CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FORTY-NINE

Fortune Favors the Bold

The assessment hall’s lobby resembled a chapel’s interior; wooden benches lined on either side of a central walkway led toward another glass door at the other end of the rectangular space that was currently empty of people apart from Warden Captain Malarkey and the perky blonde receptionist who greeted Sam at the door.

“Aren’t assessment halls supposed to have more testers?” Sam asked.

“We cleared today’s schedule just for you,” the blonde receptionist explained.

“Seriously?” Sam frowned. “Why?”

“To make sure your second assessment doesn’t fail this time,” Warden Malarkey cut in.

“And because the higher-ups didn’t want any gawkers who might potentially leak the results of your assessment before we officially release it on the registry,” the blonde receptionist added.

“Indeed.” Warden Malarkey pushed the glass door open for Sam. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

Warden Malarkey led Sam into a wide, square room with white-paneled flooring, padded walls, and a vaulted glass ceiling that filled the space with natural lighting. The observation deck that lined the walls about thirty feet from the floor had raised seats that were full of people. Many of these observers wore gray suits like Malarkey while some of them had white lab coats over their clothes. The few people who stood out most to Sam wore clerical garments; the white and gold of Apollo’s chosen.

These priestesses and their clerics looked down at Sam with open hostility, which Chiron bluntly pointed out was due to their jealousy of Sam’s new status as Apollo’s champion.

They spend their whole lives in service to a whimsical god who picks you of all people to be his poster boy, Chiron chuckled.

“He only did that to keep Artemis and the other gods from stealing me away,” Sam whispered.

“What was that?” Warden Malarkey asked.

“Nothing,” Sam replied quickly.

Warden Malarkey eyed him warily. “Feeling a little too confident, huh?”

“What?” Sam frowned. “I don’t—”

“I suppose you don’t think a hero assessment’s that important if you’ve managed to hoodwink us once before.” Warden Malarkey carried on while ignoring the look of protest on Sam’s face. “Maybe you think you could do it again because you prefer hiding in—”

“I don’t think that!” Sam snapped.

His outburst caused frowns to appear from nearly every one of the observers who were watching him. All except for the gray-haired woman seated near the back of the group on the north observation deck. He’d only just noticed her but the sight of his grandmother watching him was like a shot of adrenaline directly into Sam’s chest.

“M-Marie?” He glanced away from his grandmother to avoid catching her eye. “Wh-what’s she doing here?”

“Marie Shepard’s donated a lot of money to the Wardens’ cause over the years, and members of our ‘Board of Benefactors’ are more than welcome to observe these proceedings,” Warden Malarkey looked extra smug now. “So much for secret identities, huh.”

Sam’s heart was beating like a drum solo at a rock concert. “I-I don’t know what you mean…”

“Sure, you don’t.” Warden Malarkey flashed Sam a knowing smile. “Well, either way. You won’t be able to hide from us after today.”

“What does that—”

Heads up, kid… you’ve got company, Chiron warned.

A middle-aged priestess in pale green robes entered the room from a side door Sam had just belatedly noticed. She was short and stocky with long curly brown hair framing a chubby face whose upper half was wrapped in a pale green blindfold.

“Why is a priestess of Tyche here?” Sam asked. He got no response from Warden Malarkey though.

Soon enough, the servant of the ‘Blind Mistress of Fortune’ arrived in front of Sam, which was when she reached for Sam’s hands and pulled them forward much like someone might do when they meet a friend they hadn’t seen in a long time.

“Hello, Herculean. I’m mother Mel. Huge fan, by the way. I think I’ve rewatched the report of your big debut in San Francisco a bunch of times on NNC. Seriously, you’re amazing,” she said in a chirpy, breathless tone.

“Um…” Sam eyed the priestess warily as he didn’t think anyone could be this bubbly. “Hello.”

Warden Malarkey cleared his throat. “Priestess…”

She waved away the warden’s concern with an exaggerated sigh. “Don’t mind, Malarkey. He’s got a stick up his…”

Mother Mel winked at Sam, forcing a smile out of him that he couldn’t help but give the friendly priestess.

“That’s it. Show me those pearly whites. That’s the kind of winning smile a hero should have,” she giggled.

“Mother Melissa…” It was Malarkey’s turn to sigh. “Our observers are waiting for a swift result.”

At the mention of observers, Sam’s gaze drifted upward, which was when he noticed Marie eyeing his every move with attentive detail. It was, in Sam’s highly biased opinion, the first time he’d seen her show genuine interest in him since he began living with her. Not that this was true. Sam tended to paint Marie in darker shades purely because his grandmother had never really seemed grandmotherly once she’d set out to raise him after the death of his parents.

“You alright, Herc?” Mother Mel asked.

“Yes,” Sam replied hurriedly. “So, um, where are the scales you’ll be using for my assessment?”

“Scales?” Mother Mel’s brow creased. “What—”

Then her eyes widened.

“Oh, those scales.” She slapped Sam playfully on the shoulder. “We won’t need the Scales of Judgement, silly. That’s what I’m here for.”

In his first hero assessment, a drop of Sam’s blood had been smeared on the left pan of a bronze scale to see how it would stack against a white feather of truth that had been placed on the scale’s right pan. If the blood—which represented Sam’s gift as well as his latent potential—weighed heavier than the feather—which represented harmony and balance in all things—then Sam’s official ranking would rise by one because a heavy burden was proof of a strong gift. Supposedly, more feathers would be added with a total of four feathers symbolizing one’s alpha-level potential. Sam’s blood, however, had proved even lighter than a single feather, earning him the lowest ranking a gifted could receive.

As Mother Mel explained, the scales of justice weren’t required for Sam’s second assessment. Her approach was simpler. She just turned Sam’s hands over so she could inspect the lines in his palms like a palm reader might do.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked.

“I’m reading your fortune,” Mother Mel said as she dipped her head closer to his palms. “I thought that was obvious.”

“You’re reading… my fortune?” Sam cast a worried glance in Warden Malarkey’s direction, but Malarkey was actively avoiding his eyes. There was a smirk on the warden’s face that suggested he was enjoying Sam’s discomfort. “W-why are you reading my fortune exactly?”

“You have more than one gift, right?” Mother Mel confirmed. “Well, the scales of justice won’t work properly for gifted who exhibit more than one power. That’s probably why your first assessment failed.”

She glanced up at Sam with a contemplative expression.

“They usually sus that little quirk out during an assessment interview though, and then someone like me would be asked to go in-depth on what makes someone like you tick…” Her smile tilted slightly. “I wonder why your original testers didn’t notice your multiple gifts when you’re so obviously talented.”

Mother Mel was wrong though, Sam did indeed possess just one gift which he was only beginning to understand was the power to wield his life force to make miracles happen. He would learn from Triple-A that his healing ability, super strength, and other powers all branched out from this one gift of self-sacrifice. Sam couldn’t tell Mother Mel this, however, as even he didn’t understand Apollo’s blessing completely. Apart from Apollo, only Chiron knew all the facts about Sam’s gift, and the centaur wasn’t telling.

I’ve already given you the ultimate tool, kid. Now, it’s your job to figure out and master your gift on your own, Chiron would often tell Sam whenever he inquired about his limits.

“Ah!” Mother Mel yelled excitedly. “You sure are one interesting guy, Herc!”

“Why do you think that?” Sam asked worriedly.

A notification popped up above Mother Mel’s head that stated how Triple-A was actively keeping the priestess from probing too deeply into Sam’s thoughts.

“A-are you… reading my mind?” Sam asked with eyes widening slightly.

“Nope. Mind-casting’s an art exclusive to the servants of Athena.” Mother Mel shushed Sam so she could concentrate. “Oo~~oh, this is interesting.”

“What is?”

“The number of times you’ve nearly died and defied the odds… My mistress would like you.”

As if on cue, a golden notification popped up in front of Sam right then.

Tyche, the Olympian Goddess of Fortune, is curious about your potential.

My… potential?

The potential of betting for or against you in wagers, Chiron explained. Tyche likes to play the hero odds at the Hermes Casino and Heavenly Resort on Elysium.

The goddess of fortune is a gambler? Seriously?

Don’t judge, kid. We immortals take our chuckles where we can get them. Or did you forget that your patron’s a videogame addict?

Please, don’t remind me…

A new notification popped up.

Tyche awards you 200 points in the hopes that you will satisfy her curiosity. Total fame: [Olympian: 3,700] [Norse: 800]

Congrats… Tyche thinks you’re a winning bet, Chiron chuckled.

Which begs the question… what did she bet on?

Your new rank.

Wait… the gods are betting on what rank I’ll get?

Yep. Odds are ten to one in favor of you not making it to alpha level by the way.

Mother Mel noticed Sam’s exasperated expression and assured him that he had nothing to be worried about. “I’ll get you sorted out soon.”

While her fingers continued to trace the lines on his palms, Mother Mel’s face drew closer to Sam’s. He found himself staring into her blindfold and then believed he could almost see the eyes that hid behind it. Eyes that could see things that he couldn’t.

“Um”—Sam tried to pull away, but Mother Mel’s hold on his hands seemed unbreakable—“Ma’am, I’m not comfortable—”

Sam was about to say ‘personal space’ but Chiron warned him to not interrupt the priestess. Wouldn’t want her to screw up now and make me lose my bet…

You’ve got insider information. Sam reminded him. You shouldn’t be betting…

My bookie doesn’t know that. He-he-he.

Master…

All’s fair in love, war, and gambling, kid.

When next she spoke, Mother Mel’s voice changed from that friendly chirp Sam was just beginning to get used to into one that was reminiscent of Farsight in her trance state. “There are mortals who struggle against destiny and earn an early grave for their wasted efforts.”

Mother Mel’s fingers danced around the palm of Sam’s right hand.

“There are mortals who attempt to flee destiny, and destiny retaliates by swallowing these fools’ whole so that even their legacies wither into nothing…” Mother Mel’s fingers traced the lines on the palm of Sam’s left hand. “And then there are mortals who embrace destiny while also conquering their fear of it… these are the heroes who leave their mark on the world and change it for the better. They’re the all-time greats that will be remembered forever.”

Mother Mel let go of Sam’s hands, and after patting him on his shoulder, she told him that he would be just fine.

“You’ve got burdens I wouldn’t wish on anyone… But you know what they say, when life gives you lemons, you can make lots of lemonade.” With that underwhelming piece of advice, Mother Mel dropped a red feather on Sam’s palm. She added a “good luck,” and then pinched his cheek before turning around and walking away without any explanation as to how his assessment had gone.

Sam watched her leave with his question stuck in his throat and a sigh escaping his lips. “I am so confused…”

“I don’t believe it,” Warden Malarkey exclaimed.

It wasn’t just him either. The observers watching Sam from above had begun murmuring to each other at the sight of the vibrant red plume in Sam’s hands. Even Marie looked surprised by its appearance.

“What’s happening now?” Sam asked.

Priestesses of Tyche have the gift of sight beyond sight… they use this to peer into a person’s destiny and the potential hidden in someone’s soul far more accurately than a scale of justice could, Chiron explained.

And?

You don’t know what the thing in your hand is, huh.

It’s a feather…?

Chiron sighed. I miss Thunder. She was a smart trainee.

Sam inspected the feather in his hand. It was longer than the white feather of truth used in a typical hero assessment. It was also a vibrant red color similar to the tip of a hot flame.

“This is… it’s a phoenix’s feather,” he realized.

“Indeed,” Warden Malarkey sighed.

Sam’s brow creased. “That’s ultra-rare, right?”

“The rarest of four symbols of power that represent humanity’s first guardians; a fragment of a black tortoise’s shell, the white tiger’s fang, an azure dragon’s claw—”

“And the feather of the vermilion bird,” Sam finished for him.

He recalled the story of the four auspicious beasts that the gods had charged with protecting the mortal plane from the threat of ancient monsters even older than the Gigantes. The greatest among these heavenly guardians was the mighty phoenix, a divine beast that stood for the fire element, strength, and rebirth. In the old days, warriors who adorned their armor with a phoenix’s feather were recognized by their peers as the best of the best. This made the phoenix the ancient symbol for heroes who’d reached the rank of—

“Holy Zeus,” Sam breathed.

Congrats, kid. Your current self may just be at gamma-level, but a priestess of Tyche just recognized your potential to reach much higher heights. It had been a while, but Sam swore he’d just heard the pride in Chiron’s voice. You’ve just earned the proof of an alpha… and the whole world is about to learn that fact too.