Daughters of Gods and The Trials of the Poison Belt

Chapter Two: A Glimpse of Fate

The gentle rays of the Savannah morning slipped through my window, coaxing me from the embrace of sleep. My sister's urgent voice penetrated the fog of dreams, jolting me awake. "Melody, wake up!" Kasha's plea propelled me out of bed, setting in motion the impending obligation of the day. Joining my sisters at the Public Library loomed—a mundane yet inescapable part of our lives. Our grandmother's lifelong devotion to the library translated into a similar destiny for my sisters, who, upon turning eighteen, inherited the responsibility of working there. As for me, now freshly eighteen, it was unsurprising that I'd find myself among the science fiction shelves, organizing books.

"I'm up, I'm up," I grumbled, the stark realization of being the youngest sister sinking in. Showers, breakfast—everything seemed orchestrated in their favor. And on this particular day, my fate involved the shock of cold water in the shower. No toast, no milk—just another instance of being overlooked. My sisters labeled me a brat, but beneath their words, I held aspirations far grander than this small-town Georgia existence.

"Good morning, girls," our grandmother's warm greeting drew us together. The harmonious response from the triplets contrasted with my muted entrance. What was the point? They filled the room with their presence alone.

"Well, Melody, it must be raining pigs if you're already awake," she playfully teased, planting a tender kiss on my forehead. "And I did say good morning."

"Good morning," I murmured, my voice a faint echo of theirs. While the triplets chattered about their plans, I remained silent, lost in contemplation of the day ahead.

"Melody, you should come with us," Tori, one of the triplets, extended an invitation.

"Why?" Sasha chimed in, earning a nudge from Kasha. The familiar script played out before me—my sisters inviting me, expecting my refusal.

However, today was different. "Sure, where's it going to be?" I responded, surprising not only them but also myself. A spark of determination ignited within me. Tonight, I wouldn't fade into the background. I would step into the spotlight, even if it frightened me.

"The Rink," Tori replied, her enthusiasm matching mine. Tonight, I pledged to be different, to be seen in a new light.

Turning my gaze to the window, I found my reflection gazing back at me. My curls flowed in cascades, a testament to my heritage. My skin held the warm tones of pecan, and my eyes, usually as brown as my skin, had the capacity to change with my moods. A quiet beauty adorned me, often concealed, shrouded by invisibility. Different, unique, yet uncertain of where I truly belonged.

At the library, our grandmother assigned our respective areas. Predictably, I was sent to science fiction and Mythology, the two sections no one preferred to work in. But perhaps they were as solitary as I was.

As I immersed myself in the task, I plugged in my headphones and lost myself in classic R&B melodies. The science fiction section succumbed to my organizational prowess, while the mythology section remained a chaotic mess. Names like Moros and Nyx—gods and goddesses distant and ethereal—adorned the pages. Amid these pages, a particular name seized my attention: "Athene." Her image bore an uncanny resemblance to me. Curiosity piqued, I turned to her page, eager to uncover more about the goddess who shared my features.

Before I could delve into the words, a voice disrupted my thoughts. "Excuse me, do you have anything about the Poison Belt Trials, Princess?" His presence—black hair, captivating eyes, an air of intrigue—distracted me. In that moment, it seemed he was as mesmerized by me as I was by him. "The Poison Belt, Princess. Have you discovered anything in your research?" His gaze held mine, leaving me breathless.

My heartbeat quickened, and I offered a tentative smile. "I'm sorry," I finally managed. "I'm organizing the books... Please don't call me Princess." My words came out haltingly, my heart racing.

"I'm not researching. I'm organizing," I replied, my nerves betraying me. As he moved closer, an instinct to step away arose within me. "I need to find my grandma, Ms. Nicole. She'll know what you need."

He was an enigma, a distraction, and as I walked away, my curiosity lingered on the mysterious stranger. The day held more mysteries than I'd anticipated, and my thoughts raced ahead to the evening's adventures.

Upon returning home, the triplets initiated a makeover session. Makeup, sleek hair, manicures—it was a transformation they relished. I feigned enthusiasm, yet my mind remained preoccupied, captivated by the riddle of the library intruder.