Chanel Hastings & The Treasures of Aphrodite Book 1: The Magic Girdle

Chapter 16: An Apple A Day Keeps The Evil Rooster Horse Away

OOTD: A baby-blue fleece long-sleeve, and my winter stuff.

Makeup: None, sadly.

Hairstyle: Decided to wear my hair loose today.

Fragrance: The smell of worry.

Dear Diary,

This dream wasn't like the others.

Rather than ending up in an ancient Greek setting, I was instead floating in a sort of weird dream area, like an astronaut in space. I was surrounded by a jungle of twine, and several feet away from me stood a girl in a white chiton, with a soft halo of rose gold light around her.

At first, my sight of the girl was kind of blurry, but when my vision cleared up, I recognized her brown braid and the ball of twine she was holding, which sourced all the twine floating around me.

It was Peitho, one of Aphrodite's immortal daughters. Her eyes were fixed on me, and they were full of fear and worry.

"Chanel!" she called out. Her voice sounded distant, like it was several miles away. "Chanel, can you hear me?"

I fumbled around, trying to get closer to her, but for whatever reason, I was stuck where I was and couldn't move.

"I'm here!" I responded. "I can't get closer, but I'm here! I can hear you!"

"Hurry!"

"Hurry? Hurry for what?"

"Mother's power has started to wane!" cried Peitho. "She is losing her strength in the absence of her kestos himas! You must retrieve it soon!"

Panic quickly took over me.

'Kestos himas' meant embroidered girdle...indicating that Mom was weakening without her girdle present. A memory of Chiron's words about gods being separated from their symbols of power for too long flashed through my mind.

"I'm sorry, Peitho!" I called back. "I'm really trying my best!"

I expected to hear a reply, but I was only met with silence. The image of Peitho started to distort, and was eventually replaced by a mirror with a golden frame.

There was a vision taking form in the mirror. It was a scene of a woman...no, a goddess, sitting on a red velvet Rococo-style chaise. She was in a pink silk robe, laying her head on the shoulder of a god dressed in a black leather biker outfit and black shades. The goddess looked weary and uncomfortable, like she had a bad case of the flu. Nearby nymphs were offering her glasses of a golden, sparkling liquid, while the biker god beside her rubbed her shoulder and kissed her hair.

To my surprise, a group of goddesses who looked just like the Charites stood in the background, watching the goddess with sympathy and concern. They were accompanied by a young boy with tan skin and a pair of small, white, angel wings emerging from his back.

"Hang in there, love," the biker-god whispered in a soothing tone. "I'm sure she'll get the girdle soon."

The winged god scoffed. "Will she? Not only is she taking her sweet time, getting distracted by silly parties..." he began, shooting the Charites a pointed look, "...but she doesn't seem to have much of a warrior's spirit. We should have sent one of the others, like Drew, or Nnenna."

"Enough, Himeros," hissed Antheia. "You know the Fates chose Chanel for a reason. You just need to trust that it was in your mother's favour."

"How can it be in Mother's favor?" Himeros challenged her. "She is the daughter of a mortal who dared to insult my beloved mother, a daughter she still has not claimed. If anything, the Fates sent Chanel as a way to punish Aphrodite!"