"To repair the two halves of the key, you'll need beeswax from the wings of Icarus, who flew-"
I threw up my hands.
"Ok, that's it! I may be willing to accept that I have woken up back here in Ancient Greece, and I've gone along with all these tests and fights, and maybe, just maybe, I've stopped questioning why I'm risking my life here, but why the fuck do we need that specfic beeswax to fix a key? More magic crap?"
"It absorbed solar radiation from the trip and thus has the needed molecular make-up to work."
"Wait, what?"
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