Dedicated to Siobhan,
who made the view from Theresa's window so beautiful.

The journey to Delphi was long and arduous, winding through misty mountain passes and sunlit valleys. Chiron had arranged for a bewitched carriage to escort Jay, Herry, Neil, and Odie down the mountain at first light. The Olympian eagle, however, had made itself a persistent nuisance, refusing to budge from its tight perch on Jay's shoulder since their meeting in Chiron's office.

Jay had tried to endure the bird's presence with patience befitting a leader, but its razor-sharp talons seemed determined to puncture his composure—and his skin. If only the creature could learn some manners, he mused, perhaps he wouldn't feel quite so tempted to shoo it away.

The carriage itself was a marvel of enchanted craftsmanship, its wheels never seeming to touch the ground as it glided effortlessly over rugged terrain. The trip should have taken no more than half a day, yet progress was painfully slow thanks to Neil. He insisted on stopping nearly a dozen times before Delphi even came into view over the shimmering horizon—each stop justified by his endless list of "necessities," from adjusting his hair to sampling roadside delicacies.

Jay sighed as the spires of Delphi finally appeared in the distance, golden in the midday light. The city clung to the mountainside like a jewel, its ancient walls whispering promises of wisdom and secrets hidden in the folds of time. Perhaps, he thought, they would find the answers they sought—or at the very least, a moment of peace from Neil's complaints.

"Are we there yet?" Neil whined.

"You mean since the last time you asked? Thirty seconds ago?" Odie grumbled, his voice thick with exhaustion from the journey.

Jay sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Shouldn't be more than an hour—provided there aren't any more stops..." He trailed off, throwing a pointed glare at Neil. The others followed suit.

"What?" Neil asked innocently, not even bothering to look up from his mirror. "I had to pee."

"You made us stop six times before we even got off the first mountain!" Herry groaned, throwing his hands in the air.

"It's not my fault I have a small bladder!" Neil defended himself, holding his mirror up to inspect his reflection from another angle.

"Well, maybe if you didn't drink your entire water supply in the first hour of the ride, you wouldn't need to go so much!" Odie snapped, shifting the pile of scrolls he'd been using as a makeshift lap desk.

"And risk getting dry skin?" Neil gasped dramatically. "Pass."

Oh, brother, Jay thought, leaning back into the cramped seat with a weary sigh. He tried to peer out the window, hoping for some sign that Delphi was getting closer, but the scenery offered no such relief.

The Olympian eagle, apparently unimpressed with the noise and jostling, clicked its beak sharply and snapped at Jay's brow.

"OW!" Jay winced, jerking back as the bird settled on his shoulder once again, its talons pressing in as if to remind him who was in charge.

"Jeez, what's his problem?" Neil muttered, glaring at the eagle as it ruffled its feathers indignantly.

Jay massaged his forehead, relieved it wasn't his eye that got pecked this time. The sooner this carriage ride was over, the better.

"Hey, is it just me, or are we slowing down?" Herry's voice broke the tension, and the boys froze. Delphi was still at least an hour away—this couldn't be right.

Sure enough, the wheels of the enchanted carriage groaned and creaked, their pace slowing to an uneven crawl until they came to a complete, lazy stop.

For a moment, the boys exchanged silent, uneasy glances, until the carriage doors suddenly flung open on their own.

"You cannot be serious!" Neil scoffed, folding his arms. The doors, as if offended by his tone, wagged back and forth impatiently.

Jay didn't wait for an explanation. He jumped out and began unloading their backpacks from the carriage. "Looks like we're going on foot from here."

Odie adjusted his glasses and squinted at the road ahead, his brow furrowing. "We'll be lucky to reach Delphi before the Oracles close the temples for the day."

"Oh, man…" Herry groaned, clutching his stomach. "I'm starving."

"You just ate two sandwiches!" Neil snapped.

"I mean for a real meal!" Herry shot back indignantly.

Jay let out a long-suffering sigh as his companions bickered, but his attention snapped back when the eagle on his shoulder suddenly dug its talons in.

"OUCH!" Jay yelped, swatting at the bird.

Neil gave the eagle an unimpressed look. "Someone really ought to tell Zeus what a jerk his pet bird is."

As if taking offense, the eagle flapped its wings, let out a sharp, piercing shriek, and launched itself into the air.

"Where's it going now?" Herry wondered, watching the bird circle above them three times before gliding toward the distant silhouette of Delphi.

"I think it wants us to follow," Odie said, quickly polishing his glasses with an old handkerchief.

Jay adjusted the straps on his backpack, his eyes fixed on the winding road ahead. He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the journey pressing down on his shoulders.

"Come on, guys," he said, setting off toward the road. "We've got a long walk ahead of us."

Mist from the cascading waterfall drifted through the temple's marble columns, each droplet catching the light like tiny fairies waltzing on the breeze. Beyond the temple's open-air expanse, the surrounding mountain range stretched across the horizon in a faint periwinkle haze, their peaks streaked with veins of molten gold as the sun dipped lower in the sky.

The kaleidoscopic colors of the heavens only seemed to deepen the shadows of the Darke Forest below. Its dense, emerald canopy loomed ominously, the depths of the wood exuding an eerie stillness that made the edges of the forest feel like the threshold to another world.

Far beyond the forest's borders, Mount Olympus rose in majestic defiance, its summit piercing the clouds. The storm that coiled around its peak churned and rumbled, restless and electric, as though the mountain itself held its breath in anticipation of what was to come.

"My Lady?"

Theresa flinched at the soft interruption. It wasn't the first time the temple staff had caught her staring out of her bedroom window, lost in thought.

"Forgive me, your Ladyship," the young maid stammered, shuffling nervously in the arched doorway. "I didn't mean to disturb... a vision."

Theresa chuckled lightly, shaking her head. "It wasn't a vision—just a regular daydream."

She cast one last glance at the distant horizon before rising from her cushioned window seat. With a quick sweep of her hands, she smoothed the wrinkles from her nightgown, preparing herself for another long day.

"Are you… uh… nervous about today's audience with the public, M'lady?" the maid ventured hesitantly, her gaze flickering to Theresa before dropping to the floor.

Theresa tried to offer a reassuring smile, though she knew it wouldn't ease the girl's discomfort. She'd grown accustomed to the wary looks from the staff, the careful distance they maintained, as though afraid she might suddenly blurt out a grim prophecy.

Afraid of the new Maiden Oracle, she thought bitterly. It's not like I asked to wake up one day plagued by visions and have my entire life upended.

"I don't think so," Theresa said, forcing warmth into her voice. "I've been training every day since the last audience. I think I've finally learned how to focus the visions."

The maid's soft footsteps echoed faintly against the limestone walls, the sound swallowed by the lofty ceilings of the bedchamber. She approached the large oak trunk at the foot of Theresa's canopy bed, its surface adorned with intricate carvings that seemed to shimmer faintly in the morning light.

"…But they still feel fuzzy on the details," Theresa admitted, her voice tinged with embarrassment.

The servant nodded politely, saying nothing as she lifted the heavy trunk's ornate lid. With practiced care, she withdrew the ceremonial garments, laying them neatly across the silken sheets.

Theresa's gaze fell on the robes, her expression caught somewhere between resignation and dread. She stared at the stiff, scratchy fabric as though she could will it to vanish. For a fleeting moment, she even closed her eyes, hoping for a vision of someone bursting through the doors, snatching the cursed robes, and tossing them over the balcony to be claimed by the roaring waterfall below.

When no such vision appeared, she sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping in defeat. With great reluctance, she began to change out of her nightgown, already bracing herself for the discomfort ahead.

The scratchy fabric clawed at Theresa's neck, making her wince as the maid fastened the buttons running down her spine. She tilted her head back, searching for distraction in the painted mural of the Olympians that adorned the ceiling above. Her eyes traced each figure, naming the Gods one by one.

There was Athena, Goddess of Wisdom and War, clad in gleaming armor with an owl perched regally on her shoulder. Beside her stood Hera, Queen of the Gods, clutching a peacock feather in one hand and wearing an expression so stern it reminded Theresa of her old history tutor back home.

Ironically, it was that very same tutor who had first introduced Theresa to the history of the Oracles. 'Believed to be portals through which the Gods speak directly to the people,' her teacher's voice echoed in her mind.

Theresa's gaze drifted as the memory unfolded. The Oracles, she'd learned, were three extraordinary women embodying the divine cycles of life: Maiden, Mother, and Crone. Each represented a stage of existence and wielded unique powers bestowed upon them by the Gods.

The Maiden Oracle, discovered in her youth, was blessed with the gift of future-sight—a glimpse into what was yet to come. The Mother Oracle, embodying maturity, honed the gifts she had mastered in her youth to navigate the present. It was said that the Mother Oracle's divine eye could pierce through deception, discern truths, and even read the thoughts of others.

Then there was the Crone Oracle, the embodiment of ancient wisdom. She alone carried the weight of all three generations, her vision extending deeply into the past, present, and future. The Crone was revered as the most powerful of the trio, often summoned to the High-Elven Palace for counsel with the royal family. Theresa had only met her a handful of times, outside of official duties, but the woman's presence had always left an impression.

The Oracles' fates were as fixed as the stars. When the Crone's journey to the afterlife began, the Mother Oracle would step into her place, and a new Maiden Oracle's power would awaken. The cycle was unbroken, eternal, and inescapable.

Theresa's thoughts lingered on the mural a moment longer before she sighed, the heavy weight of her own role pressing down like the fabric at her throat.

"Three generations bound to a divine cycle," her tutor had often said.

Such was Theresa's fate: to live her life as a vessel for the fates, a portal through which their messages passed. She knew she should feel honored, as her father frequently reminded her in his letters, to have been thrust into such a prestigious role. But no matter how hard she tried, Theresa couldn't help mourning the life she'd left behind.

Before her powers had awakened, she had been at the top of her class in the High Elven City, a prodigy not just in academics but in hand-to-hand combat as well. Theresa and her father had been honored members of the Palace court, a family of distinction with seemingly endless opportunities awaiting them. The future had been a world of open doors—until the day her gift emerged and every path she'd envisioned for herself was abruptly sealed.

Now, as she donned the ceremonial robes for what felt like the hundredth time, she couldn't help but recall her first day at the temple all those weeks ago. The other Oracle-women had greeted her warmly, assuring her that her newfound gift of foresight was a ticket to adventure, to a life spent serving and bettering the kingdom.

But it hadn't taken long for the shine of their promises to dull. "Adventure," as it turned out, was little more than a grueling schedule of psychic training, an endless string of tedious ceremonies, and dreary public audiences.

Theresa adjusted the scratchy fabric around her neck, her fingers brushing the stiff embroidery as she sighed. The life she had imagined for herself seemed farther away with every passing day.

The maid gingerly lifted the final piece of the ceremonial garment, holding it high above the floor to avoid the embroidered hem catching on anything. Theresa slipped her slender arms through its long, billowing sleeves, the fabric settling heavily over her shoulders.

As the maid fussed with the tangled knots along the back of the gown, Theresa's gaze wandered to the adjacent mirror. She studied the girl's reflection—a face younger than she'd expected, no older than sixteen, with wide eyes that darted nervously between the knots and the floor.

In her first few weeks at the temple, Theresa had been attended by a stern, older maid who prattled endlessly about temple etiquette and the Oracles' illustrious history of serving the kingdom. Though her lectures were often tiresome, the woman's confident presence had been oddly grounding, a small anchor in the sea of change that had swallowed Theresa's life.

But now the older maid was gone, her absence as abrupt as it was unexplained. She had been replaced by this quiet, timid girl who barely spoke a word or dared to meet Theresa's gaze.

Theresa had tried to bridge the gap with small talk and smiles, hoping to ease the girl's obvious discomfort, but the stiff silences that followed each attempt only deepened the growing pit of loneliness in her chest. Instead of feeling reassured, the girl's nervousness only made Theresa feel more out of place, more like the strange and isolated figure everyone seemed to see when they looked at her.

"So… you started working here a few days ago, right?" Theresa ventured, summoning as much warmth into her voice as she could muster. "I feel a little embarrassed to say this, but I don't think I caught your name?"

The maid paused, her hands hesitating over the knot she was tying. For a moment, she met Theresa's gaze in the mirror before lowering her eyes again.

"Nia," she replied softly. "I used to work in the laundry, but I got moved up here..."

Theresa sucked in a sharp breath as Nia tightened the crisp, white ceremonial robes around her waist, the fabric cinching uncomfortably.

"Have you always lived in Delphi?" Theresa asked, attempting to keep the conversation alive.

"No, M'lady. My family sent me here to work."

Theresa offered a small, self-deprecating smile. "Huh. Mine too," she joked, but the silence that followed felt heavier than the robes she wore.

"You must miss them," she tried again, softening her tone. "Where is home for you?"

Nia hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the fabric's hem. "My home was a village called Messis," she said at last, "but my family is in Aegis now."

Theresa perked up slightly. She recognized the name from her studies—Aegis, a thriving hub for merchants and travelers, its central location making it a bustling crossroads for the kingdom. "I'm surprised you had to travel so far to find work, coming from a big place like that," Theresa mused aloud.

Nia glanced at her, her expression unreadable. For a moment, Theresa wondered if she had said something wrong.

"The town's very different these days," Nia said at last, her voice quiet. "It never fully recovered after the Titan War... Now the forest has started taking over some parts of it, most people are trying to get out."

Theresa frowned, leaning forward slightly. "What do you mean the forest is 'taking over'?"

Nia's hands froze mid-tie, her face paling as though she had said too much.

"The… the Darke Forest, my lady," Nia said carefully, her voice barely above a whisper. "It grows and changes more each day, taking over anything close to it..."

Theresa tugged at the scratchy collar of her robe, frowning. "But I thought that was just an old wives' tale to stop people from going in there."

Nia shook her head. "My uncle showed up on my mother's doorstep six months ago, claiming his farm had been swallowed by the woods. We didn't believe him at first… until—" Her voice faltered, her gaze dropping.

Theresa opened her mouth to prompt her further when a sudden, icy sensation prickled between her brows. The air around her seemed to freeze, and her body went rigid.

Then it struck—a flash of blinding, violet light that consumed her vision. The room, Nia, and even the scratchy robes vanished as a numbing void engulfed her senses.

For a moment, there was nothing but suffocating darkness. Then, slowly, shadowy shapes began to emerge from the purple haze.

A village square came into focus, bustling with market stalls advertising fresh produce. "Messis farmed," read a sign hanging over a stall of bright, fragrant fruit. But cracks suddenly split the cobblestone streets, and thorned vines burst violently from the ground.

The peaceful square erupted into chaos. The vines twisted and coiled, tearing through buildings and enveloping entire homes. Trees, grotesque and unnatural, shot up at a horrifying speed, their roots splitting shopfronts as if they were paper. Villagers screamed, fleeing in every direction as monstrous shadows poured from the nearby forest.

Armoured giants, harpies, and creatures Theresa couldn't name emerged; their breastplates marked with an unfamiliar emblem: two overlapping scythes beneath the letter "C."

The vision shifted violently. Maroon eyes, glowing with malice, seared into Theresa's mind. A man's face began to form around them—weathered and scarred, with a crooked line carving from his cheekbone to the edge of his jaw. His smile twisted the scar into a crescent shape against his neatly trimmed beard.

He threw his head back, laughing triumphantly, the sound echoing in her mind. The laughter was cut short by a slashing flash of lilac light, and Theresa was yanked from the vision, her body lurching backward as she gasped for air.

In the mirror, she saw Nia stumble, rushing to catch her as she collapsed. The young maid's mouth moved frantically, but the ringing in Theresa's ears drowned out her words. All she could hear was the echo of that man's chilling laugh, reverberating in her mind.

Finally, the sound began to fade, replaced by Nia's panicked voice.

"C-Can you hear me, my lady? Are you alright—?"

Theresa grabbed the maid's arms, her voice trembling. "Those things—they attacked your village!" she cried. "Th-those creatures!"

She struggled to articulate what she had seen, but the terror on Nia's face told her everything. The maid knew exactly what she meant.

"H-how did you know that?" Nia stammered, taking a cautious step back as she helped Theresa to her feet. "How could you have seen that? I-I thought you only saw the future!"

Theresa massaged her temples, her thoughts spinning. Nia was right—how could she have seen into her memories? Only the Crone Oracle had the ability to see into the past, and only after a lifetime of training.

She pushed the question aside, focusing on what she'd seen. "But those eyes… the man with the scar. Who is he?"

Nia's confused expression deepened. "What man? I don't know what you're talking about. Oh, Gods, I knew I should've stayed in the laundry…"

"The symbol on the monsters' armor," Theresa pressed. "It has something to do with him. I think he's connected to the forest somehow." She shook her head, trying to make sense of the vision. "What happened to the rest of your home?"

A shadow crossed Nia's face, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Gone…" she said, the word barely audible. "Most of us fled to Aegis after those creatures showed up." She shuddered. "They say things like this happened when Cronus was rising to power last time. I never would've believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes."

Theresa was stunned. "But wait—if this kind of destruction is wiping out entire towns, why hasn't anyone told the Palace? Or the Oracles? We could help!"

Nia shuffled awkwardly, avoiding Theresa's gaze. "The truth is… many have tried. But…"

"But what?" Theresa leaned forward, her apprehension growing.

"Well…" Nia hesitated. "My cousin made the journey to the Oracles to ask for help. But when the council found out what she was going to ask, they turned her away."

Theresa's jaw dropped. "What council?" For weeks, she'd lived at the Oracle's temple, yet she'd never heard of any council.

"The council from the Palace," Nia explained. "They screen all the questions from the public audience attendees. No one's allowed to ask the Oracles a question unless the council approves it first… unless, of course, you have enough money to persuade them."

Theresa blinked in disbelief. "Why would they turn her away? That's a real issue!"

"They said she was spreading propaganda," Nia replied slowly, her voice heavy with bitterness. "They didn't want to risk it getting out to the public."

Theresa's mind went blank with outrage. She thought of all the hours she'd spent answering the most mundane, gossip-fueled questions in those tedious public audiences, while people with real, life-or-death problems were being turned away?

Her hands clenched into fists. "This is outrageous! We're supposed to help everyone!" Theresa's voice trembled with indignation, the heat of her anger rising to the surface.

She paced a few steps, her ceremonial robes rustling with each movement. "That's it," she declared, spinning back toward Nia, her eyes alight with determination. "I'm taking this up with the other Oracles!"

Nia let out a soft whimper of exasperation. "Please, my lady, we must get you to the ceremony—there's nothing you can do! It's the way things have always been!"

Theresa stopped mid-step, her mind racing. So, the Palace has been keeping the kingdom in the dark all this time…

Her gaze drifted toward the window, where dark clouds coiled ominously around the summit of Mount Olympus in the distance. "I can't just keep pretending everything is fine while innocent people are getting hurt," she murmured, stepping closer to the window.

The storm clouds seemed to writhe and shift, as though alive. Theresa could have sworn they'd grown thicker, heavier.

"Please, my lady," Nia pleaded urgently, her voice almost cracking. "You'll be late for the ceremony!"

But Theresa's attention was elsewhere. "I wonder…" she said softly, her voice barely audible. "What if all of this is connected to that?" She nodded toward the mountain just as a jagged streak of lightning split the sky, illuminating the roiling storm clouds.

And then, it hit her.

The second vision erupted, dragging her into its grip.

Olympus loomed before her, shrouded in raging black storm clouds. Lightning tore violently across the sky, illuminating the chaos as thunder roared like a battle cry. A long, piercing shriek echoed over the mountains, and from the storm emerged a great golden eagle. It soared through the turbulent skies with fierce determination before diving toward the earth.

The eagle landed on a battlefield at the foot of Olympus, where seven figures stood in a defensive line. Their faces were obscured, but their armor gleamed with symbols of the Gods. The eagle perched on the shoulder of the group's leader—a young figure, barely more than a teenager.

The scene shifted. The battlefield dissolved, and the seven now faced the Darke Forest. The eagle screeched again, launching into the air and disappearing into the forest's shadowy heart. At the edge of the forest, the trees began to twist and writhe unnaturally, their branches contorting into limbs. Faces emerged from bark, and towering giants replaced the ancient trees, each clad in armor bearing the ominous C-symbol from Theresa's earlier vision.

The leader of the seven raised his sword, his posture resolute. With a cry, he led the charge, and the others followed, their weapons gleaming as they joined him in solidarity.

The vision began to splinter, images flashing too quickly for Theresa to fully comprehend. She saw fleeting glimpses of six unfamiliar faces, their features blurring as they flickered past. The leader's face lingered, his eyes filled with kindness, determination, and an unshakable concern. Then, she saw herself—glowing eyes alight with power—standing as the seventh figure.

The flashes became more disjointed, a whirlwind of disconnected scenes: a full moon glowing ominously; a solstice festival in wild celebration; animals racing through the forest; a village engulfed in flames; grey eyes prowling the underbrush like a predator; soldiers rising from the soil, their armor etched with Olympian symbols; twin statues frozen in terror; a towering wolf, its eyes locked on Theresa, poised for the kill; the Darke Forest twisting into a nightmarish labyrinth.

The final image was unmistakable—the man with the scar. His smile twisted into a menacing scowl as he raised his twin scythes toward the seven figures. He lunged, his attack aimed at the leader, but the boy met the blow effortlessly with his sword. The others surged forward, their weapons raised to join the fight.

Theresa gasped awake, clutching the windowsill for support as pain throbbed through her temples. She had never experienced a vision so vivid, so powerful. Her breathing came in ragged gasps as she steadied herself, her mind racing.

This was no ordinary vision. Something big was coming—something unspeakably evil.

Theresa turned toward Nia, who stood motionless by the mirror. The maid's face was pale, her wide eyes glazed over as though she were on the verge of fainting.

"I should have stayed in the laundry," she whimpered.