The Immortal Game

by Talia Rothschild

  She jerked to a stop, coughing water from her lungs until she could breathe air again.

  Water hissed and sloshed, and the crowd hummed in tense anticipation. Her pulse thrummed in her ears. Fire burned through her abdomen.

  For a moment, she could picture what Olympus must be seeing—a bleeding, broken young goddess on a lonely rock, barely moving. A failure.

  No.

  Galene tried to push herself up, but the pain flared, blinding her. She fell back again.

  If I can’t even sit up, how am I going to win? Despair struck her at the thought, almost as painful as the tooth still protruding from her side. I’m not going to. They’ll stop the Trial any second now.

  Anger bubbled up with the tears. She’d worked so hard.

  Still clutching the tooth in her side, Galene dared to look down at her torso. Golden blood streamed from rows of holes in her armor and leaked around the single tooth remaining. Tightening her grip, she squeezed her eyes shut and ripped the tooth out.

  Agony tore up her throat in a scream. Striking the ground, she forced herself up.

  She opened her streaming eyes just as six jaws filled with jagged teeth lunged for her again.

  Flinging her hands up, she willed the water to obey her desperation. A wave slammed into Cetus’s body, lifting the sea creature as the heads converged. She gasped, falling back as the necks plunged, the heads striking the ground a mere arm’s length above her head.

  Her lungs shuddered with ragged breaths as a new fear gripped her … not the fear of losing, but the fear of dying.

  They haven’t stopped the Trial. They should have stopped it by now!

  Fueled by instinct more than anything, she thrust the tooth up, burying it into a thick, golden neck above her.

  The creature screamed and writhed. Scarlet blood rained down as she yanked the tooth out and slammed it back in. Stop the Trial. A single tooth against six heads—the odds were impossible. Stop the Trial!

  More jaws came at her from either side. She wrenched the tooth out again, screaming, swinging …

  An explosion of sound accompanied a searing flash, the air crackling with electricity. The beast burst into light, disintegrating before her eyes. Water crashed down, leaving behind nothing but a ringing silence.

  Beyond the water Zeus was on his feet, hand still outstretched from directing the lightning bolt.

  Galene uncurled her fingers from the tooth and let it clatter to the ground.

  A sob cracked against her ribs, sending another lance of pain through her. Shame crushed her as she pressed a hand to the gaping wound in her side.

  She hadn’t proved herself worthy to be worshipped—hadn’t erased the shame of Chrysander.

  She’d done nothing but fail.

  2

  KOSTAS

  The emotions of everyone in the arena washed over Kostas, but Galene’s struck him the hardest.

  He leaned forward, watching her carefully from his seat beside his mother, Iris. As the son of Hermes, one of the Olympians, he was privileged to be positioned close to the Twelve. From this angle, he could see Galene clearly. A colored aura of tumultuous blues and grays pulsed around her. Her face was screwed up in pain as she pressed her hand into her side.

  Poseidon was back on his feet. With a wave of his hand and a deep rumble, rocks rose from the water, forming a path from the tunnel to Galene’s island. A few waiting healers rushed out, hurrying to Galene’s side. One of them, a son of Apollo, put his hands on Galene’s torso, calling upon his ability. The others helped Galene sit, then stand, pulling out bandages.

  Galene’s face relaxed slightly, and a dignified expression settled there.

  Few would suspect she was feeling anything other than what she displayed, patiently waiting for her judgment. Kostas, however, could see more than everyone else.

  The somber colors around Galene contradicted her poised demeanor. She was simmering with hurt, anger, and crushing disappointment.

  No one can blame her.

  He looked to the Olympians and the Decks of Fates laid before them. The cards Galene had chosen were absurd. His mind ran over the math again.

  Between the options she was presented with and the ones she selected, she had a less than one percent chance of getting those three particular cards. Either the Fates truly don’t think she’s meant to be a deity now, or this was deliberate sabotage. From what he knew of Galene’s power—which she had just proven—and her notable intellect, Kostas had a suspicion.

  With narrow eyes, he looked over the Olympians. A mixture of hues swirled through their auras. Surprise and relief was the most prominent in all of them, followed by dark regret. And throughout a few of them he caught flashes of the deep purple he was looking for. Shame. They must have done something. He checked himself there. There are many reasons they could feel guilty. They could have stopped the Trial sooner, or not allowed a beast that cruel to battle Galene. Or they could simply be ashamed that Galene wasn’t powerful enough to beat it. Kostas ran a hand through his dark curls and scratched his neck, absorbed in this new riddle.

  “Galene Unnamed,” Zeus called out. “You have failed to pass your Immortality Trial.”

  The colors around Galene flooded blue. She bit her lip, but kept eye contact with the rulers of Olympus.

  “In ten years’ time, you may request to retake the Trial to prove yourself worthy of immortality.”

  “Ten years?” Kostas muttered. “She almost got the thing.”

  His mother set a pale hand on his dark brown arm, her hazel eyes urging caution. “Ten years is standard.”

  Even so, she’d be much older before she stopped aging.

  Galene’s blue colors started to taint, creeping darker until they reflected not just misery, but anger and humiliation. As he stared at her, he began to feel those same emotions creeping into his own heart. He blinked them away.

  “You fought valiantly and well,” Zeus said, “but you need more training and discipline before you are to join us in immortality. Tend to your wounds, then return to the Common Temple of the Unnamed.”

  Galene dropped her head in a shallow bow, unable to do more as the healers worked on her. The Olympians rose to leave.

  Kostas stood with everyone else, waiting respectfully for their twelve leaders to exit first before the masses began to shuffle out of the stadium. He glanced once more at Galene, now being guided toward a pair of gods approaching with a stretcher.

  Parting from his mother, Kostas made his way to the other side of the stands where the Unnamed children of the gods had been seated. It didn’t take him long to find the god he was looking for.

  Braxtus stood taller than most, his thick, curly blond hair adding an extra inch or so to his height. But Kostas wouldn’t have needed eyes to find his best friend. The loud, endless chatter would have led him there.

  Braxtus was in a deep conversation with Iyana. Kostas was surprised to see them together and—he glanced through the surrounding gods to be sure—without Iyana’s boyfriend.

  Though Braxtus primarily radiated shock and concern, Kostas couldn’t help but notice the flashes of yellow and rose gold that danced across his aura as he looked at Iyana. Her aura was a raging scarlet, flashing with dark blues of grief to break up the fury. Her arms flew as she vented to Braxtus.

  “… completely unjust, and … well, barbaric!”

  “Keep your voice down,” Kostas muttered as he approached.

  “It was crazy!” Braxtus turned, seamlessly including Kostas in their conversation. “I thought for sure Galene would win, but did you see that thing?”

  Kostas nodded. “It was nothing like I’ve seen in the Trials before.”

  “I thought your beast was nasty.”

  “It was.” Five months ago, Kostas had battled a winged creature at his Immortality Trial: a mix of a harpy, boar, and sphynx. It had been a mean combination—agile with a tricky tongue. He had eventually shot it down, gaining immortality and his official title as God of Game
s.

  It was appropriate, as he had practically built his life around games already. His ability to see and feel others’ emotions gave him a substantial edge in competitions and made his natural intuition that much more accurate.

  “The Fates always give us more difficult tests,” he said, referring to the children of the Twelve. “At least Galene was able to use her power over the tides.”

  Iyana scoffed. “I bet Poseidon himself would have had trouble with that thing.”

  Braxtus scratched his short beard, brown eyes squinting in the sun. “Is this how they’re going to be from now on?” His aura swirled to a worried gray as he glanced at Iyana.

  Iyana went pale, and he felt her flutter of fear. Iyana was the daughter of Zeus. She, like Galene, had to take her Trial early. In fact, they were currently the only two Unnamed impacted by the Olympians’ new rule. And Iyana only had three more months to prepare.

  Kostas looked at her seriously. “I surely hope not, but if I were you, I’d start training much harder.”

  Her eyes widened, her aura suddenly suspicious. “Did you see something? From the Olympians?”

  He tilted his head. “That might be a conversation for later.”

  Iyana pressed her lips into a thin, wobbly line. “I need to check on Galene.”

  She raced away, Braxtus’s eyes following her.

  “How did you two end up talking?” Kostas asked.

  “We sat together. Demitri”—Braxtus flared with both frustration and jealousy at the name—“was on duty patrolling the stands with some of his brothers.”

  Kostas nodded. Braxtus had a special dislike for the handsome son of Aphrodite and Ares. Braxtus and Iyana had been close—practically inseparable for over a year, with something obviously more than friendship there. So really, it had come as a shock to everyone when Demitri pursued Iyana and when she returned his advances. Soon after, the two had established a public relationship. Kostas winced, remembering Braxtus’s relentless hurt and anger that had lasted weeks before shifting to unyielding determination to keep her in his life.

  On occasion, Kostas had felt Iyana’s love for Demitri, along with her confusion surrounding Braxtus. He didn’t have the heart to tell his best friend either of those things.

  Feeling others’ emotions certainly had its disadvantages.

  “I have a rotation of guard duty around the arena all night,” Braxtus told him, “but I’ll come visit you in your temple tomorrow. I’d like to hear about what you picked up from the Olympians today.”

  “Yes, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Kostas didn’t miss guard duty, or any of the rotations across the mountain. As a recent Immortal, he had been granted a break from the shared duties of Olympus to get used to his new responsibilities as a deity.

  Braxtus raised a hand in farewell and jogged off. Kostas turned down a small path, heading up the mountain toward his home.

  Kostas’s temple was built to resemble three tossed dice, the two on the bottom serving as a base for the one on top, allowing space for balconies and checkered patios. Kostas strode through the front gate and pushed open the double doors. Passing over the narad-i-shir board that made up the floor, he wandered around tables of his favorite games, toward a room in the back.

  Jewels, carvings, and gold littered several tables. He raised his eyebrows as he looked around his Linked Chamber. It was more than he had expected after only being an official deity for five months.

  Every Immortal’s temple had a Linked Chamber that connected to their corresponding temples and shrines in the human realm. The chambers replicated each offering the humans presented as payment or plea.

  Kostas made his way to a cushioned chair at the center of the room. Settling in, he listened to the echoes of those praying for his help.

  I need to win this game …

  Bless me with luck in my tournament …

  Give me the intuition to understand my enemies …

  He tried to focus on one at a time, letting himself become connected to the individual in prayer, but Galene’s Trial kept festering at the back of his mind. Each time he tried to tune in, he was tugged back to Galene’s cards and the likelihood they had been tampered with. His mind soon swam with equations and different methods for rigging the outcome of the Deck of Fates.

  Grumbling, Kostas pushed himself up and walked to a table full of heavenly food that had just appeared. Picking up an apple, he took a bite as he wandered out of the chamber. Even if the Olympians had cheated, what on Gaia could anyone do about it?

  3

  IYANA

  Iyana’s sandaled feet struck the cobblestones as she raced up Mount Olympus, robes bunched in her fist. Wind rushed around her, giving her a slight push forward, swirling her long blonde hair around her face. She combed it back. Calling upon the wind hadn’t been intentional—it just responded to her urgency.

  Just as she passed the God of Medicine’s temple, the infirmary came into view: short and long, lined with white pillars. Iyana cut off the main path toward it, then pushed through the pristine doors. Her stomach knotted as she hurried to the wing reserved for the most serious injuries.

  Gods and goddesses moved in and out of the rooms, instruments in their hands. One caught sight of Iyana and paused.

  “She’s in room two, but you’ll have to wait.” She adjusted the tray in her arms. “She was just bitten by one of Scylla’s heads. Give us a while.”

  Iyana opened her mouth to ask if she could just sit quietly in the room, but the goddess gave her a severe stare. She closed it again, leaning against the wall.

  The goddess looked like she wanted to send Iyana farther away, but just sighed, hurrying into Galene’s room with her supplies.

  The minutes dragged by. Iyana was just considering finding a chair when footsteps echoed down the hall behind her. She turned to see a familiar face, and her breath caught in her throat.

  It was obvious from Demitri’s looks that he was the son of Aphrodite and Ares. His mother’s beauty and his father’s ferocity seemed to have merged perfectly into the imposing figure that walked toward her. He had the kind of face that stopped people in their tracks. Iyana supposed he must be used to it—the sudden pause in a goddess’s natural expression when she looked his way, followed by overcompensating with an unconcerned air. Of course the blush that always accompanied it was a dead giveaway.

  Iyana had long since stopped feeling jealous—Demitri, it seemed, only had eyes for her.

  He brushed his dark hair back from his forehead, clear blue eyes finding Iyana’s.

  She gave him a tense smile, and as he reached her, he gathered her small frame in his powerful arms. He smelled like the wood of his weapons. Despite everything, she relaxed into him.

  “I knew I’d find you here.”

  “Where else would I be?” she mumbled into his tunic. “I have to see her.”

  “I know.”

  “She had so much confidence. She seemed so ready.” Tears burned at the corners of her eyes.

  Demitri pulled back, trying to look at her. “No one expected an Immortality Trial like that.”

  She nodded, but buried her face back into his shoulder. He tightened his arms around her, and Iyana let herself be soothed by the safety of his embrace.

  They waited outside the room for several more minutes before they were approached.

  “You can go in now.”

  Iyana stepped into Galene’s room to see her best friend propped up on pillows, staring out the window. Her coppery brown hair had been loosed from its tight braid, hanging in damp waves around her shoulders. She wore a light shift, and Iyana could see the bulk of bandages around her middle.

  “Galene!” Iyana rushed over to the bed, but caught herself before she flung her arms around her.

  “Hi, Iyana.” Galene’s voice was hoarse, her sea-green eyes a bit puffy. She shifted to the side, and Iyana sat, clasping her hand.

  “How … how do you feel?” She cringed at the terrible question.

&n
bsp; Galene shook her head. “Those were the three most powerful creatures in the Water Deck of Fates.”

  Iyana let out a breath. “I knew it. That’s completely unfair! The Olympians shouldn’t have made you fight something like that.”

  “There was always a chance to get all three,” Galene mumbled. “I should have trained harder.”

  “No.” Iyana squeezed her hand, partly in comfort, partly in anger. “I don’t think even Demitri could have beaten that beast, and he’s the son of the War God.”

  “Then it’s just not my time to be a recognized deity. Even the Olympians can’t oppose fate.”

  “You think this was fate?” Demitri said from the doorway, voice incredulous. They both looked over at him, and he pushed himself off the doorframe toward them. “The Fates may influence the direction of our lives, but they don’t manipulate events that directly.”

  Here we go. Iyana fidgeted, unsure how Galene would take to this conversation. Galene didn’t respond, but she kept her eyes on Demitri, expression cool. She’d never been overly fond of him.

  “The Olympians decide when it’s your time to be a deity, not fate,” Demitri continued, lip curling in disgust. “They required the two of you—specifically the two of you, since there’s no one else who fits the criteria of the new rule—to take your Immortality Trials three years early. They’ve already proven they don’t want to play fair.”

  Galene pulled her hand free from Iyana’s to sit herself up straighter. “That was supposed to make it more fair. I’m the daughter of Poseidon, Iyana’s the daughter of Zeus. The two most powerful Olympians.”

  “Yes, and they’re so intimidated by your potential that they gave you less time to train and a brutal test. They don’t really want you to pass your Immortality Trials.”

  “You think they stacked the Decks of Fates against me,” Galene said, voice laced with disbelief.