Free City of gods - Hellenica by Jonathan Maas

and no hatred in her heart , thought Kayana. Asra is pure.
    Kayana’s eyes scanned the room and landed on the warrior Gunnar, the girl with the hyaena and the sick boy with the suit. She couldn’t explain it, but these three were familiar to her. She’d not seen their faces before today, but she sensed a connection with all of them, as if they’d known each other a thousand lifetimes ago, or in a nightmare long forgotten. Gunnar looked tense, as if he was steeling for a confrontation with Rowan; the sick boy sat meekly in his suit, and the girl with the hyaena sat imperiously and stared straight ahead. I feel a dark power from them, thought Kayana, and they aren’t gods. Though they sit amongst gods, these three aren’t the same.
    The kids spoke to each other, gossiping, bonding and forming groups, but Kayana maintained her silence. Charon also showed the indifference of an elder chaperone and seemed to be lost in thought, but when the vessel came to a stop he unbuckled and sprang into action.
    “We’re here,” he said. “Now follow me into the next room.”
    They all unbuckled their seats except for Asra, who was in a stupor. The mercenaries had expected this and cautiously took off her restraints. One of the mercenaries was struck by the ghoul’s odor and ran off to get sick in a corner. His comrades guffawed at his expense, but Asra snapped awake and cut them off mid-laugh. They jumped back quickly, and one of them screamed. They calmed down and approached her again, and one kissed an amulet around his neck. They fear her, thought Kayana, but it’s more than that. The ghoul seems to drain emotions of all those in her vicinity.
    The students filed into the next room, which was a small amphitheater with two tiers of seats. Each chair was labeled, and they all sat down. Charon was the last to arrive and stood in the middle of the theater. This room was compact, but larger than the previous vessel. There were no straps on the seats, and the walls were made of heavy stones. It was dark and cold, but clean, and the acoustics were so good that she could hear Charon’s breath as he approached a podium.
    “Welcome to the Academy,” he said. “I introduce Headmaster Indra, and Heracles, dean of the school.”
    Indra was a tall, golden man with a long overcoat covering a suit and tie. His body bulged unnaturally in the middle; he was clearly hiding an extra set of arms. Heracles was more humbly dressed and a bit shorter, but much thicker and hairier. The two gods commanded quite a presence and all the students were in awe, including the Amazon girl. Rowan broke the silence by kneeling before them.
    “Please be seated, Berserker,” said Indra. “Blind fealty is one of the reasons we’re here in the first place.”
    Rowan reluctantly stood up, bowed one more time and then sat down. Tears of joy filled his sparkling-blue eyes, and he grinned nervously in Indra’s presence. Kayana noticed that Rowan was almost as tall as Gunnar, and his muscles were nearly as well-developed. His clear, clean face was without scars, but his jaw held a quivering fierceness and Kayana saw a reckless streak within him. He’s not yet seen a battle, thought Kayana, but if he hears one, he’ll run towards it and pick a side on a whim. He’s a fool cloaked in courage and honor, but I should be wary, because fools such as he can kill friend and foe just the same.
    “As of today,” said Indra, “your past is gone. You have no family, and no friends outside of this room. If you are to perish, no one will mourn for you. There will be no temples built in your honor, no scores of worshippers currying favor, no idolaters begging you to do a magic trick in their self-interest.
    “You were selected for the Academy because you don’t care about this, or at least you can be taught not to care. You are young, malleable and still yearn for something greater than your own interest.
    “The conurbation, and the world as we know it, is dying. The