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“Pandora refused to join them. She existed before the earth and man. She would exist long after them. But for the scatter to work, and for the gods to one day return to Mount Olympus, they needed humans to believe in them again. They had to create demigods who’d spread far and wide, repopulating the earth with humans who could not deny their existence, because they were living within them.”
“But what did that have to do with Pandora?”
“Demigods couldn’t spread far and wide with her and her children preying on them. They didn’t trust Pandora to behave while the temple was empty—so to speak. With no one in her way, she’d be free to claim the throne of Mount Olympus and create a world where she and her children ruled unchecked.”
We moved on, stopping before a drawing of the Olympians huddled together—plotting.
“There was no war, no battle, no warning. One day, the Olympian gods attacked her. With the combined strength of their powers, they stripped her of form and bound her within a cage for all eternity.”
“Pandora’s box,” I whispered, coming face to face with the box of legend. “It wasn’t hope or evil spirits inside. It was her.”
“Oh, yes. That silly story about Earth’s first woman and false wedding gifts was Zeus’s ploy to further humiliate her. The world forgot who she truly is—a goddess. An all-powerful being. Instead, they tell their children about some stupid girl who couldn’t heed one rule.”
“That’s awful.”
“It is indeed,” she said, patting my hand. “You understand her fury. You see why she bided her time for thousands of years,waiting for the day she’d burst forth from her prison and destroy all the Olympian gods ruined her to protect.”
The corner of my lips tugged down. Pulling free, I backed away from her.
“And for years she did wait,” the woman cried, holding her hand up to the statue. “With her box hidden beneath the bowels of Deucalion Academy, she bled into the sleeping, troubled minds of demigods—finding and influencing faithful worshipers who’d hunt till the ends of the earth to free her from her fate.”
The hairs rose on the back of my neck.No. It can’t be...
“Worshippers who would bring her worthy sacrifices to give themselves to the right and just glory of her ascension. Without legs, without arms, without form, without belief—she couldn’t carry out her plan.” She snapped to me, shooting my heart into my throat. “But now.... I have you.”
“Pandora.” The name scraped from my throat. “It’s been you the whole time. You’re Selene. You’re the goddess.”
“I am so much more than a goddess,” she cried, eyes lighting in fervor. “I am the mother of misery. The devourer of hope. The queen of suffering.
“I am Pandora,” she shrieked, morphing before my eyes—becoming the shining, burning, terrible, wonderful shifting monument of divinity. “Goddess of despair.”
I fell to my knees screaming, crying, clawing my eyes for daring to look upon her. I was worthless before her divinity. A speck before a giant. Mud on the slippers of an empress. Let me die for being in her presence. Let me burn!
“Calm, child.” Pandora tipped my chin—once again the sweet, beautiful washerwoman. “You needn’t be afraid of me. My gratitude to you knows no bounds. Because of you, I will wash away all the Olympian gods hold dear.” She pressed her lips to my forehead. “You have served your goddess well.”
“No!” I swiped, narrowly striking her across the face as she smoothly moved out of reach. The peaceful calm of this home shattered. My rage roared up unbidden. And unchecked. “Knowing your name and story makes no difference. I will do whatever it takes to stop you, Pandora. You’ll never get out of that box!”
Her grin stretched wide. “Oh, child. It is much too late for your swearing and bluster.” She laughed. “Much, much, too late.”
“No...” Awful realization sunk to the pit of my soul. “What did you do?”
“What didwedo.” She winked. “Nothing yet.”
Moving fast, Pandora shoved me—flinging me into another bottomless abyss.
“—TO THE GODDESS, WEoffer these keys. Separate they are insignificant, together they are power.”
I jerked awake, screaming—scattering the cloaked figures standing above me.
I was in a temple. Dirty, cracked, and crumbling. Piles of dead, unswept leaves blanketed the floor and rimmed each stone table. Horrific depictions covered the cracked walls and ceiling, telling stories of death, human sacrifices, and a face—beautiful yet monstrous—painted over and over. Traces of her beauty remained, but it was overshadowed by the glowing eyes; cavernous, sharp-toothed maw, and streaks of blood for tears.
Candles burned in polished copper holders, casting flickering light on the stone tables, and the gagged, sleeping figures upon them. The only difference between us was that at my feet was an ancient, symbol-covered box... being held by my stiff, unseeing mother.
“Mom!” I screamed through the gag. “Stop. Let go of us!”
“It’s much too late for that, Aella,” said Madame Remis. She understood me easily. Even more, she pulled away my gag. “The ritual is almost complete. Our goddess returns to us.”
“Why are you doing this?” Chills leaked through my body, giving way to the altar’s biting cold. “You don’t understand what you’re doing. You don’t know who Selene really is! She’s brainwashed you. All of you,” I yelled at the figures hovering over my friends. “You don’t want to do this.”
