I’ve stood at the edge of the abyss before. Many times.
Above the labyrinth, the entrance to the Underworld, in Arachne’s lair, and even in Tartarus.
But I’ve never felt such cold, sinking fear like I do now.
The alleyway has gone deathly silent, as if all the mice and crickets have fled for another city altogether. Even the sounds of Troy’s celebration are nothing more than a dull murmur in the distance.
Everything screams at me to leave, to continue my search for my brothers and Nyx. Instead, I take a step toward the darkness. Pulling the Adamantine sword from its sheath, I take another step. Then another, until the shadows swallow me whole.
Unlike the wet filth coating the walls of the labyrinth, this place is pristine. Untouched. Not even a layer of dust coats the immaculate marble walls of the corridor I march down. My steps do not echo here. No, the air is tight. I find it hard to breathe.
When I stop, the shadows press closer around me as if curious. I force myself to take a deep, steady breath. Rolling back my shoulders, I continue on with more speed to my steps.
This is no labyrinth or twisting abyss. There are turns, yes, but no real choices. There is one path, with the only choice being: continue on, or turn around while you still can.
On and on, deeper into Troy I traverse. The jet-black marble hallway has a downward tilt. The air is somehow warm, not colder, the farther down I walk. Soon, I’m sweating, clothes clinging to my body and hand slick around the hilt of my sword until, finally, I arrive.
I’ve seen this room before. Prometheus brought me here. When I step into the tomb, oil lamps in every corner burst to life with purple flames. At the far end, a single pyxis stands tall on a pillar of onyx marble. The walls are more frescoes, this time painted in only black and white. I don’t have to peer close to see what image they form.
The Titanomachy, starting with the titan Cronus killing his own father, Uranus, with a sickle. His blood sprays far and wide, and everywhere it lands a new titan is born. As Uranus dies and Cronus takes up the mantle of King of the Titans, his father makes one last prophecy: that all Cronus’s children will rise up to overthrow him.
So the new king eats his children, one after the other, until none remain, save for Zeus, whose mother, Rhea, has taken to a cave. Once the god of lightning comes of age, he overthrows his father and frees his siblings.
Cronus lived on, and a war raged. Zeus and his siblings versus the titans. When enough of their own kin defected, eventually the titans were struck down, trapped in Tartarus while the gods claimed their thrones atop Olympus.
But that can’t be right. I was in Tartarus, and the titans most definitely were not.
The other side of the room paints a much different story. It starts with the birth of the Hesperides, as Hermes told me. Three trees become one in an explosion of white and black tiles.
Titans and gods form a circle around the now interlocking trees. The next panel shows the birth of the world as I’ve been told, and yet a new beginning entirely. The sun rises and Helios chases it. The trees bloom and Demeter arrives to cultivate the fruit instead of nurturing it to life. The sea stirs, a great storm rising above an island, and both Oceanus and Poseidon rise to hold it at bay. Two titans I cannot name stand above a crowd of mortals.
And set them all aflame.
I gasp, covering a hand with my mouth.
Then the next panel shows the gods gathering together. Poseidon and Athena meet a nameless titan atop a sea cliff.
And drown him together.
Next, the gods form a circle, even Apollo with his unmistakable shoulders and face. I could recognize him even in a sea of a thousand people. Hermes stands at one side of him, Artemis at his other. They are joined by gods I don’t recognize, and a few titan allies. They lock hands as the remaining titans lash out with weapons and elements. The following panel is all black, and I hurry on to the next one.
The circle of gods remains, with a few titans taking up their hands, but in the center stands a tall, narrow jar.
Exactly like the pyxis beside me.
Horror creeps up my spine.
The wall wasn’t meant to protect what the gods had hidden in Troy. It was meant to contain it.
“You understand now, don’t you?”
Nyx, with skirts made of shadow and long claws extending from each finger like daggers, blocks the entrance of the tomb.
“Understand what?” I dare to ask.
She gives me a disappointed look. “What is inside Pandora’s jar.
It wasn’t the evils of the world, nor hope, as Zeus had Prometheus proclaim.” Nyx cocks her head. She’s not even looking at me. Instead, she focuses on the jar hungrily. “But, rather, my family.”
“The gods are your family, too,” I choke out.
“Though these panels paint a cleaner picture than the stories Zeus likes to let the mortals believe, they are also not the complete truth. I bet Hermes told you a fair amount.” Her shoulders seem to sag, and her nails retract to normal, mortal size. “Gods and titans from all over the world came together at the Hesperides. We were once all mortals ourselves, and the trees gave us the very powers we wield today. But some gods got greedy. Some, as Hermes also no doubt told you, did not see the mortals as merely a lesser species. We saw them for what they truly are.”
“You used us as playthings,” I spit, grip tightening on the sword. “You would torture and kill all of us. We were nothing but slaves.”
“Yes, Helots with little value other than to serve us.” Her laugh is nothing sweet.
“Why here?” I wave to the tomb.
“Zeus thought he was so clever hiding them here.” Disgust curls the goddess’s lips. “He cursed that doorway you so stupidly opened, so that it could only be opened by one with titan blood.”
I blanch. “That’s why Apollo would never tell me who my father was.” My hands and cheeks feel numb. “Because, if Zeus thought I knew how to open those doors, that I had the power to, he would have killed me.”
She nods, the movement strangely sage with her maniacally twisted face. “Going to Hermes to make yourself immune to Olympian magic was either a stroke of genius or luck.” She considers me. “Probably the latter.”
I’m only slightly offended.
“Now that you’ve done the hard part of finding the tomb and opening it—for which I am truly grateful—I need you to get out of my way.” She points over my shoulder. “It is time to reunite with my family.”
“I don’t agree with Zeus’s methods,” I say, angling my body so that it is firmly between her and the pyxis. “But neither will I let you free the titans.”
They will kill the Olympians in revenge for their imprisonment and turn on the mortals who have forgotten them. It will be complete carnage on every plane of this world.
“No, I didn’t expect you to hand them over to me.” She straightens. Her hair becomes shorter, more curled and lightening in color to a warm brown. Her eyes fade from red to gray and her pale skin darkens to a tan. The image flickers, at war with the gift I received from Hermes that allows me to see through the gods’ deception.
Helen’s voice leaves Nyx’s lips at the same time as her own. “But you will give it to him.”
A ring, small and gold, appears in the shimmering air beside her. I blink, and then my brother appears. He holds the Ring of Gyges.