Curses of Olympus (The Olympus Trilogy #2)

49. Hestia

49

HESTIA

P andora’s box is heavy in Hestia’s hands despite the actual lightness of the metals. Can they really be about to open the fabled box of horrors?

“Well, let’s open it,” Hera says tentatively.

The gathered group glances between each other nervously, standing in the center of the newly erected stone circle. Dust still lingers in the air from the workers cutting into the rock.

Isadora holds up a hand. “No. We should wait for Medusa. I want to be certain we are doing it the way she witnessed in the mirror. We likely only have one shot at this; let’s not toss it into Tartarus because we are being impetuous.”

“No need to wait!” a voice calls, and Hestia breathes a sigh of relief when Medusa comes running to join them, catching her breath. “I’m here.”

The bruise blooming on Medusa’s cheekbone catches Hestia by surprise.

Cadmus steps away from the group and places a hand on her shoulder. Hestia can barely hear him as he leans in to ask, “Where were you?”

Medusa shakes her head and waves him off. “That is not important right now. We can discuss it after.”

Cadmus nods and steps aside, but the tight line of his lips shows his frustration.

Medusa's voice is hushed and reverent. “This is really it? Pandora’s box?”

“Isn’t it neat?” Dionysus asks excitedly, and Hera shoots him a scolding look that makes Hestia chuckle silently.

Isadora extends a hand to Medusa, offering her the Ouroboros and two keys.

Medusa plucks the first key from Isa’s hand and carefully inserts it into the lock on the left side of the box, letting go when it clicks into place. She repeats the steps with the other key on the right.

Hestia sucks in a breath when Medusa grabs the mirror. The tension in the air is palpable, but no one says a word as she delicately places it in the open circular space on the top of the box, closing her eyes and turning it clockwise until it clicks into place like the two keys.

Everyone collectively holds their breath as Medusa lifts the lid. The ground rumbles and shakes, causing the crowd to move away from the circle of large stones that could crush any of them if it toppled over.

Alec’s strong arm encircles Hestia’s waist as he helps to get her clear of any falling rock and debris.

Suddenly, he cries out and drops to his knees, clutching his neck.

Hestia is frantic. “Alec! What is wrong?” she gasps.

Cassandra and Cadmus also fall to the ground in pain. Cadmus holds his inner right thigh while Cassandra rubs her lower back. Medusa rubs her wrist but does not appear to be in the same level of agony as the others.

Wait. Hestia remembers that being where Medusa and Alec’s birthmarks are. She has never seen whether Cass or Cadmus have one, but she is willing to bet they do.

The space fills with a blinding light, and Hestia hides her eyes in the crook of her arm. When it dissipates, she feels disoriented. Memories that were not there before come flooding in, too many to keep track of.

Everything comes back, the real history of Olympus. Hestia’s breath falters as she tries to reconcile the new flood of memories with her operating knowledge of the realm. It is staggering.

The Titans. How could everyone simply forget they existed? Their faces flash in her mind, and Hestia recognizes all of them.

She turns to look at Alec with awe and reverence. Her voice is swimming with admiration when she says to him, “Welcome back, Iapetus.”

His expression is one of disbelief, but he pulls Hestia into a tight hug.

Remembering the others, Hestia turns to check on Cassandra and Cadmus, but the ground rumbles again.

“Oh no. What now?” Isadora asks.

The quake is much stronger this time, and Hestia genuinely worries that the ground is going to open up and swallow them whole. After several seconds of clutching to each other for stability, it eases off into gentle aftershocks.

As the chaos settles, Cassandra shouts, “Look!” She is pointing into the stone circle, and everyone turns to follow her direction.

In the middle of the circle, covered in dust, an unconscious figure is splayed out on the ground. Her raven locks halo around her. Her dress is tattered but does not look like anything made by any tailor found in Olympus, and Hestia cocks her head in confusion.

The mysterious woman does not appear to be injured, but she has yet to wake up.

“Well, I’m going to say it,” Dio speaks up. “What the fuck?”