Chapter 8
Charisma
After the encounter with the mysterious Shadow, I blinked myself to sleep and now found myself in an unknown place, the air biting at my skin like tiny needles.
I blinked one more time, as if waiting for confirmation that the forest stretching in front of me was real. The view didn’t disappear under my eyelids. The same muddy, rain-slicked roads were there, with towering trees scraping the cloudy sky above.
The chilly rain plastered my clothes to my skin, leaves swirling down in a slow, graceful dance. I shivered as I hugged myself tighter, the cold seeping into my bones. I couldn’t help but wonder if the games had already started or if this wasn’t another dream.
The mud clung to my boots like greedy hands as I swept a rapid glance at the ground before looking back into the deep forest. The trees seemed alive, whispering with a low ancient crack, eyes forming like lurking beasts where they shouldn’t be.
The branches clawed at the sky, their shadows stretching toward me as an icy hand squeezed my chest, the silence amplifying the frantic thumping in my ears.
With each deep breath I took as I tried to understand what was happening, the forest seemed to lean in, as though anticipating the questions I had yet to ask.
I whirled around, the earthy smell of damp soil filling my nostrils. It was like a punch in the gut as I tried to unravel the truth that felt like an open wound. My eyes fell on the other players, equally perplexed. In between the bodies, Theo’s gaze widened when he noticed me.
The games had begun.
A shiver ran across my spine, straightening from its core—a warning for what was about to come.
Verena stood farther from the group, playing with a decayed leaf between her fingers while her lips moved in a mumble. She kept glancing to her side at eye level, balancing her weight back and forth on her legs.
“Three people will die today,” said a man with tousled red curls from beside me. His lips parted to welcome the chilly air, eyebrows set in a straight line with eyes that stared ahead—right into the heart of the forest.
My voice was soft when I spoke, glancing over at him and his immense height. “What makes you say that?”
As if he broke out of a trance, he looked down at me, blinking. “What?”
I squinted. “You said three people will die today.”
The guy’s eyes darted around as he took a cautious step back. He glanced at me with an expression that said you’re crazy, stay out of my way and put some distance between us.
“Freak,” I thought I heard him mutter.
With a frustrated huff, he stuffed his hands into his pockets, his eyes fixed elsewhere, pointedly ignoring me. He spoke without thinking, and the dawning realization on his face showed he was completely unaware of the things that left his mouth.
I recognized his footsteps long before he settled next to me. This time, surprisingly, Theo said nothing, though I could sense his questions waiting to slide off his tongue. He was curious about my encounter with the tall man, but I decided not to tell him. For now.
The air thrummed with whispers and unsettling scrapes as my gaze fell upon two rusty wooden tables holding fourteen dusty glasses.
My eyes narrowed as I focused on the two barrels, their surfaces marked by three dark brown bands, a small pump positioned in the center.
Wine.
I inched closer, crouching in front of the barrel, eager to confirm my suspicion. I turned the pump, and a rush of scarlet liquid gushed forth, staining the ground.
“Wine,” I mumbled.
“Does this tell you anything about what the trial could be?” Theo asked, and I twisted around to see him looming over me.
The idea of gods waiting for us with wine didn’t seem right. There was more to it than just a glass to drink.
Whatever was hiding in those barrels wasn’t good news.
“Nothing of importance.”
The tall man with the clean-shaved face moved past us and poured himself a glass. He gulped it down his throat and let out a satisfied sound.
Theo shrugged, and we walked back to the group, our anxious breath visible in the cold air. I couldn’t believe this was happening. A part of me held onto the hope that when I woke, I would be back home, safe and sound, and my biggest concern would be persuading my mother to eat her meal.
“Should we work together?” a petite girl with long, blue hair asked the man who chugged down the wine, but he wasn’t paying attention to her. He looked at a fixed point, rubbing his fingers through the stubble on his head. “Draven?”
“What?” Draven snapped. The girl recoiled at his harsh tone, and his expression softened in response. “I’m sorry, Riley. What were you saying?”
Before she could respond, another voice echoed through the air. “We welcome you, mortals, to the opening game of the Gods’ Gambit.”
I was the last to swirl around and lay my gaze upon the two gods standing behind the long, wooden table.
A man and a woman peered at us, one with a playful expression and the other with a soft, calming smile.
Apart from their height and strange attire, they seemed .
. . human—at least, more human than Zeus and the stranger.
“I am to be addressed as Dionysus, the God of Wine. I’ve been portrayed as entertainment’s chaotic form or as someone who steals minds.
” He made a fleeting gesture with a hand, showing off colorful rings that filled his fingers, then continued with a roll of his eyes.
“Yet, I think of myself as the genesis of a brighter and possibly more untamed life.”
He wore a purple tunic that hung loosely over his body, with a multicolored collar beaming around his neck. Green stems, like nature’s own ornaments, rested against his beard, complementing the crown of grape leaves atop his dark, curly hair.
Neither of them seemed past thirty, though an infinity was hiding under their glowing skins.
“I am Demeter, the Goddess of Harvest, Agriculture, and Fertility of the Earth.” She offered us a smile so sincere, I frowned.
Her cheeks reddened, and the edge of her eyes turned just a bit downward as she continued speaking.
“Each season, like every life challenge, serves its own function. You may relinquish significant aspects of yourself traveling through life, much like winter’s loss of blossoms. And yet .
. . this is your destiny. Regardless of the circumstances, you shall follow your destined path. ”
Demeter, with a beauty some would kill for, wore a dark green dress, flowers painted on it from head to toe. The crown on top of her head was a combination of leaves, mushrooms, and flowers, blending with the brown shade of her hair.
“By wine and harvest, the game is born. Your fundamental nature and deepest self will be tested today. Navigate the forest to claim your reward,” Demeter added, intertwining her hands in front of her dress.
I began to dissect her words in my mind, searching for a hidden clue, just as my mother taught me in the rare moments of sentience, but came up empty.
“All we have to do is walk through the forest? That seems unbelievably easy,” Draven pressed, eyes held tight.
With that, I could agree. There had to be something in the middle. Some trick. Some joke.
Dionysus’s nose scrunched. “The journey’s difficulty is subject to your own choices. Now, come for a drink, if you will.”
We headed to the table, exchanging nervous looks as the reality of the situation sank in. I gulped and waited. At my side, everyone filled their glasses until they were brimming and ready to spill—perhaps for courage.
Come for a drink, if you will. Dionysus’s voice echoed in my ears.
“Wait,” I said, wanting to warn them about the loophole. But when I laid eyes on Theo and the others, they were already gulping their drinks.
“What?” Theo questioned, eyebrows lowered before he wiped the corner of his mouth along with the evidence of the sipped wine.
I hesitated, my lips slightly ajar, though ultimately I knew telling him was futile. He’d taken a drink, and perhaps I was mistaken anyway.
When I poured the liquid in my glass, I met Demeter’s eyes, a smile resting on her lips.
She tilted her head, curiosity flashing across her features.
As I filled my cup and then lifted it to my mouth, Demeter’s intense gaze never wavered.
I took only a small gulp and waited, the cool glass pressed against my palm, anticipating her disapproval.
Her mouth remained shut, but her eyes betrayed her feelings with a sudden sparkle.
I placed the cup back on the table, a whoosh exiting my lungs. Come for a drink. A drink could mean a whole glass or more, but also just one sip.
“Can she do that?” Draven fought with a sneer. “We all had a glass, so should she.”
“Yeah,” the majority shouted in unison.
Amid the crowd, I spotted a handful of wounded expressions.
I opened my mouth, attempting to explain, but their averted eyes made it clear they weren’t interested in hearing my reasoning.
My jaw clenched as my attention returned to Draven. What was his problem with me? “You drank two. Does that mean everyone has to drink the same amount as you?”
“Fuck off—”
“Enough.” Demeter extended a hand, quieting us all and the murmurs in the background. “You all shall proceed.”
Draven’s mouth almost hit the ground. “You can’t be serious.”
“Are you questioning a god, mortal?” Dionysus belittled, dragging any fight out of him. “Begin.”
With a sigh, my shoulders slumped as I began to turn, but Demeter’s voice cut through the air, halting me. “Not you, girl. Explain your choice and you may continue.”
“Why I only took one sip? That was a choice.”
Dionysus nodded. “If you thought taking only one sip a choice, then why bother drinking at all?”