A fact that creates an ache in my chest I’m trying very hard to pretend isn’t there.
What will happen when no one is waiting for me? Or—and this might be worse—someone is, and it’s humiliating.
An image of Hades taunts me.
“Two gods will be aiding me today,” Aphrodite says. “Hypnos will put each of you into a deep sleep. Then Morpheus will send you into dreams. In your dream, you must find the mortal you love most in the world.”
Mortal. I almost laugh my relief. No awkward conversation with my patron god in my future.
I focus on Aphrodite. This sounds too easy for the others, who probably already know their someone, at least—so clearly, the twist is coming. If I could, I’d cross my arms and settle in to wait for it.
“They will be trapped in their own dreams in a place particular to them. So to find them, you must figure out who it is and think only of them. Your dream will take you to them. It may not be who you think.”
That’s worse than I thought. I have to think of them?
“When you find them, telling them you love them is what will release you both from the dream. Bring them back to Olympus to end the Labor. If you don’t return with them before sundown tonight, they will die.”
See. There’s always a twist. Always with death on the line.
Aphrodite’s smile turns sly. “If you do wake them successfully, this person will then play in the next Labor with you…as a partner.”
A second twist? Oh goody, and lucky us. I suppose Aphrodite must, if anything, outdo the other gods just to prove she can.
She holds out a hand, and, with a shower of pink sparks, two objects float in the air above her palm—a bow and a quiver of arrows. “The first person to free their loved one wins the prize of Eros’ bow and arrows. These arrows only induce a temporary adoration, lasting a few hours at most. But in those few hours, that creature—man, beast, or…” Did she just glance at me? “…god…will not be able to resist you or say no to any request you make.”
Assuming the winner can aim a bow and arrow and hit a target properly, that should be fun to watch.
Aphrodite looks at each of us in turn, making direct eye contact, and just that much is enough to make me relax a little. As if she has the power to reach into my soul with a single glance and tell me that everything will work out.
“Now…” She waves a theatrical hand. “Dream and go find love.”
Hypnos looks exactly like you’d think—pale skin, long, straight hair of a deep purple that is near black, and beautiful like all the gods except for his creepy-ass eyes that are pure white. He moves silently from bed to bed, pressing a glowing palm to each forehead, and when he does this, the champion’s eyes flutter closed and their body goes lax. As always, I’m last, so I get to watch this many times over, but it’s not until he gets to me that I see his palm is marked with a swirling symbol and that’s what glows bright white.
If Morpheus is present, I don’t see him.
Then it’s my turn. The glow of Hypnos’ hand feels like the rays of the sun when you tip your face up to it in the winter, when it feels good just to keep your eyes closed and lean into the warmth above.
Only when I open my eyes, I’m still lying on the bed.
Um…did it work?
I don’t think it worked.
Aphrodite isn’t here. Hypnos isn’t here. I turn my head to find all the other champions still lying in their beds, eyes closed and sleeping.
A swirl of emotions drops into my gut—disappointment, embarrassment, and a few others I don’t want to put names to.
See. I was right. No one is waiting for me.
I expected this. I knew it was coming. And yet it still feels like someone just speared me through the chest.
I’m broken.
I get to just lie here and wallow in humiliation until the others return.
“Come with me, mortal.” A bronzed man, and I mean all bronze—his skin, his hair, his eyes—with wisps of a sparkling bronze…smoke, I guess?…swirling off of him is standing beside my bed.
I had heard the myth of the sandman was based on Morpheus. Now I see why.
He holds out a palm to me, and despite the fact that I’m still strapped down, I lift a hand to take his anyway. Mine is…translucent. He helps me stand from the bed, and I look down to find my mortal body still strapped there. My soul is leaving it behind to travel wherever Aphrodite and her helpers have me going.
“Each of the champions will get to their loved one in a different way,” he tells me. “For you, my mistress chose something fun.”
Morpheus walks me through a small doorway and down a hall of black-and-white-checkered marble floors and pristine white walls decorated along the top with a simple black molding. At the end of that hallway, double doors lead out onto a balcony, and there, a pegasus waits. The pink one I admired. She nods her head at me a couple of times in what I think is a horsey greeting.
I’m so entranced by the thought of getting to ride a pegasus that I almost forget I need to focus on the challenge.
Think of the person I love most, and the dream will take me to them.
Start with the easier part. Get on the horse, Lyra.
I’ve never ridden a horse before, so let’s just say that I’m the source of great amusement for a lot of immortals watching me struggle to get on right now. And then the pegasus takes off, and I clench my thighs against her waist as I wrap my arms around her soft neck. And squeal.
Riding the pegasus involves a lot of hanging on for dear life as I try not to slide off one side or the other. This has to be harder than riding a regular horse, right? Because she’s surging forward like she’s running, which jostles me forward and back, but her whole body is propelled by her wings, which bounces me up and down.
Thankfully, once she gains altitude—not too high—she levels out, and it’s easier to sit up and hold on with my hands now wrapped in her mane, thighs still gripping tight.
The pegasus tosses her head, eyeing me.
