Lore

by Alexandra Bracken

If the shield should be carried by anyone, it should be you—you, the one who knows the darkness of men yet refuses to be afraid.”

“Know this, Melora: Even the gods are bound by fate. Even the gods serve a master. I have done many things, among them lashing out at a weaker being when I did not have the strength to punish one more powerful than even myself.”

“There is a story greater than all of us, a fabric that spreads far and wide, guided by hands more powerful than my own,” Athena said.

“How could you be sure that your path was written for you?” Lore asked. “What if you always had the chance to live on your own terms, and you didn’t see it?”

“The only thing I’ve ever been afraid of is being powerless. Of not being able to protect the people I love. But I don’t know what will happen to me if I give in to it,” Lore said. “Everything I feel. Everything I want to do.” The goddess did not turn around. “You will be transformed.”

“I won’t let you go,” she told him, her voice low with promise. She wouldn’t. He was her friend and hetaîros, her companion and partner in all things. She would defend him if he fell, cut at anything or anyone who threatened him; her blade was his, and his hers.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Did you hear the one about the dancing dogs?” Lore’s brow furrowed as her spiraling thoughts suddenly stopped. “What?” His smile was weak, but still there. “No one wanted to partner with them because they all had two left feet.”

“You won’t die,” Lore whispered. “You won’t. And if you do, I’ll follow you to the Underworld and drag you back. I’m not scared, either. I’m not scared of anything.”

“I know my fate,” she whispered to him. And I will change yours.

“Hold on to what you feel for your home,” Athena told her. “It will never abandon you if you serve it well. It is not so fickle as mortals.”

“It is tiresome to wear another’s face, but men will so often only listen to other men.”

“Leave her, Helena,” her father said. “She’s got my temper, and we both know only time can settle it.”

That which refuses to grow destroys itself.”

He met her gaze. He said nothing, but, then, he never needed to. His face was a book that had been written only for her. Its story unfolded while he watched her watch him.

She wanted to tell him what had happened, to explain it herself, but he already knew. As easily as she could read him, Castor had always had the measure of her.

A person alone could be controlled, but a person loved by others would always be under their protection.

It wasn’t that anger was inherently good or bad. It could lend power and drive and focus, but the longer it lived inside you unchecked, the more poisonous it became.

If there’s only one thing I’ve been certain of for most of my life, it’s that you’re always on my side. That I can always trust you.”

“When we can’t change the past, the only thing left is to move forward. I need to do the same.

I would do anything to prove myself to you.” “You have nothing to prove to me,” Lore said. “Why would you think that?” Castor turned to look at her, a faint smile on his face. But his eyes blazed with power, and with that same wild, irrepressible feeling she was drowning in. “Isn’t it obvious?” he asked quietly. “I wanted to be worthy of you.”

“I was born knowing how to do three things—how to breathe, how to dream, and how to love you.”

She had always been that girl, her feelings unbearable, her hair wind-matted as she ran through the city. But then, Castor had always been that boy who ran alongside her.

Power does not transform you, he’d said. It only reveals you.

But you were like this invincible force to me, even then. You were a safe place to hide my hopes.”

“If we’re wrong about your immortality and somehow they take you,” she whispered, “wait for me at the dark river. I’ll bring you home.” “Hades himself would turn me back at the gates knowing you’re coming,” Castor told her, “and that I’d fight like hell to meet you halfway.” Lore relished the feel of his hand in hers for just a moment more before letting it go. Both she and Castor would need their sword hands free.

“Your temples fell. Men no longer feared you. Your legend, once sung, became a whisper,” Lore continued. “But I still believed in you.”