It’s not that I have a problem with my lowly position in the organisation or the dull tasks dished down to me. I just don’t like being told what to do. I never have, never will. It was always one of the problems I had back home and part of the reason the family got annoyed with me. Well, that and the tricks.
I didn’t know what to make of my behavior. She had me twisted up in knots. For some reason, I cared about what she thought of me, and I didn’t want to lie to her. These were things I never experienced before and things I hated about humanity.
It was only a dream. I turned back to the sea and sat on the ground, bringing my knees to my chest. My wings opened, and I wrapped them around myself. It started to rain, which seemed fitting. I wiped at my face, trying to clear the hurt and sorrow I felt at the loss of something, no, someone so dear to me.
And who shall I be then? I will still be ugly, still not like other gods. I presume I will still have this feeling of apprehension, still feeling something is waiting for me. But I will have made some progress. I will have evolved while they wallow in their petty squabbles and pursuit of pleasure. What else shall I become? What limits are there to my improvement? Perhaps I will outgrow my family if I have not already.
“But if you are pregnant,” Rommel mentioned softly, “it would be his, right?” I nodded. Dion had been the only person I’d been with since, well…since Poseidon abandoned Atlantis. “He has a right to know that you’re dealing with this Amph.”
Whoever did this to me did it to them, too. If it’s true, that is, which I’m still not entirely sure it is. Suppose I am the Primordial Eris, if there was only one Eris all along. It won’t just affect me, and it means that all this time, Atë has been…my child. Eros and Clio don’t even really know the real me, either. No one does. This could destroy every bond I’ve fought tooth and nail to establish.
I rushed to Hera, wrapping my arms around her in a heartfelt embrace. She stood stiff, never one to show outward emotion. I felt the pain and hurt coursing through her veins and tightened my embrace until she finally fell into my arms and let her emotions flow free. I hadn’t seen my sister this distraught since we’d emerged from our father’s prison.
Some kings wear a crown and cloak to show their station and status, but I am more than a king. My brother, Zeus, has his lightning bolt, and Poseidon has his Trident. We would be significantly weaker without them and much more vulnerable. They are weapons of kings among gods. Who needs a crown?
For such a huge party, it was awfully dull. I yawned and wandered over to the doorway, peeking out. A few people were milling about, drinking and talking, probably just trying to get away from that horrible music. I couldn’t blame them.
I grip its handle as the song of the cosmos sings to me, the blade taking on its many colors. I raise it and begin to cut the mirrors down like foes on a battlefield. The sounds of exploding and shattering glass echo in the empty warehouse, clinking as it hits the floor and scatters. The heavy frames reverberate loudly as they hit the ground, cracking the concrete when it impacts, sending small fragments up into the air.
The young man took both of Ouma’s hands in his own and kissed them. “If it weren’t for this place, I wouldn’t have made it into uni. Over there, at that table, you, Joe, Mama, and others helped me understand my math. This place…” he paused, a pained look crossing his face. “I was hoping to come back and help, but like the other places, the rich guys will push yet another neighborhood out.”
I ignored them both, not wanting to dignify their questions with an answer. I had everything under control and wanted to make sure I took things one step at a time. The first priority was pulling her from that wreckage before the flames consumed her. The next step would be finding some shelter.
I shared how the party was like most gatherings until the chanting started and the mirrors glowed. Fresh memories flooded my mind, and I told them about him. The one I loved, or she loved, I didn’t know. I explained the passion between us and how it made me feel.
It is unfair. Why must I be the one to endure this? Why must I live in pain, alone, ugly, and unloved? Why do others get to enjoy existence? I am so tired, in every sense. So very tired. At last, I feel the pills take effect unless it is my imagination. The pain still seems to be there, but I find I care less. Perhaps I can sleep.
We’ll snuggle back up in bed. I’ll read the paper, and she’ll have her nose in one of her fantasy novels. She was always rereading them, the pages so dogeared and tatty. Maybe I’ll treat her to some new ones.
New Beginnings 
A Reprimand 
The Secret in Silence, Part III 
Interrogation Doesn’t Break Ice 
Stealing A Moment 
Making a Mark 
When It Hits The Fan 
A Goddess Down 
An Explosive Mystery 
