The Garden of Golden Apples
“This is literally paradise.” Greer lifted her sunglasses to survey the location.
Thane looked around. When Greer had said she found out where they could find a golden apple—the only cure for the poison that coursed painfully through his veins—he’d imagined many things. An oasis in the deserts of Morocco. A small grove hidden in a very public city park. Even a lush plot of land attached to Olympus itself.
He had never once imagined something like this. Not even close.
They stood on a black sand beach, the Pacific surf lapping at the shore behind them.
A lush green valley stretched out before them, protected on three sides by steep, rocky cliffs that would make defending the garden as simple as guarding a single entrance. The lone path that led straight into
