The Goddess of Blessed Death

Maritime Escape

Macaria's father is dead and it's her mother's fault. Her father is dead and leaves his family vulnerable while he is whisked away to a mountain so high the clouds always cover its inhabited summit.

Macaria runs through the Calydon Palace. Word spread quickly of strongman Heracles's inability to take off a poisoned cloak and of the pyre no one would light to release him of his misery. The city's fortified walls will be breached by anyone who wishes to take control or take revenge. With the violent and sudden death of Heracles, the people are dissociated with reality. Some are crying in the streets and screaming to the heavens. Many are cheering. Many more are confused and shocked, standing around or wandering aimlessly or asking the same questions.

Macaria is sprinting. Her chest heaves and burns. She bursts into her mother's room. Deianira is already packed, and it's then that Macaria understands: her mother knew.

"I had you and your siblings' possessions taken to the ship, Ria," Deianira says and orders men to take all of the chests left to the ship. She moves towards Macaria, who walks backward.

Now her chest haves for another reason. It's as though Zeus's lightning bolt was striking her now rather than her father minutes ago.

"You did this to us!" Macaria shouts. "It's because of Iole, isn't it? He was horrible, Mother, but you've condemned us."

Macaria spins around and marches away. She knows she will be sent to the ship soon enough, but first she checks the library. She looks for all of her favorite books but finds only a few missing. She calls for a servant. A girl, Zoe, several years older than Macaria answers the call has her bring more books to the ship. She is crying as she picks out Macaria's favorites and places them in a bag.

"Give the rest away," Macaria says, her voice cracking. "I don't want them to be burned."

"Yes, Macaria," says Zoe as Macaria leaves.

Her throat aches from holding down the growing lump. Her chest feels as though it is closing up as she sprints outside. The ocean salt gives the air taste and stings her watery eyes. The air is alive and sizzling from the aftereffects of Zeus's lightning and energy of the chaos it has thrown the city into. She gulps down a sob, but it still escapes as a shaking breath.

Her city is in shambles. People and families are scrambling. They know what's coming, though many remain steadfast in their new worship for Heracles. A group of men are already talking of building a temple.

Macaria storms over to them. They greet her graciously, even reverently. She's the daughter of a god now.

"Stop it!" she shrieks. "You think you are free, or blessed? Why do you think your wives and children—your beloved leaders are running around? Crying? You talk like there will not be a reckoning! Heracles is gone! Gone! Who will protect you?"

"Run, Macaria," says a young one, "and you'll be abandoning your father. You should pray for his forgiveness."

She has the mind to smack him, but another speaks up.

"Heracles and Zeus will protect us," the other says. He is older with graying hair, a worn chiton, and calloused hands. "If we build a temple and pray, he'll protect us."

"You're throwing your lives away," she snarles. "You're throwing the lives away of anyone you convince or coerce—"

"Ria!" A deep voice slices through the breezy air. He's gasping for breath as he runs to her, looking both relieved and terrified.

The group of men walk away from Macaria as her brother Oneites approaches. However, Oneites runs up the steps of the palace to address everyone who can hear over the cacophony of bedlam. Macaria walks up a few steps to make sure she will he has to say. His face is stricken, sweaty with dried tears, and his chest heaves.