I tried to keep this as historically accurate as possible with all the references to ancient Greek culture, but it was impossible to not make up a few things. There's a (very) short glossary at the end of the chapter, for those who want to learn three new Greek words.

Enjoy!

"Go to the oracle, he said. Let it predict your future, it'll be fun!" Ike hissed, forcing his way past three old women scooping water from a well and moaning about this and that. The lamb he was carrying under his arm bleated, reminding Ike of its presence. It was somewhat malnourished, thus very thin and light, but its fur was so soft that Ike was sure it could match the clouds scraping Mount Olympus. The little lamb looked up at him with its big blue eyes and bleated again, this time a little louder. Ike couldn't help but crease his face into a frown.

"Hey, you don't know what'll happen," Ranulf spoke, turned around to Ike, walked backwards and wagged his finger like he'd done so often today. A corpulent man walking with a big vase in his arms had to jump out of the two young soldiers' way, cursing loudly. "I. Told. You. It's not a hundred percent accurate! It's not infallible! You know what's infallible? Delphi is infallible!"

Ike stopped in the middle of the road to repeatedly point at the ground with his free hand. "Well that's the beauty of this oracle! I don't want to know the future. And it's here. My father-"

Ranulf stopped as well, rolling his eyes and making gestures with his hands not unlike the women at the well. "Yeah yeah, your father got told he would die and he died, big surprise."

"Exactly! And he offered the strongest and fattest goat ever bred in all of Athens, and look what happened." Ike now wildly pointed at the lamb under his arm, ignoring the fact that it was thin and white and hornless, basically the exact opposite of a goat. "No father, no goat. That was one harsh year for my mother!"

"Just you wait until Themistocles gets word about his freshly promoted apprentice being scared of having his future predicted," Ranulf laughed, turning back around and following Ike down the broad pillar-lined street, "look, the timing is perfect! There'll be a session in three days, and if we take the fastest road-"

"-we'll go through Thebes." Ike pronounced the word like he'd pronounce the name of one of the Titans.

Thunder crashed in the distance, and in the corner of his eye, Ike saw his companion shudder. He didn't know whether it was because of the thunder or because of what he'd said, but he preferred the second possibility.

"Fine, that is the downside of the journey to Delphi," Ranulf slowly admitted.

"You Spartans are normal under that aspect, at least!" In a sudden fit of joy, Ike jokingly bumped into his laughing friend, who lost his balance and landed in a fruit booth. "Hey, watch out!" Ike laughed and quickly pushed a few arguing philosophers aside to flee from the clamouring and cursing merchant who was now throwing squashed oranges at Ranulf and him. The little lamb screamed as a fruit hit it in the flank, and Ike patted its head to try to calm it down, still laughing as Ranulf scrambled past two white-bearded old men, his chlamys now stained with bright orange patches.

"You should hope the oracle is going to predict you a fortune, because you're buying me a new chlamys," Ranulf said, glaring at his still laughing friend, visibly intent on maintaining the angry expression. The second his lip twitched, he turned and energetically began to walk towards the end of the agora. "How am I supposed to be in the first row in this dirty cloth? I can't let King Leonidas see me; he's going to send me back home… Urgh," Ranulf complained, but Ike could well hear the humour in his voice. "Just my luck, I'll be going through Thebes anyway, the king is moving towards Thermopylae to intercept the Persians…"

"Send me a postcard from the hellhole," Ike joked. The lamb huffed in approval, prompting Ike to exchange a quizzical look with Ranulf. He didn't know lambs could huff.

"Speaking of luck, are you aware of what you're getting yourself into?"

"Why?"

"You know what this oracle's called, right?"

Ike smiled. "I do. The Pandora. But I don't want to know why."

"It's as clear as day," Ranulf explained with a mischievous look in his eyes. "Because women are the downfall of man, particularly those who can predict our future."

In the shadows of the Acropolis, they neared a temple standing tall between a few merchant buildings, ancient olive and lime trees growing on a small, fertile green area. Compared to the other Athenian sanctuaries built to honour Zeus, Hera, or Athena herself, the Temple of Aphrodite was small, but by no means was it modest or bleak. Its outer wall and pillars were well taken care of, their pure white shine well distinguishable in the distance, and to each side of the temple's entrance stood a tall statue; Aphrodite Pandemos on the left side, and Aphrodite Urania on the right, while the walls were entirely covered with intricate reliefs.

"There it is," Ike said, not averting his eyes from the white structure. "The Temple of Aphrodite." City folk were so weird, having built a temple for their Goddess of Love and Beauty here of all things. Like the other Twelve Olympians, Aphrodite deserved a temple on top of the Acropolis, Ike thought. He loved being an Athenian, but he'd also always been thankful that his parents had raised him on a farm on the outskirts of the city.

Ranulf caught up to Ike, having been previously distracted by a few passing priestesses, and caressed the nervously fidgeting lamb. "Okay, let's go over this again —man, I can't believe you've never done this sort of thing— you wash the lamb with a servant of the temple, make sure that it?..."

"Shivers!" Ike answered quick as a flash.

"Atta boy, you remembered," Ranulf said, smoothing down his chlamys and nodding at Ike with an expression similar to that of a proud teacher, even though he and Ike were the same age. They stopped several steps in front of the left statue of Aphrodite, both slowly looking down at the delicate animal. "Then after you've, uh, sacrificed… it, you're going to examine it and pose your question." The lamb bleated and began to lick Ranulf's fingers, who quickly retreated his hand and proceeded to clear his throat. "I told you, let's go to Delphi. This one's not infallible."

Ike was about to explain his reasoning all over again when a man's voice sounded from behind Aphrodite Pandemos. "Not infallible?" A young man clothed in brown, probably a lowly warrior, came stumbling out of the temple and held on to the statue for support. His nose was red, as were his eyes, but he looked ecstatic. "I've asked her for guidance seven times already, and not once has she failed! She told me I'd pay for a woman's company tonight!" the man announced, beaming, and lurched away under the pejorative stares of a group of politicians walking past.

Ike raised his brows. "Small wonder she's infallible with this kind of predictions." He patted the lamb, took a deep breath and stepped inside the temple.

"Athens," Ranulf said, shrugging. "So primitive. At least she's a virgin. She's got that going for her." Then he followed Ike into the dark building.

He washed the lamb with cold water in a dark room somewhere in the back of the temple, a process the animal seemed to enjoy, for it willingly let Ike and the priestess cleanse its delicate body. It huffed again, and Ike noted with satisfaction that it shivered as the icy water first soaked through the thick lambskin.

"So you're a soldier?" the priestess asked, turning away to get a plate with a single silver dagger, leaving Ike to hold the doomed little animal in place.

Ike nodded. It had been more of a statement than a question. The woman knew what he was, she didn't need him to confirm it. In the temple's entrance hall had been a small gathering of men waiting to see the oracle, so Ranulf had stepped up to the old priestess overseeing the admissions in order to shorten Ike's waiting time by identifying him as the Athenian army's taxiarch. The woman had scrutinized Ike with her bloodshot eyes, called him a sapling and asked him to prove the righteousness of such a claim. Ike had revealed the ornate pommel of his sword, after which he'd been allowed to follow the priestess into the depths of the temple.

"You let him come far, this Persian king…" In the dim light, the silver dagger glistened as the woman lifted it. Liquid blue from the water pools surrounding the altar reflected itself on the blade. The woman ran her old thumb along the silver edge, proving its sharpness when dark red drops fell from her hand and landed in the clear water. "Heracles would've killed that Xerxes with nothing more than his little finger. Why are the youths nowadays such failures?" The priestess was wrinkly, so old that she might well have lived during Heracles' times, for all Ike knew.

Because the Persians outnumber us ten to one, he thought. "None of the youths can claim to be a son of Zeus."

The only answer he got was the look in the priestess' eyes, one that seemed to reluctantly have come to terms with imminent death. "Honour Aphrodite," she said, holding out the tray to Ike.

The lamb did not seem to feel its demise coming, nor did it sense the tension of Ike's grip increasing as he raised the blade to the animal's soft throat, but it screamed as the silver cut. It was a quick death; Ike knew how to handle a knife, having grown up on a farm with livestock. One swift move, no hesitation.

Yet as the little animal lay there and the priestess instructed Ike to cut open its belly in order to examine the organs, he frowned but obeyed without hesitation. Where he came from, no part of a butchered animal was left unused.

Although his eyes had already gotten used to the dimness of the chamber, Ike was curious how the priestess was so confident in her examination. Surely her sight was impacted by her age, but Athena must've granted her wisdom.

The woman poked the lamb's liver, took it out, sniffed and kneaded, then placed it on the altar and repeated the process with the heart. "The signs are favourable. I trust you are familiar with the oracular procedure?"

Ike nodded.

"Come."

And so he did, following the stooping woman to a door that opened with a creak, and revealed broad steps that led underground through an illuminated tunnel. The priestess began to creep down the stairs, and Ike had to duck after entering the tunnel. A sudden bright light in his far peripheral vision made him turn around before following the priestess around a corner; a figure clad in white had lighted the body of the lamb, dedicating the sacrifice to Aphrodite.

The tunnel wasn't long, and it was broad and light too, but the air so far underground was heavy and stank like wet earth, a smell Ike would've welcomed were he not several steps beneath a heavy temple.

They stopped at a two-winged door glistening in the light of the torches. The priestess who'd burned the lamb came hurrying down the steps to join them, and Ike noticed pale white vapours emerging from the thin crack under the door; they intensified and turned into a thick steam as the priestesses pulled the door's wings apart, setting the vapours free.

More stairs, broad, and they seemed to end after about ten steps. Ike didn't hesitate. He stepped forward and began to walk down, feeling the mist getting thicker as the doors behind him slammed shut with a deep thud.

It stank like the Underworld; fresh, flowery, and earthy, but the several smells merged into a single heavy and penetrating one. The air was even wetter and hotter here than in the tunnel, but as Ike reached the end of the stairs and stepped on solid ground, the fog cleared significantly, allowing him to examine the room he was in.

It was high, very high, so Ike assumed he must be deeper under the earth than he'd suspected, and the platform he stood on abruptly ended a few meters in front of him. There seemed to be a chasm, and behind it in the mist was something tall and white Ike couldn't identify, probably the oracle, so he came closer, only to stop and tense.

What he'd thought to be a chasm was an underground stream as broad as Ike was tall, pitch-black despite several torches brightening the chamber, separating two enormous stone platforms; on one stood Ike, on the other stood a tall gilded tripod, on top of which sat a woman clad in white.

Her eyes where the only things of true colour Ike saw in the otherwise bland cave, even though the floor was littered with pale pink flowers and there were a dozen torches that effectively cut through the mist and the darkness. The woman's eyes were blue like the cornflowers growing on the fields outside of the city, piercing Ike with a gaze that was focused on him. Somehow it made him feel as if she wasn't directly looking at him, but rather at something behind him. He knew there was nothing there and returned the woman's gaze. Her eyes were wide, and where there should have been white, there was a very pale hue of red instead.

Her face was white like the snows on Mount Olympus, and it was covered in little drops of water. Whether it was sweat or just the wet fumes that had settled on her skin, Ike couldn't tell. But the simple white chiton stuck to her skin, even though she seemed to be drowning in the cloth. Sleek brown hair fell over her shoulder, long enough to reach the top of the tripod, whose seat had been formed like a shell.

"Who are you?" the oracle asked, gripping the tripod with strong bony fingers. Her eyes flittered away from Ike and back to him as she spoke.

"Ikephalos. Taxiarch of Athens."

She didn't answer. She sat there, askew and silent, a little hunched but not quite. Her gaze didn't leave Ike anymore, and now he felt as if she was gradually trying to focus on him, so he stood in place to make it easier for her.

The fumes were so heavy that he tried to keep his breathing as shallow as possible, but after a long minute of silence he had enough and opened his mouth to just ask away, taking a deep breath in the process. The fumes hit him like a fist to the stomach. Mercilessly they spread through his lungs and settled in his head, suddenly causing Ike to feel dizzy. He widely opened his eyes in surprise, coughing a little, now wishing he could sit down as well.

"I see fear in your eyes," the oracle slowly said, drawing Ike's attention. "What is it the soldier is afraid of? War? Death?"

"No," Ike said. "You."

War and death were synonyms to him. Man had to meet both, and both had the power to turn a simple man into a hero worthy of the Gods. But an oracle, infallible or not, could tell a man of his future cowardice. Knowledge was power; an oracle held the power to unman a hero.

After another minute of ominous silence, the oracle spoke again.

"And what is it you want to know?"

"Whether the Hellenic League will be victorious against the Persians." How foolish he felt. Ike was sure that no other thing was asked about as often as the outcome of the war. The oracle must be tired of this exact question already.

He started to sweat, felt it trickle down his skin. Despite the heat of the room, Ike couldn't help but shiver as the fire of the biggest torch, the one behind the oracle, intensified, growing bigger and brighter.

A violent spasm took control of the woman's body, starting at the small feet that peeked out from under the cloth, wandering up and ending at the head she threw back with a groan. She limply fell forward, eyes wide open, hair swinging back and forth. For a moment, Ike was unsure what to do, for he feared she might fall from the tripod. But she held onto the rim of the shell like a sailor clutching a lifeline.

Ike took a step forward, now standing at the edge of the little stream separating him from the oracle. She looked up at him— this time her eyes were undeniably focused on his, even though they looked glassier than before. Her forehead was covered in sweat, and her shoulders heaved up and down from her heavy breathing. "The flame of Hades will burn bright shall you fight at Marathon again, but go south where the salt nymph lives, Ikephalos of Athens, and you shall feast amongst Gods."

A single drop of her sweat fell down into the stream beneath her.

Ike couldn't comprehend how something so absolutely terrifying could be so beautiful, so pure.

"What's your name?" he asked, fully aware that he wouldn't get the answer he desired.

"Pandora," she breathed.

"No, not your title, not the name of the oracle. Your name."

More steam rose from the cracks in between the stones on the ground. Ike had to concentrate to keep it form muddling his thoughts.

"I have no name," the woman said between two heavy breaths, her voice as clear as a mountain stream. She looked at him still, irrevocable clarity behind the reddened white of her eyes. "No one can know."

Ike wanted to say that he'd never tell anyone, that her name, her secret would be safe with him, but he knew it was futile. Knew she'd never tell him. "It's only fair," he offered instead, "since you know mine."

He saw her knuckles whiten as she gripped the tripod even harder, finally averting his gaze from him. She dropped her head to the side and lazily shook it, a motion that made her hair slide from her shoulder and fall down her back. For the first time in the long minutes that had passed since he stood on the same spot, Ike noticed something that should've been hard to overlook: Pointed ears, thin and long.

Ike slightly opened his mouth. Nymph blood.

Ranulf was leaning against Aphrodite Urania without a care in the world, nibbling on a greasy chicken leg. "Whoa, man, you don't look healthy at all. Your eyes are all red," he said after seeing Ike emerge from the temple. Ranulf squinted, threw his chicken bone on the ground and approached his friend.

"Hey, no littering. This is not Sparta," Ike slowly clarified, rubbing his eyes. They were burning, and if the old priestess hadn't so abruptly ended the session just after he'd seen the oracle's ears, he could well have choked down there in the cave. It had ended just a few minutes ago, but it all felt like a dream already. The lamb, the mist, the nymph… Ike took a deep and painful breath of fresh air.

He looked up to Aphrodite Pandemos. No, her ears were like his, round and short. Stubs. Small. Aphrodite Urania on the other hand… Ike couldn't tell. The thunderclouds were obscuring the sky, and the only direct light was shining straight into Ike's face, making it impossible to see anything on the tall statue's head.

"Are you alright? Ike? Look at me." Ike turned back to his friend. Ranulf, ever so jolly, stood there with knitted brows and suddenly reached out to grab Ike's chin. He sniffed. "Holy… You stink like a Titan, like earth, like oleander. It's not… bad, but… Your eyes are so red. Are you sure you're-"

"No, I'm fine, I'm just… my head hurts." Ike said, freeing himself from Ranulf's grip and leaning on the statue. He pressed his fingers to his temples, rubbing them. "I'm not sure what happened, I don't know how to say it. But I think I saw Aphrodite."

"You sure look drunk enough to have seen her. So what did she say? Will we live?"

A sun ray hit Ike in the face, painfully bright in contrast to the dimness his eyes had experienced in the underground chamber. "We will win," Ike stated, nodding, suddenly hoping that she was infallible. But how could she not be?

Ranulf clapped his friend on the back. "Thank the Gods, I quite like living. Come, my friend, let's find some shelter before the rain finds us first."

He began to lead the way back towards the agora with fast steps, the swing in his walk indicating his thirst for some rich red grape wine. Ike followed after a few practice breaths.

The woman could not be human. It was impossible. She couldn't have a warriors lungs and stamina, not if Ike's perfectly battle-honed body was reacting to the air down there like this after just several minutes.

As he followed Ranulf to the market, he looked back at the statue of Aphrodite Urania, but the upper half of her ear was not there anymore. It had broken away.

Glossary

Chlamys: Type of short cloak, Greek military attire.

Taxiarch: Second-highest military rank in Ancient Athens.

Chiton: A draped garment fastened at the shoulders.