I wake to beams of brilliant light wreathing everything in a blanket of white. The cold stone floor bites into my back and reminds me that wherever I am, it is not home.
The light means that this cannot be the Underworld. But where else would Hades take me?
A shade of blue catches my attention and that's when I realize that there's an open ceiling to the sky, a shade of blue that reminds me of Phoebus's eyes.
Phoebus....
Does he know I'm here?
"The maiden rises."
My head jolts up so fast that the world comes rushing in in a sea of black. Once I get my bearings, I start to take in my surroundings.
The circular room is so spacious that it can hardly be considered a room. Sunlight streams in from a gaping hole in the ceiling, creating a circle of light a few feet to my right. I can see the sky through arched windows, which means that we must be very high in elevation.
At various heights around the room, in a perfect circle, are thrones, and on each throne is a god.
So this is why they call it the Olympian Circle.
It's like some kind of Lord of the Flies ritual where they dance in a circle around an animal before killing it. Only, in this instance, I am the prey.
Hephaestus regards me curiously from his wheelchair, as if wondering why they bothered to abduct such a pathetic mortal. Ares leers at me from his blood red throne with a spear in his hand. Demeter frowns at me from her throne of golden wheat. My mother sneers at me from a throne of books.
The highest one has got to be Zeus's. He looks ancient, with white hair that curls around his feet and sunken in eyes that aren't lacking in intensity as they stare at me.
But to his left, is an empty throne. It looks to be made of light itself and produces its own glow.
"Why am I-" I break off, coughing. Almost dainty drops of blood splatter against the ground. "Why did you bring me here?"
Hera's voice is silky as she shoots me a cruel smile. "I believe that you already know."
"Enlighten me," I sneer.
"We want you to call Apollo so that he can complete the Olympian Circle, silly girl."
I glare at her defiantly, my mind racing.
It might be days before Phoebus gets desperate enough about my disappearance to search for me. Or it could be hours. I can't rely on his response time to formulate a plan.
The gods cannot be allowed to destroy centuries of human ingenuity. I am adamant on that. But we mortals have weak wills compared to the gods, don't we?
I don't mind giving myself up for the sake of humanity. But they know that, and I know that it would be too easy for them to simply kill me. I wonder what measures they will resort to to change that.
All mortals will break at some point. Winston Smith though he would suffer through death for his ideals, but mere weeks of torture broke him.
I wonder what my breaking point will be, and when they will find it. Will it take weeks? Months? Will I rot here until I die?
Fear grips me. Not just for myself, but for Phoebus. When he notices my disappearance, will he come here to look for me? And what will happen to him, and to all of us, when he does?
Will there be anyone left to care if he does?
"There is nothing you could do that would make me comply to wiping the store of human knowledge clean. We don't need you anymore. Get over it."
As I survey their faces, which range from shocked to contemptuous to angry, I wonder why I've never been afraid of gods when a harsh word from Greysia or Cara renders me speechless. But as I think back, I realize the answer.
It's because the gods have never and will never be able to understand mortals. In the legends of old, their way of punishing people was to turn them into a cow or a spider.
But that will never hurt as much as carefully selected words will.
"Since you're so convinced that you want to become a martyr," says Ares. "Take up your lover's cross."
The throne of light is no longer against the curved wall, but floating until it settles next to me. I look at it, doubt beginning to form in my mind.
Will that burn me with one touch? Will I writhe until I die, or worse, call for help?
Hera speaks again. "Well? Take a seat, silly girl."
The gods have varying expressions on their faces. A few, like Demeter, have pity in their eyes. Others, like Aphrodite, survey me with mild interest. But the rest have a cruel expression on their faces, like they cannot wait for me to cave and give them their power back. Like they have been waiting for rejuvenation for centuries, and now all that stands between them is a mortal girl.
It is the cruel eyes of my mother that drive me to sit on the throne of light.
For a fraction of a moment I think this isn't so bad. It's almost like the star.
And then my world erupts in white hot pain. It's nothing even close to how the star felt.
My eyes cannot focus on anything and it takes all I have to breathe in and out and in and out. I bite my lip to keep from crying out. My tooth has to have punctured my lip because I taste the metallic tang of blood in my mouth.
It would be so easy to press my ring to my heart and call out to him. One movement and I could end it all. End this never ending cycle of torture that might drive me insane if I'm not already.
Phoebus's words echo in my head.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
I won't.
And I realize that even though he makes me weak, he also makes me strong. I could not stand all this pain if it were not for the thought of the widening of his smile when he says something funny, his sunny eyes when he sees me, all of him.
How long has it been? How much longer will it go on? The pain is under my skin, in my very bloodstream, and it is spreading and circulating.
It seems like eternity has passed before something that sounds like "This isn't working" registers vaguely in my mind and I'm being jerked off of the throne.
I think that floor rises up to catch me before I realize that it's me falling to the floor. I lie there, gulping in full breaths of air into my lungs. I never realized what a blessing it is to be able to take deep breaths.
"Perhaps we should take another approach." This time, it is Poseidon, with his mane of stiff brown hair, that speaks.
The floor turns transparent and I can see rolling hills and crystalline lakes far below. I know I should be speechless, but the height just makes my already delirious brain more dizzy.
"Adeline, look at all that. You could help us rule over the world if you would just call to your lover."
To everybody's surprise, including my own, I start to laugh. Peals of laughter that borders on delusional echo off the walls, making it seem much louder than it is.
"You can't even see all of Greece from here, and you want to rule the world?" I wonder if I've becomes unhinged as I continue to shake with mirth.
Demeter's voice is soothing and matronly as she says, "You talk so much about improving the world. We gods can help humans do that in a way that will benefit everybody."
"No."
Many gods look at me in confusion as if they cannot believe that a mortal would not believe them just because they say so, and Demeter says, "I'm sorry?"
"No. How can immortal beings govern those who are fated to die? From Mount Olympus, you will only ever look down to rule over those below you. Take even one glance away and you'll have a repeat of what happened last time. But we mortals are at the bottom - we can look up. And we can see stars millions of light years away, far beyond mount Olympus. Tell me, when was the last time you looked at the sky?"
There are murmurs that follow, but I'm too focused on trying not to fall on my face to listen. I wonder if the room will ever stop spinning or if this is a permanent effect of the torture.
Athena's gray eyes blaze as she looks at me with disgust. "Enough is enough. Father, will you let Aphrodite enact my plan?"
Zeus speaks for the first time, his voice like sandpaper. "Of course."
As Aphrodite descends from her throne of roses, I wonder vaguely what she could possibly do to me.
As if she can read my mind, she says, "I am going to take away all love in your heart for Apollo. That's what you wanted, isn't it?"
I freeze and now Athena is the one laughing.
I love you so much that I would rather lose my immortality than have you tell me that you don't love me.
Phoebus makes me weak, and I feel my resolve crumbling until I whisper, "Fine. You win, Mother."
I press my hand to my heart.
Phoebus. Help me.
Where are you?
Mount Olympus.
Hold on, El. I'm coming.
I take my hand away from my heart and glare at each of the gods. They are unfazed, most of them with triumphant looks on their faces.
And then I realize why they had that circle of light on the floor because now Phoebus is stepping out from that light like some sort of avenging angel with his wings and halo of golden hair. My heart usually soars when I see him, but all I feel now is sinking dread that twists my veins with dark rope.
When he catches sight of me, sitting slumped over my legs, probably with a deranged look on my face, he takes an automatic step toward me with a frantic look on his face before stopping when Zeus says, "Halt."
I can see his mouth form the word El.
"What did you bastards do to her?" His eyes land on the throne of light and his expression morphs into one of outrage and fury. "You know mortals can't sit on thrones of gods. You all know that."
Hera's authoritative voice rings out loud and clear. "Then take your seat in the Circle before we force her to do it again. It is doubtful that she could survive another round."
I want to tell him no, that I can survive another round, but my throat is too dry to form words. I cough and Phoebus's eyes widen as drops of blood cover the ground.
"No," he murmurs, almost to himself. "No, that will not do." He raises his voice a bit, but his eyes are trained on me. "El, know that I love you."
What is he going to - ?
He closes his eyes and starts to murmur something. Someone screams something about the Ritual of Mortality and some of the gods jump forward with a roar.
But they're knocked back by the tendrils of pure white light that are growing, spreading out of his chest. I can only watch in wonder as the tendrils grow like vines.
And they're moving towards me.
They wrap around me with the comforting warmth of the star on my ring. The last thing I see before they cover me entirely is Phoebus's sad smile and eyes the color of cloudless skies.
A moment of weightlessness and then a moment of being too weighted as I collapse on my apartments carpet. I scramble up, ignoring how the furniture seems like it will fall on my and press my hand to my heart.
Phoebus, are you there?
There is no answer.
a/n: before you kill me, there's an epilogue