Rodrigo woke up lying on a bed. A woman with blond, almost white hair and pink eyes stood beside him.

  “Oh my… you finally woke up, Mister Rodrigo,” the woman said.

  It was a small, completely white room with no windows, only a rustic wooden door. The bed Rodrigo lay on had a large feather mattress covered with a white sheet. Next to it, a shelf held rows of bottles—most likely used by the doctors to prepare medicine and treat patients.

  The woman attending to him wore a long white dress, almost like a nurse’s robe. In her hand she held a medical scroll, probably to analyze her patients’ symptoms.

  A sepulchral silence filled the entire room—unnerving by nature. Light was scarce, and the smells of formaldehyde, alcohol, and various medicinal plants he couldn’t identify hung in the air. Rodrigo also noticed he wasn’t wearing his usual clothes; instead, he had on a long white gown. That’s when it clicked—he was in a hospital.

  “Where am I? Where are Ana and the others?” Rodrigo asked, alarmed.

  “Don’t worry, Mister Rodrigo. Lady Epona is already stable, but Lady Ana and Lady Tania are still in surgery. They will be fine,” the woman replied.

  “I have to see them,” Rodrigo said, struggling to get up.

  “Sir, we had to inject ichor into your body. You should still be weak, sir—wait!” she called out, trying to stop him, but Rodrigo rushed out of the room.

  If there had been little light in Rodrigo’s room, the hallway was downright terrifying. Darkness swallowed almost everything except a few lit lamps here and there.

  Rodrigo moved carefully; he couldn’t feel anyone’s presence at all. His steps were slow, feeling his way so he wouldn’t trip. For a moment, it reminded him of when he had wandered into a cemetery at night as a child. That same sickening dread crept back in.

  After walking for a few minutes, Rodrigo found Epona sitting on a wooden chair. The goddess wore a white toga and had a melancholic look in her eyes. But now, an ugly scar showed beneath her mouth.

  “Rodrigo, you’re awake?” Epona asked, trying to hide a smile and cover her mouth.

  “Are you okay, Ep?” Rodrigo asked, still tense.

  “There isn’t much ambrosia here, so healing has to rely on the powers of the few medical gods available…” she said, lowering her gaze.

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  “I suppose you’ve already seen… my face, right?”

  “No, I hadn’t noticed,” Rodrigo lied, looking away.

  Epona shook her head with a discreet smile.

  “You’re terrible at lying,” she said.

  Both fell silent.

  “Ep… do you know where Ana and Tania are?” Rodrigo asked anxiously.

  “They’re still in surgery in the room across from us. Tania has a hole through her abdomen, and Ana’s entrails were burned. Without ambrosia, all they can do is rely on ichor transfusions and healing magic. But the scars will stay forever if they don’t drink ambrosia soon,” Epona answered.

  “That’s awful…” Rodrigo muttered.

  He looked around at the long, dark hallway and the white door in front of them. Light seeped from behind it.

  “And another thing, Ep—do you know where we are?” he asked.

  “I’m not entirely sure, but I think this is the planet Palas, where Athena and her rebel faction hide,” Epona replied.

  “So… we escaped?” Rodrigo asked.

  “It seems so, but I don’t know the details yet,” she said.

  Rodrigo stared at her, but Epona quickly looked away.

  “Do you still find me attractive?” Epona asked, sadness painted across her face.

  Rodrigo hesitated.

  The scar across her face was truly grotesque… but she still looked as lovely as ever.

  “Yes. Very,” he answered.

  Epona smiled, and silence settled between them again.

  Hours passed with neither of them saying a word. Rodrigo leaned against the wall beside her while she remained seated in the small wooden chair.

  Then, the door in front of them opened. A man stepped out—dark-skinned, extremely muscular, wearing a bright blue toga with white geometric ornaments.

  “We’ve finished. The goddesses are now stable,” the man announced.

  “Thank you, sir… umm…” Epona said, unsure.

  “Erinle. I am the head physician of this hospital,” he replied.

  “Thank you, Mister Erinle,” Epona said, standing and offering a respectful bow.

  “I’m not used to seeing someone with your physique… may I ask where you’re from, if it’s not too rude?”

  The man burst into cheerful laughter.

  “Of course, little one. I come from the heart of Africa—the Yoruba kingdom,” he said warmly.

  “Incredible. So you come from the kingdoms in Africa. I thought only Berbers lived there,” Rodrigo commented.

  “Not at all. The Berbers rule the northern desert that the Arabs call ‘The Great Desert (from where the name Sahara comes from).’ But once you cross it, you reach a region full of valleys and lakes. In that beautiful land lies the newly founded capital, Ilé-Ifè, of the Yoruba kingdom,” said Erinle.

  “You should visit someday. My people would welcome you with great joy.”

  Rodrigo was stunned. The world was far too vast to ever fully grasp. He had never imagined civilizations existed beneath Africa’s great desert—but this man, or god, was living proof.

  His appearance reminded Rodrigo a bit of the Berbers, yet he was undoubtedly different. Deep inside, Rodrigo felt an urge to see more of the world and meet the people living in it.

  “Well then, you two. I’m sure the goddesses are eager to see you. Why don’t you visit them before meeting with Athena?” the medical deity suggested.

  “I’ll go inform our leader that the operation was a success.”

  Rodrigo and Epona nodded.

  Erinle raised his hand in farewell and disappeared into the hospital’s dark corridors. After a few steps, his presence faded entirely.

  Epona looked at Rodrigo and gestured for him to follow her.

  He nodded, and together, they entered the room.