Year: Around 1600 BCE

Location: Akrotiri (Santorini, Greece)

The ash had been trodden into a path by the figure before her. Vatra followed the man with little choice. Her bare feet shuffled along carelessly, kicking up thick clouds that filled her lungs and threatened a cough with each step. It was impossible not to.

Every rock and tree had been covered. There wasn't a place to look that wasn't blanketed. Vatra peered out from the cloak fiercely wrapped around her. She wasn't familiar with the part of the forest they were walking through.

Hephaestus was leading her down a narrow footpath cleared between what once must have been green and lush trees. Now, they stood like cloaked figures. Ominously guarding the woodlands.

Vatra shuddered, chewing on her bottom lip. She tried to put her wheeling thoughts in order. Nothing was making sense to her. Something terrible had happened, that much she remembered.

"Your name is Berenice, correct?" the man in front of her asked. He looked over his shoulder to regard her, voice calm and comforting.

"It's not what I go by," Vatra replied, her words sharper than she meant. It was certainly not how she'd usually answer to someone. The fiery undertone surprised even her.

Hephaestus laughed. "You're defensive, understandably. What you've been through would be difficult for anyone."

"What exactly was it that I went through?" Vatra pushed. She hurried her steps, walking beside Hephaestus instead of behind him. "I don't seem to remember, for some reason."

"You died," he stated plainly.

Halting in her steps, Vatra's breath caught in her throat. She stared at the back of Hephaestus' head, studying each strand of his greying hair. Her fingers tightened around the cloak until she couldn't feel her hands anymore.

The old man stopped. "I brought you back. The man who killed you isn't a human. He's a god, and he betrayed me." Hephaestus turned to face Vatra. "Both of us, you could say."

"How did you bring me back?"

"It wasn't easy." Hephaestus shook his head. "I make weapons for the gods, you see. Fates have it, you fell into the fires where I make my weapons. So, I turned you into one."

"What does that-"

"You're a phoenix, now. Not quite an actual weapon like a sword or axe, but an intent behind the design was there. It was the only way to save you from Enyalius' betrayal to us both," Hephaestus explained.

Vatra didn't move. She could barely understand any of it. Gods? As much as she'd been told to pray, it wasn't like she thought they walked amongst them. Nor did she ever believe they would throw her to her death.

Now this old man was telling her she was a phoenix. None of it made sense to her.

"You're a godkiller," Hephaestus clarified. "There's gods out there like Enyalius that use their powers to do wrong. They manipulate and harm humans. Don't you want to take revenge against the gods like them?"

Snapping her focus back to Hephaestus, Vatra stumbled back a couple steps. "Aren't you a god, then, too?"

"Yes," he paused, "but not all gods are like him."

There wasn't much making sense to Vatra. But, she knew she didn't trust Hephaestus. He was hiding something. Vatra didn't want to stay with the stranger a moment longer, even if she wasn't sure what else awaited her.

Vatra turned and ran. She clutched the cloak as tightly around her as she could. Her limbs felt heavy, but she had to get away.

The shouts from Hephaestus faded behind her, swallowed by the heavy ash. There were no animals or insects trilling in alarm from her frantic escape. Not even the wind blew in her ear. The forest was silent. Only Vatra's heavy breaths and scramble over hidden rocks and branches gave signal that there was any sign of life.

Their journey in to the forest had left a clear path in the ash. Vatra followed it closely, tripping and tumbling until she managed her way back to the village. Or, what was left of it.

What was normally a bustling village was as eerily silent as the forest had been. Mouth-watering meats over the fire were non existent. The only smell flooding Vatra's nostrils were soot and ash. She was choking on it. Vatra coughed, willing herself to push through the desolate sight before her.

Houses and shops were entombed in ash. They were unrecognizable, and Vatra relied on her instinct alone to traverse the roads through the village. She trudged through the thick ash, more than ankle high, and ignored whatever debris that scratched and cut at her flesh.

Vatra stopped, heart pounding in her chest. She faced a group of nearly a dozen people she didn't recognize. Men and women alike. They stood atop the ash as if it wasn't there, barely grazing the bottom of their sandals.

Her gaze narrowed on one person she did recall the moment she saw his face, though. The god that had killed her, Enyalius. And he looked surprised to see her in front of him.

She stepped back carefully, eyeing the people in front of her cautiously, when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Vatra looked up to see Hephaestus at her right.

"What's the big deal, Hephaestus? Do you have our new godkillers or not? You told us to come back to this shithole in five months, and they would be ready," one of the men said. He folded his arms across his white tunic with impatience.

Five months? Vatra thought, eyes widening. He didn't mention it's been five months.

"And what's with the human?" one of the women toyed, twirling a golden curl. "Not really your thing, old man."

"Your godkillers are ready as promised," Hephaestus said, ignoring the woman's comment. 

Hephaestus turned, his hand clasped tight around Vatra's shoulder, and he led them back in the direction of the forest.

The group of gods, as Vatra could only presume, if still disbelievingly, followed behind her and Hephaestus. They spoke amongst themselves in loud whispers. It was obvious they didn't care about her overhearing their gossip about what she was doing with Hephaestus.

Some of them thought she was his bastard daughter. A few others thought she was there for him to have fun with based on what she was wearing. Two very, different choices of thought. Vatra rolled her eyes at the chatter. She had to keep herself from making a comment or two.

The only god that didn't chime in was Enyalius. He had taken up pace right behind her, and she'd have heard his voice. His mouth didn't open once. Even though she couldn't see him, Vatra could tell he was watching her closely. He must have had a thousand questions. As did she. Mostly, she wanted to wring his neck.

The narrow path opened out into a clearing. Vatra's eyes had been so accustomed to the sight of ash, she wasn't used to seeing the dirt beneath her feet. It was as if only the clearing itself had been spared from the effects of the eruption. Instinctually, her toes curled into the dirt. She relished in the feeling of feeling the earth under her.

A weapon's rack was set up near a burning camp fire. Though the sun was shrouded behind the hazy clouds, the light of the fire sent sparks of light off the metal. Vatra had to shield her eyes.

"Your godkillers," Hephaestus announced.