toward Athens, others running in the opposite direction.
“What’s that way?” Danae shouted, pointing right.
“Port of Cirrha.”
She looked back at the sprawl of burning buildings on the mountainside.
The flames ignited an anger deep inside her that had grown with every misfortune, every struggle unaided, every prayer unanswered.
The gods didn’t care about mortals at all.
Her family were good people, and the Twelve had done nothing while they were beaten into the ground by pious cruelty.
Where were the gods when the villagers shunned them, when Arius was taken, when Alea drowned herself?
And now Apollo would raze an entire city just to eradicate one person.
As she watched Delphi burn, the wall of adamant that stood between her and the prophecy crumbled away. Manto was not the only one who believed Prometheus’s words were about her. The gods did too.
She was the last daughter.