Atalanta

Part 1

• Y/N •

People tell stories in my land of the gods.

Gods and goddesses; beings of great power who look down at our world and sneer or smile, depending on the day. They are fearsome, omnipotent creatures made of stardust and blood; they gave breath to us humans and, if they desired, they could take it away. We humans are not meant to challenge such beings, only bend to their will.

Before everything happened, I did not believe in the gods. I say did, because now things are different. Now, my opinions have changed. It would be hard for them not to, given all I have seen. Before, I imagined by not giving the deities my attention, I made myself invincible.

I was wrong.

This is rambling, though – words mean nothing without context and context is where the story begins. This one starts, as many things do, at the beginning.

I am running.

Feet pounding over the White Plains of Ore, I dash through the meadow, crushing bland stalks of wheat with my toes. The White Plains are one of the six Noble Sights of the Realm, and Dietas – my Province – is lucky enough to have two. The other four Provinces only have one.

The White Plains of Ore, the Great Lagoon of Inn, the High Cliff of Ja, the Crevice of Sur, the Gold Peak of Cas and the Deep Hole of Kom. All are considered spectacular, all are deemed beautiful but to me, the White Plains of Ore have always been a little more so.

Their surface is flat, far and if you do not fall into the Crevice of Sur, I imagine you could run off the planet itself. Or, so the legends say. I have yet to determine the validity of this but perhaps, today is the day. Feet flying beneath me, I grit my teeth and imagine myself as an arrow. Swift, cutting and unstoppable by man.

Today, I decide – today is the day I run off the end of the world.

Even as I pretend, I know it cannot happen. Weights encircle my ankles, keep me flat on the ground and as I slow, coming to a stop, I stare up at the sky. If I looked behind me, I would see the source of my turmoil.

Dietas: its sparkling spires pierce the azure blue of the heavens; a beautiful Province set at the edge of the sea. It is my home, my land, my people – and my kingdom over which I will one day will rule.

Wind grazes my cheek, urging me further up, further in. I do not follow its call.

Instead, I turn to gaze at the field. The White Plains of Ore are miraculous, in that they are always steadfastly the same. No matter the season, no matter the weather, their pure stalks of wheat remain upright and pure. Brushing a finger over a bristle, my pulse thuds jaggedly against my veins.

Running has always been a release for me. Ever since birth, I have longed for the wind in my blood, my thoughts and my skin. Without the breeze in my hair, I think I would go mad, but the day is already late, the sun midway towards the horizon and I must leave. I must.

As I turn, a glimmer of silver catches my eye. The light winks, holding my attention and I frown in response. This far into the plains, there should not be any structures. It would be disrespectful for someone to build in the middle of a Noble Sight such as this. But as I move forward and more is revealed, this is exactly what I find – a structure.

Slim columns stand beneath a tall, marbled roof and the entire length of the temple is wrapped in a thorny embrace. Coming to a stop, I attempt to comprehend the strangeness of its presence.

The lawn before it is neat and manicured, the same deep green as its vines. The rest of the temple is either dead white, or silver. It seems to have always been here, as though it has been grown from the ground and yet – I would have seen it before. I have run these plains more than anyone else and I have never once come across such a place.

Hesitantly, I step inside. The floor beneath me is cool, but not unpleasantly so and as I walk, I reach to slowly unbind my hair. For some reason, I feel struck by the silence. The lack of noise is expectant, reverent – this, from someone who does not believe in the gods. Despite this, I reach the end of its pews and lower both knees to the floor. It seems the right thing to do, in a location so cavernous.

Whispers drift from the eaves, winding up from the floor. As I stare, I see the ceiling above me is open to the sky. It feels like a prayer, being here and so, unsure what else to do – I try.

"Goddess," I say, only to frown. That was not what I intended but now that I have spoken, it feels undeniably right. This is the home of a goddess. "I don't know what to say. Why have you brought me here?"

Because there is no other logical explanation. This temple did not exist yesterday, and I cannot determine why it would now. Straining to listen, the wind seems to whisper. It grazes my cheek, murmuring unintelligible epithets in my ear.

"I – my desires?" I open my eyes. The temple is empty, apart from myself. "Are you asking me... what I wish?"

Again, come the whispers. Flutters of laughter, of crying, of singing – I hear it all, but none of it seems linear until a string appears in the madness.

"You wish... for purity..."

Stomach swooping, it plummets straight to the floor. I stare in terror at the vines snaking the walls – rather than nurture, they seem to tear down the structure. I know precisely whose sanctity this is.

"Artemis?" I whisper, looking up.

The breeze which, before was gentle, swirls in indigence. Despite the desire to be worshiped, the gods and goddesses do not like being addressed by name. Looking again at the floor, I splay one hand to its coldness.

"You wish to be free," the same voice whispers, fierce and womanly. "You wish to have the shackles of manhood cast from your life. You wish to run, dear one, do you not?"

Staring at the marble, my eyes widen in understanding. Artemis is famed as the goddess of maidens and virtue. She will protect her followers as her own, with her life, but demands a hard bargain in turn. Chastity. Maidenhood. Should her followers disobey, their lives are forfeit to hers.

Swallowing, I consider because despite the uncertainty, her offer is tempting. Oh, it is so very tempting. It is what I have longed for, what I have dreamt of ever since I could walk. To be free, to run wild through these hills – I continue staring at the floor, though now my eyes water.

"What of my engagement?"

The wind above me falls silent. This is the reason why, despite my urge to run free, I have not considered removing my shackles. I am engaged. I have been since birth, since the only lawful way to inherit my throne is with a consort by my side. I need a King to fill the second lapis throne of my Province. It is because of my love for Dietas I am willing to sacrifice myself and marry a man I do not love.

No, I do not love Menelaus, despite him being my betrothed. I have no interest in him beyond the bindings of law.

A feather-light finger grazes my jaw, forcing my gaze up. I stare at the sky, spiraled above and feel an odd sort of certainty in my mind.

"I gift you talent," the voice whispers. "You will be the fastest in the land, regardless of age, size or gender. I gift you this to outrun your troubles and in turn," the voice hardens, grip on my chin vice-like, "you are mine."

Trembling, I nod. It does not seem so awful, to loosen one chain and bind myself to another. At least, this new demand is not as fearsome as the last. Artemis wishes my virtue – that is fine, she can have it. There is no one else I wish to give it to.

Not yet, whispers another voice, but I push this away. That is a worry for another day, another morning and I cannot concern myself with it right now. Pushing myself upwards, I stare at the altar before me.

"What do I do now?" I ask, realizing I have no clear direction.

Artemis has granted me speed; given me protection, but there is still no explanation as to what must happen. As far as I know, I am still engaged. As far as I know, I am still held captive by law.

A soft laugh fills the space, sending a thrill down my spine. "Now, dear princess," she whispers. "We play."