Page 22 of The Stars

Amy’s knees felt weak, her pulse thundering in her ears. “Fear… me?”

Joe nodded, his expression grim. “Because… you’re the only one who can undo everything they’ve put into motion. You’re the only one who can save this world.”

The enormity of her brother’s words settled over her like a cold weight, pressing down on her shoulders until she could hardly breathe. She wasn’t just Amy anymore. She wasn’t just a girl thrown into a future that she didn’t understand.

She was Pandora.

Chapter Eight

Dante had lost track of time. Days passed in a haze, blending like sand in the wind. The people of Thessalia treated him as though he were a deity, bowing, offering him food, and whispering prayers when they thought he wasn’t listening. But despite the reverence, he felt nothing but isolation. No one dared speak to him directly, except the village leader, who would visit each evening to ensure his “needs” were met. Dante’s so-called “freedom” was confined to the luxurious temple chambers and the surrounding courtyard. There were ever-present servants to make sure that he never crossed the threshold into the streets.

Hope came and went as she pleased every evening, always in that mystical form—purple light shimmering in the night, her voice soft but commanding. She was there, but not there. Like a dream, she appeared when the sunset and the village quieted, leaving Dante alone with his thoughts. He had tried explaining her presence to the temple leader, but his words were dismissed as divine visions meant only for him.

“Your path is guided by the gods,” the leader had said, bowing deeply. “It is not for us mortals to interfere.”

It was frustrating. He wasn’t a god. He wasn’t divine. He was just a man, a police officer, trapped in a time he didn’t understand, waiting for answers that never seemed to come. He had tried to press Hope for more information, but she would simply smile, her form dissolving into the mist as quickly as it had come.

On the seventh night, Dante stood on the balcony once again, watching the sea. The moon’s pale reflection shimmered on the water, casting an ethereal glow across the horizon. His thoughts drifted to Amy, wondering where she was and if she was safe. He had no idea what was happening back in his own time, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d soon be there. That she was supposed to be with him.

“Brother.” The soft voice filled his mind again.

He turned to see Hope materializing before him, the familiar swirl of purple mist solidifying into her form.

“You’ve been quiet,” he said, crossing his arms. “Not much for conversation these last few nights.”

Hope smiled faintly. “I have been watching, waiting. Your time here is coming to an end.”

Dante frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You are not meant to stay in Thessalia. Your path leads elsewhere,” she said, her voice as calm as ever. “Tomorrow, at first light, you will travel to Delos Island.”

“Delos?” The name rang with a distant familiarity, something he vaguely recalled from a long-forgotten history or geography class. “Why Delos?”

Hope’s glowing eyes met his. “There, you will find Pandora. You must awaken her.”

Pandora. The name hit him like a punch to the gut, dredging up a thousand questions all at once. Pandora—the woman who had unleashed the evils of the world in ancient myth. The one cursed by the gods. What did she have to do with his own life, his time?

“Why me?” he asked, his voice quieter now, unsure. “What does Pandora have to do with me?”

Hope’s smile faltered for a brief moment, her gaze softening. “You are more connected to her than you know. But that knowledge will come in time.”

“Why can’t you just tell me now?” he asked, frustration creeping into his voice. “Why all the cryptic messages? I’m flying blind here.”

“You will understand when you reach Delos,” she said softly. “And when you find Pandora, you will know the truth.”

Dante’s chest tightened, anxiety clawing at the edges of his mind. The weight of everything—being called a god, trapped in this ancient world, and now being tasked with saving someone who was nothing more than a myth—felt too much.

“How am I even supposed to get to Delos?” he asked, voice tense. “I’m not exactly free to roam.”

Hope’s figure shimmered in the moonlight, her smile returning. “The path will reveal itself. All you need to do is be ready.”

He opened his mouth to protest, to demand more answers, but before he could say anything, Hope’s form began to dissolve into the purple mist once again.

“Wait!” he shouted, stepping forward. “Hope, wait!”

But it was too late. She was gone, leaving him alone once more with nothing but questions and the cold sea breeze. He clenched his fists in frustration as his mind raced with a million questions.

Delos Island.