Cora drifted off to sleep in peace with the knowledge that her magical world wasn’t lost. Even here in Aunt Zoe’s house, her nymph and her harpy would be helping her find Apollo. All she had to do was try not to fight with her Aunt. And to survive. How hard could that be in the warm lush countryside, after everything she’d been through already? Maybe she could take classes for the lyre. Is that still an instrument people play? She’d never seen a lyre in a band.

  Cora woke to a scratching at her window. She opened the shades to see the harpy was perched on her ledge, filling up the entire glass. Cora closed the shades again immediately, heart racing. For a moment it still seemed she was still dreaming. Then she hastily threw on the clean blue dress her Aunt gave her.Racing back to open the shades again — the harpy was still there. It’s monstrous female visage leering and smearing its face along the glass.

  Cora swatted at the glass to drive it away. The harpy beat her wings against the window, fluttering in place without leaving. It was still dark outside, but Cora didn’t want anyone to see the harpy. Should she let her stay out there? Dare she open the window and let it in? Cora freed the harpy from the nymph’s vines last night when it gave its word to help. It hadn’t attacked her then. The word of magical creatures and Gods carried more weight than those of man.

  The glass opened, the harpy seemed to fill the room with its flapping wings. Then it settled on the back of the chair next to the little desk in the corner of the room.

  “Nobody invited you in!”

  Nictate the harpy looked at her resentfully. It dugs its talons into the soft wood of the chair as it flexed. “I serve the lady, and she treats me as badly as Hera does.”

  “I’m nothing like Hera. I did not mean to be harsh with you. But I do not fully trust you either. I think you still have loyalty to the queen of the Gods. What did you find last night while I slept?”

  “Your love, your love,” Nictate squawked. “He is close.”

  The words were barely human sounding, but they reminded Cora of her humanity. She glowed with excitement and triumph.

  “Apollo is alive? Is he alright?”

  “Follow.”

  Nictate leaped back to the window, leaving behind several long feathers in her frantic movements. Cora looked back at the room and noticed there were twigs and leaves from the nymph last night all scattered on her bed and floor. Then of course the blood stained dress, now discarded at the foot of her bed. Cora couldn’t believe what a mess it was in here already. Her Aunt would be furious. But she couldn’t think about that now.

  Cora followed the harpy out the window. This time she stepped onto the ledge beyond without a second thought. Nictate flew into the branches of the tree in the yard. It was a Turkey Oak tree with a wide spread canopy, and lots of good places to grab onto for climbing down.

  “How far is he? Can you carry me?” Cora asked.

  The harpy looked back at her condescendingly. It was smaller than her, and she realized at once how ridiculous that was. “I meant, with magic or something,” she mumbled.

  “Climb!” the harpy squawked.

  Cora swallowed hard. It would be easy enough to get her footing once she was in the tree. It was getting there that was the hard part. There were thin branch ends overhanging the roof, but she would have to make a large jump to reach the first solid landing.

  “Oreads? Where are you?” Cora knelt down to peer over the side of the roof. All the windows were still dark. Aunt Zoe wasn’t awake yet. There was no sign of the nymph.

  “Hurry! Before he moves!”

  Cora stood. She imagined herself as some Goddess with a great billowing cloak behind her. She imagined the fading stars in the pre-dawn light as constellations bearing her face, and that a magical wind would carry her gently through the air. She leaped, heart frozen for a breathless moment of doubt. A sharp twig thrust at her and tore her clean dress along the stomach. Then wrapping both arms around a branch, her feet resting on others, she was safe. There were many holds now, and she quickly made it to the bottom of the tree. She looked at her new dress in dismay. But it didn’t matter anymore. The dirty room didn’t matter. Nothing in this old world mattered, because Apollo was going to take her away.

  Nictate took flight across the rolling hills of green grass. The harpy was much faster than Cora, even with her jogging. Nictate circled round again every so often though. Cora didn’t know how far they had to go, but told herself she wouldn’t stop until the harpy did. The grass was soft and wet with dew beneath her bare feet. She felt more revitalized with every step.

  Up the grassy hill, and down the other side. Then off to the left where the road turns into a footpath worn through the grass. There were no other houses here, only oak trees, growing more densely as she continued. No more than ten minutes from Aunt Zoe’s house, Nictate finally perched in one of the branches and waited for Cora to catch up.

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  “Well?” Cora asked breathlessly. She stared up at Nictate as the harpy hopped along the branches to the other side of the tree. Cora looked down at her torn dress again, disappointed that this is how Apollo would see her. But of course, that didn’t matter too. He would recognize the fire burning in her as she recognized the sun. He was always watching her, after-all. She still felt it. He saw her at her best, and her worst, and all the rest. And she would always be beautiful to him, because the world could not be so cruel to have it any other way.

  It seemed like the harpy was being deliberately quiet. Had Nictate tricked her and led her into one of Hera’s traps? Cora suddenly regretted leaving so quickly without first finding Oreads. She cautiously paced around the perimeter of the tree to follow Nictate to around the tree.

  There was a handsome young man kneeling on the other side of the tree. His long blond hair was in a pony tail halfway down his back. He rested with the type of quiet powerful energy of a tiger waiting to pounce. His muscular stature was poorly concealed by his loosely buttoned shirt. He was remarkable in his own right, but he wasn’t Apollo.

  Yet strangely enough, burned into the trunk of the tree was the image of Apollo himself. She was sure it was him, for his image was burned even more deeply into her. Even though the image wore the laurel crown of the Gods, and clutched Poseidon’s trident. Around the tree were little piles of stones, and candles. There were a few plates with morsels of food on them, and flowers gathered around the base. A few squirrels were rummaging through the gifts, pausing to eye Cora suspiciously as she approached. The man turned to look at Cora too, without rising.

  “Um. Excuse me,” Cora said. She looked up at the tree branches for Nictate. The harpy was gone though. The man smiled at her, but said nothing. “I’m looking for Apollo,” she said uncertainly.

  “He’s here. Sit with me.” He gestured to the empty grass beside him. Cora hesitated before nodding and kneeling there. She looked straight ahead at Apollo’s carving in the tree. Then she looked at the man next to her. His hands were folded in his lap. He looked straight ahead, barely seeming to notice her. He was muttering to himself under his breath. The line of his clean shaved jaw was hard and unflinching. Even without looking at her, his the aura of his presence was strong in her awareness. He even smelled familiar to Cora, as strange as it was to think. Somehow the young man felt like Apollo did when he was beside her. She scolded herself for even comparing a mortal with the glory of her God.

  “This is like a shrine, isn’t?” Cora asked.

  The man nodded. “My name is Simeon. I come here often to pray to Apollo.”

  “I’m Cora. I’m here to pray too. Sorry, I didn’t bring a gift.”

  Simeon smiled, and turned to her. His face was patient and kind as he said: “The love we carry for him is the only gift he needs.”

  Cora’s breath caught. It could have been Apollo saying those words.

  “Why are you here so early?” she asked.

  “I woke up early because I had a terrible dream last night. I dreamed the sun had set its final time, and never rose again.”

  “That’s a silly dream. It will always rise again.”

  “It was horrible. And the worst part about my dream was that I was the only one who noticed. The sun never rose, and everyone carried on about their life as though it had. And I would shout at them and point to the dark sky, and they would shrug and turn away. I knew as soon as I woke up that I had to come here and pray.”

  The sky was only now beginning to fill with light, but the sun itself had yet to wake. It was strange, actually. The sky kept getting lighter around where the sun should be, but she couldn’t see the sun itself. And it was still so cold, as though the light had left behind all of its warmth. Cora shivered.

  Simone reached behind him to grab a warm looking jacket. It was brown with lots of pockets and a thick lining of Sherpa fur. He wrapped it around Cora’s shoulders, who accepted it gratefully. Cora searched the branches above her again. She thought she saw a glimpse of olive tree branches mixed among the oak. Was Oreads watching her now? Had this all been another trick, to try and get her with a mortal man? If they were trying to make her forget Apollo, then why would they take her to his shrine?

  “Thank you. That’s a very interesting dream.”

  “Why did you come to pray?”

  Cora smiled softly. “I had a dream too. I dreamed that love could last forever, or at least more than a single night.”

  “That’s a silly dream,” he said.

  Cora laughed. “I dreamed Apollo would take me away to be queen of the Gods. I dreamed I left all this petty nonsense behind. I dreamed I left my very self behind, to become someone new and brave and clever. And I still must not have woken up, because I dream it still.”

  “I’m sorry, I was wrong. That’s a perfectly wonderful dream,” Simeon said.

  His voice wasn’t as deep as Apollo’s. How could everything about him be different, but everything remind her all the same? And with his jacket around her shoulders, Apollo’s scent — his scent — was overwhelming.

  “I hope I never wake up.”

  The sun finally did arrive from behind a cloud. The dawn broke over them and caught Simeon full in the face. For a moment he seemed to glow.

  “Then let this be part of the dream,” Simeon said softly. He leaned over her. At first she thought he was trying to take his jacket back. But then he kissed her, insistent and sure. She didn’t move her lips. She was so surprised she didn’t move at all. But she wasn’t kneeling in the forest anymore. She was flying over the beach where she’d been rescued. And it wasn’t Simeon kissing her, but Apollo she could feel against her skin. She closed her eyes and kissed him back, passionately reaching for what she couldn’t have.

  A few stolen seconds where time didn’t move. Then she realized what she was doing. Shocked and horrified at herself, she broke away and leaped to her feet. She threw the jacket down on the ground.

  “I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist,” Simeon said.

  “I’m not angry. But I can’t — I have to go.” And she was running again.

  Apollo was always watching her. He would see her with another, and he would be angry. And if ever he planned to return to her, now he might change his mind. And even if he wasn’t watching, then she was watching herself. And she hated how good it felt when Simeon moved on her. She hated how even the most sacred love she thought she sheltered only for Apollo was so easily stirred and muddied.

  “Don’t go!” Simeon shouted after her.

  Of all the things she didn’t want to hear. Tears in her eyes, Cora could not bear to turn and see the rising sun watching her run.