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Summary
Olive bolted at the mere mention of the Gods but running didn’t help. It never did when they showed up at every corner. Every Alleyway. And every room. She slammed her front door closed, ready to sigh in relief, but instead, she groaned, having set eyes on the Olympic Gods in her hallway.
“You’re the oracle,” Athena announced as if that explained everything.
“The what?” Olive snapped.
Apollo stepped closer, his gaze softening. “The conduit. The bridge between mortals and gods. Our voices were always meant for you.”
Olive wanted to scream. This wasn’t divine—it was terrifying. But as days turned into weeks, she realized the gods weren’t leaving. They argued over breakfast, critiqued her math homework, and commented on her playlist choices. Slowly, the fear ebbed, replaced by reluctant acceptance.
