Dionysus's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Dionysus walked the edge of his grove, testing the soil between his fingers. The ground was rich here in Tremormaw, dark and ready. He wanted this place full of bodies and wine, full of people who'd forgotten their own names by dawn. A festival that never stopped, that never asked anyone if they deserved it. But something had arrived uninvited. The creature stood in the center of the clearing where the first stage should be. It had a boar's head, eagle wings spread wide, and a scorpion's tail curved over its back. Worst of all, it held a blade that burned with clean, golden fire. Apollo's fire. Dionysus could smell the righteousness coming off it like stale incense. He circled the beast slowly, watching it turn to track him. The creature didn't attack, just stood there like a monument, like a warning. He could tear it apart, let the vines pull it down into the rot where it belonged. Or he could do what he did best: take something bright and burning and drown it in wine until it forgot what it came here to protect. The beast's flame flickered. Dionysus smiled and uncorked his wineskin.