Location: Mainland Greece
Time Remaining: 31 Years
“Wh-what are you?” the woman asked as her husband snatched their child up and grabbed a bronze poker from their hearth.
“I am Nemesis.”
“Are you… are you a god?”
Nemesis ignored the question. Questions were irrelevant now.
“Zeus has heard your prayers, Tellus,” Nemesis said as she stalked toward him, “but it was his will that your people be tested, and your wife has failed that test. She has blasphemed the gods, denied their holiness in front of the other people of your community, just as she has before me.”
“No! No, please!” Minia cried, “I have not! I understand they have power! I believe it! I have faith in them!”
“But you presume to pass judgment on how they use it,” Nemesis scolded her; “You question their wisdom. Faith must be without question.” She turned her attention back to Tellus, “As Minia’s husband you were responsible for guiding and maintaining her faith. You’ve failed in your duties, and allowed her soul to rot, doubtless tainting your child as well. Give me the girl.”
The toddler screamed as Tellus waved the bronze poker at Nemesis, “What do you want?!”
“Zeus has commanded that Minia be punished for her hubris, and that you be punished for your failure to control her. Your child must die as a lesson not only to you, but to all that would offend the gods in this way.”
“No! Please,” Tellus didn’t lower the poker, but he begged, “Please, Adresteia, Nemesis, goddess, please, please forgive us! Do not harm our child to punish our failures! The responsibility lies with us, not with her. She is a good child, a pious child! She says her prayers every night when I put her to sleep!”
The child was two years old at most; “She can speak?” Nemesis asked with unveiled skepticism.
“She sort of mumbles with me when I pray. It’s not words yet, but the sentiment is there – please!”
Nemesis had punished countless blasphemers at this point, ranging from dissident voices to heretical priests and missionaries from foreign lands. Very few mortals had ever done anything but grovel or run; Minia caught her off guard. While Nemesis was distracted by Tellus’s frantic bargaining, his wife struck her from behind with one of their chairs.
The wooden chair shattered on Nemesis’s back, doing no real damage, but the impact caused her to stagger for a moment. Apparently that slight sign of weakness was enough to inspire Minia, as she struck Nemesis again with the broken chair leg in her hand, before turning it around and attempting to stab her with the broken wood.
Nemesis reacted quickly despite her confusion at being attacked. She twisted and reached out with inhuman speed, grabbing the chair leg with one clawed hand and Minia’s neck with the other. As she yanked the improvised stake from the woman’s hand, Nemesis wondered how she let herself become so distracted that this mortal woman was able to hit her not only once, but twice. Was it something the man had said to her? Something about how he’d said it? Even then, she was allowing herself to become distracted by these thoughts, when she knew she should have had her mind on the mission.
Nemesis took a hard blow to the back of the head – Tellus coming at her with his bronze poker. The bronze couldn't break her skin or crack her skull, but the blow rattled her brain, stunning her for an instant; it was enough that Nemesis dropped Minia, and took another hit from Tellus as she turned to face him.
Thanks to Zeus’s magic, Nemesis had some of his command over the storms. Not enough to summon a lightning bolt, but with some practice, Nemesis had learned to excite the particles in the air to create constructs made of the same substance. A flickering, crackling dagger blazed into her hand as Nemesis blocked Tellus’s next blow. The energy conducted through the bronze poker straight into the man – and the child he was holding.
A bolt from Zeus could kill a score of strong men instantly. Such a brief jolt from Nemesis would only leave a healthy man like Tellus convulsing on the ground, but it was enough to kill the child.
Nemesis hadn’t even intended it, but it accomplished her mission. Perhaps with far less pain for the toddler than Zeus would have wished. Nemesis had a strange feeling, though; some mix of regret and responsibility gnawed at her… soul? She wasn’t sure she had one of those. She thought the feeling must be what humans called guilt, but Nemesis would have thought that if she felt any guilt at all, she should have felt guilt over the sloppy execution of her duties. It reflected poorly on her master, undermining his authority. Instead, though, it was not the thought of his contempt that ate at her, it was the sound of Minia’s screams as she rushed past their attacker to seize the child, and the sight of the toddler in her arms, dead.
Nemesis didn’t know what force compelled her, what gave her the idea, but she grabbed Minia, ripped the child from her grasp, and tossed the wailing woman aside. She took the child in the crook of her arm as she’d seen Hera do with her own, actual children, and placed her free hand over the child’s chest. With the most precision Nemesis could muster, she channeled a weak shock into the toddler’s heart. The child’s body jerked, doubtlessly convulsing with pain most adults would never know, but life rushed back into her lungs and she began screaming.
Nemesis shoved the child unceremoniously into Tellus’s arms as he staggered back to his feet. “Zeus commanded that the child must die as punishment for your sins,” she said, “Sentence was passed. The child died. Embrace the second chance granted to you by your lord’s mercy.”
Tellus crumpled to his knees, holding the child tightly and praying with more zeal than Nemesis had seen in years.
Minia staggered back to her feet as Nemesis walked towards the door, “Thank you.”
“Praise Zeus for the patience and kindness he has shown you tonight, for I have none.” Nemesis could lie, if need be, to infiltrate and ferret out information, just as she had earlier in the evening. At that moment, though, Nemesis was flustered and confused. She was not even sure whether she was lying. She wasn’t created to have patience or kindness, and Zeus had given no command that she should show such mercy, so where had it come from? How had this happened?
Evidently, Minia wasn’t convinced. She simply gave Nemesis a piercing look. Her brown eyes gazed into her attacker’s own, not deterred, for a moment at least, by their inhuman glow. Minia’s eyes squinted slightly as if she was looking at something small or far away. “I’m sorry,” she said as Nemesis turned to walk out the door.
“Ask Zeus for your forgiveness.”
“I’m sorry for you,” she said it quietly as Nemesis walked out into the heavy rain. Nemesis doubted Minia even knew she could still hear her.
Why would she say that? Nemesis wondered. It made no sense to her. Nemesis tried to process it mentally, but it was like pushing against a brick wall, or maybe clawing at the steep walls of a deep, muddy pit. No matter how hard she tried, comprehension seemed just beyond her grasp.
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