The market square was alive—mid-afternoon commerce. Fishmongers hawking catches, children darting between stalls, the smell of fresh bread mixing with salt air. Normal, peaceful. A far cry from the siege we'd just survived.

  I wove through the crowd with practiced ease, smile casual, questions careful. "Excuse me, did you see a fisherman during the siege? Grey beard, pipe, mending nets near the old dory?"

  The friendly faces shut down.

  Wonder why.

  An old potter nodded politely, said nothing. A fruit vendor suddenly remembered urgent business elsewhere. The final woman I asked gripped my coin so hard her knuckles turned white.

  "I don't know who you're looking for, lad." A whisper, eyes like cold stones. "But you won't find him here. Some doors are best left unopened."

  She turned her back. The market had gone cold, but it told me everything I needed to know.

  They were afraid.

  I left the bustling market behind, followed the outer path, my eyes fixed on the coastline, searching for the exact spot.

  There.

  Tucked against a wind-scoured cliff was a small, dilapidated fisher's cove—little more than rough-hewn shelter. Sea-bleached wood and tattered canvas.

  As I approached, my instincts prickled. The air felt... still. Too still. The usual salt-spray seemed muted, the sounds of the sea dampened.

  My hand drifted to my belt. Empty. I'd left my spear at the villa.

  Idiot.

  Then I saw it, half-hidden behind a stack of cracked crab pots—a small wooden crate. I knelt, carefully pried the lid open.

  Inside, nestled in coarse salt and dried seaweed, were three clay ampullae—small flasks sealed with dark wax. A faint, sickly-sweet odor hit me. Overripe fruit mixed with grave soil.

  My blood ran cold.

  I'd heard stories, whispered warnings from Minthe about the Keres and their tools. "If you ever smell overripe fruit mixed with grave soil, run. Don't look back. Just run."

  The liquid within was deep, shimmering, oily black. It seemed to drink the light.

  Black Ambrosia. The poison that breaks heroes.

  The fisherman wasn't just unafraid.

  He was an agent.

  A cold knot tightened in my stomach. "Okay... this crate is going home." My voice was barely a whisper. "Diamy will know how to deal with this."

  I lifted one flask—the clay was cool. I turned it, examining the wax seal. A detailed impression of a golden apple with a bite taken out of it.

  Of course. The apple of Eris. Discord's calling card.

  A dry, bitter laugh escaped. "How mythologically on-the-nose." I placed the flask back, secured the lid, hefted the crate. It was heavier than it looked.

  The journey back felt longer. Every shadow held a watching eye.

  -?-

  I pushed open the villa's door. Diamy was seated at the table with scrolls and Hebe's logbook. Hebe paced. They both looked up.

  I didn't say a word. I walked to the table, set the crate down with a solid thump that made the scrolls tremble.

  Diamy's grey eyes flicked from my face to the crate. "What is this?"

  "A delivery." My voice was flat. "From our friendly fisherman."

  I pried the lid off. The three ominous flasks gleamed in the light, the sickly-sweet odor immediately permeating the room.

  Hebe gasped, hand flying to her mouth. "That... that scent... it's..."

  "Black Ambrosia."

  Diamy's composure cracked completely, her hand trembling as she pulled back from the crate. "The Keres are here. Actively cultivating it." Her eyes snapped to me. For the first time, I saw genuine fear.

  "Where did you find this?"

  A nervous chuckle escaped as I dropped into a chair. "Well, the important part is that this is an incomplete shipment."

  I tapped the oversized crate. "This thing is too big for just three flasks. They left this one here before harvesting more." A glance toward the door. "Thanks to Pheren and his big, flashy entrance yesterday, they probably got spooked."

  Diamy's gaze locked on me, stylus forgotten.

  I leaned forward, elbows on knees. "We noticed a weird fisherman from the start. It was odd. But we had a nightmare mouth to deal with."

  A pause, letting the pieces fall into place.

  "The merman. Korydon. A Triton Warden. How does a Labyrinthos catch him? The Seafoam Vexlings were beasts—they could have wandered too close. But a Triton? That was nonsense."

  My eyes lifted to meet Diamy's. "Then I remembered the fish net... and the fisherman. He wasn't just storing poison from the Labyrinthos blight. He was fishing." A gesture toward the coast. "He was using this Black Ambrosia as bait. He hooked a guardian of the sea and reeled him right into the Labyrinthos's corruption."

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Hebe made a small, horrified sound.

  Diamy was utterly still. Then she slowly stood, movements precise, filled with new cold purpose.

  "This changes everything. This is no longer a sanctification mission. It is a counter-intelligence operation." A look from me to Hebe. "The Keres have a cell here, and their poisons twisted the Triton. Sealing the dungeon is now the secondary objective."

  She began gathering scrolls. "We assault the Labyrinthos at dawn. After that, our primary target is the network that placed this crate here."

  The stakes had been catastrophically raised.

  I leaned back, a deep bone-weary yawn cracking my jaw. "Well, we wish you good luck. When you defeat and seal the Labyrinthos, this 'Keres' will probably move away. No point fishing in a pond that's about to be drained." A vague gesture toward the door. "I sent Lena to look around, but... yeah. She'll probably come back with similar information. They're not here anymore."

  A playfully tired wink at Diamy. "Thanks to the heroes."

  Your guild's dramatic arrival spooked the real enemy.

  Diamy absorbed this, a single curt nod. "Their retreat is tactical, not a surrender. But it gives us a cleaner battlefield. Your contribution is noted."

  The villa door slammed open.

  Lena strode in, face flushed with excitement, dragging a small wizened old man by the elbow. He clutched his fishing rod like a lifeline.

  "Nihl! You are NOT gonna believe this!" She grinned triumphantly.

  "This is Old Man Theron! The weird fisherman paid him a few drachmas to forget he ever saw him! But he remembers seeing him hauling a big, dripping net out of the water during the siege—when everyone else was hiding!"

  "So? What'd I miss?" She beamed at me, then at Diamy, completely missing the crate of Black Ambrosia on the table.

  I looked at the half-empty crate, the carefully packed remaining flasks, the abandoned fishing post.

  "They're gone." The words tasted like ash. "This wasn't a home. It was a forward operating base. We didn't disrupt them. We just... annoyed them."

  All eyes turned to me.

  "The crate is half-empty because they grabbed their best tools and fell back to a secondary location." I met Diamy's gaze. "We didn't win. We just made them relocate."

  Nice work, Captain!

  I shot Lena a comical, exaggerated thumbs-up. She beamed back, radiating pure triumph, blissfully unaware of the hollow victory.

  I turned back to Diamy. The Athena strategist looked from Lena's victorious face to the crate with an expression of profound professional exhaustion.

  "Now..." My voice dropped to calm finality. "Diamy-san. Close the Labyrinthos. And pay us up." A slow, deliberate wink.

  The negotiation was over.

  I gestured delicately toward the ominous crate. "Oh, and do please take this... crate... with you when you go." My smile tightened at the edges. We don't want any of this 'hero versus villain' drama anywhere near us. Please and thank you.

  I looked pointedly at our goddess. "Right, Lady Hebe?"

  Hebe straightened immediately, youthful face set with matronly firmness. "Absolutely. My retainers have more than fulfilled their contract. They have provided intelligence, stabilized the beachhead, and now uncovered an active Keres cell. The agreed-upon payment is the very least they are owed. And that... substance... is far too dangerous to remain in our home."

  That's our Dia!

  Diamy secured the lid on the crate, tucked it under her arm, then placed the heavy purse of 700 drachmas squarely on the table. "The Athena Guild honors its agreements. We will handle the Labyrinthos at dawn. Your involvement is concluded."

  With a final nod, she strode out. The door clicked shut.

  Silence.

  Lena immediately pounced on the purse, hefted it with a joyful groan. "WE'RE RICH! Let's go get that goat! And new armor! And maybe a boat!"

  Hebe slumped into a chair, released a breath she seemed to have held for days. "You two... are going to be the death of me."

  But she was smiling. The immediate crisis was over.

  The moment the door shut, the tension snapped. Lena and I locked eyes, that familiar mischievous glint sparking between us.

  "Pfft—ahaha! Did you see Dia?!" Lena howled, puffing out her chest. "'My retainers have more than fulfilled their contract!' I was trembling!"

  I clutched my heart dramatically. "The sheer divine authority! I'm so proud."

  Hebe flushed crimson. "I was not! I was just—you two—someone had to be the adult!"

  "The adult?" Lena cackled, slinging an arm around Hebe's shoulders. "You're the one who tried to pay for groceries with shiny leaves!"

  "They were gilded!" Hebe insisted, fighting a smile. "And very pretty!"

  For a few precious minutes, we weren't retainers guarding a calamity. We were just three young people in a dusty villa by the sea, teasing each other as late afternoon sun painted the room in gold.

  -?-

  [FOUR DAYS LATER]

  Four days of blessed, glorious silence. Four days of Lena finally getting her goat—a stubborn bleating creature she named "General Stomps." Four days of mending armor with good thread, hot meals that didn't taste like desperation.

  The memory of the Labyrinthos was already fading.

  On the fourth morning, Hebe gathered us at the table, holding two wax-sealed scrolls. A real smile lit her face. "News. Good news, for a change."

  She handed me the first scroll—the seal was a delicate swirling conch shell. I broke it open.

  From the Amphitrite Guild.

  "You have our deepest gratitude. Our son Korydon, whom we feared lost, has been returned. Though wounded, he lives because of your intervention. A debt is owed. Enclosed: a chest of pearls from our trove, and our pledge that the seas will ever be friendlier to those under Hebe's banner."

  Lena peered over my shoulder. "Pearls? Are they shiny? Can you eat them?"

  "No, but you can trade them for food." Absently, already reaching for the second scroll.

  Before I could take it, Hebe pressed it into my hands with unusual gravity. This one felt heavier. The wax seal showed an owl superimposed over a celestial chart—the mark of the Ouranous Sky Guild itself.

  A cold trickle of foreboding ran down my spine.

  I broke the seal and began to read. "By the authority of the Ouranous Sky Guild... acting upon recommendation from the Athena Guild, the Hebe Guild is hereby recognized for contributions to regional stability."

  That sounded good.

  So why did I feel dread?

  "You are formally assigned a Mission of Reconnaissance: Scouts report anomalous arboreal growth and unnatural silence in the Great Forest north of Makedos, near the Dacian and Thracian borders. Suspected nascent Labyrinthos, potentially linked to Pan."

  There it was.

  Of course.

  "Investigate and, if confirmed, report immediately. This constitutes your guild's first official sanction and trial. Do not fail."

  I lowered the scroll slowly. Lena stared at me, excitement gone, replaced by wary scowl. Hebe's proud smile faltered.

  The silence stretched.

  Then Hebe broke it with a high-pitched, frustrated groan—utterly undivine. She stamped her foot. "ERGANAAA!" A wail, voice cracking.

  She snatched the scroll from my hands, scanned the words again. "She can't just—! This is so—! UGH!" She flung the scroll back onto the table, began pacing.

  "Of course it's a 'recommendation' from Athena! Of course it's a 'trial'! She heard about the debriefing! Heard how we... how you... and now she's trying to teach me a lesson!" She stopped, pointed an accusing finger at no one in particular. "This isn't a mission! This is my big sister giving me an ear-pull from Thessaly!"

  She slumped into a chair, arms folded, glaring at the scroll like it had personally offended her.

  Then, quietly, almost to herself: "I just wanted to prove I could do this. That I wasn't just... the cupbearer's daughter playing at being important."

  The vulnerability in her voice cut through the humor.

  Lena and I exchanged a glance. The brat act was real, but so was the hurt underneath.

  Hebe looked up at us, divine determination mixed with juvenile stubbornness blazing in her eyes. "I am not giving her the satisfaction. We are going to that stupid forest, finding that stupid structure, and dealing with it ourselves. Without. Her. Help." She glared at us, waiting for objection.

  Lena looked from Hebe's pout to my face. A slow grin spread across her features. "So we're gonna punch trees AND gods this time? Sweet!"

  I looked at our goddess's bratty, defiant expression—half divine authority, half pouting child.

  A smile touched my lips.

  We'd survived a Labyrinthos. We'd negotiated with Athena's finest. We'd uncovered a Keres cell. A haunted forest? Angry satyrs? A god of chaos?

  From outside, General Stomps bleated indignantly, as if volunteering for battle.

  Lena cracked her knuckles. Hebe straightened her spine. And I felt that familiar fox-smile return.

  Bring it on.