Juno wore her lopsided earrings as if they were the most expensive jewelry in all creation. But in reality, they were thrifted for a staggering price of fifty cents. Who cares, right? No one would know. No one was supposed to know. But someone did—the man wearing a trench coat in the middle of summer, standing across the street.

He stared intently, his sunglasses reflecting the mid-afternoon sun, his expression unreadable. Juno tilted her head, perplexed. Did she have ketchup on her face or something? She adjusted her earrings subconsciously, the metal feeling warm against her fingertips. The man’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if her movement had confirmed his suspicions.

When the crosswalk sign turned green, he strode toward her with purpose, each step echoing with an almost otherworldly rhythm. Juno’s inner alarm bells began to jangle, but her eight-inch platform boots meant she wasn’t running anywhere fast. Instead, she stood her ground, ready to deliver some choice words if this guy turned out to be a creep.

He stopped a respectable distance away, lowered his sunglasses to reveal eyes like opals—swirling with iridescent colors that made Juno blink twice. “The earrings,” he said, his voice deep and resonant. “You have no idea what you possess.”

Juno blinked a third time, unsure if this guy was for real or just really committed to his role in some weird performance art. “Uh, yeah... buddy, no. I’m not selling them.”

The man leaned in a tad closer, lowering his voice as if revealing classified information. “The keys to the Cradle of Life and Secrets. Keys that will open the doors to the Temple of All Wisdom and Creation.”

Juno stepped back, cupping her ears protectively. “Uh-huh. And I suppose you’re here to mug me for my fifty-cent thrift store earrings? Because I will call the cops. And the fashion police. You, sir, are a threat to society.”

The man—Atheon, as he would later introduce himself—staggered back as if she had struck him. “Mugged!? I am simply retrieving an artifact belonging to the gods!”

“Right,” Juno said, unimpressed. Her glare sharpened as she added, “Well, I bought them fair and square, so maybe your gods should’ve been quicker at checking the thrift shop.”

Atheon’s jaw dropped in disbelief. For three thousand years, no one had ever questioned his identity. Such insolence! Such unbelief! Then again, he hadn’t set foot on Earth since the 1940s. Perhaps mortals had changed more than he realized.

Realizing words alone weren’t going to work, he straightened his trench coat and reached into his pocket, pulling out a shimmering medallion engraved with symbols that seemed to move when looked at too long. “Behold,” he said grandly, holding it up like a prize. “Proof of my divine mission.”

Juno squinted at the medallion, unimpressed. “Cool fidget spinner, dude. Let me guess, you’re gonna tell me it’s powered by the souls of ancient kings?”

Atheon’s eye twitched. Clearly, the direct approach wasn’t working.

Juno, meanwhile, pretended to dial 911 on her phone. Not because she intended to call the cops—Atheon seemed harmless enough—but as a precaution in case he decided to get weirder. Unfortunately, running away was off the table; her boots, fabulous as they were, weren’t built for speed.

Atheon’s frustration turned to determination. If his artifacts couldn’t convince her, then perhaps he needed to take a bolder step. He extended his hand to her, bowing slightly. “Please, take my hand, Bearer of the Keys of Pandorra.”

Juno glanced around at the passersby, who were now shooting them odd looks. She loved attention, so she wasn’t particularly bothered. Then she looked at his hand, noting how elegant and candle-like his fingers were. With a dramatic sigh, she thought, Why not? and placed her hand in his.

The moment their hands touched, the world shifted. The bustling street dissolved into swirling golden mist, and Atheon straightened to his full height. His trench coat transformed into a flowing robe that shimmered like a galaxy. Juno stumbled but stayed upright, clutching his hand tighter.

“What the hell?” she blurted, staring at the endless expanse of light and mist surrounding them.

“The Threshold,” Atheon explained, smiling with a mix of relief and triumph. “Beyond lies the Temple of Wisdom and Creation.”

Through the mist, Juno saw two massive doors carved with intricate designs of stars, storms, and… was that a pizza slice? She squinted. Yup, definitely a pizza slice.

“Okay, shiny pants,” she said, gesturing toward the doors. “Let’s open your magical temple. But I swear, if there isn’t a vending machine in there, I’m keeping the earrings.”

Atheon chuckled, his voice like distant thunder. “You’ll find more than you could ever imagine.”

And with that, they stepped toward the doors, Juno’s platform boots clicking confidently on the celestial ground, ready to see if fifty cents had really bought her destiny.