"HOW DID YOU KNOW that Dionysus was your father?" Ezra asks me sometime later. He's lying on his stomach on his bed, his chin propped up with his hands, his knees bent up behind him.
"My mother went to the Cult of Apollo for a prophecy about how her temple was going to do and one of their seers told her then. I think I was five or six."
"Did you have any idea beforehand?"
"We always knew."
"How?"
"She was—she still is—his high priestess," I explain. "He appeared to her one night. They had sex. She was a virgin. So she always knew. And I always knew. But no one would take our word for it until there was literally a prophecy saying that I was."
"Your mother's a pagan priestess." He nods. "That makes sense."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I don't know. There's just something about you. You seem so—like, Hozier's music? Florence Welch? That's you. That's so you."
"I don't understand. I don't know what those things are."
"Oh, Antigone, bless your heart. You've missed out on so much."
YOU ARE READING
A Shrine to an Unknown God
FantasyAntigone Katsaros was born and raised in a cult. Now, at eighteen, she doesn't know what wifi is, but she's well-versed in the old gods. [A Wattpad featured story.]
