The God Contest Regina

“Well done, players!” emerged the voice of Ares from the Spartan’s body, a dead puppet held aloft by the will of its master. “A most entertaining climax to a glorious battle!”

Ares looked towards the hundreds of winged eyes above that broadcasted the action to the audience. “Behold, these warriors, these few survivors, who vanquished Spartan champions of old! Here they stand, surrounded by those who proved unworthy, tested and victorious! They are true players in this God Contest.”

Enthusiastic cheers from unseen watchers erupted from the ceiling above, hailing their victory.

Bethany’s Oracle Eye grew warm. She cupped the side of her head and, for the briefest of moments, she could see the ghostly visages of the watching gods that looked down upon them.

A regal woman sitting beneath the stars, wearing a necklace of human hearts and hands.

A man standing in a field of sunflowers in the rain, with a long tail and sharp fangs.

A white painted mother.

A wise woman with a thousand arms.

A three-headed dragon chained and struggling.

A beauty surrounded by faceless suitors.

A tiny man living inside a pebble, his eyes the same blue as Rocky’s healing hands.

A beautiful woman with fine silver hair, braided into a fishing net.

The visages stretched on and on, far beyond the veil of this world and into their own. Hundreds upon hundreds of Gods cheering death and destruction in the world below.

She saw the visage of Thoth, his ibis face absent of cheer. He watched her, his beak curled in sympathy, as he returned her gaze with a small bow – the only god to acknowledge her sight.

The heat in her Oracle Eye faded and the ghostly visages disappeared.

She had been the only one who saw the gods. The other survivors hadn’t taken their eyes off Ares, who stretched his arms wide above his head, beckoning forth their reward.

Eleven golden disks formed above Ares’ head in a single, evenly spaced row. One power for each surviving player, including the two children and the toddler. They spun gently in place, as if put on display for the players.

“Ah, but these shall not be your only reward. For those of you who fought on the front lines, I give you the means to improve yourself.”

Ares snapped his skeletal fingers, and sixteen silver Emporium coins flew across the supermarket – one for each fallen foe. The coins lined up in front of him, and he casually flicked them towards the players. He sent two each to the adult except Priyanka, who had not fought the Spartans, and one to each of Harmony and Brandon.

“These coins and powers are my gifts to you, players,” Ares announced with a flourish. “You have sated my bloodlust. This was a wonderful battle, full of ingenuity, cleverness, cowardness, and heartache. You have earned your prize. May my gifts help you survive this God Contest. May they help you become who you must be!”

With his final proclamation, the Spartan’s body collapsed to the ground and dissolved into dust.

“What… are these?” Anjali asked, holding up her two silver coins.

“Power. We’ll show you at the refinery, if you want to come back with us,” Bethany replied, placing her two in her pocket. Anjali gave her a slow nod, anxious for her family to no longer be alone.

“They are only a tiny trickle of power, compared to what lay within those,” Zee exclaimed, his eyes fixed upon the golden disks. “If you don’t mind, I’m picking first.”

“Zee, that’s not fair…” Emily started to protest, but Zee had already touched the disk on the far left. The disk dissolved in his hands, and Zee took a deep breath as the gold dust settled on his skin and was absorbed. His eyes flashed with a golden hue.

“Oh, yes. That will do nicely,” Zee cooed. He flicked his wrist, and shadows spiraled around his hand. A spectral dagger, black as night, took shape, and once formed he hurled it into the wall. It embedded deep, until hilt touched stone. “A power made just for me.”

He laughed and reached for a second golden disk.

“Zee!” Emily shouted angrily, as Zee’s hand passed through the disk like it was a hologram.

“Well, can’t blame a guy for trying,” Zee said with a shrug.

“Yes, we can,” Rocky said through clenched teeth.

Zee smirked. “This one was clearly meant for Abigail anyway. Look.”

He pointed to the carving on the coin, which depicted a woman holding an enormous sword above her head and two slain men at her feet.

Abigail clutched her sword to her chest, her eyes a cascade of grief and anger. She walked up beside Zee and reached for the disk. It dissolved, and she shrieked in pain as a bloody wound opened across her hand, as if someone had cut her palm with a knife. Her iron sword clattered to the ground. Her eyes flared red, and out of her wound erupted a stream of blood that formed itself into a massive, doubled edged claymore as tall as she was. Its sharp edge was stained red, and its cross-guard had a skull carved at each end. Her wound healed itself in an instant.

Abigail grasped the claymore in both hands and lifted it with ease. She took a few practice swings, the blade light as a feather, then rested it over her shoulder. The grief in her eyes fled and left behind anger and determination.

“The Bloodied Widow,” Abigail muttered, naming her new power. Without another word, as if she were in a world of her own, she walked out of the supermarket and weaved her way between the vehicles in the parking lot, their owners dead in the supermarket aisles.

“Abigail!” called out Bethany, but the woman ignored them. “Come back!”

“Damn. And I thought my power was something,” Zee said with a laugh.

“She’s going to get herself killed, jackass,” Rocky said. “She’s not in her right mind.”

“Her right mind? This is the God Contest, Balboa. If you’re still clinging to sanity, you’re headed for your grave.”

Zee grabbed a bag of bottled pills and slung it over his shoulder. “I’ll tag along with her. She’s my kind of nuts, and I’d hate for her to find an early death. Bethany, my dear, I hope we meet again. I want to see just how powerful you become.”

“Wait, what? Zee, you should stay with us,” Bethany protested, but he was already out the door and at Abigail’s side, jabbering away while she stalked forward.

“I’d never work out, hammer girl,” Zee called back. “I’d give Balboa an aneurysm by the end of the week.”

“Well, he’s not wrong,” Rocky whispered, as they watched the pair disappear.

You’d better take care of her, Zee.

“Bethany, why don’t you pick next?” Emily suggested, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen over the players.

“Yah… okay,” Bethany murmured. She glanced back at those who remained and saw their collective nods.

Bethany studied the detailed carvings on the nine remaining disks, and she could see why Zee and Abigail had picked theirs so quickly.

These aren’t random. A fireman’s axe comprised of stone. A sword lit with fire. A spear of ice. Twin brass knuckles that extend into claws. The axe is meant for Rocky. The sword for Elias, and the spear for Anjali. I bet the claws are for Emily, after what she did to that Spartan’s eyes. But which is meant for me?

Bethany walked slowly down the line of floating disks, and waited for one to draw her in.

Two hands cupped together and holding blue light. That’s the Healer’s Touch that Rocky received from Thoth. That’s a good one, and it would mean he wouldn’t be our only healer. Should I just take that one?

Bethany’s hand reached out, an inch away from the disk.

No. It doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel like… mine.

She pulled her hand away and continued down the line.

An artist painting. A beckoning hand. This one is just a toddler with an up arrow. That’s obviously for Jaya. God, I hope it doesn’t give the toddler the ability to fly. His mother would have a fit.

She reached the end of the line and leaned in to study the final disk. It was engraved with the image of a dying woman seated on a vast, empty prairie. She stared up at the night sky with sightless eyes. The haunting image repelled her, and she recoiled back, unconsciously distancing herself from the disk.

“Maybe not that one, Bethany,” Emily said with a shiver in her voice. A mumble of agreement spread amongst the survivors.

No one wants it. Was I wrong? Maybe the powers are just random. I should go back and take the healing one…

Her Oracle Eye glowed, and Bethany felt its heat in her mind.

The image on the disk changed, as if a second, hidden layer of the image had peeled back. From the heart of the dying woman, hundreds of golden threads cascaded into the heavens above. Featureless figures – featureless gods – formed in the sky, a golden thread connected to the heart of each one. Ethereal connections between mortal and godly realms.

“Are you okay, Bethany?” asked Rocky.

They cannot see it. Diana – Oracle – is this another one of the gifts you hid in the game?

Bethany shuttered as energy began to flow from the dying woman to the gods along the threads. The figure's skin grew rigid and dry, and her fingernails cracked. She crumbled away, piece by piece, until her flesh dissolved and her bones became dust. Her remains were carried aloft on the wind, lost and forgotten.

The woman’s corpse had been sucked dry by the unrelenting thirst of the gods.

The godly figures disappeared, leaving only the barren plain. Where the woman had once sat, a rickety wooden bridge appeared. It stretched up into the night sky, and Bethany could not see where it ended.

Oracle hid this power in the God Contest behind an illusion that would repulse other players. She wanted me to have it. But what is it? Oracle, what are you doing to me? How did you hide this even from your fellow gods?

Taking a deep, calming breath, Bethany reached out for the power Oracle hid beneath the nightmare.

The disk dissolved upon her touch, and Bethany felt her mind drawn towards the bridge.

The last thing she heard were Emily and Rocky’s cries as her body slumped forward, unmoving, as her mind walked along the rickety wooden bridge into the heavens.