Magic, Myth and Mysteries

Playthings of the Gods, Chapter One - Sylvaine 8

Chapter 1

The Gods

The Squeezing is a game among the gods, and the most mischievous of them host it every summer solstice. It’s a time when there’s so much sunlight on Earth, but the game gets as dark as a moonless night in the Roque de los Muchachos Observatory in the Canary Islands. It’s as dark as the hearts of some of the gods playing it, even though many of them claim to be divine.

Siblings Eris, the goddess of chaos, and Ares, the god of war, are the co-founders of the games. The compassionate goddess Hestia is against them. She doesn’t believe in playing with mortal lives. However, she’s in the minority and she knows it. Only Astraea, the innocent virgin and goddess of justice and innocence agrees with her. The rest, even some of the better ones, enjoy a bit of chaos now and then.

“We need to have fun!” Dionysus says, but that’s to be expected. After all, he’s the god of games, wine, and festivals. He’ll gladly throw gold all around if he loses. He doesn’t even mind being tied up, tricked, and tortured. It’s the way it is. If you want to have a bit of fun, you should also be ready for some pain.

Some of the top hierarchy gods don’t play, but they have earned the right to turn up their noses. They wreak havoc on human lives more often, anyway. Just ask Zeus, who has spilled his seed all over the place to father so many bastard children.

“I agree with you, but there are far better games. We play games all year long, and -.”

“But aren’t you damn tired of us playing with each other all the time? It has become dull and you know I can’t endure that. There must be some chaos for me to feel alive,” Eris sighs, touching her body as if in heat. “You must admit that last year’s games were monumental.”

Astraea merely lowers her lashes and clasps her hands together, and Hestia manages a smile. Their minds are full of the vision of heads on spikes and drained mortals who didn’t survive the Squeezing.

Cacia, the goddess of vice, rolls her eyes. She and Eris usually agree on their plans, but it seems that Cacia’s not too fond of the games, either. Eris says that it’s because she’s too plump for the hunt, but it’s more than that.

“I’m sorry, Eris, but it’s getting boring. You always pick pawns you know won’t survive and you enjoy their demise way too much,” Cacia says.

“Boring? What’s so boring about knowing the best ways to kill someone without touching them? They destroy themselves most of the time.”

“How are you picking them this time?”

“They’re going to be the best in what they do, and they must know how to run well and fast.”

“Athletes,” breathes Cacia, raising an eyebrow. While sports is never a vice, she is fascinated with how athletes repeatedly train even when their bodies begin complaining. She’s seen some who still compete with broken bones.

“Maybe. Not necessarily, Cacia,” Eris says.

“Ares would love to go against worthy opponents this time,” Cacia mulls the idea over.

“It’s not going to be against the gods this time.”

“So, you’ve finally come to your senses?”

“They’re going to go against each other,” Ares chimes in.

Then, he and his sister face the rest of the gods in attendance. Minor gods and divinities who have never been mentioned in human books gather together, curious about what’s to come.

“What’s this about a change in the way the games are going to be done?’ Hestia asks, frowning. The way she leans herself forward makes it clear that she wants to believe things will be better. She is easy to read that way.

“Someone stole something from us,” Eris says, her jaw clenched. The whole coliseum on the clouds falls into a hush. The goddess of chaos has never looked this stern. She has never been seemingly immobile. She’s always moving, darting from here to there, and her mouth will utter some of the strangest phrases at random moments like someone in a delirium.

“What did they steal?” Astraea asks with her usual soft voice, but there’s also an urgency there. “I pray it’s not Zeus’ shield?”

“No. But you are right about one thing. It is a shield.”

The rest of the group gasps. They know which one Eris is referring to. It’s the Invincibility Shield. Anyone who holds it, human or mortal, can’t be defeated unless they can steal it back from him or they can figure out what it is that makes the individual tick. They need to know the most important person or thing that they can hold hostage, and torture if they must.

“But what kind of human would do that? How would they be able to come here?” a minor god asks, and he’s right about the impossibility of mere mortals coming to the place where the most important objects are kept.

“It’s a bastard,” Ares mutters.

“Surely not another one of Zeus’ bastards,” one says, before he slinks into the crowd, afraid of being punished for high treason.

“We believe that one of the bastards who visited the sacred armory took the shield. The rest may have covered up for him.”

“So, we know who to look for. It’s not exactly a hunt,” Hestia says, shaking her head. “Maybe it’s for the best. Let’s not play the games. Just find the culprit and punish him. There’s no need to hurt other people.”

“Oh, wouldn’t you like that?” Ares growls. “But see here? Many of the top hierarchy gods aren’t here. That’s not a surprise. They think that what we are doing is foolish and unnecessary, but I disagree. The other gods have been playing this game on their own, wildly unchecked. But who else is not here who’s always been here?”

“Proteus,” the nymph combing the tips of Astraea’s hair exhales.

“Is he the bastard’s father?” asks Hestia.

“Yes. He may have fathered more than one child, though,” Eris says.

“So, we are dealing with a shapeshifter - or more,” siblings Eris and Ares say together. “Proteus has been wandering about, acting more like Zeus by the day, bedding women in his many forms.”

“It’s still a damn hunt,” mutters Cacia, but she’s intrigued now. One of the worst vices can be curiosity turned into obsession. Eris needs her now, the goddess of vices think.

“It is a hunt because we don’t know who we’re looking for - what they look like. They can be anywhere, look like anyone,” Eris adds.

“That’s not necessarily true, sister. There is a stirring that comes from a place called m******e. There’s so much magick emanating from such a small place. Not only that, but there are at least there people there that seem to be calling attention to themselves,” Ares says.

He then talks about a boy called Luke. As he speaks a cloud appears in front of all of them and they see a handsome young man about twenty-two with dark skin and curly black hair. Ares says that the boy is a football player, and people are now reveling at his strength, speed, and looks. He’s also good at school. Straight As.

“Some people are talented, Ares. Maybe he’s just blessed by the gods.”

There’s a shadow that seems to pass over Ares’ face, almost like a memory in tangible form.

“Certainly blessed by the gods, perhaps by his father Proteus,” he mutters, but he no longer sounds convinced by what he’s saying.

“Mmm,” Cacia inspects the boy’s image, peering at the cloud more closely. “If we give him reason to run and he can do it faster than some of us, we are dealing with one of Proteus’ bastards.”

“Or any god’s bastard,” Hestia reminds her.

“Next is this blind young woman who can heal,” Ares points at the delicate, dark-haired woman with almond-shaped eyes. Her eyes seemed covered by a white film. In the vision, she touches a sick man who immediately rises from the bed.

“If she can heal people, why can’t she heal herself?” Astraea asks, genuinely intrigued.

“It’s another way of hiding in plain sight. She’s either not blind or her healing powers are even stronger than what we’re seeing. The blindness may be creating a balance,” Eris explains. “Her blindness against her resplendent beauty seems to create a balance as well. She may be beautiful, but she has no idea what she looks like. Or does she?”

“I don’t want to hunt a blind girl,” Cacia frets. “Would she be able to run? How would she manifest herself?”

“I guess we’ll find out,” Dionysius says, with a grin that shows he is going to pursue the hunt.

“Well, damned if we go through with this. It won’t feel right,” Cacia insists. She feels repulsed at the idea of going after someone helpless. Mortals and demigods are already at an advantage against them.

“The third one is a young woman who believes in the occult.”

“What does she do?” Eris asks her brother.

“She can summon the dead.”

“Huh.”

The gods watch a dark-haired girl with thick eyeliner and black lipstick, and are thinking the same thing. It’s possible that Proteus is the father of all three. The shapeshifting god can appeal to various women, without resorting to rape. He can manifest various powers, too.

But which one stole the shield?