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‘I’m so sorry,’ said Claudia.

‘My loss probably seems small to the gods, compared to the battle for the future of Rome, but to me it is… infinite.’

Claudia wanted to hold her, but she didn’t know if this was a problem that could be fixed with her embrace.

‘We could arrange a funeral, if you willed it,’ she said. ‘It could be grand or small, whatever you wish. I will arrange all of it, so you don’t have to be further burdened.’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Why not?’

‘Her grave is Pompeii. Her home was Pompeii. It wouldn’t be right. Thank you, though.’

‘Whatever I can do, to comfort you,’ said Claudia.

Her own father had died, her brother too, but Claudia knew it was different. She hadn’t loved them in the same way. Their deaths had made her stronger.

Their deaths had filled holes, not created them.

She reached for Gia’s hand, and while they didn’t look at each other, staring out at the atrium, Claudia felt anchored again, no longer lost at sea in a storm, but peacefully floating offshore.

She would create a new home for Gia, and protect Gia as she had protected her. She would make sacrifices, as sacrifices had been made for her. She would take away Gia’s pain, and her own.

She would use her power to make the world better.

Fortuna attempted to gaze into the void of the future, peering deep within her own mind as she’d done a hundred thousand times. But nothing emerged from the depths. No glimpses, no flashes, no prophecies, no predictions. She saw nothing but endless darkness, formless and motionless, like the universe before anything existed.

She gave a cry of frustration, pacing back and forth, her bare feet smacking on the stony ground. Fortuna had no taste for palaces, preferring a more primordial residence. She lived in a system of caves that connected the underworld of Elysium with the subterranean levels of the mortal realm.

Here, she was accompanied by many sibyls, the sage-burning prophetesses of caves, whose visions were similarly blank. They scried in pools and mirrors, in entrails and the stars, but they saw nothing that guided them. In shame and in rage, Fortuna had burrowed herself away, far from the comfort and community of others.

The caves were deep and ancient and unnavigable, much like Fortuna herself. It was the perfect place to hide away. She had delved deeper than ever before, as if returning to the womb, becoming older in appearance the further she wandered from the world. She knew these tunnels as if they were an extension of her. She knew the curve of their walls, the roughness of stone. She became part of nature again. Fortuna thought that being here might bring back the inner sight that Jupiter had taken from her, but failing that, at least no one would be able to locate her… or so she thought.

The slapping of sandals echoed, along with a grumbling sound.

‘Good gods, Fortuna,’ said Minerva, her voice echoing. ‘Do you know how long I’ve been lost down here? It seems as if a thousand years has passed. This must be how mortals feel when they traverse the labyrinths.’

Fortuna tilted her head towards the sound, unsure how Minerva had found her despite her extensive efforts not to be discovered.

‘What are you doing here?’ she sighed.

‘What am I doing here?’ Minerva crowed, in disbelief. ‘What do you think? Did you forget that the pantheon is at war?’

‘I am aware.’

‘Then why are you here, instead of at our side?’

‘Aren’t you hiding away too?’

Minerva spluttered in annoyance. ‘I did take a short recess, yes, to recollect my thoughts and restore my spirit, but I have spent much longer in search of you. I began to fear that Jupiter had destroyed you, turned you into stars.’

‘I thought you were looking for him, to finish the fight you started?’

‘And I have found him,’ said Minerva proudly. ‘Well, in a sense. I have learned of his activities on Earth, at least.’

‘And?’

‘He is furious that the goddesses have intervened to protect the empress, even though he intervened first. That is just so typical of him.’