“No one saw me… No one saw…” Agathon panted as he rounded a corner, cradling the amphora in his hands. He paused in the alleyway and fell to his knees. “I’ve stolen from the oracle…” He murmured to himself, “The gods will understand, I needed food and wine, and…” as he muttered to himself in the darkened alley, a stray dog meandered past, but did not bite him.

The amphora was well-made, and would fetch a good amount of money in the town market. He could sell it to Hesiod. That old man never asked questions. He squinted, trying to inspect it in the dark. He focused on the beautiful waves painted on its surface, then rotated the amphora, and followed the sea from the base of Olympus, across the mermaids’ sea, and back to the mountain. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a pair of sandals.

“You took something of mine, boy.” a cold, female voice hissed. He looked up, into the angry face of a girl not much older than himself. The oracle. Suddenly, a wind arose, and bright light filled the alley.