💸💸 Chapter 1: Vita's Awakening 💸💸
💸 ~ Part 2: The Long Road ~ 💸
The road to Athens was a long, winding ribbon of dust and heat.
It clung to Vita’s clothes and throat, a constant, gritty reminder of her separation from the cool, damp forest of her awakening.
The world of mortals, she quickly learned, was a tapestry of transactions, many of them poisoned with deceit.
In the first sun-drenched canyon, a merchant with eyes like polished river stones and a smile that never reached them offered her a shortcut to Athens in exchange for "that pretty little letter opener."
Vita simply met his gaze, her own green eyes placid and unreadable, until he nervously shuffled away.
Later, a self-proclaimed guide offered to lead her through a "perilous" stretch of woods for the same price. Vita pointed to the sun, then to the well-worn path.
"The road seems to know the way," she said, and left him sputtering in her dust.
She was vigilant, her mind a blank slate but her instincts as sharp as the edge of her blade.
That evening, she found a tavern, a raucous place smelling of spilled wine, roasting meat, and unwashed bodies. For a few small coins Lycomedes had pressed into her hand, she bought a heel of bread and a cup of water, finding a quiet corner away from the boisterous mercenaries and gossiping farmers. The simple solitude was a balm, but sleep, when it came, was anything but peaceful.
It was a dream of fire and blood. She stood not in her own body, but in a towering form of incandescent light, her wavy golden hair a flowing nova. Below her, a vast army from a forgotten age swarmed across a plain—legions clad in obsidian and bronze, their war cries swallowed by the thunder of her own power. She felt a surge, an ecstatic and terrifying torrent of energy, and unleashed it. Not with a thought, but with a feeling—a flex of some arcane muscle. A wave of pure, white-hot force scoured the battlefield, turning soldiers and siege engines to glowing dust. Another memory flashed: a city of towering ziggurats by a dark sea. An emotion—cold, righteous anger—welled within her, and with a gesture, a blink of an eye, the city and its coastline were engulfed in a blinding flash, leaving nothing but a glassy crater.
Vita awoke with a choked gasp, her heart hammering against her ribs. The tavern was dark and quiet, save for a distant snore. Her hands were trembling. *It was just a dream,* she told herself, the words a flimsy shield against the sheer sensory recall. *A mere dream.* But a cold dread coiled in her stomach. What if it wasn't? What if that devastating power was not a phantom of sleep, but a sleeping monster within her?
She left before dawn, the dream clinging to her like a shroud. A few hours down the road, where cypress trees cast long morning shadows, the silence was shattered by the clang of steel and a defiant war cry. Peering through the trees, Vita saw two women back-to-back, surrounded by a dozen rough-looking bandits. One was a tall, formidable warrior with dark hair, wielding her sword with brutal efficiency while a strange, circular blade flew from her hand, felling men at a distance. The other, a blonde woman with a staff, fought with a fierce, acrobatic grace. They were magnificent, but they were tiring, their enemies pressing in.
One of the bandits broke past the dark-haired warrior’s guard, his axe raised to strike her companion. Time seemed to slow. The dream of fire, the feeling of that unstoppable power, surged in Vita’s memory. Without thinking, without knowing how, she thrust a hand forward, a wordless plea of *No!* erupting from her soul.
It wasn't a sound. It was light. A pillar of pure, heavenly radiance erupted from her palm. It was not the angry fire of her dream, but something intensely, terrifyingly pure. It struck the bandits not with force, but with absolute presence. There was no scream, no smoke, only a silent, blinding whiteness. When it faded a second later, they were simply gone. Not dead, not wounded. Vanished. The air smelled of ozone and wild jasmine.
Silence descended. The warrior and her companion slowly lowered their weapons, staring at the empty spaces where their attackers had been. The blonde bard, Gabrielle, looked at Vita with wide eyes filled with awe and confusion. "By the gods... what was that?"
But the warrior, Xena, was already moving. She stepped defensively in front of Gabrielle, her sword leveled directly at Vita's throat. Her eyes were hard, analytical, and filled with a fear far colder than any bandit could inspire.
"Who are you?" Xena’s voice was low and dangerous. "And what's to stop you from doing that to us next?"
Vita stared at her own trembling hand, the horror of what she’d done washing over her. The dream was real. The monster was awake. "I... I don't know," she stammered, the honest truth sounding like a pathetic lie. "I don't know who I am. I woke up in the woods. I have these... flashes. This power. I can't control it. Please," her voice cracked, desperation overriding her fear. "I am going to Athens to find answers. Don't leave me like this. Help me understand what I am. Help me control it."
Xena’s eyes narrowed, weighing the terrified woman against the divine weapon she had just become. Gabrielle placed a hand on Xena’s arm. "Xena, she saved us. She's scared."
Xena didn't lower her sword for a long moment. Leaving this woman-god to wander the countryside was a danger to everyone. Taking her along was a danger to them. She finally gave a sharp, reluctant sigh, the sound of choosing the lesser of two evils.
"Fine," she growled, her sword point dipping a mere inch. "But you walk behind me. You don't raise a hand, you don't even *point*, unless I tell you to. One wrong move, one misplaced flash of light, and I will find a way to end you. Are we clear?"
Vita, shaking but flooded with a sliver of hope, could only nod. Her hero training had begun.
💸 ~ End of Part 2 ~ 💸
To Be Continued... 💸💸💸💸
