Gods' Scribe Recruitment

“What is she doing here?” Hera asked suspiciously.

“We need a new scribe,” Hermes declared. “One with wit, wonder, and an uncorrupted quill.”

“And good handwriting,” Dionysus added, sipping ambrosia from a wine flask shaped like a tragedy mask.

“You. Byzantine.” Zeus spoke with sweet eyes. “A scribe with a feather-light touch and a joy for lighthearted myth-making. A lover of beauty. A master of the feel-good finale. A… hedonist.”

“ME?” I shrieked. “Do I look like I can write?”

Sometimes, the universe (or gods) sees potential in you before you see it in yourself. You don’t have to feel ready to be chosen. Growth happens when you say yes—even terrified.

Sometimes, the universe (or gods) sees potential in you before you see it in yourself.

I was flattered—for a second. Until Hera flashed her mischievous grin.

“Just one catch,” she said. “To prove your worth, you must travel back and compete in the Dionysia.”

The famed ancient tragedy competition.

Write three tragedies and one satyr play.

Perform them.

In costume.

Before thousands of drunk, rowdy, emotionally starved Athenians.