She could feel it worming its way up her throat, choking her, scraping her esophagus, digging relentless into her uvula. Athena pushed back her gag reflex, reached into her mouth and yanked the bloody feather out. Surveying it with narrowed grey eyes, she knew that another feather would soon grow past the open sore in her throat. They were filling her lungs – these feathers – and they would suffocate her one day. The reign of the gods had ended, but she never expected that they would all begin to die, each in their own way.