Just for a moment, the creature hesitated.
Clutching her knife in both hands, she threw the full force of her weight behind it and stabbed upward. The blade sank through feathers into flesh. The griffin’s scream curdled in its throat as the weapon pierced its windpipe. Blood gushed over Danae’s hands. She held on while the beast struggled, only letting go once it slumped to the floor.
She wanted to collapse too, but she had to act fast. In a few moments the power of the griffin’s life force would be lost. She placed a hand over the wound, feeling for the rhythm of its waning pulse.
Her vision doubled. Overlaying the physical world were the glowing threads of energy that animated all living things. She could see them beneath her own skin, coursing through her veins, ever moving in a cyclical tapestry of power. And there were the griffin’s life-threads, seeping out between her fingers and disappearing into the darkness as the creature lay dying. She focused her mind and willed each fleeing strand toward her hand. The life-threads changed course and began to flow into her palm, snaking up her arm to join the web of light that spread through her entire body.
The griffin’s eyes dulled as the last tendril wound up Danae’s fingers. The pain in her limbs melted away, and her wounds knitted together as the creature’s life force rushed through her veins. She sat back and breathed in the euphoria of containing so much life.
So much power.
PART 1
1
Three Years Before the Cave
“Today of all days!” Danae’s mother fussed over the gathering of her sister’s tunic. “We’re going to be late!”
Danae was engrossed in a large fishing net, splayed across the wooden table that dominated the center of their small hut. She and her father were huddled over it, their fingers working together to untangle the netting. Her face was taut with concentration, her mother’s words nothing but background chatter.
Alea slipped from their mother’s intrusive fingers and crossed the room to place a hand on Danae’s arm.
“Come on, we won’t hear the end of it if we don’t leave now.”
“If you’ve marked that dress...” Her mother stood by the doorway, hands on hips.
“Just this one...last...” Danae grasped a stubborn piece of flax between her nails and twisted.
She was rewarded by a satisfied sigh from her father as the netting unfurled into its intended pattern.
“Thank you, daughter. You have such clever hands. Now go on.”
She smiled and was about to follow her sister, when she caught a shadow darting across her father’s weathered face.
“Are you all right, Pa?”
He swatted the question away. “I will be if you’re not late. Go.” With a gentle nudge, he steered her toward the door.
Her mother ushered the girls into the yard, then paused in the doorway to squeeze her husband’s hand.
“Odell, they won’t be chosen,” she whispered. “I know the crops haven’t been plentiful this year, but that doesn’t mean Demeter will demand...” She drew a breath. “Even if she does, Alea is betrothed and Danae...well,” she glanced at her youngest daughter, “it’s usually the quieter girls.”
Her father kissed her mother’s fingers. He looked like himself again, a man whose cares slipped from his shoulders like water from oiled wood.
Mopsus and Pilops trotted out from under the lean-to at the side of the hut to investigate the commotion. Danae tore her gaze from her parents and lifted a palm to stroke Mopsus’s muzzle, as the goat stuck her head through the fence of their little enclosure.
Quickly, she delved into her tunic pocket and drew out a squashed honey cake.
“Don’t tell,” she whispered as the goat gobbled it then licked the crumbs from her palm.
“Come on, Danae!” Her mother strode past, herding Alea out of the gate and down the dusty track.
Danae gave the goat’s ear a final scratch before running after them.
“Be good for your mother,” her father called, his wiry frame silhouetted in the doorway. “Bring blessings on our village!”
Danae knew this was directed at her. She turned and winked at him, then hurried toward the crowd of women flowing along the coastal road.
