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“The tale I tell you this night is the tale of Kalista, daughter of Kalypso, the Hidden One. It is a tale of love, heartache, and betrayal. It is a tale of lessons to be learned by the young, and mistakes made by the old:

Of the many, we discuss but two

Houses of gods, creatures, and men

First vast in number, to become so few

Through wars, and pain, and discontent.

Love unrequited doth play its part

In the wary, uneasy truce that broke.

Deadly of beauty and gilded of heart

Then caged was she under godly yoke.

All that was hers, soon she would miss.

In all her unending life

Never was such a tale as this

Of love, and war, of erring, and strife.

 

Tedium.

Awash in it.

Consumed by the monotony of my life. Another party, another celebration of a god my mother loathes, yet we are obligated to pay homage to. Today is Poseidon’s day. My mother, the sea nymph goddess, Kalypso, hosts a celebration in his honor. Somewhere along the coast my father, the human king known as Midas, will be drowning one of his finest stallions in the surf.

It is the same regardless of what god we are supposed to be worshipping on any given day. The same simpering toadies and their creatures gather in our submerged palace, eating the same overly-rich foods, holding the same conversations. Tedious. Sadly, as my mother’s heir, I am required to attend all official functions.

I am Kalista, The Gilded Child, beloved princess, cherished daughter, politician in training—a vital role I learn to play for my people. Our pantheon, the host of Greek gods, holds an uneasy truce with other pantheons. Someday, when my training is complete, the mantle of liaison and attaché will fall to my shoulders, and my people will look to me to keep the fragile peace we have built with the others.

You see, eight hundred years ago, a man was born on land. I despise how drastically his birth, and how he lived his life, has since been changing our world. Humans believe in us less and less. Without human belief, we cease to exist. Now, the beliefs and prayers of so many are being directed to a one-god. Ridiculous. As if one deity could possibly shoulder responsibility for the workings of all the universe. Simple humans. The world and all the surrounding worlds are far too complex and delicate for that.

If the humans continue to move away from us and towards this fictitious one-god, all gods will slowly perish.

The universe will be left in the hands of mortals—a shudder-worthy notion if I ever heard one.

As a result, our collective pantheons are banding together. We the Greeks, along with the Celts, the Norse, the Romans, and a few others, work desperately to regain control of the hearts of mankind. We don’t get along well, though, so the treaties are fragile. The liaisons choreograph this highly-complicated-and-delicate dance, and someday, that dance will be mine.

Until then, here I will be.

Bored silly.

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