by Amy Braun
Saving my brother and my friends would be worth the reprimands.
I Adapted again and sped into my room. I yanked open the closet and pulled out a fresh set of armor. I stripped off my casual clothes and started dressing in the thick Kevlar and leather.
“I’m ready.”
Selena’s voice halted me, glancing upward as I fit the gauntlets onto the body armor. The Farseer stood in my doorway, her body wrapped in the same armor I wore, her hair looped into a ponytail.
I nodded to her, grateful to know she would be at my side.
I finished donning my armor, then touched her hand and reached for the potion—
A column of flame spiraled up through the doorway. Athena stepped out from it.
“This is suicide,” she countered. “Or did you forget about the Furies?”
I tapped my heart. “Kind of hard to do.”
She stepped toward me. “Then you know this is not a fight that can be won. Even if they don’t find you immediately, and they will, how are you going to fight four gods? One is a king, one moves faster than light, one wants to kill you, and the other cursed your left hand.”
My fingers twitched. Fighting with them was a horrible idea. But…
“We can hold them off,” Selena argued. “We can buy some people time to escape. That’s worth it, Athena.”
“It is not,” seethed the goddess. “You’re not thinking about the consequences of this. The risk of everything we have worked for is too great.”
“The longer I wait, the more people will hurt—”
Heat smashed through the room. I staggered back and Selena squeezed my hand.
“They don’t matter! Not compared to both of you. We have very little room for error, I will not allow your gentle hearts to come in the way of it.” Athena took a calming breath and lowered her voice. “I understand the urge to act, to defend. But this is not how we win. Not when defeat may lead to your deaths or the revelation of the Cronus Shard.”
Her eyes blazed blue, remorse and stoicism burning in her eyes.
Selena clenched my hand. I glanced at her, seeing her dip her chin to her chest, as though supplicant.
But I knew the look on her face, the side of her jaw and the determined pinch to her eyes.
She was Seeing.
“I am sorry that I have to do this. But it’s for the greater—”
Selena exploded away from me, raising her palms and shoving out a torrent of fire. It swelled within the doorframe, erasing Athena from direct sight.
She whipped her head around and looked at me. Emotion burned in her eyes. Fear, determination, sadness...
All of that pain, just to buy me time.
I realized this might be the last time I ever saw her. I was probably walking toward my death, and I didn’t want to have so many regrets before I go.
Time slowed for a small moment. I took her in—the shining pale hair and skin, the determined set of her full lips, the power and courage in her star-colored eyes.
“I love you,” I said.
Selena’s gaze widened, taking in my words. Flame still burns from her palm, and I ached to kiss her.
But I had already waited too long.
I yanked the cap off the teleportation potion and chugged it. Warm, tingly magic coursed through my body. I closed my eyes and thought about the street featured on the clips. L Street and 7th. I had been there before, so the potion would take me directly there. Light and colors melted in front of my eyes, and when Selena called out, her voice faded in the torrent of wind that plunged into my head.
Magic crushed around me and spun me into the fabric of the world. I tilted and rolled, unable to control my surroundings. I didn’t dare open my eyes in case the potion was faulty and actually did kill me.
The tips of my feet brushed against hard ground. I bent my legs as the potion’s spell ended and I hit the street. I opened my eyes. The horizon tilted and I clapped my hand onto the nearest brick wall and bent over. The nausea rolling through me gurgled and faded. I pulled myself upward and looked to the skies. It was dark, just a couple hours away from dawn, but there were no signs of any Furies. Now that they knew my scent, it wouldn’t take them long to find me. I had to act fast and find the rioters and Olympians.
Which was the easy part.
A herd of panicked people burst out of the alleyway directly across from where I stood at the opposite end of the street. They sprinted for their lives, knocking pedestrians over and leaping in front or around cars. Flashes of light burst from the alley behind the fleeing mob.
I snapped Ki̱demónas to its full length and raced forward. I dove into the street, Adapting to leap in front of cars. I felt the rush of air behind me as the panicked and speeding vehicles barely missed me. I raced for the ominous glow of reddish light coming from the intersection.
A pause stretched between the blood bond. Each second was one where he could have been hurt, or overwhelmed, or––
I nearly tripped when he replied. If I’d been anywhere else, I would have smiled.
Then he said,
I relented,
His reply cut off. My heart skidded in my chest. I kept running through the panicked civilians who screamed and called for emergency services.
None would come until the Olympians finished their rampage. Harsh lessons had been issued to anyone who tried. Most law enforcements, firefighters, and paramedics had been integrated with the guard contingencies created by the gods. Each one had strict instructions to never intervene with anything an Olympian did, on pain of death.
I was one person. That would have to be enough.
Finally, I reached the far right wall of the street, and stood at the forefront of the chaos.
Artemis bounded into the air, the silver bow gripped in her hand and pale light glowing beneath her boots. Silver lines threaded into the air, and six arrows made of moonlight pressed against her bowstring. Artemis drew back the string and fired. All six bolts hit their target and left more bodies piled in the street.
Ares stood in the midst of all those corpses. His body was a whirlwind of motion. Blood sprayed around him as he hacked down body after body. He did not use a shield, instead opting for bouts of flame and punches from his fist. I could see the smile on his face.
Yet for all their individual strikes, it was Zeus who did more damage than all of them.
He pulled lightning from the sky like he was drawing a curtain. Thick bolts crashed into the street and flared walls and people into white blobs. Thin, wispy bolts slashed through those who were too close to the god or those taking the risk to fight back. The smell of blood and burned flesh was everywhere, threatening bile in my stomach to rise back to my throat.
The unabashed slaughter stunned me. I knew the Olympians were ruthless and didn’t fear staining their hands. But this…
This was too much. They had crossed a line.
And there, huddled in the midst of all this chaos, were two of my friends.
Thea, her shirt shredded and drenched in blood, stood on shaking knees, supported by Liam.
Scared as I was, seeing him was the breath of fresh air I desperately needed. He was still the shaggy-haired, bright blue-eyed brother I so adored, but there was an aggressive shadow covered his face in a way I’d never seen before.
Captivity with the gods changed him.
As if drawn by an invisible string, his gaze flashed to my direction. A trickle of blood seeped from his nose. Shock, fear, and relief filled his eyes.
They had hurt him. They had hurt my brother.
“Liam Areios,” boomed Zeus. “Now is the time.”
Liam looked at the King of the Olympians, his eyes growing wide.
“The Omega,” called the god. “Where is it?”
“I…” Liam turned to me again, his brig
ht blue eyes tortured in a way I hadn’t seen in a decade. A look of pure terror and fear. The kind of thing my father had instilled in him so deeply that it had never been rooted out. The look I saw under the Timeweaver’s power.
Liam took a breath and looked at Zeus. “I can’t do it.”
Thunder rumbled overhead. Zeus slowly lifted his finger and pointed at Liam. A beam of lightning shot from his fingertip and slammed toward my brother’s chest.
Thea stepped in front of it.
She screamed as the blast hit her, throwing her off her feet and striking her body against the concrete. She went limp.
“No!” Liam screamed and rushed for her. Another bolt of lightning cut through his path.
“Do not make me ask again.” Zeus’ cold gray eyes turned to me. “Or I shall call them.”
My little brother looked at me, confused and scared.
But Zeus’ last words weren’t meant for him. They were meant for me. He hasn’t called the Furies for a reason. Which means he wants something from me.
And Liam doesn’t know.
I looked at my brother, the kid I loved more than anything else in the word. The one I raised, taught, and protected from anything that threatened him.
The one person I couldn’t protect now.
Ki̱demónas hummed in my grip.
Punish them for it.
I focused on my magic, raising both hands and summoning aether and fire from them. Hot and cold magic danced and leaped from my fingertips, sending pinpricks through them. I threaded both magics together and created a small army of shadowfires. Nearly two dozen of them, more than I’d ever made before. I felt the stretch of my magic pushing closer to its limits than I’d expected, but I would need all the help I could get.
The humanoid beings of magic flowed through the air, swirling above the running humans and diving straight for the Olympians. The attack took the gods off guard, but I knew it wouldn’t stop them.
Liam’s face twisted with pain and regret, but after casting a forlorn glance at Thea’s limp form, he bolted for me. His words through the blood bond slammed into my head, rushed and terrified.
I twisted, slapping his blade aside, fighting against him even as his thoughts poured into my skull.
He swung at my neck. I grabbed his wrist, fighting to disarm him. Liam’s fist hammered into my ribs, hard. Harder than he’d ever hit me in a spar.
He wasn’t pulling his punches. The Knife wouldn’t let him.
Liam twisted his wrist, freeing himself from my grip. He slashed again, the Knife cutting across the top shoulder of my armor.
And cutting through it.
The Knife didn’t touch my skin, so its enchantment didn’t work, but it told me exactly how sharp the blade was.
I drove a knee into my brother’s stomach and shoved him back. Liam staggered, shifting his grip on the Knife.
Shock tripped Liam’s steps for just a moment, and I struck. I snagged his outstretched arm, holding the Knife away from my body. I struck the heel of my palm into his forehead, pushing a sleeping-spell into him.
Liam collapsed, unconscious, leaving me with a twisted heart.
Rage funneled through my veins, and I looked up and what the Olympians had done to Thea. To my brother.
I didn’t have the power to bring them back to Haven. Which meant I had to fight and distract until they could be safely carried away.
I kicked at the Omega Knife––
A fiery arrow sliced past my arm, clipping the armor and jolting me back. I looked up, stepping away from Liam.
Ares stared at me from across the alley, his eyes wild with bloodlust, flames churning across the street behind him. I recognized that power—the madness in his eyes. I’d seen it in countless war scions. Felt it myself more than I should. Ares had fallen into his own Berserker Rage. And if my own Rage turned me into a fighting machine that felt no pain, I could only imagine what it would be like for him.
Ares smiled, and charged.
I threw my spear, concentrating on the shadowfires and signaling their attack. Ki̱demónas cut through the air and sliced toward Ares. The god of war and swatted his arm outward. His forearm bashed into Ki̱demónas and sent the spear flying across the alley.
Quickly, I called Ki̱demónas back. As the weapon returned, I watched my shadowfires swarm Zeus.
The King pointed his Thunderbolt at the magical soldiers. A bolt of lightning struck the godly weapon and slammed into the shadowfires, exploding them into smoke and ember. A wild string of lightning reached out and stabbed into the next shadowfire, destroying it from the inside out. And the next after that.
This chain reaction carried on until all the shadowfires had been erased. I stood in the dim streets with piles of wounded and dead bodies around me. The last survivors were long since gone. Distantly, I watched Thea rise to her knees. She looked between me and Liam, but I couldn’t tell her not to help me. I just hoped she got my brother out of here somehow.
The remaining three Olympians stood across from me, magic spilling from their fingertips, eyes narrowed with anger.
I hadn’t expected them to erase my shadowfires so easily. But I wouldn’t give up
Magic gathered at my fingertips. Fire curled and whipped toward the Olympians. Artemis howled and raised her bow and shot a silver bolt at me. I planted Ki̱demónas in the ground. Black aether unraveled from the spear and threaded into a shield. My fire drifted beneath the bottom of the aether. I visualized it pushing toward the gods, forcing them back. My magic wasn’t strong enough to do them any real damage, but it might hold them off for a while––
I thought too soon.
A bolt of lightning smashed into the aether, sending dozens of cracks through it and ripping the black smoke apart. The arrow’s sharp stings attacked my hand and I quickly dropped the spear.
Another silver arrow sliced through my fire. I twisted aside, feeling the cool energy slice past me. A furious roar echoed nearby.
Ares leaped through my fire with two swords raised and a war cry thundering through his mouth. I leaped back and Adapted to harden my skin and quicken my reflexes.
My forefather moved like a tidal wave. He rose and crashed, flowed and battered. I was quick, but his swords still nicked my arms and ribs and thighs. They didn’t cut through the armor itself––not yet––but they would leave some nasty bruises.
I called Ki̱demónas back to my hand. I whipped the spear upward just as Ares swung a sword at my head. The impact of the sword and spear shook my arm.
A flash of silver caught my eye. I hunched my left arm upward and cast aether around it, weaving the smoke together until it hardened in place like a shoulder guard. The bolt struck the woven shield, but the arrow pressed through, like a finger pushing in dough. I felt the cold tip of an arrow prod into my neck.
Grimacing, I ducked Ares’s next swing and slammed Ki̱demónas toward his stomach. The god danced away from the strike, then rushed forward and drove his armored knee into my chest.
Even with hardened skin, I felt something crack within my torso. I kept fighting, slashing with Ki̱demónas and using Ares as a makeshift shield so Artemis couldn’t shoot directly at me.
Though she tried. She jumped into the air and floated weightlessly, filling her silver arrow with shimmering bolts and firing them down at my head. My feet were nearly skewered multiple times, and Adapting was the only thing that saved me.
Ares kicked upward. The tip of his boot struck my left hand, triggering the magic and breaking the delicate bones. I roared at the pain, and then the Rage I’d held back on exploded outward.
Pain and exhaustion vanished. I didn’t think about what I had gotten myself into or who I was fighting. All that mattered was the fight.
Ares saw the look on my face, and it made him smile.
I smiled back.
We clashed like fire and water, crushing and smashing and colliding. Ares laughed at each strike I missed. I didn’t think about those misses. I was going to cut him down if it was the last thing I did.
Artemis landed right next to me and started throwing punches and kicks. I met as many blows as I could, not feeling the ones she landed on my face and ribs. She may not be a war god like Ares, but she was no slouch in combat. She used her swiftness to evade my blows, while Ares finally sliced through my armor.
I felt blood warming and sticking to my stomach, but I didn’t look at the wound.
I jumped away from both of them and clutched Ki̱demónas tight to my chest. It shivered violently, it siphoned magic eager to be unleashed.
I granted its wish.
Tongues of fire and tendrils of aether exploded out from Ki̱demónas’s bronze exterior, unfurling in wings of flame and smoke. Cold and hot magic prickled my arms and swirled around my back, emboldened by my power. I focused and threaded the magics together again, tilting my head to the side when Artemis fired another arrow at my neck.
New shadowfires sprang around me—three dozen now instead of two. Ki̱demónas and the Berserker Rage granted me more power than ever before, and I would use every ounce of it. Anything to bring these gods to my level.
Then call for more.
Magic crawled out from Ki̱demónas and swept across my body, rolling over my shoulders and back, swiping at my exposed skin with brushes of hot fire and scratches of icy aether. The spear trembled violently, pouring out all the magic I called on and taking more from me. My heart hammered inside a body that felt too warm, too full of magic. Power pushed up from my skin, igniting every nerve with adrenaline. The Rage would not let me feel what this did to me. And I was glad for that.