‘She is here!’ one excited man screamed. ‘She is really here! Athena! Athena! Athena!’ Others joined him with their own prayers, all shouting the goddess’s name. All thanking her for her guidance, her help.

  How quickly belief could shift. Sofia thought of the respect being a police officer used to command. She had wielded power; she had exerted it. She had been able to do this because of a collective belief in her authority. How had she never seen how precarious this was? She removed her hand from Katerina’s arm and rested it on the hilt of her gun.

  ‘Your goddess is here! You, who have come to celebrate, you will be rewarded! Raise up your voices in honour of something spectacular. Our city has been downtrodden! Left to rot! Forgotten! Its riches pillaged! You are discarded as if entrails in a bucket!’ The crowds responded with a deafening booing noise.

  ‘Help us, Athena!’

  ‘You understand our needs!’

  ‘Lift your spirits! Abandon your senses, disciples! Because tonight, you may allow yourself to believe in this city once again. Tonight, we enter another Golden Age! Tonight, we celebrate what it is to be Greek! What it is to be pure! I invoke the ancient call for greatness and prosperity!’

  Yiorgos leaned over to Sofia. ‘This is crazy.’

  She looked over at him, her eyes wide. ‘It is crazy, but it is working. They all believe.’

  The formless voice continued, rising to an even higher pitch. ‘You may believe in yourselves once more! Yourselves! Praise me! Athena! Athena! Praise the city of Athena!’

  The crowds rumbled in excitement, repeating the chant. Sofia’s heels reverberated against the hard ground; the sheer magnitude of the crowd caused the earth to tremble. She leaned down, barely believing it, and touched the marble floor. Sure enough, she felt small vibrations. She looked up at Yiorgos. ‘They’re coming.’

  A fleet of lanterns, torches, and luminous screens drifted into the agora. ‘Athena! Athena! Praise the city of Athena!’

  Sofia spoke into her radio, her throat closing with panic. ‘Team, they are in the agora, heading up towards the Acropolis gate.’

  ‘Affirmative,’ the voice on the other end replied.

  ‘Be… be careful,’ Sofia said, wondering if she ought to tell them to stand down.

  Yiorgos pushed the radio down. ‘They are on the right side,’ he said.

  Sofia could not find the appropriate reaction. She had an urge to sink to her knees. She was witness to an unbelievable sight. Half the city mobilised to celebrate an ancient goddess. Young and old marched towards the Acropolis, their faces set in a rhapsodic glee. Snake banners weaved between the bodies. Axes and snakes were painted onto T-shirts, faces, flags.

  Katerina finally spoke quietly, not taking her eyes off the scene. Her face reflected the orange lanterns, flickering dark and light. ‘They are brainwashed.’

  Sofia breathed, unable to look away. ‘They are unhappy. The Awakening, Christos, has given them hope.’

  ‘Hope?’ Yiorgos spat the word.

  ‘Hope that it’s not their fault. Hope in a higher being, and why not Athena? If they worship hard enough, she will save them. Not everything they say is untrue. This city has been struggling for years, Greece has been struggling. We have ignored the signs. That is why Christos is so persuasive, he muddles lies with the truth. Same old story, different country.’

  ‘You were right to sack him,’ Yiorgos grumbled.

  ‘I was thinking the opposite,’ Sofia replied, her voice soft. ‘I gave him the platform he wanted.’

  No one replied, and Sofia shifted from side to side, unable to find comfort. Hordes of revellers swamped past them, each new group shouting with more conviction than the last. There was a shuffling movement from the end of the stoa. Yiorgos swung around, his gun pointed.

  ‘Sergeant Mikras here!’ Michail shouted, emerging from the shadows. ‘Apologies for causing alarm.’

  Yiorgos narrowed his eyes. ‘The long-awaited hero returns.’

  Michail hurried down the long passageway, his energetic frame enveloped by the marble peristyles. ‘My task took a little longer than anticipated.’ His eyes flicked to a lump of marble behind Sofia. ‘Ms Sampson, you have chosen a pertinent location.’ He pointed to the oblong block of marble. ‘The stele of the birth of democracy. There she is, crowning the symbolic people of Athens. In fact, the monuments in this building are all connected by themes: fairness, equality and reason.’

  Noticing Yiorgos roll his eyes, Sofia did her best to humour this strange new recruit. ‘I am glad you noticed, sergeant. As Yiorgos said earlier, we are on the right side.’ Michail nodded sagely, whilst Yiorgos gave her a knowing stare. She was about to ask Michail to explain his plan when a loud cheer interrupted her.

  ‘Jesus.’ Yiorgos pointed to the revellers who stood yards away from them.

  Sofia strained her eyes to see through the dark. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Police.’ Yiorgos stepped forward, his fists clenched. Sofia dragged him back; this was no time to start a fight. Sure enough, a group of constables, identifiable by the odd bits of ravaged uniform, danced, wearing masks and banners, shouting ‘Athena!’ in between sips of beer and bursts of laughter. Sofia watched them, a burning anger simmering in her chest.

  ‘Theo’s mates?’ Yiorgos asked, blowing smoke into the colonnade.

  ‘I don’t know,’ replied Sofia, grabbing her radio. ‘How many more will turn up? It feels like most of Greece has come to join the fun.’

  ‘The roads are still full, Ms Sampson. There are plenty more.’

  Sofia studied the hill. The burning snake of people had reached the top and was dispersing at the Propylaia, the grand gate to the Acropolis.

  ‘What’s going on up there?’ she said into her radio. ‘Anyone at all? Can you hear me?’ The channel crackled and then went dead. She swore under her breath, looking behind her. ‘What’s your plan, Sergeant Mikras?’ she asked, walking under the colonnade towards Michail. ‘Please tell me it is a good one.’

  Yiorgos swore too, squinting up at the hill. ‘Looks like something’s kicking off.’ Indeed, a larger fire had been lit and it looked as if spotlights had been turned on. ‘Is that a stage?’

  Sofia nodded. ‘We need to get up there.’ She shouted into her radio again. ‘Officers on the Acropolis, can you hear me?’

  ‘Leave them,’ said Yiorgos, already making for the hill. ‘We need to go, look.’

  A circle was forming outside the entrance to the Acropolis. Down in the agora, ripples of excitement spread through the crowd. Sofia detected a horrible imminence in the air. ‘Right,’ she said, motioning for Katerina and Michail to follow. ‘If we are separated, get up there as quickly as possible. I’ve lost comms with the officers,’ she shook her silent radio, ‘which means we do not know what to expect.’

  In a moment that she was unable to explain, she took Michail’s face into her hands. ‘Sergeant Mikras, listen to me. You have proven yourself a most impressive officer today. You have exceeded all expectations of dedication and resilience. Whatever you have planned for tonight, know that I have every faith in you.’

  She let go of his face and he jumped back, his fists clenched. However, after taking three quick breaths, he replied, ‘Ms Sampson, it has been a pleasure to serve you in this investigation and lead the Myth-Buster Unit.’

  Sofia, despite the impending sense of unmitigated doom, smiled broadly and took the man’s hand. ‘The pleasure is all mine, Sergeant Mikras.’

  ‘Come on then!’ shouted Katerina, already running towards the Acropolis.

  At the top of the hill, the revellers spoke in hushed and reverent voices. Sofia balanced herself on the far side of the Propylaia steps with Michail, Katerina and Yiorgos, rammed against the warm marble columns. There was no impression at all that the masses respected them as law enforcers. In fact, they were ignored completely, disregarded as fellow celebrants. Michail seemed more alert since climbing the hill. He scanned the crowds fastidiously, metre by steady metre, and kept stealing furtive glances to the top of the Propylaia structure. Yiorgos smoked intently, frowning darkly at anyone who happened to catch his eye.

  Attached to the columns of the Propylaia, at the entrance to the Acropolis sanctuary, were two large speakers, poised above a makeshift stage, onto where the lights they had seen from below shone. From the speakers, Athena’s voice boomed again, this time louder and more urgent.

  ‘Revellers!’ Cheers erupted down the hill, through the trees, past the marble. ‘You have done well so far in your duties of celebration. For that, I thank you. How does it feel to be a part of the new dawn? Part of a movement so potent, so momentous?’ Whistles blew and horns sounded in lurid appreciation. The voice paused for a few moments and then spoke in low tones. ‘You have come to purify the city, have you not?’ The question was asked with a quiet intensity. There were a few cries of agreement from the people by the gate, but most nodded silently, enraptured.

  ‘Then come, tell me, who will volunteer?’

  Sofia frowned, confused by the question. ‘What does that mean?’ she wondered aloud. Yiorgos shook his head, his bottom lip puckered with confusion. Intuition prompted her to speak quietly into her radio. ‘Get everyone here. I repeat, leave your posts and get to the hill. Now.’ She glanced at Michail.

  He nodded patiently. ‘We must wait, Ms Sampson.’ Sofia tried her best to believe in him.

  Yiorgos shifted from side to side. He was nervous too. Sofia thought about what Michail had said about sacrificial victims. She forced her breathing to remain slow. A drunk voice from the crowd called, ‘Go on then, I’ll volunteer!’ Laughter followed, as well as a round of applause. From the sanctuary, two masked men appeared from the Propylaia’s entrance hall. ‘I’ll volunteer!’ The masked men found him in the crowd, a young man, unsteady on his legs, laughing along with his friends. ‘See you on the other side!’ he joked.

  ‘It’s just for show, right?’ said Yiorgos under his breath. ‘They wouldn’t do anything… illegal? In front of all these people?’ From the tone of his voice, it was clear that Yiorgos was trying to convince himself.

  Sofia did not reply, silently hoping Michail knew what he was doing. He had removed a rucksack from his back and was crouched over, fiddling with a mobile phone. ‘Sergeant Mikras…’ She could not risk more lives.

  The chanting resurfaced. ‘Athena! Athena! Praise her city! Athena!’

  Michail looked up at her, his face completely calm and without worry. ‘You said that you trusted me. Therefore, I must ask for no further distractions.’

  Sofia opened her mouth to answer back but Katerina, who was standing behind Michail, silently raised a finger to her lips. Sofia backed down, allowing Michail to continue.

  Within a few minutes, the volunteer resurfaced out of the dark columns, wearing a black cloak and carrying a long dagger. Behind him, the two masked men dragged a pig onto the stage. The animal squealed terribly, its eyes darting at the crowd before it. Its trotters scratched against the marble pathetically. Sofia felt Yiorgos reach for his gun. ‘No.’ She held an arm over him. ‘It’s just a pig. Wait for Michail.’ Yiorgos mumbled something beneath his breath. A cooling breeze flustered through the columns. The pig lowered its head, petrified.

  ‘Can we really do nothing?’ Yiorgos asked. Sofia scanned the crowd. A few of the revellers had removed their costumes and were staring at the scene before them with wide eyes. The rest jostled as before, cheering the volunteer on.

  ‘If this is the worst that happens tonight, then I can live with it,’ replied Sofia firmly.

  A chant began to emerge from the slope. It was melancholy, resonating from the bottom of people’s throats. The effect was a wall of thick sound. Sofia’s neck craned under the weight of it. ‘Blood is life. Blood is life. Blood is life.’ The vibrations of hundreds of thousands of vocal cords incited the pig to panic again. It convulsed against its ropes, kicking forwards and back, wailing in response.

  ‘Oh my God.’ Yiorgos leaned back against the column in disbelief.

  ‘It’s just a pig, Yiorgos,’ Sofia whispered, watching the colour drain from his face. ‘You’ve seen worse.’

  He hung his head, wiping his brow. ‘I’m a vegetarian,’ he said, indignant. She was learning all sorts tonight.

  The volunteer, baptised with bravery through the unanimous chant, plunged the knife into the back of the pig’s neck. It was an inexperienced blow. Blood spurted from the puncture; the animal’s eyes grew red and small as it squealed horrendously. Mercifully, its mouth lolled open, reducing its squeals to a dying gurgle. Yiorgos groaned next to her.

  The crowd did not cheer as Sofia expected, instead they fell upon their knees as the animal collapsed. They rocked backwards and forwards, mesmerised by the pig’s final breaths. A few individuals needed to be encouraged to the floor by their friends, but they eventually submitted. From the throats of the kneeling revellers came a low and chthonic whirr. It was an engine of intent. Of prayer.

  Like one organism, the sound stopped. Sofia spotted torches dotted about the dark foliage of the site. The silence was a wonder, that was for sure. How could so many people gathered in one place achieve such a perfect absence of noise?

  ‘Is that it?’ Yiorgos asked. Sofia nodded, more out of hope than anything else. She reached for her radio, ready to instruct her team to supervise the revellers safely down the hill, when the voice from the speakers resumed.

  ‘Athenians! What a start to reclaiming our city, to reclaiming yourselves! Sacrifice breeds life, citizens! Blood breeds life! We should not be ashamed of this, this most ancient tradition. We must build upon the past, surpass our ancestors’ dedication. I must witness the ultimate mortal sacrifice. It is only through a pure, selfless act of submission that I can accept you as humble followers. You have seen my sacrifices! You have seen how they gave themselves to me fully: by celebrating my birth, my punishments, my immaculate offspring. We will all bear witness, and by our testimony we shall share the responsibility.’

  ‘If they all participate and play witness to a human sacrifice…’ Yiorgos began.

  ‘Then they are all implicated,’ Sofia whispered. ‘It’s a way of tying them to The Awakening cause.’

  Michail shuffled forward to whisper into Sofia’s ear, holding his mobile phone gently in his hands. ‘It is nearly time, Ms Sampson. Please, you and Yiorgos, stand behind me, and Katerina.’

  Sofia held his gaze, pleadingly, and ushered Yiorgos behind the columns. As they hid behind the marble stones, a group of people were paraded onto the stage. They were bound with chains around their ankles. Some were weeping. Others shook with inconsolable anger.

  ‘Jesus,’ choked Yiorgos.

  ‘Blood is life, citizens! Blood is life!’ As Athena spoke, four more masked men carried a great, purple cloth into the darkness of the sanctuary. They paraded it across the stage, pulling it across the prisoners’ faces. ‘The peplos! You invoke an ancient tradition. You please me, citizens. You do yourself honour in honouring me. Blood is life.’

  The crowd began to chant along with the voice, following a purple cloth through the gate. ‘The robe,’ Sofia said. ‘For the goddess Athena.’

  As the robe moved past the prisoners towards the entrance to the Acropolis, the revellers followed. ‘Athena, Athena, Athena,’ they repeated, fixated on the purple fabric, drawn by some invisible force to the sanctuary entrance. A commotion broke out at the threshold of the gate. ‘I came all this way, let me in! I swear, I belong.’ Sofia craned her head out of the shadows to see a woman demanding entry.

  A masked individual shook his expressionless face at the woman. ‘Proof of identity is needed. Only Greek citizens can enter.’

  ‘But that doesn’t make any sense! I’ve lived here for over fifteen years!’

  Similar conversations sprung up across the threshold, which was guarded by the masked keepers. Sofia’s eyes turned from those who had been rejected to the prisoners, who began to appeal to the people still waiting outside the gate. ‘Help us!’ a man shouted in a thick accent. ‘Help us! They are animals! Please!’ In a swift motion, the masked guards batted him down with heavy clubs. ‘Please!’ The man’s voice abated; he fell to his knees, relenting, pulling the prisoners down around him too.

  ‘Michail, hurry up!’ Yiorgos hissed from behind the column. Michail turned, his face set in determination. He responded with a short nod; his finger hovered over the mobile phone.

  Athena sounded again. ‘A sacrifice then! And who better than a resident foreigner?’ Cheers sounded from within the sanctuary as fireworks were released over the ancient temples. ‘A volunteer! Another pure volunteer to make a greater sacrifice! One that will bind you all to me.’

  The mood shifted with the flicker of a flame. A panicked murmur caught flight through the remaining crowd. The prisoners pressed against one another closely, visibly shaking. Sofia watched in horror as more masked guards surrounded them, forcing them to form a tight circle, guns pointed at their heads.

  Yiorgos swore quietly. ‘Sofia, we have to do something.’

  She grabbed her radio. ‘Is anybody out there? Can anyone hear me? Sofia Sampson, requiring urgent response…’

  Sofia held out her own gun, knowing it was insufficient against so many. She searched the darkness for her lost men. Then her limbs grew weak. Emerging from the dark trees were more gorgon masks, holding rifles. They moved steadily, the deadly masks hovering almost bodiless under the night sky; their guns pointed proudly at her small team.

  ‘It’s the army,’ Katerina whispered shakily. ‘They have the army on their side.’

  Sofia realised there was nowhere to run. ‘We’re alone,’ Sofia said, lowering her weapon. She would do no good dead. ‘Raise your hands. Do as they say,’ instructed Sofia. She was aware of Michail behind her, who was still standing with his phone held out in front of him. ‘Sergeant Mikras, that is an order, do as they say!’

  ‘A volunteer to make the next great sacrifice!’ the voice bellowed. Their guards kicked the prisoners roughly, jeered at them. ‘Prove yourself worthy to me, people! Show that you fully understand Athena’s cause! Or will you prove yourselves weak? I offer you an opportunity: sacrifice one of the impure in my honour! Cleanse the city of their pollution! Human blood must be spilled for our city to truly awaken.’