Di sat cross-legged on the hotel floor, a crumpled crossword puzzle balanced on her knee. The tiny complimentary pen scratched across the paper as she scribbled out another wrong answer and replaced it with an even worse guess.
19 across: An eight-letter word for ‘regret.’
She’d written hangover, then crossed it out and rewritten it in all caps out of spite.
A cold cup of coffee sat untouched beside her, and the TV played something she wasn’t watching. Some crime drama with too many close-ups and not enough substance. It didn’t matter. It was background noise, something to kill the silence.
A knock came at the door, just barely audible above the TV’s hum. Normally, she’d wait it out. Erin always left eventually. But boredom had sunk its claws in deep that day, and telling the muse to piss off felt more appealing than sitting there feeling useless. She tossed the crossword aside and stood.
She swung the door open and saw Erin standing just outside, hands in the pockets of a bomber jacket. Beside her was Leo. He gave a small wave, awkward, like he wasn’t sure if he should have come.
“What do you want?” Di asked.
Leo gave her a small shrug. “Do I need a reason to check in on a friend?”
“I’m not your friend. I’m your boss.” The words came out sharp, automatic. No filter, no pause. She always killed things like that early: tenderness, familiarity, the slow bloom of something more than just a one night stand or a colleague. Because softness asked too much. It asked her to trust. To open a door that she had locked tight as a child and leave it open. To let someone see her entirely, not just the edges but the unguarded core. And she’d learned long ago what came of that…how ruin always wore the face of someone you’d once trusted.
She braced for the wounded-dog expression. The one he’d worn last night when she’d shut him down.
But it didn’t come.
That time, Leo just nodded slightly as if he were brushing it off. Like he’d finally made peace with the fact she was a cold-hearted bitch and decided it wasn’t worth flinching over anymore.
“I like to think of bosses as professional friends,” he said, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe and preventing her from slamming it shut in their faces.
“You’re an idiot if that’s what you think,” she snapped.
“Probably,” he agreed easily.
Erin cocked her head. “I just came to see if you were dead yet.”
Di gestured to herself with a dry expression. She opened her mouth to tell them to piss off. She had the syllables already half-formed on her tongue when something shifted.
Not the air. Not the light. Not sound.
Her.
One blink, and the hallway vanished. The hotel, the peeling carpet, and the flickering TV screen were all gone. She hadn’t moved, but the world had.
She stood in the middle of a wide, open expanse. The ground was soft with moss and the riotous green grass was dotted with flowers she couldn’t name. Some shimmered faintly in the light like they’d been dusted with starlight.
In the distance, trees arched high with silver bark and leaves that rippled like silk. Strange birds flitted between their branches, their songs sweet and alien.
And ahead of her… a mountain.
It towered impossibly high. Its base was wide as a city and its peak lost to the clouds above. No, not just clouds. Stars. The summit vanished into the heavens, as if the mountain pierced straight through the fabric of the sky itself.
“Crazy view, huh?” a voice said behind her, and she turned around warily.
Behind her stood a man bundled up in a thick, fur-lined jacket. The hood was pushed back and his gloved hands were tucked into his belt. His hair was ash blonde, tousled as if it were permanently windswept, and his skin carried the flush of cold air. A fine scar curved beneath one pale blue eye, old and faded, barely noticeable unless you were looking for it.
For a moment, Di simply stared at him. Then, her gaze slid past his shoulder and she realised that they weren’t alone.
Hundreds of others stretched across the grassy field, dotting the landscape in clusters. She recognized a few faces from the feast; the man who had given the Minotaur’s intestines to Aphrodite, and the girl with white eyelashes…the only child of Hades. They were all there, every demigod who had survived the first trial.
Suddenly, it clicked. The second trial had begun.
“Daughter of Dionysus, right?” the ash-blond man said, dragging her attention back to him.
He smiled, easy and unbothered, like they were just two acquaintances sharing a cigarette. Di scowled instinctively, but he didn’t seem to notice. His smile didn’t falter, like her attitude was just a temporary brush of cold air that would soon warm up.
She hated him immediately.
“I’m Mason,” he said, offering a hand she didn’t take. “Son of Hercules.”
“?ρακλ??,” Di corrected automatically.
Mason froze, hand still extended. He blinked at her, eyebrows knitting together like he was trying to figure out if she’d just insulted him. “Uh… what?”
Di narrowed her eyes.
Hermes had said all languages would be translated automatically during the trials, even the most obscure…but Ancient Greek, apparently, didn’t make the cut.
Maybe even the gods themselves weren’t using it anymore. Why would they? They had to evolve with the times.
Suppressing a sigh, she tried again. This time with the modern Greek pronunciation. “Herakles.”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
Mason still looked baffled, but after a second he gave a slow nod. “Right. That’s… what I meant.”
Di didn’t bother arguing. It was good enough for her that she’d wiped the smile off his face for almost a full minute before it returned in full force when he gave her a once-over.
“You, uh… just roll outta bed or something?”
Di followed his gaze down and realized, for the first time, what she was wearing: a black singlet, baggy grey sweatpants, and absolutely no shoes. Her toes curled instinctively against the mossy ground but she made no effort to answer.
Mason’s grin stretched a little wider, though there was a slight tilt to his head as he watched Di, like he couldn’t quite place her. “You know, there’s something about you. You look really familiar, for some reason.”
“We don’t know each other,” she said stoically, though there was an undercurrent of impatience. Her gaze fell briefly over the vast landscape, then back at Mason.
“I mean, yeah. I’m sure we’ve never spoken before. I’d remember your charming personality. But maybe I’ve seen you somewhere before? It’s been bugging me since the feast.”
She stared at him in silence, and before she could say anything else, a voice broke through.
“Oi! Di! There you are!”
Di’s head snapped toward the sound, a mixture of recognition and annoyance flashing across her face. A small figure bounded toward them from the group, moving with the kind of energy only a thirteen-year-old could manage. His face was flushed with excitement, and his messy blonde hair bounced with each step.
When he reached her, he skidded to a stop, smiling from ear to ear. “I’ve been lookin’ for you everywhere!”
“You found me. Now go away.”
Callum, who had completely ignored her, shifted his attention to Mason. “Who’s this guy?”
“I could ask you the same thing.” Mason replied.
“I’m Bazzah. Di’s brother. Technically half-brother, but y’know, same shit.”
Mason laughed, shaking his hand. “Mason. Son of Hercules.”
Di didn’t correct him that time. She didn’t care enough. If he wanted to go around saying his father’s name wrong then that was his own business.
Callum, however, was practically vibrating beside her at the mention of Herakles. He seemed ready to throw a whirlwind of questions Mason’s way, but then something shimmered at the edge of their vision.
The air above the field rippled, like heat over asphalt, until Hermes suddenly appeared. Floating. Upside down.
“HELLO, children of Olympus!” Hermes shouted, arms spread wide like a game show host. He hovered just high enough above the ground to be visible by the entire crowd, his golden wings fluttering lazily at his ankles. “Welcome to Trial Number Two. Hope you’ve all had a fun week, because things are about to get…well, very not-fun.”
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Some groaned.
Hermes flipped right-side up with a flourish and flattened his feet on the air like it was solid ground. “Now, I’m sure you’ve all noticed the lovely little hill behind me.” He gestured dramatically toward the towering peak. “That, my friends, is Mount Olympus. Your task is simple: climb it. All the way. No cheats, no Godly favors, no whining. You’ve got one week. Seven days exactly. Make it to the top, you move on. Fail…” He tilted his head, almost playfully. “And you’ll get a visit from The Keres.”
The name dropped like a hammer into the crowd. Even the birds in the trees seemed to quiet. Di grimaced.
“The Keres,” Hermes continued cheerfully, “for those of you who skipped mythology class, are lovely ladies who represent violent death. Not the peaceful kind. Oh no. We’re talking blood, disease, messy, drawn-out ends. If you’re still crawling around at the base of the mountain after seven days… well. You’ll find out, just like your dead brothers and sisters did in the first task.”
Someone behind her started to speak. “Are we supposed to—”
Di thought it might’ve been Mason, but Hermes cut him off.
“No questions! You’ve got a mountain to climb. Good luck! Don’t die!” He snapped his fingers and was gone in a flash of gold light.
The crowd didn’t waste time. They surged forward like a pack shooting out from a starting gate, shouting and scrambling over one another as they charged toward the base of the mountain.
Di stayed where she was, arms crossed, watching with thinly veiled contempt as they jostled for positions. It was steep even at the beginning with sharp rocks and uneven moss-covered ledges. The climb was going to be brutal.
Ahead of the pack, someone had already pulled out in front. Di squinted. The son of Aphrodite. Dean.
“Dickhead…” Di muttered under her breath.
Mason shifted beside her. He took a few steps toward the slope, glancing over his shoulder at her. His grin had softened a little, but it was still there. “Good luck. Rough break though… You’re going to freeze to death before you make it to the top.”
“Oi!” Callum barked, shoving Mason squarely in the shoulder.
Mason didn’t budge. He stayed exactly where he was, the shove rolling off him like water off stone. He glanced down at Callum’s hand with mild amusement.
Callum, undeterred, jabbed a finger toward Di. “Don’t you be underestimatin’ her. It’ll be the last thing you ever do.”
Mason tilted his head, clearly entertained.
“I’m not kiddin’,” Bazzah pressed, puffing up a little with pride. “You saw what she did to that fuckin’ Minotaur, right? A mountain’s nothin’ for her.”
Di glared at him. “Shut up.”
Mason chuckled, his pale eyes glinting with something that might have been curiosity. “We’ll see,” he said lightly, then turned and started up the mountain without another word.
Di watched him for a beat longer, then exhaled sharply through her nose and started walking, with Bazzah bouncing along beside her.
“Seriously though,” Callum whispered conspiratorially, elbowing her gently. “I think he was just jealous.”
“One more word and I’m throwing you off this mountain.”
Callum looked up at the summit rising before them. A few climbers near the front were struggling; they slipped on damp stone or realised too late that their momentum couldn’t carry them past the incline.
He said, gesturing at the base slope with a dramatic sweep of his hand, “Tell you what, if you’re planning to chuck me off this thing, maybe wait till we’re a bit higher up, yeah? I mean, you could do it now, but it’d be a bit disappointing, right? Like, splat, a meter down. Not even enough air-time to scream properly. Yeah, nah, if you’re gonna yeet me, you gotta wait till we’re at least…what, halfway up? Somewhere with a sheer drop, nice big echo, get the proper aaaaahhh fading into the distance.”
He threw his arms out wide as he spoke, nearly clipping a passing girl. She shot him a dirty look. Callum just grinned and kept going.
Di, meanwhile, kept climbing steadily, jaw tightening with every word.
She was beginning to realize, with no small amount of irritation, that he wasn’t intimidated in the slightest. Not by her glare, her threats, not even by the idea of being tossed off a mountainside.
Callum went on, weaving around a low outcropping of stone. “Imagine it, dramatic last words, the final push, and a whole ton of blood. Legendary.”
“You’re not gonna have time for last words,” Di muttered.
“See now that is cool! I wouldn’t be the one saying it but who cares? If you chuck me off the mountain you have to say that before you do it!”
Di sighed through her nose and kept moving. Callum was still talking but she wasn’t listening anymore. He had become as inconsequential as the birds flying up ahead.
Some of the others who had sprinted ahead were already slowing, realizing too late they couldn’t keep that pace on the brutal incline.
The moss and greenery thinned fast and gave way to jagged rocks that jutted through the earth like broken bones. Every step sent a fresh sting through the soles of Di’s feet, the stone cold and unyielding beneath her skin. It was a steady, biting ache. The kind that promised to get worse before it got better. The mountain showed no mercy. It tilted up steeper with every step, and already, Her hands were starting to claw at the stone for balance. And this was only the beginning.
The air would get colder. The rocks sharper. Before long, they’d have no choice but to climb with both hands and feet, hauling themselves up like animals.
And Di was expected to do it barefoot? She supposed they had warned them when the trial would take place, but she kind of got lost in the monotony of paperwork and crossword puzzles and movies. She wasn’t used to being idle. It made her mind go blank. It made her forget who she was…and what she was a part of.
She knew there was almost no chance she’d make it to the top. But that was exactly what that asshole Mason had said…what all of them probably thought. The idea of proving him right, of proving all of them right, clawed at her worse than the cold or the stone under her feet. Just another piece of cannon fodder. Another funeral song on Erin’s stupid fucking album. The thought made her vision blur with rage. She was going to make it. If it killed her, she was going to drag herself to the top through sheer spite alone.
