Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

D ante met her gaze. The shock and truth of what she was telling him hit him square in the chest.

"You… you're Pandora?" He frowned.

She closed her eyes for a moment. "I'm… tired," she said suddenly. "How long have you been here?" she asked after her eyes ran over his clothing.

"Days." He shook his head. "A week." He didn't know really. He'd lost track of time.

"For me, it's been about eight hours since we stood in that field and I watched you disappear. I haven't slept since. Do you think this"—she motioned between them—"can wait?"

He nodded, then quickly stood up and helped her stand. He kept his gaze on her as they made their way down the stone steps of the theater, her weight heavy against him. She was weak, barely holding herself together after whatever hell she had just gone through, but the stubbornness in her eyes told him she wouldn't give up. He admired that, even if it terrified him to see her so drained. They needed time—time to rest, time to think.

As they descended the steps, a figure emerged at the edge of the theater—the silver-haired town leader. His eyes were sharp and calculating, but there was a reverence in the way he looked at Dante and Amy, like he'd been waiting there for them.

"She is the one the gods have sent for you," the man said softly, his voice calm but filled with certainty. When Dante nodded, the man motioned. "Come with me. You must need rest."

Amy's breaths were coming in short, ragged gasps. She nodded slightly, and they followed the man down a narrow path into the village. A small boy appeared, and Amy quickly mentioned that this was Theo, the boy who had found her and showed her the way to him. The boy nodded to him in greeting and then walked quietly behind them.

As they walked down the streets of the village, people were going about their daily tasks, and they stopped and watched them pass by. They parted for them, creating a clear path for them to walk. The whispers followed them like they were something otherworldly. He'd seen this kind of reverence before, felt it in the way people looked at him, thinking he was something more than human. It felt like a burden.

The town's leader led them to a large, elegant house set apart from the others. The building stood beneath the shade of towering olive trees, its white walls gleaming in the late afternoon sun. Dante could smell the faint scent of freshly baked bread and herbs as they neared the entrance. He glanced at Amy and she looked as if she could barely keep her eyes open at this point.

"You will be safe here," the man said, opening the door and ushering them inside.

The cool air hit Dante's skin as they stepped over the threshold, the peaceful quiet of the house a stark contrast to the buzzing energy outside. Inside, the home was simple yet beautiful, the stone walls adorned with delicate tapestries. The floors were covered with large colorful handwoven rugs.

"I'll show you to your rooms," the man said, leading them further into the house.

Amy was taken into a private room, and Dante paused for a moment as he watched her make her way inside. She needed rest. Badly. He could see the strain in her movements, the way her shoulders slumped, and it gnawed at him. But he also knew that this was Amy—she couldn't be broken easily. He remembered how strong and outspoken she'd been in school. How she'd stood up to bullies and fought for the weaker kids in grade school. It was one of the first things he'd liked about her.

A woman appeared, a soft-spoken servant, and she gently guided Amy towards a large stone tub. The door closed behind them, leaving Dante standing alone in the hallway.

He replayed Prometheus's warning. And now, Amy was here with him. She was Pandora. Pandora.

He ran a hand through his hair. They needed to figure out what to do next, and how to stop what she said was coming, thousands of years from now.

Prometheus had warned him not to wake Pandora, but he couldn't shake the feeling that things were already in motion, far beyond his control. If Amy was Pandora, then why did he have to wake her? How? What did that mean? Was there something more to do to transform her into Pandora?

The scent of food drifted from down the hall, pulling him from his thoughts. Dante followed it into a large room where a table was set with platters of food—bread, meats, fruits, cheeses—all fresh and waiting. He realized how hungry he was, how long it had been since he'd eaten. He dropped into a chair, grabbed a piece of bread, and tore into it.

He ate in silence for a while, trying to shake off the weariness that clung to him, but his mind was restless. Just as he was about to reach for more food, the door opened, and Amy stepped in.

She was dressed in a pale blue gown, and her long damp hair was neatly braided back. She looked cleaner, more composed, but there was still a tiredness in her eyes, the kind that went deeper than just physical exhaustion. Dante stood as she entered, feeling an odd sense of relief just seeing her upright and moving.

"You look… better," he said, scanning her face, trying to gauge how she was really feeling.

Amy gave him a small, tired smile as she sat down beside him. "I may look better, but I still need food and rest." She glanced at the food on the table and reached for a piece of bread. "It feels strange," she admitted after a moment, "to be here… thousands of years in the past."

Dante nodded, chewing slowly as he watched her. "I know what you mean."

"Does this place even exist anymore? I mean, in our time?" she asked after a bite of meat.

He shrugged. "It's really a shame if it doesn't." He glanced around.

Amy took another bite of food, her eyes drifting around the room. He could tell her thoughts were elsewhere. He didn't push her to talk. They both needed this moment of peace, even if it was fleeting.

He wasn't naive enough to think this calm would last. There was too much ahead of them—too many dangers, too many unknowns. But for now, in this quiet room with Amy beside him, the world outside seemed distant. And for the first time in a long while, Dante allowed himself to feel the slightest bit of relief.

He was no longer alone.

Once they were both stuffed with food, they sat in some chairs with thick, soft cushions on them that surrounded a small round table.

"Prometheus said that if Pandora wakes, the world could end. I don't know if I believe him, but…"

"But what?" Amy asked, leaning back further into the cushions.

"If Prometheus doesn't want Pandora to wake, and Moros does," Dante finished, his voice barely above a whisper, "that means we have to stop him."

"He doesn't. Moros doesn't want Pandora around. From what I saw when I faced him, he was afraid of me. Her." She shook her head. "Pandora. He feared that she was already awake. Then, when I wavered, he…" She closed her eyes. "He shot me with a bolt of power, and I woke up just outside of town."

The weight of her words settled over him like a heavy cloak.

Pandora, Moros, the end of the world—it was all too much. And what was that bit about Pandora's box?

"Do you remember the myths? The Greek gods?" he asked her.

"Some of it. I wasn't that into history like you were. Names and some details. Like, I know about Pandora. How she was given a box and told to guard it." She yawned. "You? What do you remember?"

"Not much," he said, knowing she was too tired to continue the conversation. "There's a bed through there." He motioned towards the sheer curtains, beyond which sat a large bed.

"We can't just take over someone's home." She yawned again.

He chuckled. "Trust me, they think we're gods. Whoever lived here before has been relocated. At least for the night. It was the same in Thessalia."

"You were in Thessalia?" she asked, sitting up slightly.

He nodded. "Yeah, Brea sent me there. I was there for a few days before I came here. I just got here about two hours before you arrived."

She frowned. "Okay, so, where is here?"

"Delos Island. The best I can tell is around 600 to 800 BC."

"How can you tell?" She leaned her head back again. "It's not like they have a calendar or the internet to sync your clock to."

He chuckled. "No, but the boats in which they brought me to the island were a good clue. I remember seeing drawings of them in our history books. Like you said, I was somewhat of a history buff."

She smiled. "Did you ever think we'd end up here?" She motioned with her hands. "You look like a freaking gladiator. I look like…"

"A goddess," he finished for her, and he saw her smile waver. "No, if I'd believed for a moment we'd be in this position, I would have spent more time learning history than flirting with Lilly Thomas."

Amy laughed. "Lilly broke your heart."

"No." He frowned. "Just… bruised it. What about you and your latest…"

"Ryan?" she answered with a groan. "Heart was officially bruised, stabbed, sliced, diced, and left in a pile with the trash," she admitted.

"Ouch. That bad?" He winced.

She shrugged. "I'm over him now."

He wanted to say that was good but held back. Instead, he motioned to the bed. "Go, get some rest."

"What about you?" She glanced around. "I only see one bed."

He smiled. "Is that an invitation?"

She chuckled, standing up. "You know, for a guy who's from the future, you have some pretty outdated pickup lines."

He laughed while she disappeared through the drapes into the bedroom.

Dante shook his head, still smiling to himself as he moved over to the bigger sofa. The lighthearted moment eased some of the tension that had been building all day, but beneath the humor, he knew they were both dealing with the weight of what was to come. He stretched out on the sofa, listening to the soft sounds of the evening outside the window.

They were different than modern city noises and far more soothing. Exhaustion pulled at him, and before long, his eyes drifted shut.

Sometime later, a faint sound woke him. At first, he thought it was just the wind, but then he heard it again—a soft whimper, barely audible. His senses sharpened as he realized it was coming from the bedroom. He sat up, his heart pounding, and walked quietly towards the doorway.

Amy was thrashing in her sleep, her face contorted in distress. Sweat glistened on her forehead as she mumbled, lost in the grip of whatever nightmare had her trapped.

"Amy..." Dante whispered softly, stepping closer to her bedside. He sat down gently beside her and reached out and touched her shoulder softly. "Amy, wake up."

She jerked awake with a start, gasping for breath. Her eyes were wide with fear as they locked onto his. For a moment, she seemed lost, her mind still tethered to whatever horror had plagued her dreams.

"Hey, it's okay," he said, his voice soothing as he pulled her closer to him in a soft hug. "It was just a dream."

Amy held him for a moment, then pulled back and wiped her damp face with trembling hands. "It wasn't just a dream. It was... it felt too real."

He watched her closely. "Want to tell me?"

She hesitated, her gaze distant. "Moros... he was everywhere. The darkness, his army... they destroyed everything. Everyone. Hope... she tried to fight, but... he killed her. I saw it. Over and over. I watched your sister die. My brother, my nephew, and my nieces. They all died." Her voice cracked, raw with the emotion she was barely holding back. "No matter what I did, I couldn't stop it. Everyone died."

Dante's chest tightened. Hearing Hope's name sent a sharp pang through him, but seeing Amy like this, torn apart by her visions of the future, was worse. He took a deep breath, trying to stay calm for her sake.

"You said you saw this all in the future?" Dante asked, his voice low.

Amy nodded her head, her hands fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. "It wasn't just a vision. It happened. Every time, somehow, it ends the same way. Moros is going to win."

Dante took her hand in his. "What you're seeing, from what you said, is one possible future. That doesn't mean it's set in stone."

"But what if it is?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

He squeezed her hand gently. "Then we change it. We fight back, and we don't give up. We can still stop him."

Amy's eyes searched his, looking for hope, for reassurance, and Dante held her gaze, refusing to show any sign of doubt. He couldn't. Not now. Not when they were both on the edge of something so massive.

"I won't let Moros take everything from us. And I won't let him hurt you again," he continued softly.

Her lip quivered, and for a second, she looked like she might break. But instead, she nodded, her expression hardening with determination. "We'll stop him."

Dante smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Damn right we will."

Amy exhaled slowly, the tension easing slightly from her body. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you by freaking out."

"You're allowed to freak out," Dante said easily. "We're in the middle of ancient Greece. We've both seen gods and talked to them. You even battled one," he pointed out.

She laughed lightly, a soft, tired sound. "Yeah, and everyone believes we're gods too." She sighed. "If I'm gonna have any more nightmares, maybe you should stick around."

Dante grinned. "You want me to stay here? Guard the door?"

"No," she said softly, reaching out to grab his arm before he could move away. "Stay here. With me."

He blinked, a little surprised, but nodded. Without a word, he lay back beside her, keeping a respectable distance but close enough that she could feel his presence.

As the quiet of the room settled over them, Amy's breathing slowly steadied. Dante stared up at the ceiling, his mind racing with the weight of her words. Moros. The future. The possibility of losing everything—again.

He wouldn't let it happen.

Not while he was still breathing.

And certainly not while Amy was by his side.