Griffin
I stare at the golden urn that my aunt had just left behind, then look at Eros, “Am I done for the day?”
“Sure,” My brother shrugs. He, too, is staring at the urn. “You better put that someplace safe.”
“I will,” I respond and go to pick up the urn, but Atlas tries to pick it up, and he roars in pain. I watch him nurse his hand. “You can’t touch it, Atlas,” I sigh.
He glares at me. “Thanks for the warning,” He growls. “What the hell is that thing made of?”
“Gold,” I respond and pick up the urn. “I have to put it someplace safe so no one else touches it.” I look at Atlas, and he has a nasty-looking burn on his hand.
“Gold? Since when does gold burn like this?” He whines.
“It gold mined from underneath Olympus,” I explain. “Mortals can’t touch it without getting burned. I can
