24 Apotheosis
Apollo rose abruptly from his chair, his voice filled with conviction. "You will," he declared, readjusting his laurel crown and gazing down at his half-sister with an air of inevitability.
In the face of the intense stare of the All-Seeing One, Athena couldn't help but break into a smile. "You really do value him, don't you?" she said.
Apollo interjected, "Let me give you a piece of advice, Athena. There's nothing wrong with being objective, but don't let it consume every aspect of your being." With that, he gracefully lifted himself off the ground, his sandals leaving behind waves of shimmering light. "Oh, and by the way, the tea was fantastic."
Athena lifted her cup and took a final sip of the remaining tea, her eyes fixed on Apollo as he soared towards the arena where the Muses were performing a concert. Her stormy grey eyes followed his captivating and powerful figure, revealing nothing of her own thoughts.
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The arena erupted into a chaotic symphony of raucous cheers as Apollo burst onto the scene. The Muses abruptly ceased their harmonious concert, springing up from their seats and beckoning him with open arms. The crowd buzzed with an insatiable craving for a taste of Apollo's musical prowess—a rare treat considering the God of Music seldom graced the public with his performances. It wasn't just due to his perpetual busyness with other responsibilities but rather his insatiable passion for music, which often consumed him completely.
Music wasn't just a beguiling and enchanting notion; it was also something terrifying and catastrophic when wielded by the right hands. Not many grasped that, and Apollo preferred keeping it that way. He had composed some music that, if it ever saw the light of day, would bring forth horrifying consequences.
"Hello everyone!" Apollo's hand waved through the air, accompanied by an apologetic smile. "Not today," he swiftly interjected, preventing the crowd from expressing their inevitable disappointment and frustration. "But fret not; I've got something special planned for the upcoming ascension banquet in honour of my brother, Hermes. See you there."
The crowd erupted with excitement and anticipation, rushing out of the arena to spread the word to everyone they could find. It wouldn't be surprising if, within an hour, the entire pantheon got wind of his upcoming performance, whether they wanted it or not. One thing was for sure: the banquet for Hermes was going to be a monumental event.
"Well, I guess our concert will have to wait," Thalia chuckled, observing the dispersing crowds. Her sisters had already packed away their instruments, fully anticipating this outcome. However, there was no hint of discontent on their faces. Quite the opposite, they were filled with joy upon seeing their Musagetes and the news he brought with him. Clio, Urania, and Erato were the first to stand up and hurriedly approach Apollo, embracing him tightly while exchanging intense glances with each other.
Apollo pulled away from their embrace, his troubled expression evident. "Now now," he said. "Let's not fight over me. Olympus might not be able to handle it."
Clio, Urania, and Erato exchanged glances again, their lips curving into amused smiles simultaneously. Their gazes converged on Apollo as they spoke in an unsettling harmony, their voices merging into one. "Is it Olympus that can't handle it, or is it you, dear Musagetes?"
Apollo responded with a deadpan expression. "And please, stop with the harmonising. It's getting old."
They burst into laughter, pulling Apollo into their embrace once more. He reciprocated and shook his head, unable to contain his amusement, while the other Muses watched in chagrin.
"Seriously, get a room," Terpsichore chimed in, her voice laced with a mix of amusement and mock annoyance.
Polyhymnia echoed the sentiment, her voice carrying a playful tone. "Yes, get a room already."
"Sisters, that's enough," Calliope interjected, her voice cutting through the air like a knife. She was met with irritated and piercing glances from Clio, Urania, and Erato, but she disregarded them and locked eyes with Apollo. "Musagetes, are the whispers from the tower true? Has the godling truly fashioned two new instruments?"
"Yes." Apollo nodded, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. In a dazzling display of light, he summoned the lyre and flute, instantly captivating the attention of the Muses. The instruments took centre stage, commanding their undivided focus. When it came to art, their passion burned just as fiercely as Apollo's for music, sometimes even surpassing it.
Clio's hands eagerly reached out to grasp the lyre, her fingers tracing the delicate strings with reverence. Urania, equally entranced, clutched the flute tightly, her gaze fixed intently on its intricate design. Without a word spoken, they passed the instruments to their sisters, who mirrored their intense scrutiny.
Finally, Calliope carefully returned the instruments to Apollo. "We want to meet him, Musagetes," she voiced the unspoken agreement of the Muses.
"Very well." Apollo grinned, snapping his fingers, creating a spark of light. Together, they soared from the empty arena, bursting out of Olympus. Once they left the restricted grounds of Olympus, they teleported away in a streak of light that pierced through the clouds.
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The Celestial Sanctum.
Apollo settled onto the grand golden throne perched atop the marble dais in the highest floor of the throne room, once the revelries had come to a close. The whole Pantheon had been captivated by his father's proclamation and the news about Hermes, and now their curious eyes turned toward Apollo's divine tower. Even his own family had made their way to the tower, arriving just as he descended alongside the Muses. However, Artemis and Hecate were noticeably absent.
Surprisingly, the guests continued to pour in, surpassing Apollo's initial expectations. Most of them hailed from Maia's side, the daughter of Pleione, one of the Oceanids among the vast 3000. So, you can imagine the turnout. Although not everyone came, it was still quite remarkable. Even Thetis and Eurynome arrived hand-in-hand, their love evident to all. And let him tell you, Hermes had the funniest expression when he realised the extent of his extended family—it was priceless.
In the midst of it all, Phoebus decided to host a luncheon, and it turned into joyous chaos. By the time Helios completed his round and Selene took over the sky, the harmonious voices of the Muses and Hermes blended into a celestial choir that enchanted everyone present, holding them captivated until the final moment.
Leto and Maia stood side by side, their faces adorned with radiant smiles as they marveled at the unexpected performance. Even he was there, shooing away the hunters who were trying to woo the Pleiades, Maia's sisters, into joining his sister's hunt with enticing advertisements.
As the choir reached its crescendo, the festivities came to an end, and though Apollo would have loved to linger in the aftermath, there were other important matters demanding his attention.
If this small luncheon is anything to go by, I fear to think what Hermes' ascension banquet in Olympus will be like. I'm also performing at that event, Phoebus mused, reclining on his throne and resting his chin lazily on his palm. A change of venue needs to be considered, he thought, looking down at Despoina, who was busy summoning her reports. "You seem discontent," he remarked simply.
Despoina looked up at her lord, her eerie white eyes devoid of pupils, meeting his blazing golden gaze. "I am," she replied. "You're determined to reunite me with my mother, even though neither of us desires it."
"The bridges haven't been completely burned," Apollo pointed out.
"I would gladly step back," Despoina said, pursing her lips as projections and parchments materialised around them. "And watch everything else go up in flames."
"That's your mind talking," Apollo countered.
"Perhaps the heart wants what it wants." Despoina raised her hand, causing the parchments to gather in her palm in the desired order while infusing the projections with a reflection of her memories to play out for Apollo. "But we can't act on every impulse. Desire is unrestrained and unfettered, which is what makes it both alluring and terrible. You taught me that, my lord."
"Yes, I did." Apollo nodded in acknowledgment, his gaze flickering towards the projections as he straightened in his seat. "I won't attempt to repair bridges that aren't mine, but I'm willing to provide some support to others. Whether those bridges crumble into ashes or ascend to the heavens with my assistance, it's their choice to make."
Despoina remained silent, opting instead to hand over the compiled report to Apollo. The projections illuminated the presence of primitive human tribes residing in the untamed lands of Africa, America, and Australia. These tribes were enduring either immense anguish or indescribable bliss, both of which were inflicted upon them by the merciless hand of nature. They prayed fervently to their self-made gods, seeking faith amidst despair and hope. However, those gods were mere figments of their imagination, or at least that had been the case until now.
"Your inferences were correct, my lord. To birth a God from the Dreaming, faith and belief are not the only ingredients. A significant event, a catalyst of sorts, is required to gather all their dreams within the collective subconscious of humanity. And from the ensuing unreal crescendo, Gods are brought forth from the dreams of mankind."
The projections shimmered with divine energy, and the prayers of all were answered, capturing the undivided attention of Apollo and Despoina. They could almost glimpse the hidden process unfolding behind the facets of reality:
A surreal and ethereal dance of memories, beliefs, aspirations, longings, and feelings converged, merging in extraordinary ways to create a singular and shared dream. It radiated like the most brilliant star in the universe, and from its heart, they emerged—each one magnificent and splendid in their own unique way.
"To be honest, my lord," Despoina couldn't help but marvel. "Witnessing divinity emerge from mortality is nothing short of a miracle."
"A miracle, indeed," Apollo grinned, his golden eyes ablaze with brilliance. "Let me give this event a name..."
"Apotheosis."
Unbeknownst to Apollo, his proclamation rode the winds from the tower; his voice, both wondrous and commanding, whispered on the gentle breeze. It sought a realm where boundaries blurred between fantasy and reality, a realm where a majestic castle stood at the heart of the unreality.
Gradually, it reached the ears of the pallid figure seated upon the throne, his eyes as deep as the midnight sky, yet his irises shining like the brightest stars. "A befitting title," he murmured in acknowledgement.
