He had a spear, and he jabbed at her throat. Persephone summoned a wall of thick thorns that shattered beneath the power of his thrust. She managed to dodge the blow but was hit by a blast of power straight to her chest. She felt the impact of the ground as she was thrown back, the earth exploding around her.
Despite the strength of the blow, she rose quickly, rising from the fissure her landing had made. As she did, she realized she had come within a few feet of the mortal army. Their cries of hatred were accompanied by the sound of their swords clashing against their shields, the whir of arrows, and the explosion of bullets—one of which grazed her shoulder. The burn shocked her and instantly made her nauseous.
She summoned a wall of thorns to block their approach, though she knew it was only a matter of time before the mortals managed to scale them or hack their way through, but then they went up in ethereal flames. The magic belonged to Hephaestus, and while the fire would not burn her thorns, it would incinerate any mortal who touched it, preventing the army from advancing.
Before she could move, she was slammed with another blast of energy. It felt like being hit by a powerful wave and stole her breath like she was drowning. It sent her to her knees, and as she worked to fill her lungs with air, she looked up to see Kai approaching, a horrible grin across his face.
He lifted his spear parallel with the ground and aimed, only to be thrown back and pinned to the ground by the impact of Hades’s bident in his chest. Then suddenly, Hades was in front of her, helping her to her feet, his hands framing her face, eyes searching and a little frantic.
“I’m okay,” she said.
He said nothing, but he kissed her hard on the mouth, and she thought she might burst into tears, but the hair on her arms rose, and she knew that something else was coming. They tore away from each other just as lightning struck Athena’s temple. The blow came from Theseus and was directed at the only part that would burn, its wooden doors.
“No,” Persephone breathed.
“Go,” Hades said.
He moved past her, breaking into a run as he plucked his bident from Kai’s chest and charged after Theseus.
Persephone teleported to the porch of the temple where Theseus’s divine fire raged. The flames put off heat and smoke, but they were not destroying the wood—it was like Hephaestus’s fire. From the other side, she could hear desperate screams. Panic rose inside her as she thought about how many people might be trapped within.
Before she could decide how to tackle the fire, she felt a surge of electricity behind her and whirled, coming face-to-face with Sandros, his eyes aglow. He gave a menacing smile.
“Remember me?”
“How could I forget?” she asked. “You are as ugly as your father.”
His lip curled, eyes sparking with rage. His hand crackled with lightning as he sent a blast barreling toward her. She jumped out of the way, thinking that the impact might cause the doors to burst open, but it only made the fire worse.
Fuck!
Persephone sent spikes of black thorns barreling toward the god. They slammed through him, each one forcing him back step after step, his body jerking violently. Despite this, he managed to blast her with another bolt, and she went flying. Smashing through a marble column, she landed hard on her back.
The demigod followed, launching himself at her, only to be impaled on a thicket of black spires that she had summoned around her. Blood dripped from his body onto hers. She was too frantic to be disgusted, even as she dismissed the spikes and his body fell on top of hers.
She threw him from her, and he fell off the side of the porch.
As she rose to her feet, there was a flare of light in the sky. Persephone looked on both in shock and awe as she followed the path of the sun as it fell from the sky. When it crashed to the ground, there was another flash, and the earth shook the same way it had when New Athens had been severed from the rest of New Greece.
Darkness flooded the world, and the only light was that of Selene’s moon, which bathed everything in silver.
It was then that Persephone understood where Hecate had gone. She had torn Helios from the sky.
Persephone did not have long to think about what that actually meant. For now, she had to save the mortals in the temple.
Regrouping, she scrambled to the door. At first, she did not know what to do, but then she noticed that the flames had an energy that felt a lot like life, and if something had life, it could also die. She focused on the feel of the fire. Its wild heat was almost like a pulse. She could feel it in the palm of her hand, and once she had captured its beat, she closed her fingers around it, crushing it, suffocating it until there was no sign of it left.
Without thinking, she touched the handle of the door and instantly felt the burn of hot metal melt her skin. She screamed, her pain feeding her magic, which caused vines to burst from the ground. They tore into the crevices of the door, slowly rotting away the wood until she could kick them open.
But no one ran from the temple, and as the smoke cleared, she saw why. Beyond the threshold, there were only bodies.
Everyone was dead. She was too late.
Something struck her from behind. The blow was hard and instantly made her sick. She staggered but didn’t fall, whirling to find that Sandros had returned, healed but bloody from being skewered by her magic. In his hands, he held a piece of marble, and something inside her snapped.
She screamed, and her magic turned to shadows, peeling off her body and barreling toward the demigod. They raced through him, and he dropped the bloodied piece of marble as he stumbled back until he came to the edge of the steps and fell.
Persephone followed, swiping the marble from the ground. She pounced, slamming it into his head over and over until she noticed thin black shadows wrapping around her wrists and slithering up her arms. She dropped the bloodied rock and rose to her feet, watching as the tendrils of the demigod’s soul seeped into her skin. She realized what she had just done.
She had taken a life thread that had not been cut.
Her heart hammered in her ears as she frantically scanned the battlefield. Would the Fates take someone as retribution? Or would they give birth to something far worse? She knew the price of taking life—a soul for a soul.
Then her eyes found Hades, and everything around her seemed to slow. He was on his back, motionless.
“No,” she breathed as she stumbled toward him. Then she screamed. “No!”
She fell to her knees beside him and brushed his hair from his face.
“Hades,” she whispered.
His eyes were half-open, and there was blood on his lips. For one strange moment, she felt like she had been here before, that she had seen this before.
Hades lifted his hand, brushing a finger along her cheek.
“I thought…I thought I’d never see you again.” He spoke quietly, more blood spilling from the corners of his mouth.
“We have to get you to the Underworld,” she said, gripping his shoulders, as if by some miracle, she might be able to lift him. “The Golden Fleece—”
“I can’t, Persephone,” he said.
“What do you mean you can’t?” she said, hysteria rising inside her. “Hades, please.”
He took her hand and squeezed. When she looked down, she saw the black threads of the demigod’s soul marring her skin.
“A soul for a soul, Persephone.”
“No,” she said. She refused to believe it, not only because she did not wish for it to be true but because she knew it wasn’t. The Fates would only trade Hades’s life for that of another god.
She knew that.
“It’s over, Persephone.”
“No,” she repeated, her hands shaking. She didn’t know what was happening, but she knew this wasn’t real. “No! Hecate! Hecate!”
She searched for the goddess, but all she could see was ruin and fire. There was nothing else.
“Persephone,” Hades said.
She couldn’t look at him, because she knew if she did, he would drag her back in. He would convince her this was real. He would say goodbye.
“Persephone, look at me,” Hades begged.
“I can’t,” she said. A guttural sob erupted from her throat.
“I love you,” Hades whispered, and then he fell silent, and though she knew she shouldn’t look, she couldn’t help it. She had to know.
Her gaze fell to his face. He was still.
“Hades?” she whispered, frantic to hear his voice again. She shook him, but he did not move. “Hades, please!”
She placed her hands on his face. His skin was growing cool.
“Hades!”
She screamed, and a pain more acute than anything she had ever felt ripped through her. She felt like she was being torn to shreds, and then a wave of magic barreled over her, and Hades’s body began to break apart, and the landscape around her seemed to burn away and melt, revealing a different world beneath.
The real world.
What she had sensed was true—the vision she had seen of Hades’s dead body was not real. Instead of kneeling before him, she was kneeling on the ground before Athena’s temple. Sandros lay beside her, blood pooling on the ground around him.
Confused, she looked into the sky and saw two gods fighting.
One she recognized as Cronos, and the other was Prometheus, the Titan God of Fire, and suddenly she understood that the reality the God of Time had crafted to torture her had been broken by Prometheus, and now they battled in the sky.
Hades manifested before her, and she rose to her feet, flinging her arms around him, a sob escaping her mouth.
“I’m here,” he said, and then they vanished.
CHAPTER XXXVII
THESEUS
Theseus watched as Cronos and Prometheus battled in the sky. The appearance of the Titan God of Fire was a surprise, enough for Cronos to lose control over the illusion he was using to entrap the gods.
A wave of anger twisted through Theseus, and he summoned his lightning bolt. Its powerful heat wafted over him. If he was not invincible, it would have melted his skin from his bones. He turned in the direction of Hades, who had just manifested before Persephone, but as he took aim, they vanished.
Another surge of fury tore through Theseus. He pivoted to see Damian locked in a vicious battle with Hephaestus. Theseus lifted the lightning bolt and aimed for the god, but Hephaestus must have sensed the attack, because he raised his hand, and the bolt was swallowed by a stream of fire that shot from his palm. Fortunately, his magic was quickly extinguished when Damian impaled him with his spear.
Hephaestus gave no pained cry. He only grunted and fell to his golden knee. Damian tore the weapon free and reared back, preparing to stab him again, when Hecate appeared, blasting the demigod with a ray of black fire.
Theseus summoned his lightning bolt again, but the Goddess of Witchcraft, whose eyes glowed with an ethereal light, met his gaze. The blazing magic in his hand flickered and then faded, and a strange cold enveloped him. He tried to summon the bolt again, but all he could manage was sparks.
He gave a frustrated cry and drew his sword.
“What did you do, witch?” he demanded.
“Do you not know?” she asked. “If Zeus dies, so does his magic.”