I don’t pander to these judges with anything further. I pass or I don’t.
Leaving the paper on the desk I stand and exit the room through a marked door. On the other side I’m surprised to find it’s a small training room. A table of five judges sits on a small platform at the end of the room. The judges are, predictably, all men. They each have a single sheet of paper in front of them and a pen poised in their hands. Across the room is a rack of weapons, each one deadlier than the last. A beautiful bow sits in the middle next to a quiver of steel-tipped arrows. I take in the other weapons; shiny blades, a double-edged sword, a mace, daggers, and even a heavy-looking hammer similar to Thor’s hang neatly arranged.
“Artemis,” a small man with thin wire-framed glasses says as I step closer to the table. “Do you understand why you’re here today?”
“To prove that I’m worthy of being a competitor in the Trials.”
“Correct.” A gray-haired man with a long beard nods next to him. The following man doesn’t even look at her and the remaining judges look bored. “Each of the students that applied for a spot in the Trials were required to perform the same challenge.”
“It’s only fair,” the gray-haired man says. His long beard is made of a dozen tiny braids.
“I have no problem with the requirement,” I say. “If my brother proved his worth, then I’ll prove mine.”
The bored men look up. Obviously, they expected me to throw a fit like a spoiled child. They don’t know me very well. One with slicked-back dark hair and a smushed nose narrows his eyes at me. I hold his gaze and when he finally speaks, it’s thick with judgment.
“Most gods do not make it through the admissions challenge. Strong males. Sons of the mightiest rulers. They fall apart. Return sniveling and sobbing like children, their pride stripped, their masculinity ruined. Why do you, a mere female, a person ruled of lesser worth and value, think you can walk through that door and come out the other side a champion?”
I don’t back away from the man’s hard stare, but I do casually walk over to the rack and study the weapons. My eyes land on a thin, sharp dagger. I pick it up and run my thumb over the blade. A slit of blood appears.
“Girl!” the man shouts. “How dare you turn away from me while I speak.”
Holding the dagger in front of my face, I catch his cruel reflection. I spin, throwing the blade at the same moment. End-over-end, it hurtles toward the horrible man, missing his face by less than an inch, landing hard in the wall behind him and the others.
His jaw gapes and he touches his ear, pulling back fingers coated in blood.
“I think I can run your challenge because I carry the same blood as my brother. The same genes built our bodies. We shared a womb—he was from the sun, I, the moon. We’re different sides of the same coin, forged of the same metal.” I return to my spot before the table, hands clenched by my side. “I think I can pass your pathetic test because unlike the spoiled children in this Academy, I’ve lived my life among the beasts, slept under the stars, and traveled by the light of the moon. I can gut a pig as quickly as a man. I can shoot an arrow faster than an eagle flies through the sky.” I near the table and stand before the judge that dared question my worth and lay my palms flat on the surface. He recoils back. I smile. “I think you only ask me these questions because you know I’m not only worthy of entering these Trials but quite possibly will win.”
The judge’s hands shake, revealing his fear, but the same look of hatred is etched on his face. The original judge clears his throat.
“If you fail the test, you will not be allowed to compete in the actual Trials, do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” He looks past the rack of weapons toward a door at the end of the room. “Choose three weapons. Go to the door. Once you enter and the door shuts behind you, the trial begins.”
“And then what?”
“Survive, and you’ve won your brother’s spot.”
“I just have to survive?” I ask. The man in the glasses nods. “Fine. I can do that.”
A noise comes from the black-haired judge—a snort—one of amusement. He still thinks I won’t make it; that’s how deep his prejudice runs.
“Thank you for the opportunity,” I say, bowing at the waist. I walk to the rack and choose my weapons. The bow and quiver, of course, and a stubby but sharp dagger.
“You get three,” the judge calls as I walk to the door.
“No thanks,” I say, flipping the dagger in my hand. Every eye watches warily until I open the door. Once I do, I find nothing but bright white as far as the eye can see. I turn back and take a final look at the judges, and close the door between us.
I’m enveloped by a thick white fog that leaves the taste of sulfur on my tongue. It’s impossible to see and I futilely wave my hands, trying to dispel the cloudy air. A noise skitters to my left and I grip the dagger in my hand.
I push forward. The ground is soft under my shuffling feet. I’m outdoors. The air smells fresh—familiar. Like decaying leaves. I hear nothing but the low rumble of thunder. Squinting, I make out a tall, thin object. I reach my hand out and feel the bark of a tree.
I’m in the forest.
This is a place I understand.
Slowly, the fog lifts and I spot a shadow just ahead. Tucking the dagger in my belt, I ready my bow, nocking an arrow. “Hello?” I call, knowing there’s a person out there. Friend or foe, I need to know their location.
“Ho!”
The voice comes from my left. “Who’s there?”
“It’s Dion, mate. I’ve been looking all over for you, for anyone. Got caught by the wolf, nasty little bastard.”
He emerges from the fog like a ghost. His beautiful face has thick slices made by a claw.
“You’re injured.” I touch his cheek and his skin is cold.
“I’ll survive. If we get out of there.”
“I saw someone,” I tell him, “up ahead.”
He presses his dirty finger to his lips. “Shhh. It could be Eros. He and Thor were fighting earlier. Did you hear the thunder?”
I nod.
The snap of a stick on the ground makes me turn and lean my back against the nearest tree. I hold up my bow, tracking the coming predator. Dion’s beside me; he’s losing a lot of blood and is in great pain.
The growl comes low and closer than I thought. Dion freezes next to me.
“You have to kill him, Apollo.”
Apollo? Maybe the pain has made him mad.
Lightning flashes overhead. “Go find Thor. He can kill the wolf.”
“You think I can’t?”
“You have to get across the finish line, brother. We agreed. Go. Now.”
I almost ask him why he keeps calling me by my brother’s name, but the roll of thunder pulls my attention back to the wolf. The growl turns to a howl and paws beat on the ground, running in the direction of the storm.
“That’s your chance. Good luck. If I don’t make it, know I wish you the best.”
“Don’t talk like that.”
Another howl pierces the forest, sending a flock of birds off their branches and into the air. I don’t want to leave Dion but my directive is clear—not just from him, but the judges. I have to get through this challenge.
That’s when it hits me.
Dion is part of the test. This isn’t real. The wounds. His confusion about me being Apollo. It’s all a fabrication.
“See you on the other side, Dion,” I tell him, and leave before I get more confused. The wolf’s heavy feet left a trail of prints on the muddy ground and I follow them.
I lose the beast’s trail when the landscape changes. The grass and trees grow greener. The sky brighter. The air turns lighter, saltier, and the breeze feels refreshing instead of overwhelming, humid oppression. A splash in the water catches my attention. Then another. The sea creatures are playing.