Chapter Two

The Puzzle Pieces Begin to Fall into Place

*First Person Point of View ~ Iago*

In the depths of space and time, where all of matter originated and will eventually return, a single figure sat, brooding in his throne as he stared into the endless abyss before him.

He was hunched, his shoulders angled forward with age - despite the lack of wrinkles on his face. His hair was overgrown and unwashed, hanging in scraggly knots around his face. Obviously, he hadn't had company for many years, and he wasn't planning to either.

A single rip stood out against the swirling, chaotic ambiance - a scrying bowl of sorts - for the man to see all he wanted to see. His eyes gazed into it greedily, searching.

The man let out a low hum as he studied the images flashing across the rift in space. Then he let a childish giggle - a sound that one wouldn't think could possibly come out of the same mouth as the voice that came after it.

"Everything is going according to plan," he said, speaking as if someone else was there, listening. "Those pesky gods will soon get what's coming to them. They've become so reliant on the guardians so soon, that they will become hopeless without them."

His eyes glinted evilly as he spoke, sparkling as they reflected light that didn't exist. His voice, unlike his giggle, was deep and dark; it was the complete opposite of anything good or juste.

"Now, my puppets." His voice dropped to a whisper. As he spoke, his lips barely flapped, moving as subtle as possible, as if he was afraid that someone would see him and think he was up to no good. "Commence Phase Three."

***

Hermes, like all the gods, was out searching. He was in the wilderness of Greece, all alone and looking for any sign of any sacred weapons. So far, he'd found nothing, and he was beginning to lose any hope that the items would be found.

Just as he was about to head back to inform the Olympians that his search had wrought no benefits, an arrow whizzed past him. He turned, just in time to see a laistrygonian giant - frozen - behind him, with a look of shock on its face. It had gotten close, sneaking up on him so easily that its club was near enough to be swung and take off his head.

Seconds later, the laistrygonian was dust. Its club clattered at it fell to the ground, clanging against roots and branches adjacent to it.

Hermes spun around, back to where his guardian - Galene - was standing nearby, bow still out. Her fingers clutched the string tightly, even though she'd already released her arrow. Her knuckles were gleaming, white and shiny, giving away just how much effort she was putting into her grip on both the wood and the sinew.

The messenger god carefully approached her, his steps hesitant. "Galene, are you alright?" Hermes asked his guardian.

She was, of course, a daughter of Hades - obvious by her dark eyes and hair - but her mother was a descendant of Apollo, so she grew up with a bright and bubbly personality that stayed with her throughout her life as well as guardian training. Now, however, that cheerfulness was gone, and that had the Olympian worried.

Galene was trembling slightly, her whole body stood rigid until she finally - jerkily - shook her head. Then, changing her mind, she nodded instead, her hair bobbing around her head like the hood of a jellyfish - though only if the jellyfish was high on sugar. "I'm okay. Just...a little off. Sorry."

"Let's go back before any more monsters show up," Hermes suggested, his voice gentle as he spoke to his guardian. He had noticed that she was reacting slower than usual recently. Were the others that way, too, or was it just her? When they returned to the other gods, he would have to ask around. That was the only way he'd be able to put his mind at rest.

***

Stepping foot on Olympus once more was the easy part. Getting past all the debris to get to the throne room to meet the rest of the gods wasn't.

As he was unable to teleport back to Olympus due to damage in its protective shields, Hermes had to lead himself and Galene back up through the elevator - which once again had awful music playing, though it was glitching every now and then - making it even more horrendous.

Keeping a careful hold on his guardian's shoulders, Hermes took each step across the crumbling golden walkway of Olympus as if it would be his last. He recalled one time crossing a frozen lake - which he'd seen humans do before - and had felt the same mild fear of a surprise as cracks appeared beneath his feet.

"Ah, Hermes," Zeus greeted as the god of speed walked through the tilted doors at the entrance to the main palace, "Did you have any luck?"

The messenger god shook his head. "No. I assume no one else did, either."

Zeus frowned, looking down for a few seconds before returning his gaze to Hermes. Then, his eyes shifted towards Galene. "What is the matter with your guardian? She seems a bit out of it."

Hermes turned back to look at the daughter of Hades. She was standing slightly behind him, a vacant look on her face - which was not typical because guardians were always supposed to be vigilant so that they could protect their charges.

"I don't know. I almost got brained earlier by a monster. She just barely killed it. I've noticed that she's been reacting slower than usual lately, but until now, I hadn't thought much about it."

Zeus' frown deepened. "Now that I think of it, Aikaterine has been a little distant lately as well. When we were out searching, she stumbled over almost everything. I had to catch her a few times so that she wouldn't fall face first to the ground."

Both gods froze, realization dawning on them.

"Do you think that it's happening with all the guardians?" Hermes asked.

"I don't know. Maybe. We'll have to ask around. Obviously, Perseus is out, but the others... I surely hope that nothing is wrong with the guardians."

As the two gods finished their conversation, though their worries only just beginning, the last Olympian to return - Aphrodite - walked in.

"No luck, I take it?" Athena asked the love goddess as she collapsed into her throne, sighing.

Aphrodite just sighed again, eyes downcast. "I can't find my make-up kit! Those shells were handcrafted especially for me!" she sobbed. "Oh, and I didn't find anyone else's stupid items, either," she added as an afterthought.

Suddenly, a bright glow filled the room. It originated from the main hearth, then resonated throughout the room, lighting up even the darkest corners of the cracked marble. Even the gods were forced to avert their eyes. When the glow finally dimmed, the sight before them was a terrible shock.

Dionysus fell out of his chair.

It was their weapons, all stacked in the center of the room, not a scratch on them. It was as if they'd never been taken in the first place.

"Hephaestus!" Zeus called. "Check them for enchantments or if they're fake. We must know for sure. Nothing is adding up and I want to get to the bottom of this!"

Immediately, the crafter leaped from his seat, hobbling as fast as he could towards the items, still neatly piled by Hestia's hearth. He ran his stubby fingers over the items, first checking his hammer, and then the others. When he was finished, he turned back to the Olympians, who all leaned in with bated breath to hear of his findings.

Nothing was irregular.

Nothing was out of place.

Everything was exactly as it should be.

Relieved, the gods quickly filed forward to gather their sacred item, returning it to its rightful owner. They sat back on their thrones, quite happy that their items had been recovered. They didn't even care how.

Unfortunately, they were all too content that they didn't notice Lysandra standing in the darkness of a leaning pillar. She watched the happenings from the shadows, glad that her charge had reunited with his favorite lyre, but happy for the darkness to soothe her throbbing skull. All this running around - especially after fighting in a big civil war between the gods was giving her a killer headache.

Just as she leaned back to rest on the marble, she fell, not expecting to meet nothing but solid air. She jerked, turning quickly as her eyes widened in shock, only for hands to wrap around her. Hundreds of pitch black fingers - like ghost hands - wrapped around her, pulling her into the darkness.

Seconds later, she was gone, no trace to be found.

***

Word Count: 1462

Average Words Per Chapter: 1692

Word Total: 3383

Posted: Saturday, January 13th, 2018

~CSP2708~

*Dylan_Walts*