The Coming of the Green Mist (Ashes Part Three) (The Tales of Tartarus)

Your time is running short. It was a nice fight, grandchildren. I noticed Luke's skin was starting to glow faintly golden. He seemed to be glowing from the inside. At that moment, I quickly learned something bad was going to happen. Stabbing her spear out, Thalia tried to find a weak spot on Kronos body. He dodged Thalia's stab and kicked her in the shin. A sickly sounding snap could be heard, as she fell forward, her shin shattered, not being able to support her anymore. Kronos smacked her in the face, and she was flung backwards with a broken nose. Her spear was thrown from her grasp, and clattered to the floor.

She hit the ground and slid before coming to a stop. Thalia didn't move after that. I swung my sword like a baseball bat and smacked Kronos legs out from underneath him, causing him to faceplant into the floor. Since he bore the curse of Achilles no real damage was done. I glanced at Thalia before I turned around and was met with a golden beam of energy to the face which sent me flying head over heels across the room, before landing in a heap on the floor. My face burned like Hades itself. Luke's skin was now glowing a blinding gold.

I jumped to my feet and tried to run at him but before I got there, Luke's body exploded in a flash of light, knocking me off my feet onto my back. I slid a few feet across the floor, before staring around in horror. A horrible smell filled the air, the smell of rotting and death. Coating me and the walls was Luke's blood. I gagged and spat out the blood that was in my mouth and slowly rose to my feet, dreading what I was going to find. I stumbled at the sheer power of this voice. Wiping Luke's internal organs off my face, I saw a sight that made me want to curl up into a ball and die.

Standing in front of me was a foot tall being clad in heavy, golden armour. Large, slightly curved spikes rose upward from his pauldrons, his vambraces also adorned with spikes that ran almost parallel to his forearm. Atop his head sat a spiked helm with a golden face guard, and in his hands rested the largest and deadliest Scythe I had ever seen in my life.

Suddenly there were multiple flashes of golden light, along with the sounds of many people marching in. Looking towards the entrance of the Throne Room, demigods filed in, in tight formation. They formed a half circle around Kronos as the 12 Olympians stood opposite of them, surrounding Kronos. Kronos smiled evilly and said, "It is too late, puny gods.

Welcome to your deaths. The Golden Age is here! A golden beam of pure energy shot out of the tip of his sword, flying at Zeus. Zeus raised his Master Bolt and attempted to block the beam of pure energy, but his Master Bolt exploded, sending the King of the Gods flying across the room. Befitting to his name, Ares gave a loud war cry as he leveled his wickedly sharp two handed sword in Kronos direction, before charging.

Kronos stood, smirking lazily, making no attempt to raise his own weapon. My breath hitched, as I looked at Kronos standing lazily, and at that moment I knew Ares was going to die. The god of War swung his two handed sword attempting to behead Kronos. Faster than the eye can see, Kronos crouched under the swing, while his scythe switched hands.

Kronos stepped sideways, as Ares, still sprinting full speed, was met with Kronos scythe to his neck, decapitating him. Ares head flew off his shoulders as his body crumpled onto floor. His head hit the ground, splattering golden blood all over, before it rolled over near me. I stared into Ares now empty lifeless eyes, which had only moments ago been filled with hate.

Seconds later, he disappeared into golden dust. All that was left of the God of War was his two handed sword, lying alone on the ground.

A.L. Mengel

The remaining Olympians stared at Kronos in shock. A wave of fear seemed to ripple through the Olympians because of how fast Ares had been bested. And time is my specialty. Following Kronos words, flashes of deep blue, red, and purple filled the room. Slowly, the colors came together and began swirling in a circle. It looked like some sort of portal. Across the room, Athena gasped. The Olympians got in a defensive stance, all drawing their respective weapons.

The demigods followed suit, getting into their defensive formation. The portal began spinning faster and faster. Small cracking and scraping sounds filled the room. The portal began to pulse violet before an explosion came from within. A light filled the room, so bright that even the remaining Olympians had to shield their eyes.

Suddenly the light dimmed and everyone turned to face Kronos. Standing in front of Kronos were hundreds and hundreds of armored warriors. Each one had flaming hair and a celestial bronze donkey leg. All the warriors held golden swords, and stood around six to seven feet in height. Their eyes glowed red. These have been blessed with the abilities to kill even gods.

The monsters surged forward with a screeching war cry. I ran in the direction of my demigod friends, hoping to be in time to help. An Empousa jumped out in front of me, slashing its sword in my direction. I swung my sword right through it's sword arm, before spinning around and stabbing another right through it's head.

I stabbed backwards, without looking, impaling another through it's chestplate. Ripping my sword free, I kept running. I glanced to my left to see Athena with dual knives. She spun on her knees under a sword slash, before swinging her knives upwards slicing two Empousa's throats. Standing up, she did a spin before kicking an Empousa's legs out from underneath it. She brought both knives down stabbing them through its chest. I turned away and kept moving in the direction of my friends.

I hacked and slashed my way towards the demigods. Cutting down one more Empousa, I caught a glance of the demigods. It was not good. All over there were dead bodies of my comrades. I watched frozen in horror as Clarisse took a blade through the stomach. She gave a growl, decapitating her offender. Two more Empousa proceeded to slash her legs and arms as they ran past. She fell to her knees, blood pouring from many wounds, before falling over dead. I then saw Katie get pounced on by an Empousa. I rushed forward, grabbing the demon and threw it off. I stabbed it through its throat before it disintegrated.

I looked down at Katie to see her unmoving, her throat ripped out. I turned away, before running right into an Empousa. It stabbed me in the chest, but it's blade bounced off. Angry, I stepped forward and snapped its neck. To my left, I saw Travis Stoll taking on three enemies. I whipped my sword like a javelin, and in impaled all three Empousa through the chest. Provide feedback about this page. There's a problem loading this menu right now. Get fast, free shipping with Amazon Prime. Get to Know Us. English Choose a language for shopping. Amazon Music Stream millions of songs. Amazon Advertising Find, attract, and engage customers.

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AmazonGlobal Ship Orders Internationally. Amazon Inspire Digital Educational Resources. Amazon Rapids Fun stories for kids on the go. Amazon Restaurants Food delivery from local restaurants. ComiXology Thousands of Digital Comics. East Dane Designer Men's Fashion. Shopbop Designer Fashion Brands. To be sure, the part of the sea she first ran along in her frenzy would be called Ionian after her. But her real consolation must be that at long last she would reach the Nile, where Zeus would restore her to her human form.

She would bear him a son named Epaphus, and live forever after happy and honored. Up in heaven one spring morning as he idly watched the earth, Zeus suddenly saw a charming spectacle. Once awake from this strange vision which had come at dawn, the time when true dreams oftenest visit mortals, Europa decided not to try to go to sleep again, but to summon her companions, girls born in the same year as herself and all of noble birth, to go out with her to the lovely blooming meadows near the sea. Here was their favorite meeting place, whether they wanted to dance or bathe their fair bodies at the river mouth or gather flowers.

The girls wandering here and there over the meadow, each one a maiden fairest among the fair; yet even so, Europa shone out among them as the Goddess of Love outshines the sister Graces. As Zeus in heaven watched the pretty scene, she who alone can conquer Zeus—along with her son, the mischievous boy Cupid—shot one of her shafts into his heart, and that very instant he fell madly in love with Europa.

Even though Hera was away, he thought it well to be cautious, and before appearing to Europa he changed himself into a bull. Not such a one as you might see in a stall or grazing in a field, but one beautiful beyond all bulls that ever were, bright chestnut in color, with a silver circle on his brow and horns like the crescent of the young moon. He seemed so gentle as well as so lovely that the girls were not frightened at his coming, but gathered around to caress him and to breathe the heavenly fragrance that came from him, sweeter even than that of the flowery meadow.

It was Europa he drew toward, and as she gently touched him, he lowed so musically, no flute could give forth a more melodious sound. Then he lay down before her feet and seemed to show her his broad back. Smiling she sat down on his back, but the others, quick though they were to follow her, had no chance. The bull leaped up and at full speed rushed to the seashore and then not into, but over, the wide water. No bull could this be, thought Europa, but most certainly a god; and she spoke pleadingly to him, begging him to pity her and not leave her in some strange place all alone.

He spoke to her in answer and showed her she had guessed rightly what he was. She had no cause to fear, he told her. He was Zeus, greatest of gods, and all he was doing was from love of her. He was taking her to Crete, his own island, where his mother had hidden him from Cronus when he was born, and there she would bear him. Everything happened, of course, as Zeus had said. Crete came into sight; they landed, and the Seasons, the gatekeepers of Olympus, arrayed her for her bridal.

Her sons were famous men, not only in this world but in the next—where two of them, Minos and Rhadamanthus, were rewarded for their justice upon the earth by being made the judges of the dead. All the monstrous forms of life which were first created, the hundred-handed creatures, the Giants, and so on, were permanently banished from the earth when they had been conquered, with the single exception of the Cyclopes.

They were allowed to come back, and they became finally great favorites of Zeus. They were wonderful workmen and they forged his thunderbolts. At first there had been only three, but later there were many. Zeus gave them a home in a fortunate country where the vineyards and cornlands, unplowed and unsown, bore fruits plenteously.

They had great flocks of sheep and goats as well, and they lived at their ease. Their fierceness and savage temper, however, did not grow less; they had no laws or courts of justice, but each one did as he pleased. It was not a good country for strangers. Ages after Prometheus was punished, when the descendants of the men he helped had grown civilized and had learned to build far-sailing ships, a Greek prince beached his boat on the shore of this dangerous land. His name was Odysseus Ulysses in Latin and he was on his way home after the destruction of Troy. In the hardest battle he had fought with the Trojans, he had never come as near to death as he did then.

Not far from the spot where his crew had made the vessel fast was a cave, open toward the sea and very lofty. It looked inhabited; there was a strong fence before the entrance. Odysseus started off to explore it with twelve of his men. They were in need of food and he took with him a goatskin full of very potent and mellow wine to give whoever lived there in return for hospitality.

The gate in the fence was not closed and they made their way into the cave. No one was there, but it was clearly the dwelling of some very prosperous person. Along the sides of the cave were many crowded pens of lambs and kids. Also there were racks full of cheeses and pails brimming with milk, delightful to the sea-worn travelers who ate and drank as they waited for the master. At last he came, hideous and huge, tall as a great mountain crag.

Traders or thieving pirates? He was bigger than any god and feared none of them. With that, he stretched out his mighty arms and in each great hand he seized one of the men and dashed his brains out on the ground. Slowly he feasted off them to the last shred, and then, satisfied, stretched himself out across the cavern and slept.

He was safe from attack. No one but he could roll back the huge stone before the door, and if the horrified men had been able to summon courage and strength enough to kill him they would have been imprisoned there forever. During that long terrible night Odysseus faced the awful thing that had happened and would happen to every one of them if he could not think out some way of escape.

But by the time day had dawned and the flock gathering at the entrance woke the Cyclops up, no idea at all had come to him. He had to watch two more of his company die, for Polyphemus breakfasted as he had supped. Then he drove out his flock, moving back the big block at the door and pushing it into place again as easily as a man opens and shuts the lid to his quiver. Throughout the day, shut in the cave, Odysseus thought and thought. Four of his men had perished hideously. Must they all go the same dreadful way? At last a plan shaped itself in his mind. An enormous timber lay near the pens, as long and as thick as the mast of a twenty-oared ship.

From this he cut off a good piece, and then he and his men sharpened it and hardened the point by turning it round and round in the fire. They had finished and hidden it by the time the Cyclops came back. There followed the same horrible feast as before. When it was over Odysseus filled a cup with his own wine that he had brought with him and offered it to the Cyclops. He emptied it with delight and demanded more, and Odysseus poured for him until finally a drunken sleep overcame him. Then Odysseus and his men drew out the great stake from its hiding-place and heated the point in the fire until it almost burst into flame.

With an awful scream he sprang up and wrenched the point out. This way and that he flung around the cavern searching for his tormentors, but, blind as he was, they were able to slip away from him. At last he pushed aside the stone at the entrance and sat down there, stretching his arms across, thinking thus to catch them when they tried to get away. But Odysseus had made a plan for this, too. He bade each man choose out three thick-fleeced rams and bind them together with strong, pliant strips of bark; then to wait for day, when the flock would be sent out to pasture.

At last the dawn came and as the beasts crowding through the entrance passed out Polyphemus felt them over to be sure no one carried a man on his back. He never thought to feel underneath, but that was where the men were, each tucked under the middle ram, holding on to the great fleece. Once out of that fearful place they dropped to the ground and, hurrying to the ship, in no time launched it and were aboard.

In Greece there are most lovely wild flowers. They would be beautiful anywhere, but Greece is not a rich and fertile country of wide meadows and fruitful fields where flowers seem at home. In the faraway ages when the tales of Greek mythology were taking shape men found the brilliant blossoms of the Greek spring a wonder and a delight.

Those people separated from us by thousands of years, and almost completely unknown to us, felt as we do before that miracle of loveliness, each flower so delicate, yet all together covering the land like a rainbow mantle flung over the hills. It was the most natural thing possible to connect them with the gods. Often an especially exquisite flower was held to be the direct creation of a god for his own purpose. That was true of the narcissus, which was not like ours of that name, but a lovely bloom of glowing purple and silver.

She was gathering flowers with her companions in the vale of Enna, in a meadow of soft grass and roses and crocus and lovely violets and iris and hyacinths. Suddenly she caught sight of something quite new to her, a bloom more beautiful by far than any she had ever seen, a strange glory of a flower, a marvel to all, immortal gods and mortal men. A hundred blossoms grew up from the roots, and the fragrance was very sweet.

The broad sky above and the whole earth laughed to see it, and the salt wave of the sea. Only Persephone among the maidens had spied it. The rest were at the other end of the meadow. She stole toward it, half fearful at being alone, but unable to resist the desire to fill her basket with it, exactly as Zeus had supposed she would feel. Wondering she stretched out her hands to take the lovely plaything, but before she touched it a chasm opened in the earth and out of it coal-black horses sprang, drawing a chariot and driven by one who had a look of dark splendor, majestic and beautiful and terrible.

He caught her to him and held her close. The next moment she was being borne away from the radiance of earth in springtime to the world of the dead by the king who rules it. This was not the only story about the narcissus. There was another, as magical, but quite different.

The hero of it was a beautiful lad, whose name was Narcissus. His beauty was so great, all the girls who saw him longed to be his, but he would have none of them. He would pass the loveliest carelessly by, no matter how much she tried to make him look at her. Even the sad case of the fairest of the nymphs, Echo, did not move him. She was a favorite of Artemis, the goddess of woods and wild creatures, but she came under the displeasure of a still mightier goddess, Hera herself, who was at her usual occupation of trying to discover what Zeus was about.

She suspected that he was in love with one of the nymphs and she went to look them over to try to discover which. With her usual injustice she turned against Echo. That nymph became another unhappy girl whom Hera punished. The goddess condemned her never to use her tongue again except to repeat what was said to her. She could follow him, but she could not speak to him. How then could she make a youth who never looked at a girl pay attention to her?

One day, however, it seemed her chance had come. He was calling to his companions. But he turned away in angry disgust.

The Golden Age Chapter 1: Prologue, a percy jackson and the olympians fanfic | FanFiction

She hid her blushes and her shame in a lonely cave, and never could be comforted. Still she lives in places like that, and they say she has so wasted away with longing that only her voice now is left to her. So Narcissus went on his cruel way, a scorner of love. But at last one of those he wounded prayed a prayer and it was answered by the gods: As Narcissus bent over a clear pool for a drink and saw there his own reflection, on the moment he fell in love with it. But I cannot leave it. Only death can set me free. He pined away, leaning perpetually over the pool, fixed in one long gaze. Where it had lain there was blooming a new and lovely flower, and they called it by his name, Narcissus.

There was no rivalry between them when they tried which could throw the discus farthest; they were only playing a game. The god was horror-struck to see the blood gush forth and the lad, deathly pale, fall to the ground. He turned as pale himself as he caught him up in his arms and tried to stanch the wound. But it was too late. He was dead and Apollo kneeling beside him wept for him, dying so young, so beautiful. There is a story, too, that Zephyr, the West Wind, not Apollo, was the direct cause of the death, that he also loved this fairest of youths and in his jealous anger at seeing the god preferred to him he blew upon the discus and made it strike Hyacinth.

Every year the Greek girls mourned for Adonis and every year they rejoiced when his flower, the bloodred anemone, the windflower, was seen blooming again. Aphrodite loved him; the Goddess of Love, who pierces with her shafts the hearts of gods and men alike, was fated herself to suffer that same piercing pain. She saw him when he was born and even then loved him and decided he should be hers.

She carried him to Persephone to take charge of him for her, but Persephone loved him too and would not give him back to Aphrodite, not even when the goddess went down to the underworld to get him. Neither goddess would yield, and finally Zeus himself had to judge between them. He decided that Adonis should spend half the year with each, the autumn and winter with the Queen of the Dead; the spring and summer with the Goddess of Love and Beauty.

All the time he was with Aphrodite she sought only to please him. But one sad day she happened not to be with him and he tracked down a mighty boar. With his hunting dogs he brought the beast to bay. He hurled his spear at it, but he only wounded it, and before he could spring away, the boar mad with pain rushed at him and gored him with its great tusks.

The fame of her surpassing beauty spread over the earth, and everywhere men journeyed to gaze upon her with wonder and adoration and to do her homage as though she were in truth one of the immortals. They would even say that Venus herself could not equal this mortal. As they thronged in ever-growing numbers to worship her loveliness no one any more gave a thought to Venus herself. Her temples were neglected; her altars foul with cold ashes; her favorite towns deserted and falling in ruins.

All the honors once hers were now given to a mere girl destined some day to die. It may well be believed that the goddess would not put up with this treatment. As always when she was in trouble she turned for help to her son, that beautiful winged youth whom some call Cupid and others Love, against whose arrows there is no defense, neither in heaven nor on the earth.

She told him her wrongs and as always he was ready to do her bidding. As he looked upon her it was as if he had shot one of his arrows into his own heart. What happened, however, was not what she had counted on. Psyche did not fall in love with a horrible wretch, she did not fall in love at all.

Still more strange, no one fell in love with her. Men were content to look and wonder and worship—and then pass on to marry someone else. Both her sisters, inexpressibly inferior to her, were splendidly married, each to a king. Psyche, the all-beautiful, sat sad and solitary, only admired, never loved.

It seemed that no man wanted her. This was, of course, most disturbing to her parents. Her father finally traveled to an oracle of Apollo to ask his advice on how to get her a good husband. The god answered him, but his words were terrible. Cupid had told him the whole story and had begged for his help. Accordingly Apollo said that Psyche, dressed in deepest mourning, must be set on the summit of a rocky hill and left alone, and that there her destined husband, a fearful winged serpent, stronger than the gods themselves, would come to her and make her his wife.

They dressed the maiden as though for her death and carried her to the hill with greater sorrowing than if it had been to her tomb. But Psyche herself kept her courage. Now go, knowing that I am glad the end has come. On the high hilltop in the darkness Psyche sat, waiting for she knew not what terror. There, as she wept and trembled, a soft breath of air came through the stillness to her, the gentle breathing of Zephyr, sweetest and mildest of winds. She felt it lift her up. She was floating away from the rocky hill and down until she lay upon a grassy meadow soft as a bed and fragrant with flowers.

It was so peaceful there, all her trouble left her and she slept. She woke beside a bright river; and on its bank was a mansion stately and beautiful as though built for a god, with pillars of gold and walls of silver and floors inlaid with precious stones. No sound was to be heard; the place seemed deserted and Psyche drew near, awestruck at the sight of such splendor. As she hesitated on the threshold, voices sounded in her ear. She could see no one, but the words they spoke came clearly to her.

The house was for her, they told her. She must enter without fear and bathe and refresh herself. Then a banquet table would be spread for her. While she dined, sweet music breathed around her: Throughout he day, except for the strange companionship of the voices, she was alone, but in some inexplicable way she felt sure that with the coming of the night her husband would be with her. And so it happened. When she felt him beside her and heard his voice softly murmuring in her ear, all her fears left her. She knew without seeing him that here was no monster or shape of terror, but the lover and husband she had longed and waited for.

This half-and-half companionship could not fully content her; still she was happy and the time passed swiftly. One night, however, her dear though unseen husband spoke gravely to her and warned her that danger in the shape of her two sisters was approaching. She was still in tears when her husband came and even his caresses could not check them. At last he yielded sorrowfully to her great desire.

Psyche cried out that she would never do so. She would die a hundred times over rather than live without him. The next morning the two came, brought down from the mountain by Zephyr. Happy and excited, Psyche was waiting for them. It was long before the three could speak to each other; their joy was too great to be expressed except by tears and embraces.

But Psyche kept faith; she told them only that he was a young man, away now on a hunting expedition. Then filling their hands with gold and jewels, she had Zephyr bear them back to the hill. They went willingly enough, but their hearts were on fire with jealousy. She would not listen when he begged her not to let them come again. She never could see him, she reminded him. Was she also to be forbidden to see all others, even her sisters so dear to her? He yielded as before, and very soon the two wicked women arrived, with their plot carefully worked out.

They did not tell her this, but they reproached her for hiding her terrible state from them, her own sisters. He was kind now, no doubt, but he would certainly turn upon her some night and devour her. Psyche, aghast, felt terror flooding her heart instead of love. She had wondered so often why he would never let her see him. There must be some dreadful reason. What did she really know about him? If he was not horrible to look at, then he was cruel to forbid her ever to behold him. In extreme misery, faltering and stammering, she gave her sisters to understand that she could not deny what they said, because she had been with him only in the dark.

They had their advice all prepared beforehand. That night she must hide a sharp knife and a lamp near her bed. When her husband was fast asleep she must leave the bed, light the lamp, and get the knife. She must steel herself to plunge it swiftly into the body of the frightful being the light would certainly show her.

She loved him; he was her dear husband. No; he was a horrible serpent and she loathed him. She would kill him—She would not. She must have certainty—She did not want certainty. So all day long her thoughts fought with each other. When evening came, however, she had given the struggle up. One thing she was determined to do: When at last he lay sleeping quietly, she summoned all her courage and lit the lamp.

She tiptoed to the bed and holding the light high above her she gazed at what lay there. Oh, the relief and the rapture that filled her heart. No monster was revealed, but the sweetest and fairest of all creatures, at whose sight the very lamp seemed to shine brighter. In her first shame at her folly and lack of faith, Psyche fell on her knees and would have plunged the knife into her own breast if it had not fallen from her trembling hands. But those same unsteady hands that saved her betrayed her, too, for as she hung over him, ravished at the sight of him and unable to deny herself the bliss of filling her eyes with his beauty, some hot oil fell from the lamp upon his shoulder.

She rushed out after him into the night. She could not see him, but she heard his voice speaking to her. He told her who he was, and sadly bade her farewell. Is he gone from me forever? If he has no more love left for me, at least I can show him how much I love him. She had no idea where to go; she knew only that she would never give up looking for him.

Venus was determined to show Psyche what it meant to draw down the displeasure of a goddess. Poor Psyche in her despairing wanderings was trying to win the gods over to her side. She offered ardent prayers to them perpetually, but not one of them would do anything to make Venus their enemy. At last she perceived that there was no hope for her, either in heaven or on earth, and she took a desperate resolve. She would go straight to Venus; she would offer herself humbly to her as her servant, and try to soften her anger. I will therefore show my good will to you by training you in such ways.

Psyche, left alone, sat still and stared at the heap. Her mind was all in a maze because of the cruelty of the command; and, indeed, it was of no use to start a task so manifestly impossible. But at this direful moment she who had awakened no compassion in mortals or immortals was pitied by the tiniest creatures of the field, the little ants, the swift-runners. This was what Venus found when she came back, and very angry she was to see it.

Then she gave Psyche a crust of bread and bade her sleep on the ground while she herself went off to her soft, fragrant couch.

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Surely if she could keep the girl at hard labor and half starve her, too, that hateful beauty of hers would soon be lost. Until then she must see that her son was securely guarded in his chamber where he was still suffering from his wound. Venus was pleased at the way matters were shaping. The next morning she devised another task for Psyche, this time a dangerous one. Go fetch me some of their shining wool. But as she was bending over the water she heard a little voice from near her feet, and looking down saw that it came from a green reed.

She must not drown herself, it said. Things were not as had as that. The sheep were indeed very fierce, but if Psyche would wait until they came out of the bushes toward evening to rest beside the river, she could go into the thicket and find plenty of the golden wool hanging on the sharp briars. So spoke the kind and gentle reed, and Psyche, following the directions, was able to carry back to her cruel mistress a quantity of the shining fleece. Venus received it with an evil smile. However, I will give you an opportunity to prove that you really have the stout heart and the singular prudence you make such a show of.

Do you see that black water which falls from the hill yonder? It is the source of the terrible river which is called hateful, the river Styx. You are to fill this flask from it. Only a winged creature could reach it, so steep and slimy were the rocks on all sides, and so fearful the onrush of the descending waters. But by this time it must be evident to all the readers of this story as, perhaps, deep in her heart it had become evident to Psyche herself that although each of her trials seemed impossibly hard, an excellent way out would always be provided for her.

This time her savior was an eagle, who poised on his great wings beside her, seized the flask from her with his beak and brought it back to her full of the black water. But Venus kept on. One cannot but accuse her of some stupidity. The only effect of all that had happened was to make her try again. She gave Psyche a box which she was to carry to the underworld and ask Proserpine to fill with some of her beauty.

She was to tell her that Venus really needed it, she was so worn-out from nursing her sick son. Obediently as always Psyche went forth to look for the road to Hades. She found her guide in a tower she passed. From there the road led straight to the palace. Cerberus, the three-headed dog, guarded the doors, but if she gave him a cake he would be friendly and let her pass. All happened, of course, as the tower had foretold. Proserpine was willing to do Venus a service, and Psyche, greatly encouraged, bore back the box, returning far more quickly than she had gone down.

Her next trial she brought upon herself through her curiosity and, still more, her vanity. She felt that she must see what that beauty-charm in the box was; and, perhaps, use a little of it herself. She knew quite as well as Venus did that her looks were not improved by what she had gone through, and always in her mind was the thought that she might suddenly meet Cupid.

If only she could make herself more lovely for him! She was unable to resist the temptation; she opened the box. To her sharp disappointment she saw nothing there; it seemed empty. Immediately, however, a deadly languor took possession of her and she fell into a heavy sleep. At this juncture the God of Love himself stepped forward. Cupid was healed of his wound by now and longing for Psyche. It is a difficult matter to keep Love imprisoned.

Venus had locked the door, but there were the windows. All Cupid had to do was to fly out and start looking for his wife. She was lying almost beside the palace, and he found her at once. In a moment he had wiped the sleep from her eyes and put it back into the box. While the joyful Psyche hastened on her errand, the god flew up to Olympus. He wanted to make certain that Venus would give them no more trouble, so he went straight to Jupiter himself.

However, I cannot refuse you. Mercury brought Psyche into the palace of the gods, and Jupiter himself gave her the ambrosia to taste which made her immortal. This, of course, completely changed the situation. Venus could not object to a goddess for her daughter-in-law; the alliance had become eminently suitable. So all came to a most happy end. Love and the Soul for that is what Psyche means had sought and, after sore trials, found each other; and that union could never be broken. Pyramus and Thisbe, he the most beautiful youth and she the loveliest maiden of all the East, lived in Babylon, the city of Queen Semiramis, in houses so close together that one wall was common to both.

Growing up thus side by side they learned to love each other. They longed to marry, but their parents forbade. Love, however, cannot be forbidden. The more that flame is covered up, the hotter it burns. In the wall both houses shared there was a little chink. No one before had noticed it, but there is nothing a lover does not notice. Our two young people discovered it and through it they were able to whisper sweetly back and forth. Finally a day came when they could endure no longer. They decided that that very night they would try to slip away and steal out through the city into the open country where at last they could be together in freedom.

They agreed to meet at a well-known place, the Tomb of Ninus, under a tree there, a tall mulberry full of snow-white berries, near which a cool spring bubbled up. The plan pleased them and it seemed to them the day would never end. In the darkness Thisbe crept out and made her way in all secrecy to the tomb. Pyramus had not come; still she waited for him, her love making her bold. But of a sudden she saw by the light of the moon a lioness.

The fierce beast had made a kill; her jaws were bloody and she was coming to slake her thirst in the spring. She was still far away for Thisbe to escape, but as she fled she dropped her cloak. The lioness came upon it on her way back to her lair and she mouthed it and tore it before disappearing into the woods.

That is what Pyramus saw when he appeared a few minutes later. Before him lay the bloodstained shreds of the cloak and clear in the dust were the tracks of the lioness. The conclusion was inevitable. He never doubted that he knew all. He had let his love, a tender maiden, come alone to a place full of danger, and not been there first to protect her.

He lifted up from the trampled dust what was left of the cloak and kissing it again and again carried it to the mulberry tree. The blood spurted up over the berries and dyed them a dark red. Thisbe, although terrified of the lioness, was still more afraid to fail her lover.

She ventured to go back to the tree of the tryst, the mulberry with the shining white fruit. She could not find it. A tree was there, but not one gleam of white was on the branches. As she stared at it, something moved on the ground beneath. She started back shuddering. But in a moment, peering through the shadows, she saw what was there. It was Pyramus, bathed in blood and dying. She flew to him and threw her arms around him. She kissed his cold lips and begged him to look at her, to speak to her. At the sound of her name he opened his heavy eyes for one look.

Then death closed them. She saw his sword fallen from his hand and beside it her cloak stained and torn. I too can be brave. I too can love. Only death would have had the power to separate us. It shall not have that power now. Orpheus and Eurydice's Pina Bausch. The very earliest musicians were the gods. Athena was not distinguished in that line, but she invented the flute although she never played upon it. Hermes made the lyre and gave it to Apollo who drew from it sounds so melodious that when he played in Olympus the gods forgot all else.

Hermes also made the shepherd-pipe for himself and drew enchanting music from it. Pan made the pipe of reeds which can sing as sweetly as the nightingale in spring. The Muses had no instrument peculiar to them, but their voices were lovely beyond compare. Next in order came a few mortals so excellent in their art that they almost equaled the divine performers. Orpheus was the son of one of the Muses and a Thracian prince.

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His mother gave him the gift of music and Thrace where he grew up fostered it. The Thracians were the most musical of the peoples of Greece.