I CLUTCH MY HEAD in a vice like grip, refusing to believe Macaria. I know if I just stop the words from entering my head, I'll be able to forget it ever happened. I don't think I have the strength left to take another unimaginable load on my shoulders.

Katrina must have known. Her eyes go back to being sympathetic pools of chocolate light. The others look half as stunned as I am. Probably because most of them are twenty two and don't have kids who can magically summon horses and scrolls.

A weak laugh builds up in my throat. I feel like I am being pushed to the edge of insanity. If this was Hades' way of getting back at me for calling him names and insults over the years, he was winning really well.

I avoid facing Macaria; I have never hated a person more than I hate her at this very instant. I don't even ask about her father. It is not something I want to know about and get another heart attack.

"Look, I don't care whether you have an explanation for this absurdity. Let's just decipher the prophecy," I say coldly.

Macaria's face falls; I see it happen from the corner of my eye but I feel no pity. I straighten my shoulders and turn to Darsh. "You were saying?"

He must sense the silent challenge I am sending out; daring anyone to pick up the conversation with me. Strangely, I want a fight. I want to claw someone's eyes out but no one seems particularly interested.

Darsh clears his throat. "Yes, right, of course."

Turning back to the plaque, he continues. "So, we do not have any records of Hades appearing to his subjects. After he went through a whole battle just to gain the rights to giving us a better life, it is only logical for him to be present."

"But he isn't?" I question.

Matthew shakes his head. "No, and that makes no sense. We believe that he is in trouble and the only way to free him is with your help."

"And we need the second prophecy for that?" I wince, unintentionally shifting the conversation to Macaria.

She doesn't seem perturbed because her voice takes up the story. "Yes. But the second one will only outline the path. The Flame Prophecy is the original scripture, obviously. Would you like to read out the scroll now?"

I extend my hand backwards, still not wanting anything to do with Macaria. She places the scroll gently in my palm and I hurriedly snatch it up. No one talks as I unfurl the red ribbon and the parchment ruffles in my hand.

It is nothing fancy. Just an old piece of paper written in blood red ink; or was it really blood? I shudder, controlling the urge to sniff the ink and confirm for myself. Finally focusing on the two verses written on the paper, I begin reading out loud.

THE FLAWED PATHWAY

On the day honouring the Goddess of the Soil,
Nine foes shall set out on an undefeatable quest.
Seek where Wisdom has never seen spoil,
A warrior shall win the best.

Beware of the oaths the close ones take,
Find the Winds of the north to set in motion.
When family becomes a broken mistake,
The sky falls and the One in red raises a nation.

"Not the most reassuring title," I mumble, wrapping the scroll up.

We sit in silence for the next few minutes, occasionally opening the piece of paper, trying to decide what the lines mean. Finally, Matthew purses his lips. "Goddess of the Soil? That can be Gaia or Demeter, right?"

Darsh clicks his tongue. "It says 'the day honouring' which means a goddess who is worshipped. That means Demeter."

Katrina pitches in, her head tilting in concentration. "A day celebrating Demeter is in --"

"June," I say. "The first of June. The Skirophoria. That is when the harvest season in Demeter's honour is celebrated on Elara."

"Right. And today is?" Lorrenia asks.

"The 27th of May," Macaria says.

"That leaves us with four days to prepare and set out. But where? A place where wisdom has never seen spoil? What even is that? A library?" Matthew muses.

"No. Absolutely not." Darsh sighs and plops down on a nearby floor cushion. "I'll have a headache at this rate."

"What if we're looking at it wrong?" I ask, looking closely at the first verse. "It says Wisdom, with a capital W. What if it means a person and not a place?"

Macaria's voice quivers with excitement. "Wisdom is Athena and there's only one place on Elara that has never seen Athena being taken away from it."

"Athens," Katrina whispers.

Everyone straightens. Athens was one of the only places that was spared from the mayhem that Hades caused. Athena's blessing had shielded it but the people had lost all access to technology and their memories when Phanes hit the reset button.

It was supposed to be cursed, a place closed off to the other citizens of Elara. No one dared visit Athens from fear of the Consul's wrath. The Athenians had always lived in isolation, apparently confused and broken about their identities.

I see the looks on everyone's faces. We were already outlaws, flaws in the perfect bubble the Council had formed. They already wanted our blood just because we were born wrong. Now, they would have our heads for another reason.

No one wants that; it is etched clearly in the frown lines on their faces.

"Hear me out. You guys don't have to do this. If I am the only one who can bring everything to normal, let me go alone. This journey will be dangerous, you all know it.

The Council doesn't know of your existence or this place. If you step out with me, you'll be serving your heads on a silver platter to them. I can do it alone," I say, praying they'll be convinced enough to let me go.

Besides, I had had enough surprises to last me a year. I particularly did not want to be around Macaria, given how she looks at me, as if she cannot believe who I am to her.

To be honest, neither can I.

Matthew's laugh pierces the silence. "Cynthia, we all know you are very capable of independence. What you fail to take into account is that every hero needs assistance once in a while."

The air of doubt I had created to make everyone stay behind, clears away almost instantly. Darsh smiles at me. "The prophecy does say nine foes, you know."

I latch on immediately. If I can turn this around, they'll listen. "You guys aren't my foes!"

"What if it isn't about us but about those who will join us further down the road? Counting all of us present here, we're still only six. That means we'll have company. Maybe they are the foes, not us," Lorrenia countered.

I flinch when I realise Lorrenia had included Macaria, too. I simply could not seem to have a moment alone with my supposed daughter, trailing me everywhere. If this was parenthood, I made up my mind to never want it.

Before I can argue, Katrina cuts me off. "It is settled then. All six of us leave at the crack of dawn, four days from today. We journey to Athens, befriend some foes, try not to get ourselves killed, and clean up this mess with Hades. Is that understood?"

No one objects. I bite my tongue, not bringing up how I still want to do this alone. I would rather travel with eight mortal enemies than with people I could get attached to.

No, I remind myself. I could not get attached, especially not to Macaria.

One by one, everyone gets off of their seats and starts with their daily chores. I am working alongside Darsh at the weapons and armory stock. He asks me to get started on cleaning and checking the swords, daggers, shields, guns, small detonators for any chinks.

I promptly begin, handing over any problems I come across. Darsh solves them all in seconds but he rarely does any checking. He was right, I conclude, the Mark of Sloth really messes with the genius in him.

I spend my time getting my work done while wondering how I would adjust to life as a Flawed. Everyone in the group seemed to have two contradictory Marks. I can see how it would affect their work earlier - slow them down, mess with their judgement, and whatnot.

Come to think of it, Love and Murder were not so different from each other, either. I think of a phrase people consider to be extremely romantic - I love you so much, I would kill for you. Love and Death were two very similar but extreme aspects of the human nature.

I think about how this may be the reason I was chosen. One extreme was accepted in our society, while the other was shunned. Someone capable of murder must have immense capacity to be loyal, too.

What if we tried bringing out the best in each other, instead of being at the other's throats? A human is always subject to change; that is exactly how we evolved over millions of years. The Marks we considered so unfortunate could also be an indicator for help, not torture.

I laugh at that, quickly clearing my head. I was not falling for Hades' nonsense until I saw it for myself. I have so many questions, I feel like my head was on the edge of complete destruction.

But I had to bid my time, wait till I can face Hades and demand answers. Who was I? How did I have a daughter older than me? Why was I even chosen for these Marks? Who had restrained Hades, how and why?

With these questions fighting for dominance in my head, I finally wrap up my work. It is already past sundown and Darsh is asleep by the worktable. I sigh and drop my tools and washcloth, leaving the room quietly.

Outside, everyone has already gone to bed. A small plate of food is placed on the table and I walk over to it. I had been so immersed, I had completely missed my stomach's call for food. Picking up the sandwich, I bite into it and decide to finish it in my room.

I stop in my tracks when I push the door open. Macaria sits uncomfortably at the corner of my bed, startled. She opens her mouth for an explanation but I stop her, raising a hand.

I must have looked ridiculous with half a sandwich in my mouth and a stern expression on my face. "Out. Now."

She doesn't argue like I expect her to. Macaria gets up and leaves, leaving me with a bitter taste in my mouth.

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