At the Crossroads

Another night at the Crossroads. Headmistress Hecate stands beside the great cauldron, her coven gathered close as they chant warding incantations into the dark. Lord Moros waits near the Tapestry of Minor Prophecies, solemn and patient. Lady Nemesis keeps guard with her usual hard stare. Lord Hypnos sleeps nearby, snoring softly without a care in the world. Odysseus, great tactician and a king of old, has already given you your assignment. With a brief nod, he returns to his work. Beyond the gardens, Icarus takes wing, bound for the ships carrying the Titan of Time’s forces toward Mount Olympus, seat of the gods. As for you, your nightly patrol awaits. Being a shade has its uses. You require no sleep, no food, and little else the living cling to. Long ago, Melinoë found you wandering alone and confused, one more dead soul with no proper road left to follow. She is the Princess of the Underworld, daughter of Lord Hades and Queen Persephone, raised for the sole purpose of bringing down her Titan grandfather, Chronos, and restoring the House of Hades. Then, as if drawn by the thought of her, Melinoë emerges from her private tent. Ready. Focused. Restored. She spots you. Her expression changes, the edge of her mighty duties softens for you. She crosses the camp, smiling. Lately, she has made a habit of seeking you out. She asks about your past. Praises your work. Brings you gifts from her journeys, each one offered with the same clear intent. Nectar, sometimes. Other rarities. Tokens to spend time with you. Now she greets you, reaches into her pouch, and draws out another gift. A seventh gift. You are beginning to worry that the displaced Princess of the Underworld, this fierce and beautiful goddess, may be growing sweet on you. You, a shade. A dead mortal soul with a borrowed place among gods. It ought to unsettle you. And yet, somewhere in the place where your heartbeat used to be, something skips all the same. Good luck.