Chapter 1

She has never known silence.

Her mind swirls with voices, as it has for millennia, a constant white noise of whispers and murmurs; the prayers of mortals.

Help me, they plead. Help me. How tiresome.

It has been a long time since she's felt any desire to meddle in the petty squabbles of man. Generals, presidents, kings, they are all the same. Pathetic little creatures who start wars for unjust causes.

Her intervention never took much effort. Barely a twitch of her golden eyebrow and a lightning bolt of inspiration could strike the mind of someone capable, help change the course of civilization, point the silly men towards peace.

And if she wanted to have some fun, well, there had been nothing quite like fighting in person when she was young and out to prove herself worthy of her patronage. Once upon a time she had relished the sweat and blood and metal on metal of battle, left her mark only as a warrior of myth and legend, a shadow that would lift when she ascended, returning to her throne as Athena; goddess of war and heroic endeavor.

Now very much an elder, many things have changed. She is calmer of temperament, wise beyond her years in the heavens, and has grown weary of mans' problems. Grown tired of the way they beg, of the patterns that repeat themselves, of their demands for weapons, wealth, or the death of an enemy.

With a little effort she can tune them out, ignore the endless cries of selfishness and greed.

But there is one voice lately that she cannot block.

It is a woman.

Serena.

And she listens.

Not because the woman isn't the most captivating creature she's ever laid eyes on in her time spent watching the motions of man from above, she is. And not because the woman's voice doesn't cause a shiver as it warms her soul, it does.

It is because Serena has never once prayed for herself.

Serena has begged for life, not death.

Life for her father, decades ago. For a few more weeks, days, hours as a girl much too young to be bereaved.

Life for her mother, more recently. For an end to the frightened tears that run down a confused and age-wrinkled face.

Life for her patients, almost every day, and for her colleagues, too. For those who might – should - do so much good in the world, who might –could- heal others and save lives despite their limited years, but who struggle with the personal fight against a traitorous foe called cancer instead.

She's wished for strength in others, rather than weakness, as they fought their battles, to be successful in their recovery, to defeat illness or injury, to beat that final exam, or to just be brave.

And she's wished for their happiness, too. Several times she has offered herself in exchange, bargaining late at night and with a full bottle of wine in her belly, but to no avail.

Even deep in depression Serena had made no demands. Just gone quiet for a time, removed her familiar, comforting low tones from Athena's ear.

The goddess had helped where she could; an idea here, a little push there. Hints and suggestions her only influence. Interference that left no fingerprints.

For decades, Serena has called it 'intuition.' With the sole exception of an attempted reconciliation with Edward, it had never steered her wrong.

But love, well, that was never Athena's area.

With barely a squint and a flick of a finger, she can provide the extra energy needed to complete a long, grueling surgery, bolstering Serena's resolve like an iron rod in the weary surgeon's spine. And though sometimes she wishes her involvement required more direct contact with this woman, she does what she can from high above the clouds.

Overseeing the mortal's latest battle, she bows her head and sighs hard. Zeus help her, she is smitten.

With Serena Campbell of all people.

So unlike the shining gold-blonde of the gods, the woman has hair the color of deep, rich chocolate. But it is her voice – like warm honey mixed with sin – that has ensnared her overseer.

Athena welcomes it, would suffer it for an eternity.

Two months shy of her fifty-second birthday, Serena goes quiet again.

Athena feels the darkness of her depression like Apollo himself has extinguished the sun.

She struggles to locate Serena far beneath the clouds, cannot find her light, or feel her move. Day after day, to the detriment of all else, she focuses only on Serena. Wishes she could hear her voice, or that she knew what to do.

Then finally, she hears a whisper.

"God help me."

She finds Serena at her desk, lit only by lamplight in the late hour. Head bowed to her clasped hands, elbows firmly planted. Serena's face is hidden in shadow, but she can feel the wetness on Serena's cheeks as sure as if they were falling on her own. Serena's sobs are a trident to her heart. She's never felt this connected, this affected by a single mortal before.

"I can't do this anymore," Serena says, inhales deeply through her nose, sniffing back more tears as she wipes at her eyes.

A cloud of blackness hangs over her and Athena can hear the pain of a life suddenly falling apart.

"I wish I knew what to do."

Athena starts as someone gently clasps her shoulder, draws her watery gaze up from the clouds.

"Go to her," Aphrodite purrs.

"But I -"

"Go. You can fight by her side."

Athena refuses with a headshake, swishing golden waves about her face. "Whatever it is, I can help her from here. I always have."

"You can, but you don't want to," Aphrodite says, grasping and turning her by the shoulders until they're face to face. "You forget, sister. I can see the love that grows within you."