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A familiar voice bled through the chaos around her. It was shouting orders, and it rang with authority and strength.
Sol.
Pandora had never heard him speak like that. He sounded like a leader. A king, even.
Her eyes snapped open, and with the shade of her trees as cover, she could make out the dark figures flitting around the ballroom.
Only a few paces away was Sol, gesturing frantically as he gave orders. One man—a servant, from the looks of it—nodded obediently and darted away, climbing through the brush of Pandora’s magic to fulfill some task Sol had given him.
Just behind Sol rested his mother’s dead body.
Emotions tightened in Pandora’s chest, and she wanted to collapse and sob some more. But here was Sol, who had never accepted any responsibility, who hid himself away from the public eye, who avoided hard labor at all costs… Now, he was taking up the mantle Apollo had left behind.
Where was the great king? Had he died? Or fled?
In this moment, Pandora didn’t care. Her feet were moving before she realized it. In an instant, she stood before Sol.
He stiffened at her approach, his eyes blazing with fury.
“I can help you,” she said, her voice thick with tears.
A blast of white light slammed into her chest, sending her crashing to the floor. Pain exploded through her skull, ricocheting off her body. She groaned, struggling to rise, but Sol struck her again.
“Everything you said when you came here was a lie,” Sol seethed, his face contorted with rage, making him unrecognizable. “You deceived us all. This whole time, you were harboring this darkness. Her darkness.” His voice cracked on the last word. “You attacked my home. Thousands will die because of you.” He raised his arm again, light burning from his fingertips.
But Pandora forced herself to hold his gaze. Even though her instincts demanded she flinch away from another blow of his magic, she held steady, knowing full well she deserved it.
Sol hesitated, going still at the resolve in her eyes. Slowly, he lowered his arm, his nostrils flaring. Mingled with the anger on his face were wounds she recognized far too well.
Hurt.
Grief.
Betrayal.
Sorrow.
They shone plainly on his features now. There was no mask in place to hide them.
“I should destroy you,” he growled. “Perhaps if I did, this darkness would stop.”
“Then do it,” Pandora rasped, her voice weak and pathetic. Never before had she sounded so feeble. But she had nothing left. No strength. No conviction. She was too exhausted to don her Hecate mask, or even her Trivia mask.
Right now, she was only Pandora. But she didn’t even know who that was.
Was she the embodiment of the goddess who perished long ago? Or was she Gaia’s daughter, blessed with earth magic?
Was she anyone at all? Or was she merely a pawn in this grand scheme?
“Do it, Sol,” Pandora begged. “Please, end this. She—She won’t leave me be! Her memories, her screams, haunt me daily and I just want it to stop. I—I thought it would be finished after this. That I would finally be free. But she’ll never release me. I am caged for eternity. So I am begging you to end this. For me. For Elysium. I don’t want to be her weapon for revenge anymore.”
Sol’s face hardened into an expression of unyielding steel. There was no sympathy on his face. Only pure hatred.
“Ending you would be a mercy I am not willing to give,” he spat. “You deserve this, Trivia. And if you wanted to be free of her, you would have stopped this before it destroyed my home.”
Pandora’s mouth trembled. Tears poured down her face, and her chest constricted with more sobs.
“Lord Sol.” The servant from before hurried to his side, and Sol turned his fiery gaze away from Pandora. She strained to listen and barely heard the man’s words: “The portal is open.”
