Page 193 of Blood of Olympus

Little more than a wavering torch light.

I only wished Nyssa had had access to such a tool — but it was her sacrifice that made us realise we needed it.

Her trial that pointed out the flaw in our armour.

Her eyes that paid his price.

“You took something,” I snarled. “You took something from someone I love. And now you’re going to tell us how to get it back.”

He laughed without mirth — the sound like broken glass crunching in my ears. “Foolish boy,” he rumbled. “Only the blood of an Ancient can overrule mine.” And proceeded to forego the staff altogether. He unsheathed a familiar looking bronze dagger from his waistband and my heart squeezed involuntarily at the sight — as if it held its own memories about one that looked just like it.

And the bitch who’d plunged it into my heart.

I shrugged off the deep-seated trauma, knowing that a busy mind could get me killed — and by extension, Nyssa.

My eyes narrowed to that one glinting weapon, my mind considering every possible angle.

A sharp sting — a pain not my own — lanced my breastbone. Nyssa, brilliant as she was, could only do so much against a being who could quite literally control time. He could pause it, turn it back, or urge it racing forward. He could see every attack ahead of time and concoct the perfect evasion simply by twisting his hand in the air to go back and do it all over with newfound knowledge.

A savage snarl rent the air followed by a piercing whine. My stomach dropped as fear flooded the hollow of my gut. I dreaded what I’d find, but my head snapped to the giant form of Lykos lying prone before the ichor-drenched Titan of mortality.

Iapetos was more gold than god as he stood frozen before the wolf, shoulders back, chest heaving.

No.

That moment of distraction was all Hyperion needed to have me in a mirror position of my bonded wolf. One sharp slash upwards with that cursed dagger — knocking my helm loose and slicing my face from chin to brow — and the subsequent blow of his fist to my throat, had me on my knees clawing for breath faster than I’d thought possible.

Athena paused behind them, the cuffs dangling loosely from her hand as her face twisted in indecision. Iapetos, who was closer, or Hyperion, who was striding towards me even now.

My eyes flicked to the former, urging her to incapacitate the being who could control mortality and immortality with a snap of his fingers, over the being who was essentially an overpowered glowstick.

Fighting the inherent panic that came with being unable to breathe, I pressed a fist into the ground and dragged my knees beneath me.

Hyperion tutted. “There’s no use, boy. Can’t you see it? Can’t you feel it?” He spread his arms with glee, indicating the violence, destruction, and horror surrounding him. “We’ve already won. Your army is defeated, so you might as well remain where you are, kneeling before me, as you swear your oaths upon the Styx to us… to him.”

And like it was a scene they’d rehearsed, or a moment crafted by Fate itself, Kronos and his beast vanished — only to immediately reappear above my soul-bonded and her dragon. I didn’t need to feel the crushing agony clenching my heart, nor the instantaneous fear and defeat overpowering the tether — I could see Vel’s blood dripping from the mouth of the beast, and from Vel herself. Even from down here, her blood rained like rubies. And though she should have owned the skies — today, she fought them.

I’m so sorry, Golden, Nyssa whispered, tearing my fucking heart in two.

“NO!” The word came from deep in my body — deep in my soul. It came with a tidal wave of power, with a lightning storm and something much darker.

Don’t you dare say that, I yelled at her.

As they fell from the skies, far beyond the lines of Kronos’ writhing army, far beyond where I could reach them in time, my heart shredded into smaller, jagged pieces.

I’ll meet you in the after, she breathed, obliterating the stupid organ completely.

No!

Icy regret tightened my chest, seized my lungs, and stalled my heart — not mine, but hers. And it broke me to know that regret was the last thing she had time to feel.

I’ll meet you on the Isle, my beloved whispered half a second before they crashed into the dirt with the force of an explosion. I fell with them.

The impact of their crash-landing downed everything in their immediate vicinity. A shock wave billowed outward, its ferocity lessening over every passing metre, until finally, it passed us by. The breeze ruffled the locks of hair that framed my face, tickling my skin — like one final caress of goodbye.

I screamed as my body ruptured — every inch in excruciating pain and endless sorrow, rendering me less than useless. I knew nothing else but cutting agony, overbearing fear, and the allure of the darkness lingering at the edges of my vision.

I could not feel her. Not her regret, not her pain.