Yet through it all, one other had called out to him. Assuming hers was a vengeance cry, he’d ignored her call out of fear. It had to be a retaliatory trap. After all, why would she help him when his own family refused to?
Her lust for his head was reasonable. His father’s pantheon had destroyed hers and cursed her people to die. It only made sense that she’d want to destroy Apollo’s son to get back at the god. She had no way of knowing that Stryker was hated and despised by his father.
But now everything was different. And he was desperate enough to take the gamble that she might be willing to do something while the others ignored his fate.
This was the best hope he had.
The only hope, really.
And he had nowhere else to go.
No one wanted him. No one cared.
I’m alone in this world.
Then again, aren’t we all?
Making sure to stay to the shadows and out of the daylight, he picked his way through the lush island home he’d once loved. Now he hated it for its alliance to his father. But he was grateful that at one time, it’d belonged to the Atlanteans before the Greeks had conquered this paradise and taken it from them. Because today, he needed that connection to the prior gods.
Not that there was much left. Most of their old buildings and temples had been destroyed—burned to the ground during battle and afterward as a show of Greek might.
All except for one village that not even Apollo had dared to touch.
Apollymia.
Said to have been under the protection of the great Apollymi. The goddess of destruction was so revered and terrifying that the fearful Greeks had allowed nature to reclaim her beloved village. Because everyone, god and human alike, feared the goddess so. Even after she’d been defeated, not one piece of the village had been pillaged or plundered. Left completely untouched, it lay like a time capsule, completely empty as it’d been the day the Greeks had arrived and the Atlanteans had abandoned it.
Sadly, time had been unkind to the structures that had caved in or that were overgrown with weeds and brush.
As a boy, Stryker used to run and play through the ruins here, seeking some connection to his mother and her people, aching to know something of that side of his blood.
One day while exploring, he’d discovered a forgotten temple of the goddess who’d once protected this place. For reasons he still didn’t know, he’d come here to sit and talk to the goddess who ignored him as much as his father. Yet even as a boy, he couldn’t help wondering what the island people had done to cause Apollymi to abandon them so. Had it been hubris? Neglect?
Or simple divine capriciousness that caused her to turn her back on her people?
When it came to Apollo, it took nothing to make him abandon those who worshiped him.
Stryker hoped that wasn’t the case with Apollymi.Please be better than my father …
Terrified she wasn’t, Stryker prayed even harder that her summons wasn’t a trap. That maybe, against all odds, she would come to his aid in spite of how the others had treated him. Surely, the Atlantean goddess of destruction hated his father as much as he did …
Her hatred of the Greeks was legendary.
Stryker had barely reached the ornate gold-covered doors of the old temple before the sun began scorching him.
His legs burning, he shoved at the doors that protested his entrance with stubborn defiance that seemed determined to have him combust on the doorstep. Their rusted hinges creaked mightily from all the decades of disuse, neglect, and decay. But he wasn’t about to let them win this. Even more stubborn than the doors, he pushed harder until they gave way, then rushed into the soothing darkness that succored his ravaged eyes and blistering flesh.
Breathless, he used his cloak to put out his smoldering skin that bubbled and boiled. He hissed at the bleeding, festering wounds on his legs that would no doubt leave vicious scars. So be it. He’d heal.
Grimacing in pain, he cursed his father again and wished the bastard dead a thousand times over.
“May you roast in Tartarus, you rat turd!” His voice echoed, sending several birds into flight and other animals he didn’t want to think about scurrying for cover.
Disgusted, Stryker glanced about the decaying mess. It was even worse than it’d been the last time he’d ventured here years ago. The cobwebs were so thick now, they hung like hollowed-out curtains from one column to the next. No vessel or burner remained intact. Nor statue. The once pristine marble lay like crumbs on the earthen floor. Even the main statue in the center of the temple where Apollymi’s worshipers had gathered to pay homage to her had been cracked to such a state that Apollymi held no arms, or crown.
Her once beautiful face was contorted into a condemning sneer, yet remained intense and terrifying. Her mercury eyes seared in the dim light.
Truly, the goddess of destruction had long ago abandoned this place and not looked back.
