18. ‘Styx. Leave.’
‘Styx. Leave.’
At first, I thought I had misheard him.
This could not be the same father
whose rivers were built on my advice.
Not the God who stood by my side
on those golden sands reminding me
how deeply he and my mother cared for me.
But when I did not move,
his voice swelled with a storm.
‘Styx. You must leave.’
‘Not until someone tells me,’
I said with gritted teeth,
‘what my sisters and I were made for.’
Kronos looked thunderous
but then a cruel smile formed at his lips.
‘My dear child. Everyone needs
beautiful things to gaze at.
But I can see,’ he added, looking
me up and down coldly,
‘how this soft power eludes you.’
Titters rose behind me from the Oceanids,
foolish as they were not to realize
what they were being offered
was nothing. No power, no gifts.
Nothing to tie us to godhood
other than our lineage and immortality.
But what use is immortality
without any kind of power?
My rage tasted bitter on my tongue.
I opened my mouth to speak again,
only for my father’s heavy voice to shout,
‘ENOUGH. STYX.
I ASKED THAT YOU LEAVE.’ My cheeks reddened
and I swallowed back tears of fury
as I shrivelled before his gaze,
turned and pushed past all my sisters,
running and running as far
as my feet could take me.