Goddess of Troy

III

P i l l a r s

This part of the Pantheon was much larger. And uncharted.

The glorious church stood strong and proud of it's history. It's carvings were deep and detailed. Helena trailed after her mother, tucking a stray blonde curl behind her with one hand as the other gripped onto the beaded material of her dress, hearing the clicking sound as her heels met the concrete steps that led to the Pantheon.

As if they were unseen, Helena and Alethea swiftly strolled through a barrier that stopped the humans from trespassing. "How does that thing work?" Catching up with her mother, Helena pointed back at the invisible wall, shocked. "-How come no one noticed us?"

"It's called The Fog. Everyone of us has it with us, nobody can see us. The wall was built there so Roman gods and offsprings can have private meetings and celebrations.   No one can see us if we don't want them to."  Alethea's eyes stayed straight ahead, taking long strides as if she were competing in a fast walking race.   Helena's feet ached from her new shoes.

"Jump," Alethea had no longer been beside Helena.  The voice had come from above, where rectangle hollows were dented into the dome's circular roof.   Unsure, Helena attempted to jump but merely left half a meter of the ground.  She huffed and titled her head back question her mother, "How?"

Alethea stared back down at her daughter, "Imagine it and focus."  Helena sucked a breath in and shut her eyes, imagined and focused that she had jumped onto the ledge.

Exhaling and leaping, Helena touched down onto the slab that stuck out from the roof.  The train of her dress flowered from the jump. "Well done," her mother praised her, "Not bad for someone who has had no training, not bad at all."

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He watched the girl with the golden locks as she paced up the stairs of the Pantheon. Demi. He thought. His eyes flickered with jolts of electricity. The girl was graceful with her every move, even when she had tried to jump. Her landing was soft but inexperienced. He had watched the girl and her mother enter the celebration and soon followed closely behind them.

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Helena's mother had reunited with her husband, who was chatting up a storm near the entrance. The two of then had seemed so happy to see each other but were yet so remote.

Sliding off her shoes, Helena watched as the sun went down from the balcony. The sky was in maleficent shades of pinks, oranges and reds. And as the sun bid it's farewells, the stars came out to dance while they enjoyed the company of the evening-blue skies.

"Helena,"  Her mother called out,  "come in and meet everyone."  Her olive tinted hands pleaded her to go back inside the hall where everyone else were.

Helena was usually fine with tiny confined spaces, it made her feel safe, but this time it was different. Everybody tried to get a good look at her, greeting and putting their hands on her, dragging her so they could have a chat. She had felt extremely claustrophobic. The people were polite and welcoming but too touchy for Helena's liking.

Excused from one of the many round tables that scattered neatly around the hall, Helena walked in a steady pace, trying not to throw up, over to the open. Night air brushed her cheeks filling them with some colour. She had let out a sigh of relief and satisfaction.