by Elena Monroe
Maybe this ritual, disguised as a hazing the new girl, wouldn’t go even how I planned.
The Harvest brought the cold; small snowflakes were flying around us but never landing. It was still too warm for the snow to stick to anything. My heavy boots snapped the branches under my weight, and the only way I could see was by Bolton’s phone illuminating a few feet in front of me.
It felt like we walked longer than I expected when he saw the group before I did. Nyx handed Bolton a velvet robe for him to push himself into to match the others, sending chills down my spine.
We were no longer a circle; this looked and felt like a goddamn cult.
I heard a faint voice in the back of my head that sounded like my dad: Little Archer, what did you get yourself into now?
Trouble, not the kind I typically chase. No, this is much worse.
The intensity in the air broke when Cheyanne intertwined her arm into mine, binding me against her. “Anyone who joins our little group goes through the hazing. We’ve all done it.” I watched her eyes swiftly move, everyone waiting for them to agree. “It’s harmless.”
Everyone nodded their heads, agreeing. Everyone had died on this rock just to be reunited in Olympus. Nothing in me was a team player, a joiner, a follower, enough to be convinced by everyone else doing something. My palm fit comfortably over the God Killer still tucked into the band of my stockings.
Omari slipped my jacket off my shoulders, and the drop in temperature felt unbearable, instantly making my limbs shake. Hugging my arms to my waist, I looked at the group, all of them in a lopsided circle around the flat top rock I knew matched Henry Jon’s descriptions.
So this is where I’ve died before—well, have been scarified before. No, set free? Even though I was still fuzzy on the terminology after combing Henry Jon’s book more than once now.
Jasper, his venom-filled eyes were unmistakable, even with the hood concealing most of his face in a heavy shadow, handed Cheyanne a heavy book. It looked old and bound in taut leather, just like mine.
Omari’s hands were on my shoulders, guiding me to the flat top rock and pushing down on my shivering muscles until I sat. “You all know this is creepy, right? Very 90’s hazing sorority vibes.”
No one laughed.
No one even moved.
Omari stood in front of me, like he was meant to keep me from running away if this got even more creepy.
I swallowed what little moisture I had left my mouth, which felt dry and tight. Cheyanne started chanting in another language, maybe Latin? Something dead and old.
I searched the hoods for Bolton’s eyes and high cheekbones, but I came up short. I found Kate’s boredom, Luna’s worry, Nyx’s reserve, and Caellum’s malice, but no Bolton. In a panic, I searched the faces again; when Omari’s place was taken by another, a knife caught the moonlight and almost made it look pretty as it shined.
Pushing the hood off, I saw Bolton; maybe it was just a familiar comfort. He was mouthing something, but I couldn’t decipher what in the darkness.
I reached out, grabbing his forearm, looking up at him confused and scared. I was letting him see the other parts of me no one did, and I was hoping none of his weaker qualities turned him off enough to leave me in the dark.
Leaning into me, I felt his warmth, “Relax, Little Archer. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Everything in me froze. My muscles tightened, and my bones felt like heavy steel. That wasn’t Bolton. It was… my dad? His gruff voice was unmistakable.
“Daddy?” my weak voice whimpered out, making it obvious how much I needed him.
He ignored me, his head low, letting the hood do the work of blending him in.
He wasn’t here. He couldn’t be. He was an ocean away protecting people who weren’t me.
Was I hallucinating? Nothing even happened. Get it together.
Cheyanne took my palm and cut me with something sharp, but the sting felt like she rubbed glass in it just to be a bitch. I kept still, trying to play along, just how Bolton had told me.
No one mentioned my dad being a part of this plan.
She held her own cut palm to my hand and chanted more. I was lost in her chanting-like a lullaby, when everything went wrong—the kind of wrong that made you wonder if there ever was a right way.
I reached out for my dad, but I clutched onto Cheyanne’s forearm instead and she cut another piece of me. This time the sharp object cut across my exposed arm. I watched the blood pulsate from the wound, shimmering in the moonlight as gold as could be. Her eyes widened, clearly shocked at the color or maybe just how much I bled as her movements paused, and her lullaby made me feel even more drowsy.
Everything felt like a dream, not bad, natural, as my eyelids became too heavy to hold up anymore.
Was this part of the plan? Was this the ritual? Were my pain sensors on overload or just spared?
Luna
I broke the circle, pushing the heavy hood off and making my way to Arianna, who looked out of it. This had never been a part of the ritual before, and it was worrying me that this was a barrier we wouldn’t overcome.
What was Cheyanne doing?
Her witchy tricks weren’t ever laid on this strong before. Arianna was ready to pass out, and none of us knew how that would affect separating her soul from her mortal body.
Smoothing down her hair, I tried to relax her, thinking it would help, even though she was so docile it made me think she needed adrenaline to counteract her current state.
I needed Arianna aware enough to understand who was good and bad, what side to take, who to trust… and this wasn’t helping.
She was practically faint in my arms when I noticed the tusk poking out past the hemline of her dress creating a hole in her imperfect tights.
Trying to be something I wasn’t, sly, wasn’t as hard as I thought when I glanced around the circle keeping everyone in focus while I snuck my hand around the weapon I didn’t expect Arianna to have on her, but I was glad she did.
The God Killer, the tusk of her pet, was a weapon in plain sight that she had made friends with.
The only thing forged to kill gods.
The only weapon made to destroy the royalty in our blood with one stab.
I tucked the weapon away for safekeeping. Knowing Arianna, she’d yanked it out and start threatening even Bolton, leaving no safety for the rest of us.
I felt my stomach drop when someone with twice the strength ripped Arianna from my arms, dragging her legs against the sandpaper surface and positioning her upright.
“We aren’t doing this. We don’t belong in Olympus anymore, and you all know it,” Omari’s voice was unapologetic and a type of blood-curdling I knew not to test.
No, his threats needed to be met with threats. An eye for an eye.
I don’t know what snapped inside of me, broke, with such magnificent glory that I matched his movements only clutching Cheyanne with the same hostility. I closed my arm around Cheyanne’s bicep and kept her close enough for me to shove the God Killer against her side. “Let Ari go, Omari.”
Everything felt foreign.
I was holding a weapon against someone’s sensitive pale skin, wondering if I had what it took to push it down their layers and watch the life drain from them.
Am I even holding this right?
I caught Austin’s gaze, swallowing it down with the nerves. We both knew Jasper was guilty, but not guilty of betraying this circle. Jasper was the one playing both sides and living to tell us about it. Meanwhile, I was waiting for Omari to call my bluff.
The panic in his wide eyes made me shiver with the fear of possibly losing someone I felt so connected with.
Push it, down.
I kept swallowing my tongue, praying my actions were threatening enough.
“Luna, I swear to the gods if you hurt my sister…” trailing off, I knew Omari never bluffed when I pushed the tip further into her skin.
“Omari, what are you doing?! We can go back home!” Chey
anne wanted to speak, bargain, so I clamped my hand over her mouth stopping any more words.
Their connection was too strong to trust any communication between them. They were probably speaking with their eyes as I held her against me; no one could know.
“Let Ari go, Omari. She’s innocent.”
“Not all of us want to go back home, Luna. Not all of us are welcomed back to that crooked kingdom.”
Jasper
I clapped my hands together over and over for dramatic effect, “Raise your hand if you thought I’m the bad guy?”
The chuckle in my voice almost ruined my statement as I watched Luna carefully. The last thing I wanted was for her to get hurt.
An innocent soul was worse than the blood on our hands already.
Bolton stood tall, looking at me bemused, trying to piece it all together in his head. I’m sure all the roads led to me, and him being wrong wasn’t a strong suit of his.
Clapping my hands together again. “Who thought Miss Innocent would be holding the God Killer?” My theatrics were on reserve for moments like this—distracting and getting the last laugh.
Bolton’s hands fisted the velvet material of my robe, pushing me against a tree trunk bordering the clearing. “Stop playing games, snake. I know you’ve been following me.”
Even his strength couldn’t break the grin on my face, elated to be smarter than the one who wears a crown. It was intoxicating. Now I knew why he was addicted to his own crown; it felt like this.
The power alone could have persuaded me to betray everyone, when Austin came to me asking if I knew anything. I always knew something… this was more challenging, switching sides continuously.
Coated in venom, I spat back, “I’m not playing games. I had to follow everyone in order to figure out who was the real bad guy.”
I could tell by his grip tightening that he wanted to hate the truth. He wanted to sentence me to hell and throw away the key.
“Might wanna turn around… it’s the guy threatening your girl.” I expected his fist to collide with my unblemished skin, but instead, all his anger aimed at Omari.
Every red flag and sensor went off to protect Luna. Bolton angry often meant someone was in the crossfire, and normally they didn’t make it out to hate him for it.
I didn’t want to scare Luna in the background of Bolton threatening almost everyone. My only concern was Luna—not this circle, not dying or living, and not Nyx throwing daggers my direction for pressing my palms into her shoulders.
I was ready to replace her hand with mine, when her body jerked forward, and I looked down to confirm my suspicion. Luna had driven the God Killer into Cheyanne’s side with a firm hand. As soon as the melted gold had hit her knuckles, she dropped her hand from the weapon, and the remorse bloomed all over her face.
Kate
“Luna! These are Balenciaga!” Looking down at my crispy pink platform sneakers now splattered with gold flecks.
No one else would know it was blood, but everyone else would know that’s not how Balenciaga sold these sneakers that went perfectly with my velvet wrap dress.
I didn’t put two and two together until I saw her clutch release. Luna backed away, and I watched Cheyanne fall to the ground.
My mouth fell open, and my gaze ran between my best friend and something I knew she’d never do: murder… anything.
Omari let go of Arianna and scrambled the ground to catch his twin sister that didn’t have any hope of surviving.
The God Killer was rightfully named. No cures. No magic. No fixes. Once it was used, there was no going back.
Watching Omari hold Cheyanne close to his chest made me want to wilt down to the floor with him. He was the bad guy, and I was sympathizing like I never had before.
Bolton shoved Arianna into Caellum’s arms, pacing and strung out on destruction. He was in his element, yet he looked so conflicted.
Cheyanne’s death radiated through each of us, all struck by her death that came premature. We weren’t friends, had nothing in common, but we could all agree that her twin, the sinister one, should have been the one to be sacrificed.
All of us cowardly sank down to the ground, as Bolton continued to pace in front of us. No one had any sarcasm, comebacks, witty one liners. Arianna was in and out of consciousness; Luna was catatonic; Nyx looked almost as shook as Bolton; Omari was inconsolable; Cheyanne was dead; and Austin was holding me against him, even though I wasn’t even on the scale of emotional, unless we counted the blood on my shoes.
We had broken the circle.
I forgot Alba was here, until his hood was down and his disappointed eyes fell on Omari holding his dead sister. “All you had to do was get Arianna alone. How hard is that?”
My dipped head lifted to meet his gaze in pure shock. Alba was three times our age, our mentor, our keeper… our real betrayer?
The sun was peeking up low between the trees, creating this glow we didn’t deserve.
Bolton’s hostility was no longer aimed inward at his inability to see the truth in front of us all. It was pointed at the man who walked right out of the shadows and into his line of vision. “What the fuck did you say?”
Alba didn’t seem regal or poised anymore. “It was simple, keep your eye on Arianna and get her alone. That’s all I needed to make her forget her past.”
Alba stumbled backwards trying to find his footing after Bolton pushed him. Nyx held him back, pulling his arms behind him, “Give me one reason I shouldn’t let him kill you.” Nyx barely spoke let alone threatened anyone.
I didn’t know my lips were moving when I thought, “Damn, I didn’t even see that coming.”
Having the terror twins, Bolton and Nyx, both glare at you at the same time made the chill I got used to feeling seem new. They were bested by one of our own—two actually—and no one made these two feel stupid without their permission.
Alba stood like a giant over us all, anger growing even taller than he already was, “We hold the power here; we are gods above men here. Don’t you see that? What’s back home? Dead gods and pillars made of gold that hold no value?”
Spitting on Olympus wasn’t something any of us did; it was the equivalent of swearing in church, frowned upon.
Bolton reached out his hand and said with a stern tone, “Luna, give it to me.”
Pushing myself further into Austin’s arms, I wanted to hide inside him. The balance needed to be restored; this night could not end on Luna acting so out of character. I shielded my eyes, shoved my face into his armpit, and tried not to inhale just in case he had anxiety sweat too.
I knew Luna would purge herself of the God Killer without even a blink. She didn’t hold onto anything that wasn’t truly a reflection of herself.
“Fuck!” Bolton forced us all to look when Alba was no longer there. I didn’t realize any of us took our eyes off him until he was gone.
Alba, our teacher and mentor, was gone. He had no intention of going home. He had every bad intention he could, down to turning us against each other and watching death eliminate us emotionally and physically. Omari was still clutching onto his twin, praying the God Killer was still a myth and that she’d wake up any second.
The myths were real.
The gods were dead.
Home? That was an illusion none of us were ready to accept.
We were homeless, orphans, the children of gods, and powerless to change our circumstances.
Bolton
Alba was gone.
Omari’s literal other half, apparently all the innocent parts, was dead in his arms.
Austin and Jasper played Devil’s advocate.
Luna went rogue.
Betrayal lusted in the air like a bad post sex tension—unignorable and weighing on your morals.
I was shaking with anger, on the inside, but I was still so mad. I felt irresponsible. I wanted to inflict pain until I forgot about my own. None of that mattered when I realized Ari was still docile on the cold ground in Luna’s arms.
What if Arianna was stuck like this? What if this was some kind of instant karma for killing one of our own?
Shifting my weight onto one knee, I looked into her eyes, trying to find a smidge of humanity that she had grown being here so long or the divine qualities she learned she had. There was nothing but black in her eyes—not one spec of purple. Throwing her over my shoulder, I knew staring at her in the cold woods wasn’t going to solve anything. I could stare at her anywhere and accomplish getting nowhere.
Everything seemed more quiet. My mind snapped to Jasper, silencing everything around us, or maybe just Arianna.
She had been through enough: dead parents times three, missing her only living parent, Arcadia, finding out she had powers… and I’d be dumb to leave myself off that pile of problems. I wasn’t the easy road… or the high road.
I was hard to shock, but when I stepped onto the sidewalk, I looked up and saw the gothic old buildings that made Arcadia gone. Well, not gone, but dilapidated and broken. Nothing like the buildings that were in a well-preserved condition only hours ago.
Losing control wasn’t an option as a leader. I had to stay calm and collected.
If for no one but Arianna.
Arcadia was all an illusion, a Pandora’s box, trickery at its best. We were all fooled, even by the smallest lies.
The circle, now less complete, stood in the quad, gasping at how much we believed there were people around us and beautiful buildings holding us captive.
Arcadia was a prison made up of our nightmares. What’s the rest of the world made up of? I continued forward, with or without them, until I reached the iron gates that burned if you touched them for too long. Kicking them open the iron nearly fell apart, displaying a fictional world—one that none know of us had seen in fourteen years.
The real world was full of life. I felt like the four horsemen of the apocalypse coming to destroy everything good, until only I was left standing with Arianna.