Chapter 1.1

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Appearance was everything. With the right clothes—the right look—one could fool anyone into thinking they held the universe in the palm of their hand. Even if their knees were shaking.

Vatra had lived long enough to trick hundreds. She'd deceived kings and queens, gods and mortals alike. There wasn't a lie she couldn't hold together with a good ensemble.

Most importantly, though, it was the confidence. If there was a shred of doubt, the lie would unravel.

If Vatra was completely honest, she would have found herself crawling on hands and knees in the midst of dozens of gods instead of standing with her head high. She would have darted her gaze around, unsure and wary, and not kept an even look ahead. Her breath would have been caught in her throat, hushed and frightened.

Rather, it was the gods around her that were quiet. They watched her with unmistakable esteem. A phoenix on the same level.

Vatra's pride swelled in her chest. She didn't let the emotion travel to her blank expression. It was her intention to appear bored.

The grand hall spanned well until the backdrop faded into a muddle of grays and black. Stone archways and staircases broke off from the main stone platform. Vatra restrained herself from glancing at the haphazard staircases swirling in odd angles and impossible directions above her head, twirling and turning up into an evidently never-ending ceiling.

Statues had been carved into the stone as well. Just as the curious structures had been whittled away with a careful hand, so had minutely detailed images of thousands of faces.

I can't believe I'm in the hall of gods, Vatra thought. She couldn't contain her curiosity, daring a dart of her eyes as a chisel and hammer tapped delicately not far from her.

Another face added to the hall. A god memorialized for the others to remember. Dead, alive. It didn't matter. They were all being added one by one.

An endless mission.

Vatra exhaled slowly and drew her eyes back to the focus of her attention. Three thrones at the end of the platform, each as extravagant as the next. The thrones towered high. Spires of some type of black stone deeper than onyx criss-crossed at their backs. The color was so purely black that it swallowed the light from overhead, and it drew the breath from Vatra's lungs, too.

Stopping short of the thrones, Vatra steadied on her feet. She looked over the thrones, their broad chairs empty. It wasn't like she was shocked to see no one in them, as it was apparent there wasn't anyone at the thrones from the moment she started her walk across the platform.

Still, Vatra couldn't help but feel unease at seeing an empty throne. She wondered if whoever was supposed to be in them didn't truly consider her important enough to greet in person.

The shuffling of boots behind her shook away Vatra's doubts.

I'm not alone in this.

Hisato stepped up to her left and Enyalius and Geb moved just to her right. The others closed the distance behind them. Nat and Revna were just at her back while Set and Fulgora took up the rear. A practical choice in their placement. Appearance was everything, after all. Even the presentation of those she was with.

"Don't they know about punctuality?" Hisato whispered. He folded his arms, plucking at the folded up sleeves of his maroon flightsuit.

"These gods think they're above us," Enyalius said. "Don't take it personally." Enyalius leaned over and prodded Vatra with his elbow.

Scoffing, Vatra rolled her eyes. She caught the spectating gods moving through the shadows in her peripherals. They edged about the stone stairs as if crowding around a stadium.

"I'm not waiting for pompous gods," Vatra grumbled. "They can send their invite again when they're ready to actually talk." She turned on her heel and waited for Revna and Nat to part.

They didn't budge.

"I don't think it's a good idea to leave," Revna said. Her hair was tightly braided back, the runes at her hairline even more visible than usual. Dark liner encircled her eyes. She'd made it a point to play the part, too.

Vatra chewed her lip and watched the nods of agreement from Set and Fulgora with vexation. Even Nat, as little as her opinion mattered to Vatra compared to the others, nodded. She looked over her shoulder and narrowed her eyes at the smug grin on Enyalius' face.

"Let's wait out these pompous gods. What else do we have to do?" Enyalius mused.

Turning back around, Vatra took her place at the front of the group. "I don't know, look for Spyro?"

"Which is why we're here, isn't it?" Hisato offered, his voice of reason taking the bite off Vatra's rising temper. "The gods can offer help, if we need it. We need all the allies we can get around here. With the mortals against us, and not many friends amongst the other worlds, we're fighting two fronts right now."

"I hardly count Ares as one front," Vatra muttered.

Both Hisato and Enyalius looked at her with fire behind their eyes. She could feel the sting of a slap to the back of her head, though neither of their hands needed to be raised. Blowing a raspberry, Vatra folded her arms and impatiently tapped her fingers along her forearms.

Admittedly, Vatra had been reluctant to accept the gods' invitation when it had been sent to the Agkistrodon. She'd thought it a ruse from Hephaestus or even Ares.

Until Geb, Set and Fulgora spoke on behalf of the hall of gods. It had been a safe haven for those that had escaped Earth's destruction. A world they had crafted into their own. The gods of the storm hadn't seen the world themselves, though, and had heard of it from other prisoners on the transport ship.

Vatra was understandably skeptical. She didn't like the fact that none of them had actually been in the hall of gods. And, the message was vague.

We want to meet to discuss Hephaestus, the message said. That could have meant anything. Did they agree with his betrayal?

A strange sound emanated from somewhere overhead. The familiar, but situationally odd, noise almost broke Vatra's composure. She turned with an even expression and watched a crow as large as a wolf descend from the darkness above.

Enyalius stifled a laugh.

"I take it that you know the show-off?" Vatra whispered.

"I do, too," Geb said. "And we are not in good company," he added, gripping the edges of his green cloak.

The tone to Geb's last words sent a chill up Vatra's spine. "I prefer Enyalius' reaction," she said.

"Afraid?" Enyalius teased.

"No," Vatra shot.

They turned and followed the crow's movements as it landed at the edge of the thrones. Once it did, the beast spread its wings. Feathers as black as the stone behind it fluttered, sending out a smoky fog. A sulfuric stench caught the breath in Vatra's throat. She fought to hold back a cough, but a round of hacking passed through her companions.

The fog settled. From where the crow once was, stepped three women. No, goddesses. Vatra wanted to slap a hand to her forehead for not realizing who they were sooner. The Morrígan.

Okay, maybe I don't want to be here, Vatra thought.


(a/n: I know the music isn't the usual 70s/80s choice, but I couldn't get this song out of my head while writing this chapter. I thought it was very fitting!)


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