The Tetractys sat cross-legged on the summit of Olympus, counting aloud.
“One and two. Two and three. Three and four.”
One and two. Two and three. Three and four.
Over and over he counted, trying to lose himself in the sacred numbers so he could forget what was about to happen to his friend Theo.
He watched his siblings wind their way up the slope beneath him, each one an ant carrying its own heavy burden.
Guilt, shame, grief, loneliness, weakness, despair.
He had tried to doff those loads time and again, to forget the past and make his way in the ever-changing mortal world. But his family had suffered. Even those who still retained their youth today would eventually fade away entirely. His family was dying.
The Tetractys couldn’t let that happen.
He’d always been a Trickster, but he was a Helper, a Shepherd, and a Giver of Good Things, too. The Father had given him a chance to help his family when they could not help themselves.
For years, the Tetractys had worked with the Father on this plan, although he didn’t want to admit that. His siblings would know how long he’d lied to them, and they’d find it harder to forgive him when they learned of the sacrifices that had been made along the way—not to mention the one still to come.
In a few minutes, everything he’d worked for and dreamed of for so long would finally become reality. He’d rushed to the summit, unable to wait any longer, and anxious to make sure the other Athanatoi were still in place. His instincts had served him well—Hera was about to back out when he arrived. Despite her complete lack of mountaineering skills, the woman who called herself June had started climbing down the summit on her own, claiming something didn’t feel right, and she should never have agreed to come in the first place. It had taken all his famed skills of persuasion to convince her to stay.
Now his hands shook with excitement—and trepidation. This is my moment of triumph, he knew. We will all enter the new Age together.
Yet he couldn’t help wondering if his family would see it that way. Selene certainly wouldn’t—not when the man she loved had to die to make it happen.
He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a set of reed pipes. I am the Tetractys. I am the perfect number, he reminded himself. I am the harmonies that will remake the world.
“One and two. Two and three. Three and four,” he counted as he played the sacred notes. Over and over until his own guilt floated away on the wings of melody.