“Alcohol is the anesthesia by which we endure the operation of life.”

  George Bernard Shaw, Irish Playwright

  Milly kept her head down, but her eyes trained on the two Orianes across the tavern. The god Hephaestus and his father. Heart pounding anxiously, she shoveled another mouthful of root vegetables into her mouth, hardly registering the taste as she focused on their conversation.

  “Does the medical team know what’s wrong with her?” asked Hephaestus’ father curiously. It was the tender tone of a supportive father, who accepted his son’s choices in life. It was a strange dynamic to observe – so different from Milly’s own experiences with her foster father.

  How much different would my life have been if I’d had someone who supported me like that?

  Hephaestus responded with a sad huff. “They had no idea what’s wrong. Half the words she screams at night are nonsensical. Gods. Nexus. Cycles. Artificial Intelligence. Humans. Madness.”

  “Well, that last one sounds about right,” his father joked, earning a disapproving scowl from Hephaestus. “Relax, I didn’t mean anything by it, son.”

  Hephaestus rolled his eyes and went back to his beer, dismissing his father’s insensitive joke. Evidently, he was used to it.

  “There are only two things she says in her half-asleep state that the medical team understands. My name… and Cizen.”

  “Cizen? As in… Dr. Taydon Cizen, the famed researcher?”

  “It seems to be the case,” Hephaestus muttered, swirling his beer absentmindedly.

  “A former lover? Or… a current one?” his father pried.

  “She denies it,” Hephaestus insisted. “Says she’s never met the guy, save for passing him in the Academy halls. Still…”

  Hephaestus trailed off, doubt eating away at him.

  His father reached over and gave him a meaty swat on the arm.

  “None of that doubt. What’s your gut tell you?” his father asked sternly, finishing his drink and signaling Citron for another. The mousy woman leapt into action and began to pour a second from the keg.

  “That she’s telling the truth,” Hephaestus answered softly. “She knows I wouldn’t hold it against her if it was otherwise – I am only a maintenance worker, after all. I know I’m not good enough for her. But I saw the look in her eye when the medical team told her she’d screamed his name. She was surprised. Not even a hint that they might have history. I’d bet my last gold she knows him as well as you or me, which is to say, not at all.”

  His father raised an eyebrow. “Curious. A secret life – one hidden even from her own consciousness. But look on the bright side. If she’s saying you name in both her conscious and unconscious lives, I’d say she feels the same about you as you do about her.”

  As Citron left the bar to deliver the drink, Milly activated her Detect Life talent and tuned it to the two Orianes. She saw the golden tether that bound them to the giant black orb held aloft in the palm of Cizen’s statue.

  Hephaestus and his father are the same as Bestian and the other at Research Station Omega. This isn’t Hephaestus the god, who killed himself before the madness could take him. This Hephaestus is a maintenance worker, like Apoi – the Oriane he used to be. Cizen’s bringing him back to life without his memories of being immortal. Before they were friends. A favour, or is there something more?

  “Yah… I suppose,” Hephaestus sighed, his father’s humor failing to land. “Oracle needs help, dad. But there’s nothing I can do.”

  Oracle. Luna’s mother. She’s here at Core Research Station. But is she the same as Hephaestus – resurrected without her memories of being immortal? No, I don’t think it is. Something else is happening to her.

  Milly recalled Oracle’s words on the monitor when she’d first arrived in the God Contest. ‘Find me. Find my memories. They will help you survive.’

  Milly quickly withdrew the Oracle Tear from her inventory before anyone could notice. It felt heavy in her hands.

  This tear contains fragments of her memory. If I find Oracle – if I give her this tear – will she be able to access those memories?

  The Tear sparkled in the candlelight chandelier while Milly contemplated her options.

  And if it did, what happens after that? Oracle was one of the three designers of the God Contest – the Contest that’s trying to kill my family. Would restoring her memories help us… or hurt us? Would she be on our side, or Cizen’s?

  Milly finished the last bite of fish and pushed the plate aside.

  I need to find her first. Thankfully, I now have a way to do that. I just have to wait until they leave…

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  * * *

  Milly leaned against the balcony railing, staring down at the moonlit street below. Hephaestus and his father’s increasingly drunken laughter echoed from inside the tavern, alongside two other workers that joined them a few hours ago. Milly stifled a yawn.

  “Good grief, how much longer are they going to be?” Milly complained to Coco, who had her head pushed through the gap in the railing as she gazed out at the city. Jinora was sleeping on a pillow, having sated herself on another cricket. “The moon came up hours ago, and the rest of the city is already fast asleep.”

  Coco gave her a short bark, urging patience.

  “Oh, don’t you start with me. You’re still in my bad books,” Milly huffed. “I can’t believe you didn’t notice my new look.”

  The capybara gave a little whistle of protest.

  “Yah, I know you and Jinora walk around naked all day. I just wanted someone to say I looked pretty and… finally!”

  Milly abandoned her disappointment as the four drunk Orianes stumbled out of the Waterside Inn, their laughter carrying down the empty street. Hephaestus had an arm around his father to steady the elder as he walked, though they both swayed on their feet. They headed south, towards the Academy on the hill.

  “I jush wanna be respected, you know?” slurred the shortest Oriane, leading the four of them down the cobblestone street. “The docks… awful place to work.”

  Drunken murmurs of agreement answered from the others as they lamented their lot in life.

  The final Oriane – a skinny man who wore dirty overalls that had seen better days – caught a glimpse of Milly staring down at them. He nudged Hephaestus in the ribs and pointed towards her.

  “Check out the porayi on the balcony,” the Oriane shouted crudely. “Hey beautiful, how much for the night? Dell and I can show you a good time.”

  Milly narrowed her eyes and frowned at the man. With a subtle flick of her finger, a sharp blast of wind careened down the street and knocked the drunk Oriane off his feet, sending him straight into a pile of garbage in the alley beside the inn. Hephaestus’ father and Dell howled with laughter as their friend picked himself out of the pile, muttering obscenities as he tried to wipe away a putrid slurry that soaked into his overalls.

  “I think I’d rather you go jump in the ocean,” Milly called down, trying to sound casually confident.

  The Oriane’s howled with laugher again at her dismissal and Hephaestus, to his credit, gave her an apologetic wave as the group continued to drunkenly stumble their way down the street.

  You’ve come a long way, Milly. Remember that first week, when Stone challenged you in front of everyone? Remember how you cowered behind your silence and ran? I wish I’d had the confidence that I do now. Perhaps things would have turned out differently.

  “It’s time. Take care of Jinora, Coco,” Milly instructed as Hephaestus and his friends rounded the corner and disappeared from her sight.

  With an effortless hop, she planted one foot on the stone railing and kicked off, backflipping high into the air and landing on the inn’s roof. She leapt across the alleyway to the adjacent building, her footfalls quiet. Raising a palm towards the sea, a gentle fog began to roll down the moonlit city streets, obscuring the rooftops from view.

  If one were to look up into the quiet night, all they would see is a faint pair of bright violet eyes glowing in the fog that blanketed the neighborhood.

  Milly leapt between the buildings until she saw Hephaestus, waving farewell to his father’s friends as they went their separate ways.

  “You should’ve laid off the drinks three rounds ago, father,” Hephaestus groaned as he half-carried his father towards a row of narrow, two-story marble townhomes. “Tomorrow isn’t your day of rest. You’ve got to be back on the docks.”

  “Is not your concern,” his father grumbled.

  “Feels like my concern, since I have to lug your heavy backside up this hill,” Hephaestus countered. “Mom wouldn’t have let you stay out this late.”

  His father was silent for a long while before he spoke again.

  “Treasure that woman of yours, son. You never know when she might be taken from you,” his father advised, his voice steady like he’d been splashed with cold water. “Your mother… I miss her every second of every day.”

  “I know,” Hephaestus said softly. “I miss her too, dad.”

  His mother passed before their war – before their God Contest. How long did his father last after it started? To watch your family die in such circumstances… perhaps it’s best Cizen brought Hephaestus back without memories of all that. If I lost Cally… or Passi… or Rain… I don’t think I’d want to remember that either.

  They stopped outside one of the marble homes, its shutters worn and faded. Hephaestus ran a judgmental finger along the nearest one. “I’ll come by on my next rest day and fix these. I have a new hinge design I want to try out,” he declared, wiping the dust off on his pants.

  “Don’t you dare,” his father said, fumbling with the door. “You've got a woman now. You spend your time with her. She’s your future, not me.”

  “You’re both part of my future,” Hephaestus replied, reaching past his father and opening the door. “Now go get some sleep.”

  “You going to her place?” his father asked. “At the academy, is it?”

  “Yes, she has a room in the researcher residence. She was expecting me back hours ago,” Hephaestus answered. “I’ll be in for an earful.”

  His father gave him a powerful swat – or at least tried to. He missed, and his blow struck a dilapidated shutter, which fell off its hinges and clattered to the ground. Milly, watching the interaction from the roof across the street, smothered a laugh.

  “You’ve got a lot to learn about being a good partner, son,” his father scolded, leaning the shutter against the wall beneath the window. “Leave me be, and go to her, before her nightmares take hold again tonight.”

  “I’ll be back to fix that shutter,” Hephaestus promised. “Next rest day.”

  His father mumbled a dismissive good night, stepped inside, and shut the door. Hephaestus marched towards the Academy residences, three miles away on the outskirts of the Academy. He moved quickly now, driven on by his father’s advice.

  Milly followed along on the rooftops, her fog following their path, as they headed for Core Research Academy and the secret goddess that lived within.

  * * *

  The Goddess Frigga had greeted him at the gates of God Home upon his ascendancy to godhood. As she lay a wreath upon his head, she’d declared him to be the new God of Death. A noble title, and one befitting the tactics the Oriane’s had used to survive and win the Oriane God Contest.

  It’d happened minutes after they’d won the final battle. Minutes after Syune – the love of his life – had been killed. He never forgot that moment, staring at the amused golden-haired goddess. She thought he’d be grateful for the honor. For immortality. Endless lifetimes to remember the taste of Syune’s tears upon his cheek and her final terrified tremble as death claimed her after.

  The horrors of the God Contest had created the seed of his loathing, but it was that moment – that callous moment when the amused Frigga had laid the wreath upon his head and declared him a victor – that had buried the seed deep in the soil of his soul and allowed it to grow.

  Now Frigga lay dead at his feet, as his virus finally overwhelmed her.

  “Another one down. Only four more to go.”

  The Non-Canonical Aftermath: