Page 103 of Blood of Olympus

His other hand reached for the heavens, and clasped in a fist larger than my head…

Was a solid marble lightning bolt.

Zeus and Hera stood before me — hand carved by fastidious mortals long gone from this world.

I could not fault the craftsmanship. The subject matter, however, was a different issue entirely.

“Ugh,” Aphrodite scoffed, echoing my internalised revulsion.

Two hooded figures with slumped shoulders and downturned heads unpeeled themselves from the walls, bowing before us with practiced grace.

“Welcome to the Isle of Gods,” the one on the left began, her voice warbling only slightly. “We of the Zeuraion Sect have devoted ourselves to you for as long as mortals have worshipped gods. We are humbly at your service, and are eternally grateful you have deigned to visit us⁠—”

“It’s not them,” the other interrupted.

“Hush, Ekho,” the first reprimanded.

“Hush, Ekho,” the second repeated, perfectly capturing her tone. “Io, it’s not them. It is not Zeus and Hera that visit us… it is others.” Her hooded face swivelled towards our haphazard group. “Many others.”

The first figure lifted her gaze from the floor to take us all in. Her surprise was palpable — so taken aback that her feet retreated a step, seemingly without conscious thought.

“My apologies,” she said, straightening as her voice strengthened. “I am Io, Head Priestess. No other gods have ever deigned to stand here, except for the two we worship and serve.”

Aros covered a sharp burst of laughter with a cough. “You backed the wrong pegasi there, ladies. Zeus is dead.”

They inhaled sharply, clutching at their robe-covered throats.

“Zeus is dead,” Ekho whispered, sounding strangely unconcerned, though with her hood still raised, it was impossible to tell for certain.

“Hera is also dead…” Aros continued, ignoring the interruption.

At this, we all shot him varying degrees of what-the-fuck-Aros stares, while Ekho once again mimicked him.

“... to us,” he finished.

Biting the inside of my cheek, I had to fight tooth and nail to keep the disparaging laugh from escaping, though it longed to snake past my teeth.

“I wondered…” Io murmured. “Last year, there was a violent storm. It came from nowhere, and vanished just as quick. We figured the gods were angry — that Zeus was angry — and that he wanted to show us exactly what he was capable of should we fail him again. But that wasn’t Zeus’ anger, was it?”

“Well, it was,” Caelus answered. “But not for the reasons you think.”

The figures startled again.

I’m concerned for their poor mortal hearts at this point, I conveyed to the giant violet menace curled around the pillars at the rear of the space. Somehow, the priestesses hadn’t noticed her — or if they had, they had not reacted.

“You’re his son,” Ekho breathed. “You’re the spitting image of him, so you must be.”

Caelus’ expression soured at the remark.

You are not him.

He shot me a quick, grateful glance, before continuing. “I am the son of Zeus and Hera both. As such, I guess it falls to me to inform you that my mother murdered the late king, my father, leaving the realms without a ruler and on the brink of ruin, while the rest of us underwent a series of trials that would determine our worthiness to bear the Crown.”

Taking that as my cue to step up beside him, I allowed the juxtaposing crowns atop my head to blink into existence. As predicted, the mortals and their ever-thudding hearts damn near collapsed in fright.

“The daughter of Hades⁠—”

“Hades?!” Io barked, slapping a hand over what I could only assume was her mouth beneath that cumbersome hood.