I might have been known as the peaceful goddess, but I tended to internalize my rage until it got to the point of explosions and not the fun kind. Cities would burn, like the Chicago fire of eighteen seventy-one or the great fire of London in the sixteen hundreds.
Adrestia jumped, whipping around and throwing a wild haymaker. I leaned back to avoid the lightning-fast punch, my hand coming up to catch the deceptively delicate fist as it came at my face. I studied Adrestia as images of her past deeds, good and bad, flashed through my mind at the skin-to-skin contact. It was all overshadowed by her panic and the jumbled memories that had sent her fleeing.
Man’s love for The Pantheon might have waned, but their passion for wine remained strong. Even though my name did not cross their lips, it always stayed in their thoughts.
