“What’s happening?” Aeëtes yelled over the sound of the roaring wind, taking a few paces toward her and nearly falling over.
Hecate’s lips pulled into a thin line as her rich, dark power began to consume her. Flares of red magic erupted from her skin like she was a living volcano, rippling over her like heat waves. The heads of the maiden and the crone appeared, her power undulating as it morphed into the snakes that wrapped around her arms once more. Her eyes went red as her hair began to stand on its end, sticking out around her shadows like a halo. Hecate’s magic was rising, and she was on the cusp of her immortal form.
“Stand back, Aeëtes,” Hecate demanded, her voice taking on its triple echo and dropping an octave. Aeëtes listened, to Hecate’s surprise, and looked over to the tree line.
At the very edge of the vortex, the wind began to twist and shape, spinning until Aeëtes could barely make out the body of a woman. The air around her took on a pinkish hue but not in the way that flowers and fruit are pink. No, this almost looked diseased, as if it had green undertones and was in the early stages of decay. The wind changed directions, and Aeëtes nearly gagged; the scent on the air smelled like rotted fruit.
“Oh my god…” Aeëtes watched on in horror, his eyes going wide, as he saw the body of air begin to solidify. The color became more opaque when suddenly, Hera stepped out of it. The queen of the gods had a look on her face that could only be described as feral, her power in its putrid shade flickering up and down her arms. It covered her hands in balls of pink light, crackling like she was holding onto the lit end of a torch. Her long, brunette hair was tied up in a braid around her head like she had forgotten her crown and did whatever she could to put one there. Aeëtes supposed that to some men, maybe in certain lighting…she would be beautiful, but the rotting smell that her power carried went straight through to her soul.
“Hecate,” she spat, her voice sounding like daggers. “I should have known that you’d be here. Always sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong,” Hera sneered, tilting her chin up and raising an eyebrow.
Hecate said nothing, taking a few steps closer to Hera and closing the gap between them until they were only six feet apart. The wind died down now that Hera had descended, leaving the three of them in the open clearing. Hera looked over to Aeëtes, her face contorting into a nasty grin.
“I guess the ram’s wool didn’t really leave you with anything to cover up with, did it?” She mocked him, but Aeëtes said nothing, leveling his stare back at her. Whatever Aeëtes lacked in true god’s power, he made up for in bravery, and Hera flinched ever so slightly when he stood taller, pushing his shoulders back, and looked her in the eye. Hera was obsessed with power and titles for the same reason as most people—she was a coward. No matter howweakAeëtes may be in comparison, the fact that he seemingly met her challenge knocked her off balance.
“Eyes on me, Hera,” Hecate hissed, her voice echoing throughout the clearing. The red veins of magic dripped down Hecate’s arms and off her fingers, pooling at her feet. Aeëtes watched in utter fascination as it spread around her, and Hecate stood in a deep puddle of her own power, moving around like it was sentient.
“What?” Hera took another step towards Hecate. “Don’t tell me thatyouof all people have fallen for him? And so quickly, too.” Her tone was saccharine, as if she was taunting a child. “Surely, the great Goddess of witchcraft and women hasn’t forgotten so quickly what a mistake it is for her to love.”
Aeëtes’s ears perked up at that as he turned his head towards Hera. He didn’t understand the context, but whatever Hera had said was said with bite. It was intended to maim. He could hear it from the way she chewed on the words as she said them, like she was savoring their flavor. Hecate didn’t react; her face didn’t shift in the slightest. She didn’t even blink. Hera’s brow furrowed as she studied Hecate’s face for any reaction, sneering when she didn’t find one.
A surge of power rippled up through Hera’s arms, and almost immediately, she expanded. Her body twisted until she shot straight up, standing now almost ten feet tall and towering over Hecate.
“You have no use for this child-god, Hecate,” Hera demanded it, every word sounding like it was a decree. “Hand him over to me and then there shall be no unpleasantness between us.”
Aeëtes watched as the power around Hecate began to move, spiraling upwards, defying gravity, and crawling up over itself. His mouth dropped open as the red, umber power crackled into the shape of two dogs. One now stood on either side of Hecate, snapping and growling, pulling against invisible restraints. A chill ran up his spine as he studied the picture in front of him. He had known of Hecate, every Greek did…but how many people hadseenHecate?
This display wasn’t even all of her power; Aeëtes knew enough about immortals to sense when they were at their full strength. She was a sight. The heads of the mother, maiden, and crone were expressionless. They weren’t expressionless like someone afraid or frozen in fear, no… They were void. There was nothing but fathomless depths in those eyes, glowing bright red as red snakes of magic wrapped around her arms and dogs of power barked at her sides. When she spoke, the barrier between worlds shook.
“On my honor, Hera, his life debt is mine.” Her words were finite, and Hera recoiled, nearly hissing.
“You wouldn’t claim his life debt!” Hera shrieked, her braid falling loose and whipping around her shoulders like a scorpion’s tail. “You don’t know this man. I’m supposed to believe the protector of women would claim a life debt for aman?”
Hecate stood as resolute as marble. She nodded once. “Yes. I saved him when he was in the body of a ram, stealing him away from your priests. That puts him under my protection. Now that I see you still mean him harm, I claim the life debt.” Her voice was soothing, as if she was reading poems to accompany Apollo’s lyre. It was a vast contrast to her body, writhing with snakes and accompanied by beasts tethered only to her will.
Hera shrieked, an awful sound that echoed over the woods and had Aeëtes dropping to his knees and covering his ears. Hecate didn’t blink.
“You claim honor!” Hera screamed, her voice cracking as the clearing lit up in pink flames, tinged with wickedness and the same putrid, rotting smell.
Aeëtes could hardly see, his vision obscured by the perverted power of Hera. It was everything that was supposed to be feminine and beautiful, pink and flowers, but it was foul and corrupted. The only thing he could focus on was Hecate, the lines of her power and the essence of her magic combatting Hera’s with true feminine essence. It wasn’t weakness; it was boundless strength. Creation and death.
“You have none,” Hecate quipped, the slightest bit of disgust entering her voice. “I take on the crown prince’s life debt, following custom. If you come against us, then you break the laws of Olympus…” There was a quiet pause, and Aeëtes swore that he saw Hecate’s lip twist up in the slightest bit of a smirk. “…I will have the support of the gods to destroy you.” Hecate’s smirk had turned into a full grin at the end, one brow arched gracefully as she taunted Hera.
Hera bared her teeth and growled, an animalistic and all unbecoming sound, as her flames licked higher up the trees around them. Aeëtes didn’t see Hera’s power sliding over the grass behind him, letting out a sharp cry as he fell forward when it licked over his heels. The face of the maiden whipped around, her eyes growing wide when she saw him.
Hecate flicked her fingers, as if she was dropping something, and the two dogs at her side burst forward. They expanded in size as they launched towards Hera, until they were nearly as tall as she was, their gaping maws foaming with flecks of Hecate’s death magic. Hera screamed in fear and frustration, and as the dogs leapt for her, she vanished. In the blink of an eye, Hera and her power evaporated from the clearing, as if they were never there.
Aeëtes slowly got back up to his knees, looking around in confusion. His brain tried to catch up with what he was seeing, the clearing now looking entirely undisturbed. Hecate was still rippling with magic; the snakes wrapped around her arms moved their heads back and forth, but her dogs were gone. Aeëtes opened his mouth to say something when he was cut off, the booming voice of Hera chilling him to the bone. His body seemed to vibrate with the echoes as her voice flooded the air around them.
“So… it is to be war on you both.”
8
Hera’s threat boomed in the air around them, slowly fading away and hanging in the atmosphere. Aeëtes looked over to Hecate, almost afraid to breathe. Hera’s reputation was no secret, but he had never seen the goddess before, and he had definitely never been on the end of her threats.
“Wait.” Aeëtes turned and looked at Hecate. “You accepted the life claim over me.” A small smile crossed his face as he tilted his head to the side, looking smug. The last of the bright, red glow left Hecate’s eyes, and she turned to face him. She took a few steps towards the fire, muttering something and causing it to spring back to life, ignoring his statement.
“You will need to find some clothes,” she waved in his general direction without looking directly at him, “and someplace safe to stay in Heraklion while I sort this mess out.”
