The Goddessy: Hestia's Revenge

Chapter Seven

So... it wasn't what she wanted, still being tied while flames flared around her.

The flames of Hestia's fury, to be exact.

Twilight floated through the oblivion, trying to remember what had happened...

The smell of flowers mixed with cotton fibers.

Twilight peeled her eyes open and took in herself. Her hands and feet were bound with a slippery barbed rope behind a log. Her mouth and nose were covered in a cloth, the scent tickling her nostrils. Her clothes were torn, stained in red, covered by blood, falling from gashes she never knew existed. The throbbing pain she'd had in her head was gone; in fact, there was nothing left in her head. Only one word could escape her mouth.

"Poison." But if it was... then what was it?

"Doesn't matter to you."

Twilight jerked her head, every fiber of her muscle screaming in pain.

Hestia never showed.

She gritted her teeth and tried to escape her binds, bite off the drugged cloth, breathe in that sweet oxygen that would fix the emptiness in her brain. Well, not completely empty. Only one thought remained clear. She focused on that one thought so it didn't disappear like the others.

Save yourself. You're a hostage, and you have to escape before any of your friends get hurt.

Save yourself. You're a hostage, and you have to escape...

Save yourself...

The thought started to cloud away, and she tried to remember it. Who was getting hurt? Who was she a hostage to? Why was she even trying to save herself?

Air.

The one word pounded in her head, but no matter the pain, she fought. The rope cut into her wrists and ankles, her muscles resisting any minor movements, like she'd never moved in days. She focused on making simple commands, trying to do the task before it disappeared.

Rip the cloth.

In a flash, a strip of the cloth fell to the ground, next to her mouth. Using her tongue to maneuver the hole, she breathed in the sweet oxygen as everything flooded into her brain.

I have friends in danger.

Spike is in danger.

I'm a hostage to Hestia.

Hesita wants Hera dead.

Whatever this is isn't good.

"Shush, your mind is very loud," Hestia swooped into the dark room, her beady eyes staring down like a hawk. She caressed the torn strip, gently petting it like a dead dog.

"You know, I actually was supposed to be one of the major goddesses," Hestia said.

"What do you mean?" Twilight didn't want to keep her going, but she was curious to see what she was up to.

"You want proof?" Hestia snapped her fingers, and the binds evaporated. No, sublimated. She thrust a thick book into Twilight's bloodied hands.

"Read the stories. Tell me I was never real," Hestia challenged. Twilight bit her lip, but she flipped open the front cover and turned to the first story. A brilliant picture of a man and teenager were in a room with red walls.