"Beer," Cassandra croaked. Raspy but functional.
A wall of kegs emerged from darkness. Penthesilea's root cellar was bigger than the house had been.
"Retirement fund" she ran her hand along the nearest one. "Drink up. We're cashing in."
Damon was already tapping it. The sound of fuel finding...
Anaktoria sitting directly under the stream, mouth open, eyes closed.
Penthesilea continued walking, looking for a finer vintage. Cassandra was torn. Stay and watch... or... or what? Her mouth went dry as her body moved.
Amber ran down Anaktoria's neck, soaking through. The fabric clung. Cassandra's hand drifted to her chest. Smooth skin under the bandage.
Damon's fingers found hers.
Anaktoria stopped drinking. Her hand settled on Cassandra's hip, tracing her form.
They stood there. Beer pooling at their feet.
"Found it," Penthesilea called from the darkness. "My victory batch."
Elsewhere...
Athena had been her mortal self for less than an hour but her body was already screaming, lungs burning copper.
It was glorious.
"Your tendons will snap!" Democritus called from somewhere behind her.
She ran harder. Already around the bend. Splitting up was always safer.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
The thunder grew more distant. Athena finally allowed herself to feel...
Oh gods, running felt so fucking good.
She lost herself, turning time into distance traveled. She wanted to remember every sensation, every gasped breath. The novelty of weakness. She wanted to start over, slower, with witnesses.
Wait. That gate looked familiar. Did she seriously just...
Two figures stood in Penthesilea's garden.
A root.
How mean. The ground offered itself up.
"Witness me!!"
Athena tackled Hera's knees at full speed, head first. Might as well have hit a marble statue of the Queen. She looked down, surprise fading to disappointment.
"Sleep, child," Hera started to say, her hand descending like fate.
Athena's eyes had already rolled back. Hera gently slid her off. Such sweaty subjects, mortals.
Zeus shat a single diamond. His composure held though.
"See? No bastards here. Just some local girl."
Hera studied the collapsed girl. Young, spent from running. Clearly mortal. That signature though... her eyes narrowed.
"We shouldn't leave her out here. Let's take her below."
Zeus closed his eyes in anguish. When he opened them, Philus's exhausted merchant eyes stared outwards. He picked her up gently, then started looking for wine. He followed fate.
"She knows like five people," he explained. He didn't elaborate further.
Hera's transformation was smoother. She became his wife Ilera mid-gesture, practicing the look: 'I survived three years of catatonia and all that came back was hatred.'
They descended towards Beerheim.
"Penthesilea?" Philus rasped. "Your house relocated itself?"
He was carrying an unconscious girl. His wife trailed behind with hollow eyes.
"Into ash. Lightning helped. Welcome Philus." She gestured to a cot in the corner. "Leave the girl there."
She was pouring something red into a cup. Silphium. Victory.
"Doctor's orders." Penthesilea had already tipped it into Ilera's mouth. Unstoppable. "There we go."
Her hollow eyes went confused. Then wide. They filled with an unholy light. Color flooded her cheeks.
"Oh," she understood everything. "OH."
She grabbed the entire jar and started draining it, still moving. She went through a wall.
"OOOHHH YEEAAAHH!!" Ilera announced, covered in dirt and roots, pupils gone to pinpricks.
She glanced at the mortals.
Cassandra collapsed against Damon. Anaktoria on her knees...
"MAGNIFICENT. CARRY ON."
She escaped backwards.
Philus set Athena down on the cot. She looked so much like her real mother.
Penthesilea raised her cup. "To futures that cancel you. To wines that audit your soul. To gods who crash your funeral and demand a retake." She smiled.
Philus opened his mouth to deny everything. He found beer instead. It really was nice, but...
"Got any more of that victory crack?" he asked weakly.
"Depends. How much can you handle?"
