Blessings from Khaos

|My Soul Chose Yours|

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Attempted Sexual Assault & Implied/Reference Rape

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Jason, Medea, and Drew climbed the hill that led towards the palace of Odysseús in Ithakē. Hērmês smiled at the sight of his great-grandson's palace. White-washed stucco walls lined with balconies rose three stories high and columned porticoes faced the central atrium, which had a huge fountain and bronze braziers. At a dozen banquet tables, ghouls laughed and ate and pushed one another around. It was like a spectral mirage of the palace as it appeared in its heyday. A quick glance over showed Kírkē also smiling softly; her hand brushing against her kháos-mark where Tēlemakhos' name was imprinted in her skin.

They were of course at bit irritated to know that the place was being infiltrated by the suitors of Pēnelópeia; at least their ghosts. Hundreds of spirits were milling about, chasing spectral serving girls, smashing plates and cups, and basically making a nuisance of themselves. Kírkē's fingers twitched as if she was a moment away from summoning her son and husband to avenge their Father's lands.

Percy and Octavian were listening to Annabeth as the girl helped them rebuild strength in their arms and legs after their trip through hell while she was simultaneously helping Leo with a few upgrades around the ship. It was actually a very intriguing thing as Octavian had shown her how the seiðmaðr in the viking age were able to weave prophecy through threads in similar light of the Moirai. The girl had no skill in prophecy, but when she and Octavian worked together, the tapestries moved with Fate. It was because of this skill though that the other three had been chosen to infiltrate the place. No matter which way the thread was weaved, no matter how many times Octavian scried or utilize his prophetic vision; at least before Pū́thōn overtook Delphoí, and no matter how many times that Drew looked through the tarot cards.... the result ended the same way.

Jason, Medea, and Drew would face the remnants of their past if they wanted answers to continue to Greece.

To where Hērmês could sense the boundaries surrounding reality slowly begin to thin.

His attention focused back on the screen when he took note of good ol' Antinous, still with the arrow in his throat, as he paraded around the centre of the atrium, holding a marble bust of Father over his head like a sports trophy.

'Our next offering!' Antinous shouted, his voice buzzing from the arrow in his throat. 'Let us feed the Earth Mother!'

The shades yelled and pounded their cups as the damnable ghoul made his way to the central fountain where a geyser of sand spewed upward, arcing into an umbrella-shaped curtain of white particles before spilling into the circular basin.

Hērmês would see him thrown in Tártara for his actions.

The crowd parted, and the ghoul heaved the marble bust into the fountain. As soon as Father's head passed through the shower of sand, the marble disintegrated like it was going through a woodchipper. The sand glittered gold, the colour of ichor. Then the entire mountain rumbled with a muffled BOOM, as if belching after a meal.

The dead partygoers roared with approval.

'Any more statues?' the ghoul shouted to the crowd. 'No? Then I guess we'll have to wait for some real gods to sacrifice!'

His comrades laughed and applauded as the ghoul plopped himself down at the nearest feast table.

Jason clenched his walking stick. 'That guy just disintegrated my dad. Who does he think he is?'

'I'm guessing that's Antinous,' said Drew, 'one of the suitors' leaders. If I remember right, it was Odysseus who shot him through the neck with that arrow.'