Sweet Legacy

has? I’ve lost my keys plenty of times, but I never lost the door to my place—well, except for when it blew up. But I still knew where it was, technically.

“Few knew its location in the first place,” Ursula says with the serenity of the most patient being ever on planet Earth. She doesn’t let on that this is, like, the tenth time she’s gone over the same facts. “For the obvious reasons, the fewer who knew how to reach the abyss, the better.”

“Yeah,” I reply. “That makes sense.”

“Then those of us who knew—those who eagerly awaited the prophesied days of the Key Generation—tried to maintain our distance, so as not to draw attention.”

I nod. “Yeah, fine. I get that.”

They didn’t want the bad guys to find the door so they could try to break the seal by themselves or be there to kill us when we did.

“And then the human world grew up around it.” She makes a sweeping gesture, meant to encompass this room, this building, this neighborhood, and even the entire city. “The landscape changed. The land itself changed. Even those who knew what the location once looked like would not recognize the spot now.”

“I don’t get—”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Gretchen,” Greer snaps. “Does it really matter why or how? The bottom line is the same: we don’t know where the door is. No one does. We have to find it before we can open it.”

“Fine!” I glare at my sister. She certainly has a feisty streak. If we weren’t in the middle of a mythological crisis—with her sitting dead center—I might compliment her fire. Right now, I just want answers. I ask the gorgons, “Tell me what you remember about it.”

They both shrug.

“It was so very long ago,” Sthenno says.

Ursula adds, “And so very much has changed.”

“I get that,” I say, trying not to roll my eyes. I could really use some of Ursula’s patience right now. “But you must remember something? Anything, even the tiniest detail, might help. Was it big or small? Red or black?”

Sthenno laughs, almost a snort. “The door is not, in fact, a door,” she says. “It is more of a location.”

“What do you mean?”

“It is not a physical portal,” Sthenno says.

“It is just a place where the realms connect,” Ursula explains. “It could be anywhere—in a park, a building, or the middle of a street.”

Greer rubs her forehead. She must be as confused as I am.

“There must be some way to identify it,” I say. “We can’t just wander around the streets of San Francisco hoping to stumble onto it.”

“No, of course not,” Ursula replies. “There are ways.”

“We just don’t know what those ways are,” Sthenno adds. “When we guarded the door, it was defined by stone markers.”

I perk up. That’s something.

“Sadly,” Ursula says, “those markers are long gone.”

Damn it. Just once in this mess I’d like to catch a break.

“What about our mother?” Greer asks, dropping her hand from her temple. “Whoever put you in the dungeons thinks she can find it.”

“Why would the godly faction think that?” Ursula replies.

“I had a vision of you being tortured,” Greer explains, taking Thane’s hand like she needs the support. “The man wielding the lash asked you where she was, said that she would know how to find the door.”

“And our friends in the abyss said Olympus was looking for our mother,” I add. “That’s why Grace came back to search for her.”

Ursula looks confused, but Sthenno just shakes her head.

“It is not your mother who Olympus seeks,” she says.

“It’s not?” I ask.

“No.” Sthenno crosses her legs. “It is the oracle.”

“The oracle?” I echo. “As in my oracle? The one who told my fortune four years ago and told me where to find you last week? That oracle?”

Sthenno nods.

“Yes,” Ursula replies. “The very same.”

I ask, “Why?”

“Because,” Ursula explains, “she has powers that will render this entire war obsolete.”

This seems like information I should have known before now.

I cross my arms over my chest. “What does that mean? I thought she only told futures.”

“An oracle is so much more,” Sthenno replies.

“At our invitation, she was there at the original sealing,” Ursula explains. “She witnessed the ritual and contributed words of her own to the ceremony.”

“She is responsible for the prophecy about the Key Generation,” Sthenno adds. “She wove in the threads that led to you.”

The door was sealed centuries ago—millennia ago. I try to imagine the oracle, the little old woman with the flowing robes and the dusty old storefront, being alive and well and participating in the sealing ritual. I knew she was old, but I didn’t know she was ancient.

“An oracle with enough power can create futures,” Ursula says.

“Or if not create them, at least direct them.” Sthenno rolls her shoulders like she’s trying to loosen a tight muscle. “This oracle is one of the most powerful who ever lived.”

“Because her magic is entwined in the very fabric of the prophecy,” Ursula says with a grave tone, “it can also be used to unravel it all. She is the only one who can alter the prophecy.”

“If the monster faction wants her,” Sthenno says, “they believe they can use her to reverse the seal without the Key Generation.”

“Can they?” Greer asks.

“They have tried for millennia,” Sthenno replies.

“Until recently, I would have said no,” Ursula says, “but the magic is weakening in preparation for the fulfillment of the prophecy. Perhaps now they might actually succeed.”

To think the oracle could—with a snap of her gnarled fingers—undo this whole mess. . . . It might have been nice if she’d mentioned that. And it’s not like she’s around to tell me now.

“I don’t think she can help us,” I say. “She’s been missing for weeks. We searched the entire city and didn’t turn up a clue.”

The two gorgons exchange a worried glance.

“She must be found,” Sthenno says.

“There were signs of foul play at her storefront.” I picture the destruction Nick and I found at her place. “Her furniture was busted up, and there were drag marks on the floor. What if she was taken?”

They could already be using her, torturing her into changing the prophecy.

“She left her pendant,” Sthenno argues.

Ursula nods. “She has gone into hiding.”

“I can look for her,” Greer says. “Now that I know how to control my power, maybe I can find her in a vision.”

“No!” the gorgons shout at once.

Greer jerks back, stunned by their vehement response.

“What?” I ask, confused. They should be happy that my sister is honing her second sight. “Why not?”

Ursula lays a hand over Greer’s on the table. “With the connection to Apollo in place,” she explains, “any attempt to seek out a vision allows the full breadth of his power into your mind.”

Yeah, that doesn’t sound good. The last thing I would want is some god peeking around in my thoughts. I don’t know how Greer stands it.