Elara
— An unruly muse, what a disgrace to the temples.
— Ha! You said it. They should get rid of that thing already.
The echo of laughter and comments bounces off the coliseum walls, mixing with the sharp whistle of the whip behind me.
Crack.
Pain explodes in my leg.
— She doesn’t even deserve pity. Look at her, she looks like an animal.
— They should erase her from Olympus. She doesn’t deserve that title.
Yeah… idiots.
Crack.
Another strike tears my back open. My flesh burns, heat blending with the cold marble beneath my feet.
— Idiots… — I manage to whisper through clenched teeth.
I can’t feel my body anymore.
Everything hurts.
I can’t even remember why I’m here…
Or maybe I can.
Maybe for not letting those bastards touch me.
Maybe for hitting that smug fairy who mocked me.
I don’t know anymore.
Crack.
Another blow to my leg. The wound splits open, warm and wet. I don’t scream. I don’t move. I just feel the blood sliding down to the floor.
— Tch… how boring. She doesn’t even fight — Hermes says, lounging on his shining throne.
— Tell me about it, I’m tired of this show already — Aphrodite adds, fixing her hair like a diva.
Idiots…
— Silence.
The voice is deep, tired, unmistakable. The air tightens. No one breathes.
Zeus.
The entire coliseum falls quiet as his gaze settles on me, heavy and arrogant as always.
— Don’t you think that’s enough insolence, Elara? — His tone holds no compassion, only authority dressed as patience.
I barely lift my head. Blood blurs my vision, but I see him. That arrogant glow in his eyes, that expression of someone bored with existence itself.
— Well? Anything to say, Elara?
A small, bitter smile escapes me.
— I don’t know what you want me to say, oh mighty Zeus.
He frowns, sighs, snaps his fingers. Blow after blow crashes into my side. I close my eyes for a second. Pain floods my body, unbearable.
— You never stop getting into trouble, do you, child? — his voice sounds distant, like he’s talking about something trivial. — Our patience isn’t endless.
Patience?
As if they knew what that was.
— Come on. Apologize now and you can leave — he orders.
Apologize?
— I have nothing to apologize for — my voice is low, but steady.
His frown deepens.
— Elara, don’t make this harder.
— I did nothing wrong. I won’t apologize.
Zeus sighs, heavy.
— You’ll never learn, will you, muse?
He snaps his fingers again. The blows return. Pain becomes an endless wave, sharp, overwhelming, until my mind starts fading in and out. I feel myself slipping, close to dying… and then suddenly, the whip stops.
Silence.
— Get her out of here — Zeus says with disgust.
The chains around my wrists loosen and I collapse to the floor, weak, barely breathing.
— This is the last time, Elara — he murmurs, half warning, half contempt. — There will be no more forgiveness.
The guards drag me out of the coliseum. I don’t resist. At the exit, they drop me like trash.
My body hits the ground, the air escapes my lungs. Everything spins.
— Damn it… — I whisper and stay there a moment longer.
The floor is rough and cold. My breathing is uneven, my whole body shaking. I force myself to stand, even though my knees barely respond.
I start walking, feeling blood run down my back, sticking to the torn fabric of my tunic.
— Fuck… — I mutter. The air burns as much as my skin.
The afternoon sun hits my face, reminding me I’m still alive, that there’s still pain left to feel. I stagger forward. I need to heal before I collapse completely.
After minutes that feel like centuries, the golden horizon welcomes me.
Apollo’s palace.
So bright and radiant it makes me want to spit. Every column mocks me. Every statue flaunts perfection.
Disgusting.
As I cross the threshold, music floods my senses. Soft lyre chords, high voices. The air smells of sweet wine, incense and sweat.
Great… another damn party.
The usual scene: demigods tangled with fairies, nymphs dancing on tables. And of course, there they are.
The stars of the show.
My “sisters”. The muses.
Perfect bodies. Calculated smiles. Laurel crowns. Queens of a circus everyone worships.
Sickening.
I quicken my steps, slip into a darker, cooler hallway where the music fades. I reach my “room” — if you can even call a distant shed that — and close the door behind me.
I rummage through old fabrics and bottles of herbs. Find what I need. Sit on the floor and start cleaning my wounds. The pain is so intense I bite a towel to keep from screaming.
The water turns red with every cloth I press against my skin. A small river reminding me I’m still here. My hands tremble, but eventually I manage to clean and bandage everything.
— Gods… what a day… — I murmur.
I approach the small cracked mirror. My body is covered in bandages and scars. A map of every time I refused to bow my head.
— Idiots…
A tear slips down my cheek. I feel the urge to give in, but I don’t. I wipe it away before it can fall.
I put everything back in place and collapse onto the divan — or that piece of wood pretending to be a bed. I close my eyes and let exhaustion pull me under.
Someday this will end… I know it… I know…
Someday…
Nothing and no one will ever hurt me again
