A Shrine to an Unknown God

BLAZING-EYED GLORY

AT HIGH NOON, the sun shines directly through the center of the Temple of Apollo, this golden beam of light, a shining beacon of the god's good fortune. This was done purposefully, in order to remind the meek, powerless, mortal public of the sun-god's power and beauty.

It's an ornate temple, painted extravagantly in vivid, lurid colors, electric cobalt blues and violent bloody reds and yellows like the heat of the sun. It makes me dizzy to look at, and hurts my eyes like I am staring directly into the sun. Located on the edge of the beach, right where the sand meets the earth.

I don't even need to pray to summon him; my presence at his temple is enough. The second I step foot on its marble steps he materializes in front of me, slowly, forming in my vision like a sun spot.

I'm alone other than him. My mother insisted I go to the temple on my own. Because of the fact that if I don't kill the child, Apollo will kill her, I didn't put up a fight.

Antigone, he purrs. I knew you'd eventually come to your senses.

I fumble for my sword, out of instinct more than anything, half-expecting it to be missing. To my surprise, it still hangs at my side.

So who is it? Which of the Americans is going to... see you in your glory today? Your sword-wielding, blazing-eyed glory?

"Dahlia Boivin-Rot is your daughter, O great one."

He nods, slowly, and clasps his hands together.

Dahlia appears in mid-air, only to immediately come crashing down. Her Dahlia clothes are missing, replaced with a simple wool tunic, like that of the lower class. Her eyes are wild and darting, her skin clammy with sweat. As she crashes to the ground she leaps to her feet, sand flying out beneath her.

"Please don't kill me!" she sobs wildly, throwing her arms around my neck. "Antigone, please don't—you can't!—it isn't me! I'm not his daughter! I—I can't be! You can't kill me, Antigone, you have to listen to me! I'm human! I'm normal! I'm mortal! Please, please, Antigone, please just look at me... we've had sleepovers together, you held my pet snake. I showed you High School Musical. You can't kill me. We're... we're bros."

I whisper into her ear: "You're a god. You need to kill him."

She holds her head backwards, forcing me to look at her. Her eyes are wide as the Florida sky, and all white. "I can't—"

"You can." I insist through gritted teeth. Then, loud enough for Apollo to hear: "I'm sorry, but it's the only way. You must die."

Dahlia's eyes explode with tears. She sinks to her knees, her body racked with violent trembles, clutching at her chest. "You can't—you can't kill me, oh, my God, I'm not gonna die, I'm not gonna die, please, please, please, you can't do this, Antig—you know this isn't right, you can't do this, please, you—you can't! You just can't, okay? Please, I'm begging you—"

"Dahlia, Dahlia, Dahlia! Listen to me!" I crash to the earth alongside her and cup her face in my hands. "I'm not going to hurt you. You need to kill him." Then, louder: "I'm sorry, but I have to do this." Through my teeth: "If you don't, all of us are going to die, and so is my mom." I unsheath my sword. Apollo can't think I'm having second thoughts. "Now," I order her, gesturing to my sword with my chin.

Dahlia gasps, her eyes going even wider. She falls backwards onto her butt. She's still trembling, a deer caught in the headlights. This is Dahlia we're talking about, after all.

For a second I wish Marisol was the child, or even Ezra. Anyone but Dahlia. I love her to death, but she isn't the kind of girl that can kill a god.

None of them are, really, but she has to be the least likely of the three of them to be capable of committing such an... act.

Not that they're weak; no, it's the opposite, really. Their strength comes from their heart, from their softness. From the love that they have and the warmth that they bring.

"Now," I whisper to Dahlia. "Please."