Immortal Fears by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: greek mythology, myths, gods, folklore, horror
Amazon: B087JD6568
Publisher: Rewritten Realms
Published: 2020-08-25T04:00:00+00:00

I expected dying would hurt, so when I woke up, the fact that I wasn’t in shrieking agony and splattered across the basalt of Mount Olympus was surprising. That I woke up on Olympus at all was shocking, if I am honest. I had expected to wake up in Tartarus, probably with Charon prodding at me with a boat oar, if the invaders hadn’t killed him as well.

I was still cold and wet, but the storm was gone, and I was under unfamiliar stars, with something sharp digging into my spine. I hadn’t seen too much of Tartarus, but I didn’t think there were pine trees there.

I heard screaming, which checked with Tartarus, and smelled fresh blood, which didn’t. Whatever I had landed on wasn’t happy about it and wriggled away. I heard snorting and growling. I pushed myself upright and looked around, seeing a grey-and-black furry mass disappearing under a huge fallen tree.

Well enough, then. Where in the name of Hades was I?

Hoofbeats, and screaming, and crying children—wherever I was, I needed to do something about it, since the Fates had decided that I was to live. I stood up, wobble-kneed as a fresh lamb, and took a breath of this strange, cold air. Out of habit, I snapped my fingers, hoping to conjure a ball of flame.

Nothing except a stinging sensation and a tiny, almost invisible, spark that vanished like a breath.

All right, I couldn’t use my fire, but I could go try to help. They had to have spared me for something. I staggered down the slope towards the screaming. I heard the distinct scrape of flint against steel, and my ears perked. Someone was trying to start a fire.

“Lady of Flames, help me, help us, please!” Scrape, scrape, scrape.

“Mama, they’re coming, they’re coming!”

“Lady, please!” Scrape, scrape, the sound of metal hitting rocks.

“Mama!”

I snapped my fingers again. A tiny ball of fire appeared, pale and weak, but still, flame. I would forgive the mortals the informal address this time. I felt warm breath on my back and turned. Nothing there, but I decided to start running, just in case. I cradled my little flame close to my breast and headed to where I was needed.

I slid down the end of a scree and landed in a tangle. I immediately clenched my fist around the flame and felt it grow. The scrapes and bruises seared into my skin, but healed.

I smelled burning wool on the damp air and heard whispered prayers underneath the screaming of children coming from a small hollow in the rock. The night wind was cold on my face, but I ran as quick as I could.

Dark shapes of men and dogs were advancing on the hollow, and fitful light was rising, throwing ghastly shadows onto all the trees. I saw bodies on the ground, goat-legged and human alike, and beasts tearing at the flesh. An altar was tossed aside, and a brazier spilled into the damp bracken—a brazier bearing the horns of my own symbol.

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