I open my mouth to say something—I am not even sure what it will be, but I feel I should try—but Nikolaos Megalos holds up his hand. "Please. Before you speak. I am still angry, Constantine Kyriakos. That you have achieved what I desired, or more, does not excuse what you attempted. You have affronted me. But I am practical, and I am obedient. You carry the god. I will ask you once again: how does it feel? Does she speak to you? Is it Persephone or Demeter? Metis? What old, wonderful thing comes awake in you?"