Page 92 of Prince of the Phantom Sky

“What . . .” She sucked in another breath and Raiden appeared at her side.

“Hey,” his silken voice washing over her, “remember the tempest. Breathe, Huntress.” Kora sucked in deep breaths, her mind spiralling. He chose today to tell her this?

“How . . .” she wheezed as the anxiety grappled within her throat like a multitude of sharp claws, her gut churning in response.

“Any elemental isn’t fully human. No human can be blessed with elemental gifts, like other mages. The power would destroy them from the inside out. They can only be passed through descendants, meaning you carry the blood of the gods. That blood grounds you to your power, to the islands, because the gods made the islands. A small perk of that is delayed aging.” Raiden attempted a small smile, and Kora tunnelled on the way his hair shone in the warm light instead.

The colour of weapons. Something familiar and grounding, it settled the somersaults continuously spinning within.

“If it makes you feel better, I’m old enough to be someone’s grandfather. Compared to some people in the castle, you’re practically a babe.”

Kora released a small squeak.

“So . . . we’re part god? How does that make me divine?” Her body shook with the revelation. She knew she was distantly somehow descendant of Calypso . . . but to truly carry her blood? To be regarded as part god? Her water beast roared, not in anger, but in pride.

Raiden nodded. “A very small part of a god. I think being born on Hallow’s Day, at the turn of the third millennium, it infused you with more power.”

“Is such a thing possible?” Kora’s scar flared, recognising the conversation, and she winced as icy cold spiked down her cheek and wrapped around her neck. Kordelia lurked within, her haze steaming through the cracks of her prison.

“Divine is a gift that can be blessed, not passed through descendants. The gods can be fickle. Perhaps Thanos had been watching you and blessed you.”

Kora bit her lip. Her connection to Thanos was undeniable. He’d sought her out in the void, taking interest in recovering her memories, holding her back from the edge of death until she craved life once again. She’d not once received a sign from Calypso. She wasn’t even sure if the elemental gods existed anymore, if they could even hear any of the mages praying to them.

Maybe Thanos was the only god left.

“How old are you?” Kora gripped her new dagger tightly as she stepped away. “Is everyone here . . . old?”

Raiden almost laughed. “You’ll get used to it. We’re all still young in comparison to how long our lives can be. My father’s age is truly unknown, he could be hundreds of years old. He’s never told us.” Kora paled. So Zephyr had granted asylum to the pirates when Peril Cove fell . . . over two hundred years ago. “I’m eighty-four.”

“And he looks good for an old man.” Aerion sauntered up beside Raiden, his aloof grin stretching from ear to ear. “I’m guessing you’ve told Kora that we’ll all eternally look this handsome.”

Kora spluttered as Skylar and Aryn joined them. “You all knew?”

“Well, sure. None of us are young anymore, K.C.” Skylar fidgeted in her gown.

Raiden’s brows rose at the nickname.

“Rai’s the grumpy eldest one if you haven’t noticed,” Aerion continued, slapping Raiden’s back. “Me? I’ve never looked better at sixty-nine.” He winked.

Skylar faked a gag. “If it helps, I’m seventy-seven.”

Aryn remained silent as the siblings joked with each other. The realisation settled into Kora’s body, her essence affirming to her that this was true, and it almost felt . . . right. She’d never been more connected to Thanos, more so than Calypso. She’d frequently felt there’d been an entire life she’d missed out on. An intuitiveness she’d possessed that others hadn’t.

“Oh, gods,” Kora moaned. “That means I’m older than Erick!”

39

Kora

SHOTS!” Aerion’s empty glass slammed down on the bar, followed by an enviable bag of coins.

“Brother, please,” Skylar muttered from the round booth. “Have some decorum.”

“I’ll take your money anytime.” Raiden grinned from behind the bar. Kora nestled in the booth of The Lost Lagoon, her mind swimming, her gullet warm from the spices of the Kera Rumbullion.

“It’s K’s birthday. She needs to do a shot for every year!” Aerion winked back at her.

“You’ll find out what this dagger can do if you make me do fifty-five shots,” Kora fired back. Her heart thudded, picking up as the shock of what she was still settled in.