AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Practically flying down the staircases, I jump and forgo the stairs. Determined to get as far away from the darn bird as possible.
To my right, I watch as the bird seems to track my movements throughout the various floors and passages. Jumping and dodging past the desks, chairs, and stray objects.
A shadowy figure traces my every step. From over my shoulder, he looked like a large figure, shuffling around only a bit away from me. I can’t see him, but I can hear him and his soft muttering.
“Darn intruders in the library,” he groaned. “I'm too old for this. I should be requesting Athena’s help. It’s her library after all. As a patron, I wonder if she’d ever consider helping ward off those darn malakas who shouldn’t be here.”
Interesting. Athena oversees the library. That makes sense. Goddess of Wisdom and Knowledge the patron of the library. Maybe she could permit me to be here… Styx, probably not. She’s still under the rule of Apollo.
Ducking down corridors and through rows of books, I still hear him mumbling.
Throwing myself under a desk, I tuck my legs to my chest and wait.
I jolt at the sight of the hairy legs which pause in front of me.
A half man, half goat stands and surveys the area. A satyr.
Holding my breath, I pray to Gaia that he doesn’t hear or sense me. Satyrs are rough around the edges, crude and boisterous. Full of mischief. Whose appetites are only second to their lust. Often, they flirt and pursue nymphs and mortal maidens.
But if he is in the castle, he must be vetted, I reason. But I guess that wouldn’t include intruders.
Waiting for what felt like hours, I watched the furry legs turn about the room. Within feet of me. From under my desk which is enclosed on three sides, I hear only mumblings of what the satyr is saying, Obscured by the thick oak of the table.
Finally, I watch the legs stamp off receding away from me. Even the batting of wings fades into the distance, which is unusual. From my experiences in the woods near home, they were nearly silent. As a precaution, I waited several more minutes in silence. Trying to ensure the satyr and owl were truly gone.
Peeking out from my hiding hole, I glance around my vicinity. Scrutinizing to find any side of the portraits.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see busts down on the floor below me. Internally, I debate if I should risk going down to the base level. Sighing loudly, I decide to see if the statues are situated near the family pictures.
Creeping along, I watch for the return of the satyr as I duck behind the stairs hidden beyond the shelf. As I'm climbing lower into the atrium, I peek out into the main area.
Chairs are dotted around the statues. All the statues are women sitting on chairs.
No… a throne. Each woman sits with a crown of thorns circling around their heads. Some with faces that are neutral, others are full of fear, and some seem to be determined to claw their way off the chair. Some yanking at their heads where the circlet rests.
The statues are so stunning I find myself staring from one sculpture to the next. They’ve clearly been lovingly and expertly crafted to appear as human women, and painted to look as they might be alive. I almost expect to see some start breathing until I notice a broken off nose on one and chipping paint on others.
No. None are alive.
But the details almost breathe life into these sculptures.
The screeching hoot of the owl sounds in the distance. Swirling, I look for somewhere to hide. There are no tables down here. Rushing toward the stairs, I see the shadow of the satyr growing larger. Turning around, I find a lone throne with a book set open on it. Lunging toward it, I opened the book to the page that was open and began reading:
“The Olympians had some notable allies in the conflict against the Titans. One of the most notable being a Titan himself. Prometheus and his brother Epimetheus sided with the gods. Prometheus with his prophetic gift knew how the war would end. Though they didn’t fight, Prometheus’s strategic gift gave the gods the edge to prevail by allying with the cyclopes and the hecatoncheires (more commonly known as the hundred handed ones). By freeing them, Zeus gained their favor and was able to repel the ancient and mighty Titans.
After the war, Prometheus was able to make an agreeable life with the Olympians. He helped with overseeing the creation of the mortals. He sculpted them from clay to make mud forms and breathed life into them. Afterwards, he was seen as a protector of humankind.”
The dark god from the woods called dad Prometheus. Maybe this really was a case of mistaken identity. Just like what I theorized all those months ago.
Internally, I resolve to sneak this book to my room so that I can read more about the War of the Titans.
I can hear the satyr coming closer again, hopefully my desperate attempt to blend with these sculptures will fool him. Or maybe Uncle Ov will come to my rescue again. From my vantage point, I watch the owl circle from the floor above me. It appears that the owl won’t come to this floor.
The huffing satyr pushes past me. I'm certain I'll be able to recognize those hairy legs anywhere. Scouring the area, looking for me.
Well, at least looking for someone.
Searching for the intruder.
