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“No!” Atlas growled, and immediately his aura began to glow, white light bleeding across his skin as power rippled through the throne room.

“Oh brother, you finally have a weakness,” Lazaros giggled in my ear.

“Don’t listen to him, Atlas,” I said, forcing as much calm into my voice as I could manage while my arms trembled with the effort of holding the dagger away from my throat. “You need to stay calm. Everything’s going to be okay.”

The words felt foolish the moment they left my mouth. There was a blade at my throat, no plan forming in my head, and the man I loved was standing a few feet away, looking as though he were about to unleash enough power to level half the kingdom. Yet I had seen that glow before, so I knew exactly what it meant.

I was his anchor.

Which meant that if Lazaros got his wish, and I did end up bleeding rivers of crimson across the marble floor, there would be nobody left to stop what came next. The transformation would consume Atlas completely, and the creature standing before me would no longer be a king, a warrior, or even the man I loved.

He would become something far more terrifying…

A vengeful God.

Movement beyond Atlas caught my eye.

At first, it was little more than a shift in the shadows gathered in the far corner of the room. But as I watched, they began to thicken unnaturally, pooling together as though the light itself was retreating from them. As if sunlight wasn’t welcome there.

Then, a figure slowly emerged from obscurity, tall and lean, his pale skin, an unwelcome contrast against the shroud of darkness that clung to him. Wisps of eerie shadow drifted from his body like smoke, and a cruel smile curved his lips as though he had been standing there the entire time, quietly enjoying the spectacle unfolding before him.

My heart lurched.

“Behind you!” I cried, pushing harder against Lazaros’s arm. “Demetrios. He’s here!” The words left my mouth before another realization struck me.

Atlas didn’t even know Demetrios was behind this.

“Demetrios?” he hissed.

He reacted instantly though, trusting my warning despite the limited information he had.

His aura vanished in a blink as he tore a dagger from his belt, spun, and hurled it across the room with impossible speed. A sharp thud echoed through the throne room, followed by a cry of pain as the shadows recoiled around Demetrios. For a moment, the darkness seemed to fracture, exposing him completely as he staggered backwards, teeth bared, and his features twisted with shock.

The dagger had struck deep into his shoulder.

For a second, I could do nothing but stare, as I had half expected the blade to pass straight through him. Until now, I had believed Bronte’s lightning was the only thing capable of harming Demetrios, yet there he stood bleeding, very real, and very much injured.

Atlas’s gaze flicked between Demetrios and Lazaros.

“Go,” I grunted.

For a fraction of a second, I thought he might hesitate, unwilling to let either of them out of his sight, but then he stepped towards Demetrios. Shadows immediately surged around him, swallowing his form as though they were alive. The cruel smile vanished first, followed by the rest of him, until nothing remained but darkness. A moment later, even that disappeared.

The dagger clattered onto the marble floor.

At the same time, the blade at my throat slipped from nerveless fingers and hit the ground with a metallic clang. Lazaros’s grip vanished so suddenly that I stumbled forward, unbalanced by the loss of support. Before I could fall, Atlas caught me, his arms wrapping around me and pulling me firmly against his chest.

Relief washed through me so quickly that it almost made my knees give way.

Behind us, Lazaros staggered backwards.

One hand flew to his throat, dark blood still pouring sluggishly from the wound and coating his fingers. He stared at it in confusion before slowly lifting his hand into view. His gaze locked onto the blood staining his skin, then drifted to the discarded dagger lying across the marble floor.

Something changed in his expression.

The darkness clouding his eyes receded, peeling away before our eyes like a storm finally passing. Confusion replaced it.

Then came fear.