The Gorgon’s Veil, 390 light years from the galactic center
Ilithyia holds her hands over her belly; if she were a mortal the child inside her would be way more than ready for his or her birth. But since she’s a goddess, she can barely feel the divine spark that in a century will become a new god. That’s in stark contrast with all the death that surrounds her: Nephthys has assembled a small planetoid with the snakes she’s conjured up, and she has decorated it with the thousands of dead bodies that her troops have slaughtered during the invasion.
<I expected more.> Nephthys admits, caressing the scales of the python that is wrapping itself over her shoulders like an exotic scarf. She’s looking at the sky, where the Gorgon Veil’s nebula stretches as far as the eye can see.
<More dead people? Don’t you have enough of those?>
<There are never enough dead people. But I expected more of a challenge from this galaxy… I could’ve conquered it eons ago.>
<I thought Egyptians were famously patient. My family hasn’t really started to fight, so you might still find the challenge you want.>
<Are you sure? Your father Zeus is nowhere to be found, and his brothers Hades and Poseidon seem hesitant to take his place. Your mother Hera is too weak to challenge me, and so are her inferior vassals. Apollo and Ares are the only ones worthy of my attention, and neither one has come forward. What else do I have to fear in this galaxy?>
One of the snakes hisses, seconds before another goddess appears: wearing a tight dress of leopard skin, she’s holding a rolled-up papyrus. It’s Seshat, the goddess of wisdom and writing.
<My apologies, Queen Nephthys. Do you have a moment?> she asks.
<What is it?>
<Someone is transmitting a signal to our fleet. I thought you might be interested.> Seshat explains, unrolling the papyrus. The paper somehow not only shows a video, but is also transmitting the sound.
<Hello, Egyptian army. I am Null. This is a formal challenge to Nephthys: tomorrow I will attack your forces at the Gorgon’s Veil, and then I will kill you. Since you’re the Goddess of Death, I hope you’re ready to die. Null out.>
<Has she gone insane!?> Ilithyia wonders out loud.
<Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Seshat. Ilithyia, you have my permission to use the Key of Heaven again.>
<For what?>
<Isn’t it obvious? To teleport our forces here before the fight.>
<You want to concentrate all of our forces in the same spot? This is obviously a trap!>
<Of course it is a trap. It’s also pathetically useless: this “Null” can’t stop me.>
<Nephthys… I know you’re one of the Nine Gods, but Null killed a Primordial. You should never, under any circumstances, underestimate her.>
<And what do you suggest me to do, Ilithyia?>
<Kill her now. I can probably do it myself.> Ilithyia reasons, taking the Key into her hand; Nephthys is able to snatch it away before she even realizes she’s lost it.
<Nevermind. I knew I shouldn’t have left this to a Greek.> Nephthys says, and the Key glows ominously. A bright point in the sky signals the arrival of the first ship. The others follow, thousands after thousands, until the entire Gorgon’s Veil is outshined by the sheer number of teleportations taking place.
Megalopolis, 52.000 light-years from Earth
Hera is angry. While this is generally true at any given moment, considering how easily she gets offended, her current situation is much worse than usual.
It’s pretty clear that her forces are losing the war. Sure, Adrestia’s troops are helping, but that just make things worse for her: it means that her subjects will be grateful to Adrestia, not to Hera.
Then there’s the clear message that the Greek pantheon is sending her: Hera’s word is not as powerful as it once was. Ares ignored her call, and so did his half-siblings Apollo, Athena and Aphrodite. Only Adrestia and Hebe are technically helping her, but the former is clearly after her own goals and the latter seems to be making an effort to get as little involved as possible.
Even the Mortal Republic is silent. In Hera’s eyes, the only trustworthy power in the Olympian Galaxy is the Winter Kingdom: the Ice Queen just sent a token force to secure their own border with the Zeus sector, but at least it’s something.
And then there’s the final insult: a self-important youngling just projected a hologram of herself in Hera’s throne room.
<You DARE to enter this sacred room without permission!?> Hera shouts.
<First of all, I’m not really here, this is a hologram. And second, Hera, can we talk like reasonable adults, for once?> Noriko Null asks.
<Why should I listen to a mortal?>
<Because this particular mortal is your best chance to save your kingdom. Let’s be honest, you hate my guts and I’m far from being your greatest fan, but at least you’re not planning a galactic genocide… not that I know of… so I’d prefer to keep Nephthys away from your throne.>
<I don’t need your help to defeat that snake!>
<Sure you don’t. Here’s my proposal: get to the Gorgon’s Veil with your ships and don’t attack Nephthys until I ask you to.>
<And why should I follow the lead of a mortal?>
<Because if you don’t, I’ll call the rest of the Nine Gods and tell them Zeus is dead.>
<You liar! You would never do such a thing, and they would never believe you!>
<Are you sure? Because we both know the only reason why the other gods aren’t invading the Olympian Galaxy is that they don’t really believe Zeus is gone. But if I confirm it, and after the whole Dragon Tomb affair they certainly learned to listen to me, they will attack. And even I can’t defeat a full assault of the Nine Gods… not yet, at least.>
<This is all just a bluff! I don’t believe for a second that you will do such things!>
<And five minutes ago you didn’t believe someone could remotely hack into the holographic projectors of your palace, but here I am. It’s your move, Hera: decide what you hate more, the idea of losing your position, or me.>
The hologram disappears. Hera is tempted to trace the origin of the signal and disintegrate this impertinent child, but she admits that she doesn’t hate her enough to risk the survival of her empire.
Not yet, at least.
Delos, 78.000 light-years from Earth
As he often does, Apollo sits on his throne listening to the prayers of his Oracles. Mostly they pray that he will destroy the Egyptians before the war reaches their sector. Or, at the very least, that’s the only part he wants to hear.
<Lord Apollo. Please forgive my interruption.>
The god opens his eyes. His temple is huge, a circular room where the voices of the priestesses singing hymns praising His name can be heard loud and clear. They can never stop, under penalty of death at the hands of their only god.
<What is it, High Oracle Shaina?> he asks, looking at the woman kneeling before him. The woman wears the sacred white uniform with the symbol of the sun on her chest; since her promotion, she’s spent so much time in the presence of the Sun God that her skin is much darker than before.
<We have intercepted a message intended for Hera.> she explains; she transmutes a few milligrams of skin into photons, arranging them into a hologram of Noriko Null.
<The mortal who killed my sister Artemis. I will not hear her voice until she dies screaming; what does she want from Hera?>
<Apparently, she’s coordinating an assault on the Egyptian forces at the Gorgon’s Veil. I would never presume to know the will of the One True Sun God, but…>
<Yes, Shaina, I find this very interesting. Very interesting indeed.> Apollo nods, conjuring up a different hologram: a map of the Olympian Galaxy showing the most direct route from Delos to the Gorgon’s Veil.
Boreas, 3.000 light-years from Earth
Leiko Tanaka is an extremely pragmatic woman. There is no place in her mind for any sense of wonder, or for any appreciation of the thrill of discovery. Everything, no matter how fantastical, must be seen through a single lens: how it can benefit her.
Of course Circe cannot understand this. Mortals have always been fascinated by her power to transform one lifeform into another with astonishing ease, so when the Ice Queen asked her to show her the full extent of her powers, she expected it would be a fun experience.
<Have you seen enough?> Circe asks, transforming a horse back into a Lar male. There are multiple sensors on his body, relaying information into a screen in from of Leiko. She’s wearing the Winter Armor, but the helmet is retracted to expose her head; the air is cold enough to make her breath visible. She hasn’t even looked at the the subject serving as her guinea pig, not even when Circe transformed him into an actual guinea pig.
<Turn him into a Demon now.>
<Why? He wouldn’t be able to use the Blood. If you just want to have some fun, you’d have to let me transform you into a Demon too, otherwise you wouldn’t survive mating with one.>
<I can survive anything. But I am not going to waste your power for some cheap thrills.>
<Then what are you using me for? All you’ve done is ask me to do some easy tricks!>
<I am studying your power, Circe. Looking for a way to improve it.>
<Improve it!? Ha! What is there to improve?> Circe laughs, watching the helpless Lar trying to figure out how to move now that he’s transformed into a goose.
<You have the power to alter matter at a molecular level. What prevents you from creating an entire fleet out of nothing?>
<Well, first of all, I can’t create stuff out of nothing, I need some raw material first. Second, I don’t do machines: I only work with living beings.>
<So you can change any type of living being into another one. Have you tried to change inanimate matter into something alive… or vice versa?>
<I also don’t do corpses. I hate dead things.>
Leiko points her finger at the transmuted goose, shooting a dagger of pure ice. It hits the poor animal, brutally butchering it.
<What the… what was that for!?> Circe protests.
<It maintained its transmuted state. It didn’t turn back into a Lar.> Leiko notes.
<Well, yes? Everything I transform stays transformed, even after death.>
<What about the gods? Does your power work on them?>
<I wish. Even those who can’t alter their own body can resist being transformed by another.>
<“Resist”. That implies that they’re not immune. That they must learn to resist the transformation.>
<Yes. But good luck finding a god who can’t do that, even a newborn would resist.>
Leiko’s mouth moves slightly. It’s just the hint of a smile, but it sends chills down Circe’s spine.
<Change yourself into a Lar. We’re going to the Gorgon’s Veil.>
Phlios, 45,000 light-years from Earth
Noriko Null looks at herself in the mirror, adjusting her green leather jacket. She’s trying to make herself look presentable after spending weeks in the same gloomy laboratories.
<I’m going to miss this place. We’ve made some impressive work here.> Dmitry Voron tells her, placing his hand on her shoulder.
<I’ll miss it too. I don’t get the chance to work in peace very often.> she admits.
<We still have a few hours before we’re disturbed.> he says, moving his hand down her arm; she stops him before he can get anywhere interesting.
<I’m seeing someone.> she adds.
<Right now? I’m the only other person on this planet.>
<On Earth. I don’t know if it’s serious, but… look, Dmitry, we both know you and I just don’t work as a couple.>
<That remains an untested theory.>
<You’re looking for a larger than life science goddess without emotional attachments. I’m just a normal girl with the weight of the Galaxy on her shoulders.>
<I don’t see you that way.>
<I know. That’s the problem. I don’t want to see myself the way you see me.>
<Even if it could help you share some of the burden?>
<Get some rest, Dmitry. We leave for the Gorgon’s Veil in four hours.> she answers, abruptly ending the conversation and walking away from him.
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