Athena - Of The Abandoned E-Book

Jonny Capps

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

After the War of the Gods, Athena found herself a goddess without followers. Traversing the spirit world, she defends those who are lost between life and death.

When she meets a young girl, Cordelia, Athena realizes that there is something special about her. Listening to her story gives her a renewed sense of purpose. There is wisdom in justice, and Athena will not abandon her cause simply because her followers have abandoned her.

Along with her owl, Glaukopis, Athena aligns herself with Thanatos: the spirit of death. Exploring the aether and battling horrors which no living mind could withstand, they discover that something is wrong, and needs to be made right, even if it will cost her everything.

Darkness flees from the light. Lies are exposed in the truth. Death cannot stand against life - Athena will make sure of it.

Leseprobe

ATHENA - OF THE ABANDONED

A MYTHOS TALE

JONNY CAPPS

Copyright (C) 2022 Jonny Capps

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2022 by Next Chapter

Published 2022 by Next Chapter

Edited by Chelsey Heller

Cover art by CoverMint

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author’s permission.

CONTENTS

Introduction

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII

IX

X

XI

XII

XIII

You might also like

About the Author

INTRODUCTION

Sometimes, things happen because they’re supposed to happen.

This story is an example of that.

When writing the Mythos stories, I tried my best to stay away from the cliché representations of the gods we’ve seen for hundreds of years. The cute, diapered, baby Cupid was replaced by a well-dressed, cigar-smoking charmer. The boney skeleton of Thanatos (Death) was replaced by a young girl in a tea-party dress. I did that with many of my characters, but try as I might, I could not find a good image for Athena. It frustrated me since I wanted to play with the goddess of war and wisdom who (supposedly) was born from Zeus’ forehead in a full suit of armor, but none of the ideas I had meshed well.

I did write a story about her owl, but it’s bad, and probably will not get published.

I once met a woman. She was a beautiful woman, and I expressed my interest. Surprisingly, she was interested in me as well. We began to share conversation, and eventually, something clicked in my brain. I realized why I had been so drawn to her. It was as though the sky had opened and a beam of sunlight had struck a specific area in my mind, pushing all the pieces together to form a complete image. I took a moment to process what was happening before emphatically declaring, “You’re Artemis!” She smiled, saying something like “that’s cool” or whatever, since she had no idea what I was talking about. I explained to her that I had meant to say Athena, but that did not clear things up much.

The image of Athena as a four-foot-nine-inch, raven-haired warrior with hazel-green eyes dressed in a simple black cloak became one of the strongest images I’d ever had for a character. Before that, I had always assumed Athena would just end up being an undeveloped version of Lucy Lawless from that show in the ‘90s. Had this woman been in and out of my life in matter of weeks, the way I had expected her to be, I would have kept the image and she likely would never have known.

It did not work like that. She ended up being one of the closest, most intimate, strongest friends I’ve ever had.

I wrote this story for her birthday, October 12th. She hasn’t read it yet.

Some things are just supposed to happen.

Jonny Capps

Dedicated to my Dark Fae, my inspiration, and my dream.

I

Fog hugged the cobblestone streets, a thick field of gloomy miasma penetrating each orifice. It was commonplace, and the residents of the city hardly noticed it any longer. Whether it was steam escaping from the sewer grates or simply water vapor, rising to join the daily grind, the fog had an identity and an atmospheric allure.

The evening had come, and businesses were transitioning. Merchants were locking their doors, headed home to their families or evening frivolities while pubs were swinging their doors open, welcoming those who were tired from the day. Somewhere, music was playing a lively tune, reminding those who heard it of times when life was sweet. The streets were still populated by commuters, either on foot or in carriages, but the hustle was slowing down. Somewhere, a man was walking with his son, telling him how important his studies were. Somewhere, a woman was talking to her friend about the mixed signals her suitor was sending her. Somewhere, a child slept, a young girl wept, and an old man kept a careful ledger of debts owed. Secrets were shared, trust was broken, and relationships were restored. The only entity to see everything was the fog, and it was not going to share information.

The soft light from a streetlamp shone down on a small child. No one saw her, and even if they did, they would not remember her. Her soft brown hair hung messily from her head, tied back into a clumsy braid. Shadowed blue eyes hung heavily over an array of freckles on either side of an impish, slightly upturned nose. Dry, cracked lips that rarely smiled hid an army of yellow and broken teeth. The filthy, patchwork clothing her body was draped in revealed almost as much about her as the set of nearly visible ribs underneath the skin of her torso: she was an urchin, likely an orphan, living on the streets and finding sustenance where she could. Every city has them, and it is regrettable, yet unavoidable. There are always those who slip between the cracks of society, like coins in the gutter. Those who take the time to search for them find treasure, but it hardly seems worth the effort to sift through the refuse.

The little girl navigated the streets with practiced precision. She had been doing this for a long time, after all, and the fog was practically her partner in crime by now. There was a time not long ago when she could walk by a businessman and coins would appear in her pocket, as if by magic. A slight tremble in her parched upper lip would feed her for an evening. Those days were gone now, though. Now, the hunger rumbled in her stomach, but there was no one to feed her and no loaf of bread could be stolen.

No one saw the little girl as she darted from alley to alley, and no one tossed her a coin out of sympathy or checked their pockets to see if coins were missing. Now the cold raked her body, but there was no fire to give her warmth and no blanket to protect her from the elements. The little girl danced between the shadows, always just out of sight, until she reached a specific alley—a sequestered area where two worlds combined. Once there, she stopped dancing, and entered.

A slight, sad, soft voice came from the shadows deeper within the alley. “Hello, Cordelia.”

Peering into the darkness, the little girl spotted the speaker. It was a small boy, slightly younger than she, but dressed in similar attire and likely subscribing to the same dietary restrictions. His matted brown hair lay in tousled clumps, and his gray eyes looked as though they had never stopped crying, while his thin lips seemed as if they had never seen water.

Upon seeing him, the little girl nearly smiled. “Hello, Edmund,” she returned the greeting. She nearly asked him how he felt, but there would have been no point. She already knew the answer since she was feeling the same.

Edmund crept from the shadows and advanced on Cordelia on unsteady feet. In his hands, he held a supporting branch, more out of habit now than necessity. “It got Orson,” his quivering lips stuttered. “I was there, but it didn’t see me. Orson ran, he ran so fast, but it was faster.”