Verena stood farther from the group, playing with a decayed leaf between her fingers while her lips moved in a mumble. She kept glancing to her side at eye level, balancing her weight back and forth on her legs.
“Three people will die today,” said a man with tousled red curls from beside me. His lips parted to welcome the chilly air, eyebrows set in a straight line with eyes that stared ahead—right into the heart of the forest.
My voice was soft when I spoke, glancing over at him and his immense height. “What makes you say that?”
As if he broke out of a trance, he looked down at me, blinking. “What?”
I squinted. “You said three people will die today.”
The guy’s eyes darted around as he took a cautious step back. He glanced at me with an expression that saidyou’re crazy, stay out of my wayand put some distance between us.
“Freak,” I thought I heard him mutter.
With a frustrated huff, he stuffed his hands into his pockets, his eyes fixed elsewhere, pointedly ignoring me. He spoke without thinking, and the dawning realization on his face showed he was completely unaware of the things that left his mouth.
I recognized his footsteps long before he settled next to me. This time, surprisingly, Theo said nothing, though I could sense his questions waiting to slide off his tongue. He was curious about my encounter with the tall man, but I decided not to tell him. For now.
The air thrummed with whispers and unsettling scrapes as my gaze fell upon two rusty wooden tables holding fourteen dusty glasses.
My eyes narrowed as I focused on the two barrels, their surfaces marked by three dark brown bands, a small pump positioned in the center.
Wine.
I inched closer, crouching in front of the barrel, eager to confirm my suspicion. I turned the pump, and a rush of scarlet liquid gushed forth, staining the ground.
“Wine,” I mumbled.
“Does this tell you anything about what the trial could be?” Theo asked, and I twisted around to see him looming over me.
The idea of gods waiting for us with wine didn’t seem right. There was more to it than just a glass to drink.
Whatever was hiding in those barrels wasn’t good news.
“Nothing of importance.”
The tall man with the clean-shaved face moved past us and poured himself a glass. He gulped it down his throat and let out a satisfied sound.
Theo shrugged, and we walked back to the group, our anxious breath visible in the cold air. I couldn’t believe this was happening. A part of me held onto the hope that when I woke, I would be back home, safe and sound, and my biggest concern would be persuading my mother to eat her meal.
“Should we work together?” a petite girl with long, blue hair asked the man who chugged down the wine, but he wasn’tpaying attention to her. He looked at a fixed point, rubbing his fingers through the stubble on his head. “Draven?”
“What?” Draven snapped. The girl recoiled at his harsh tone, and his expression softened in response. “I’m sorry, Riley. What were you saying?”
Before she could respond, another voice echoed through the air. “We welcome you, mortals, to the opening game of the Gods’ Gambit.”
I was the last to swirl around and lay my gaze upon the two gods standing behind the long, wooden table. A man and a woman peered at us, one with a playful expression and the other with a soft, calming smile. Apart from their height and strange attire, they seemed . . . human—at least, more human than Zeus and the stranger.
“I am to be addressed as Dionysus, the God of Wine. I’ve been portrayed as entertainment’s chaotic form or as someone who steals minds.” He made a fleeting gesture with a hand, showing off colorful rings that filled his fingers, then continued with a roll of his eyes. “Yet, I think of myself as the genesis of a brighter and possibly more untamed life.”
He wore a purple tunic that hung loosely over his body, with a multicolored collar beaming around his neck. Green stems, like nature’s own ornaments, rested against his beard, complementing the crown of grape leaves atop his dark, curly hair.
Neither of them seemed past thirty, though an infinity was hiding under their glowing skins.
“I am Demeter, the Goddess of Harvest, Agriculture, and Fertility of the Earth.” She offered us a smile so sincere, I frowned. Her cheeks reddened, and the edge of her eyes turned just a bit downward as she continued speaking. “Each season, like every life challenge, serves its own function. You may relinquish significant aspects of yourself traveling through life,much like winter’s loss of blossoms. And yet . . . this is your destiny. Regardless of the circumstances, you shall follow your destined path.”
Demeter, with a beauty some would kill for, wore a dark green dress, flowers painted on it from head to toe. The crown on top of her head was a combination of leaves, mushrooms, and flowers, blending with the brown shade of her hair.
“By wine and harvest, the game is born. Your fundamental nature and deepest self will be tested today. Navigate the forest to claim your reward,” Demeter added, intertwining her hands in front of her dress.
