But Pandora did naught save hide.
The first to arrive was a boy, no more than fifteen she’d have gauged, and flush with glee. His platinum hair flapped about in the island breeze, but it was his ice-blue eyes that seized her.
No. No, not this …
Zeus. Zeus as a boy.
He was trailed momentarily by a slightly older boy who looked an awful lot like him, save for a jagged scar across his nose and the first hints of a flaxen beard about his chin.
An older man followed, platinum haired himself, with a flowing beard. Another Kroniad. He was tall, bare-chested, and well-muscled. The older Titan surveyed the island, gaze seeming to scour every tree.
The hammering of her heart must surely give her away. It must reveal her and damn her.
“I know you’re here!” The older Titan bellowed. “I know who you are! I know what you are! Give me the Box and you may live.”
Now, her pounding heart actually seized up, missing a beat. The Box? How in the fuck did he know about that? How could he possibly know about that? The World once more shifted, her mind struggling to find purchase upon the compounding revelations. Others knew about her precious puzzle. Not that she had it at the moment—Prometheus had been adjusting it up in the cottage.
And these people were here for her, and for him, as well.
These Kroniads. So, this must be Kronos himself, father of Zeus and apparently this other boy. Kronos had been one of the winners of the Ambrosial War, though not so securely he managed to take Atlantis back from Atlas. Somehow, those two and four others worked out a deal to keep the Ambrosia flowing under their control.
At the moment, though, Atlas must seem his greatest foe. Perhaps he had come to try to wring advantage from Prometheus, as Atlas’s foster brother. Perhaps he had actually already known Pandora would be with Prometheus.
“Last warning, woman!” Kronos snapped. “Hand over the Box, or we take it.”
Even had she had it now, she’d not have dared give such a thing to him. Prometheus had made it for her, and she needed it if she had any chance of saving his future self from the torment Zeus inflicted upon him. Besides, she could not even harbor a guess at what Kronos would do with such a tool.
And her? Was that why they feared her? Because they knew or suspected that even Pandora, a mortal, could wreak unimaginable havoc should she learn to control a device that could send her through time at will.
Pandora kept to utter stillness. Instinct demanded she break into flight, but she could not outrun the Titans. Her only chance of escape lay in remaining concealed and awaiting her moment.
“Very well, then. Zeus, find the woman.” Kronos paused. “And be careful. She is more dangerous than she appears.” Huh. Well, that was news to Pandora. “Hades, with me, and bring the others. Prometheus offers a far greater threat still.”
Hades? Fucking god-of-the-dead Hades was Zeus’s big brother? That was … that was … Wasn’t he a ghost? Oh. Her mind was muddled. Obviously, he wasn’t a ghost as yet, but would become one in the way such things usually happened.
More and more Titans and Men had begun to fill the beach, surely the better part of the crews of all three ships. If not two hundred strong, close enough to make no difference.
“Isn’t all this a bit overkill for one Titan, Father?” Hades asked.
Kronos cast a hard look at his son. “That depends on whether he decides to cooperate or not. You underestimate him at your extreme peril. There are few more dangerous foes in the full ambit of the World.” Then he turned to the other son. “I want the woman alive, boy.”
Zeus shrugged as if he’d never countenance murder. As if it were the most foreign thing imaginable. As if he would not become history’s most sanguinary king.
Careful not to make the least sound, Pandora crept further and further away into the woods. She could not make for the slope or their cottage upon it. Not with all those people converging upon Prometheus. She had to imagine he would make it out of this, as she had seen him again, millennia later. Herself though … her future was aught but certain.
She needed to get away from Zeus. So she skirted around the edge of the mountain, out of the path of Kronos’s war band.
Her heart continued to pound its painful rhythm.
And once again, Zeus threatened to take from her all she loved in life.
22
Kirke
1576 Silver Age
Six years after leaving Ogygia, Kirke found herself walking off the gangplank of a bireme in Kronion’s harbor. Six years since she had last seen Athene, but their mother had summoned her, and Kirke would never refuse her. She might, had Athene herself sent for her, have made some excuse to avoid this trek. After all, Themiskyra had offered promising seclusion and the chance to study the effects of the moly at greater length, with only the occasional need to venture forth and spread the Nectar.
She couldn’t allow the demand for the substance to fade away completely and thus make it impossible to test future batches, after all.
Satchel over her shoulder, Kirke hopped from the plank and wended by a press of dockhands eager to unload cartons of Phrygian textiles out of Ilium. Such exotic fabrics might fetch a fair few drachmae here, where the aristoi were always trying to outdo one another with the latest fashions.
The Long Wall enclosed the harbor, and Kirke followed it toward the city proper, ignoring the maze of side streets and alleys branching off from the breezeway. At a multitude of small stalls, merchants hawked ceramics and fruits
