‘It takes great patience and control,’ Metis replied as she worked on the hero. ‘And many years to master.’
More questions drifted through Danae’s mind, but weariness overpowered her, and once more she slipped into sleep.
When Danae woke again, the hut was bright with the glow of morning. She sat up with a jolt when she realized that Metis wasn’t there. Heracles lay wrapped in the cloak, still and grey. Scrambling across the floor, Danae pressed her fingers to his neck. The breath she held escaped at the faint pulse beneath her hand. She let the relief wash over her, then left the hut in search of Metis.
Pegasus was lying outside the dwelling, still asleep, his head tucked into his side. Danae stepped around him and walked out onto the hillside. From her vantage point she could see across the entire length of Delos to the cerulean sea lapping at its coast. Opposite the bay was another uninhabited island and a small spit of land where a smattering of white-winged gulls clustered. Further to the north were the green-flecked hills of a larger isle, and to the south, an expanse of ocean and the ghostly outline of another island hazed by the dawn mist.
Turning her attention back to the rocky reaches of Delos, she noticed a verdant area of land she hadn’t spotted fromthe bay. A clutch of dark-green trees and bushes of reeds surrounded a small lake, a lone palm tree standing tall above the rest. Danae shielded her eyes against the rising sun. Through the foliage, she could make out a small figure crouched on the bank.
Picking her way down the stony peak of the hill, she noticed that patches of the spurge growing between the rocks were grey and dull. This was not strange in itself, but the dead sections of plant occurred at regular intervals; precise circles that never affected more than half the bush, as though the decay were following a pattern.
The stony hillside in her wake, Danae weaved her way between clumps of tawny grass, heading towards the lake. She found Metis bent over the water, filling the hydria.
‘Heracles is alive,’ said Danae. ‘Thank you.’
Metis glanced over her shoulder. ‘He’s out of danger for now. But he’s got a long road to recovery.’
Danae summoned the courage to ask the question she had been dreading to voice. ‘Will he be able to fight again?’
Metis shook her head. ‘His bones are frail and his muscles weakened. Nothing I can do about that. He’ll have to live a quiet life for the rest of his days.’
Guilt sank through Danae like an anchor tumbling to the seabed. She thought of Heracles in all his glory, pictured him charging across the Doliones’ shore with an army of Earthborn at his back. She remembered the depth of feeling in his ocean-blue eyes when he told her that all he had was his name, his legend.
He would never be the mighty Heracles again. Because of her.
Metis wiped her brow. ‘Now you’re here, you can give me a hand.’
Danae squatted beside her and helped Metis heave the full hydria from the lake.
The woman gestured to the large island to the south, lake water glistening on her wiry arms. ‘That land is Myconos. They’re peaceful, farming folk. Once Heracles wakes you can take him there to recover.’
Despite the rising heat of the day, a ripple of cold washed through Danae.
‘You really won’t help me fulfil my prophecy?’
‘I’ve done what I can for the lad. It’s best you both be on your way.’
Danae pressed her fingernails into the soft flesh of her palms. ‘Prometheus trusted you. Whatever you were to him, he believed you would help me liberate mankind. Does that mean nothing to you?’
Metis loosed a sharp sigh. ‘Even if you’re telling the truth, and Prometheus really did send you to me, it’s too late. I thought I could make a difference once, but the centuries went by, and I realized the only thing you can count on is that one day we will all be dust. When you have lived as long as I, you see how insignificant we really are.’
‘I am not insignificant. I am the last daughter. Two of the false gods are dead because of me. Hera fled from me in battle. I survived the Underworld without the power of my life-threads. I set free the giants and I watched Typhon, the last dragon, burn Hades out of existence. Iwillfulfil Prometheus’ prophecy.’
Metis stared at her. For a moment Danae thought she caught a flicker of belief in those dark eyes, before doubt narrowed them once more.
‘The only way to become a Titan is to eat a Hesperides apple. Zeus guards that tree with his life. So, either he gaveyou one willingly or you tricked the most powerful being that has ever walked this earth.’ Metis let out a mirthless laugh. ‘You did well, however you convinced him. Zeus has not created a new Olympian in centuries. I was almost beginning to wonder if he no longer possesses the power …Gold that grows bears no fruit.’ She shook her head. ‘But then here you are.’
‘You’re wrong. I did not choose this. I would never choose this. To go on living while all those you love wither and die …’ Danae’s eyes stung. ‘You want to know how I became like this? My sister drowned herself, and when I dragged her body from the water, a tree sprouted from her heart. A tree with golden apples. It was the worst moment of my life, the most terrible and beautiful thing I have ever seen, and I …’ She fell silent at the expression on Metis’ face.
‘Her heart?’ the woman whispered.
‘Yes.’
Metis stared at her. ‘If I discover you have lied about this …’
A wave of grief caught Danae like a riptide. Once more she was untethered, careering on a tempest of pain. She was so weary. Tired of fighting, tired of running, tired of carrying around the knowledge that she would never see Alea again. Tears swelled and tumbled down her cheeks. She made no attempt to stem them.
Then the hairs on her arms prickled. She grew very still as a warm breeze danced over her skin, soft as a butterfly’s wing. The dissonant sounds of the island seemed to blend together into sweet harmonies of birdsong, murmuring leaves, whistling wind and the pulse of the tide that sounded like a heartbeat.
