CITY OF THE GODS: FORGOTTEN by M.Scott Verne, Wynn Wynn Mercere

the altar of Prometheus stifled a cough. The priest in charge of his training ignored his muffled choking and continued to stir the banked embers of the offering fire. Fresh flames shot upward, feeding on the dry bark of logs resting upon the stone dais, raising a dark gray flume. Axion watched the smoke ascend, its progress drawing his eyes away from his teacher, Kinothos.
    Kinothos gave the altar fire a few more jabs with an iron poker as he continued the lesson. “And so mankind took the fire that Prometheus had stolen and -”
    A heavy hand buffeted Axion’s ear as Kinothos noticed the dark-haired child’s attention had wandered. Axion yelped and bowed his head penitently to the priest, whispering an apology.
    “Do you know this story so well that you need not listen?” Kinothos asked. “What does this scene represent?” The priest thrust the hot poker within inches of Axion’s nose so that the boy could not possibly miss the scene inscribed on the shaft. Axion managed not to flinch, but his eyes had to squint to bring the symbols on the tool into focus.
    “Prometheus captured by Titans and taken to the rock?” Axion answered tentatively.
    “And which Titans took him there?” The priest smiled smugly as the boy bit his lip, unable to supply the names. “As I thought. Now listen.”
    Kinothos continued to tell the story of Prometheus, inserting the occasional threat of setting a liver-eating vulture upon Axion just to make sure the boy took his training seriously. The dark, sacred buzzards perched in the tall trees around the grove helped punctuate his warnings, although there was no chance of Kinothos actually commanding them to feast on a defenseless boy. While such things might go on in other temples, this altar celebrated life, not death. The story of Prometheus’s gift of fire to man was one of hope and progress, despite man’s eventual use of the boon to burn and destroy. But that aspect of the story was too complex for initiates. Today Kinothos concentrated on drumming just the basic facts about Prometheus into Axion’s head, which would give the boy something to think about besides leaving his old life behind to serve here.
    Kinothos knew it was hard to adjust to service in the godly realms and truly did have empathy for Axion’s situation. He too had felt fear and wonder when he first came to serve the gods. Sometimes he imagined what his family thought had happened to him that day he was snatched from the fields and taken through the secret ways to Olympus. Although he’d been sad and frightened at first, he soon came to realize that serving Prometheus was a safer life than eking out an existence in the war-torn plains where he’d been born. In time, Axion would reach the same conclusion. After two weeks here in the grove, the boy was already settling in. Kinothos had faith he would prove to be an acceptable servant of the altar.
    “And so, in honor of Prometheus, we keep fires burning at all times, and carry lit torches wherever we go. You must revere the flames, and use them only for good. Do you understand, Axion?”
    Axion nodded, a bit relieved to hear that the Prometheans’ obsession with fire did not extend to burning themselves with it. He couldn’t help but be nervous around all the hot pits and pokers. At least the hide and leather clothing the priests had given him to wear was not likely to burn if touched by a stray flame.
    “Good. Then take this torch and stand sentry at our southern gate. You know the words of welcome,” Kinothos instructed.
    Axion repeated the special phrase and the priest, satisfied, handed him the fresh brand he had lit from the altar fire. Smiling, Axion stepped quickly across the grove toward his assigned position. He loved sentry duty. He could stare at anything he liked without having his attention torn away by some lesson. As he crossed the compound, he noticed that the priests and the other initiates were gathering for the evening prayers. This made