Page 94 of Blood of Olympus

“You weren’t yourself.” His eyes, crinked at the corners, conveyed only genuine understanding and concern, which made what I’d done all the more abhorrent. The tether between us hummed with the same feelings — and it was then that I understood: he believed what he’d just said.

“You’re wrong,” I breathed, unable to meet his steady gaze. “I was fully myself.”

His thumb stilled on my cheek.

“That is who I am, deep in my core. That is what lingers beneath my skin… what I could become if I let myself.”

Anguished wails filled the spaces between words as he took the time to contrive some semblance of a response. Eventually, his thumb continued its steady rhythm, and resolve washed down our bond.

“You don’t scare me, Nightshade.”

“I should.”

He shook his head with a self-assured smile. “I am the one person who is safe with you, always. Even deep down in that part of yourself you fear will win, you love me. Even that facet couldn’t let me go.” He leaned in until our noses brushed. “Do you know how I know?”

“How?”

“You told me.”

My nose scrunched, betraying my confusion.

“You gave up every part of yourself to bring me back. Every part. Even that one. And it went willingly. In fact, it’s me you should⁠—”

“Nyssa!” Archimedes called from the centre of the swirling masses. “We need you!”

Hephaestus and his son were once again battling the torrent of shades, trying desperately to finish that last arch — the one that led directly to Tartarus — and arguably, the one we needed most.

“Whatever you did before — can you do it again?” Hephaestus shouted over the wails and wind.

My gaze flicked back to Caelus’ — surety clear on his face even if I couldn’t feel it within my own soul.

“Try again,” he encouraged. “But this time you stay in control. Not your power.”

He squeezed my hand three times then relinquished it.

I strode to the centre of the Isle, moving slowly through the throng of displaced souls, and called on Death again. She lurched to the forefront of my consciousness — still ravenous — but this time, I stood alongside her.

As equals, not combatants.

Are you sure this is what you choose? she asked, soft but filled with steel.

Yes.

Finally.

Our face cracked into a wicked grin and power ignited through our veins like icy wildfire. Shadows leached from our hands, throwing the realm into a starless night.

“Pauó,” we said again, throwing our hands out wide — and again, the shades relented.

Together, we held them at bay, and long minutes passed as the gods worked.

There were so many of them — thousands, caught between places, filled with this insatiable emptiness that was palpable. Souls doomed to roam the Underworld, instead of resting in the Elysian Fields, or wandering the endless plains of the Asphodel Meadows, or — perhaps worst of all — freed of the pits of Tartarus.

As time slowly passed, our power waned.

The souls continued to test us, to toe our invisible boundaries. I could not hold them back indefinitely, but perhaps I could hold them just long enough for Arch and his father to finish.

“How much more time do you need?” I shouted, not daring to take my eyes off the storm for even a moment.