Defying Fate

Chapter 21 p2

On the other side though, the room was intact. It was night, dimly lit, and Asterion was no longer in his arms. There was no sign of Hermes, or Athena, or of his friends. A single torch blazed on a wall, near where an enormous loom had been set up. Larger than any weaving Odysseus had seen Penelope work before. And there she was, clearer than in his memories, her dark hair sprinkled with just a few grey strands, which sparkled in the torchlight. She didn't notice him in the room with her, but focused on her work, pulling at the threads low down on the loom. The pattern was intricate, and the threads were very fine, some of the highest quality Odysseus had ever seen.

As Odysseus stepped closer though, he saw Penelopes hands working, and saw that she wasn't adding to the pattern. She was undoing it, pulling at the fine threads with furtive desperation. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she worked in silence, sending glances toward the door, and toward the balcony as if in fear.

"Penelope—what are you doing!?" Odysseus reached out to her, but then he was back in the ruins. Barely a moment had passed.

Asterion tugged at a lock of his hair, babbling softly, and Odysseus held the child close, comforted by his warmth and weight. Hermes and Athena were bickering softly, but Athena glanced at him as he knelt on the blanket, then did a double take.

"What happened?" She asked.

Eurylochus looked up from where he'd been helping Hermes serve out the food to look at Odysseus too, curiosity and concern hiding behind his usual stoic expression. Polites wasn't even trying to mask his expression, which had not changed since they'd found him under the tree. He was still looking at the ruins in shock and sadness.

"A vision," Cassandra said, with absolute certainty. "You just had a vision."

"That's impossible," Odysseus protested. "The gods' powers—"

"What did you see?" Athena asked, and Odysseus hesitated. Athena narrowed her eyes, and he stood.

"I— I think Penelope's in trouble," he said, looking around the ruins.

"What did you see?" Athena repeated, standing also.

"I saw this room," Odysseus said, "but, it was intact, I was back home, and..." He stepped toward where Penelope had been, reaching out to where she'd been. "Penelope was sitting here, working at a loom, undoing the work on it, work she must have done. It was so complex... it must have taken her weeks."

Odysseus did not see the glance that Hermes and Athena exchanged, he was too fixated on the memory of his wife, pulling desperately at dark threads.

"I've never seen her so frightened before..." he continued. "She didn't seem hurt, but, scared. But, in her own home?" He whirled to Cassandra. "You said something to me once, the night we met—my house brought to ruin by those I once called friends." He did not mention the first half of that prophecy, where his crew would die. He hadn't ever told Polites and Eurylochus about that.

Cassandra blinked, her eyes going wide. "That fate— your future has changed, and—" she stammered, shaking her head. "I can't see anything, I'm sorry."

"Technically, that future is impossible now that you're here in this time," Hermes said. "What you saw, kiddo, that wasn't a prophecy of the future, but a vision of the past. There's only one power I know of that can manipulate time, and he does not do so lightly. So you might as well spill it, because no doubt its the reason you're here."

Odysseus knelt again, and Athena picked up the conversation. "Why don't you tell the full story, Odysseus. No lies."

"I told you everything I know last night," Odysseus protested. "Except—" He looked to Cassandra for help, but she was staring out over the view, and did not offer any more information. Odysseus swallowed the lump suddenly blocking his throat, and he did not look Athena's way as he continued. "The god who sent the message. He promised protection for my fleet, in return for a favor."

"Did he specify what this favor would be?" Athena's voice was cold.

"I didn't have the chance to ask," Odysseus muttered, looking out at the distant horizon. 'Tell him, I'll do whatever he asks, if he makes sure my fleet gets home safely.' Stupid.

"I think... its time to call the family," Hermes said, pulling a slate, and several gold coins from his pocket. "I guess we'll have to save the picnic."