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“Get comfortable, Moros,” Atropos called. “This will take a while.”
Chapter 14
Iwaited.
Soon, any moment now, Tartarus would throw the Oneiroi out of his realm. He’d been an unexpected development—a tidy workaround for the Prophêtis so that neither she nor her very muchalivesoul bonds had to risk their mortal bodies to jump into the pit.
Perhaps I should have seen it coming. Then again, self-sacrifice was a very odd concept to me. Something wholly mortal and separate from my life. Why would the Oneiroi throw himself into Tartarus when he still inhabited the space between life and death? He’d thrown himselfintentionallyonto the wrong side of the veil.
Maybe he was an idiot?
As I recalled, Oneiroi didn’ttendto be idiots, but there were always exceptions. Undoubtedly, if hewasan exception, it made sense that the Fates would have paired him with their favored little Prophêtis.
The ground rolled restlessly in irritation as I waited. Why hadn’t Tartarus thrown him out yet? I’d already demonstrated how easily it could be done. The respectful thing to do would be for him to follow my lead, and my irritation grew at my fourth consort the longer he took to act.
I supposed I had never loved Tartarus, certainly not in the way I loved Ouranos, but his lack of immediate cooperation was displeasing to me nonetheless. I had charged him with keeping both our son and the Olympians safely tucked away in his realm, and he’d already failed on one count.
I had only let him off easily for Typhoeus’ escape because it suited my needs. Wherever my son went, mortals scattered. Oh, they’d leave him quaint little offerings in the hopes of appeasing him, but they were undoubtedly terrified and wished to avoid his wrath at all costs. As an additional bonus, he’d snatched up little Grace and was dragging her around the Mediterranean, preventing her from being able to fulfill the prophecy herself.
It was all very entertaining, and really, theleastTyphoeus could do. I had given him life, after all. And eventually, Tartarus would do his duty, because his loyalty was to me and me alone. In the meantime, perhaps I would bestow some favor on themortalswho had shown me loyalty.
Everywhere agathos lived, at least a few of them had congregated in support of me, and were making their way to known sacred locations, intending to hold those spaces in my honor. I’d been content to watch and do nothing—why should I help them after their centuries of lazy worship?—but now I found myself willing to intervene. After all, the Prophêtis had a soul bond wandering around with a toy army of blood and dragon teeth; why shouldn’t those gathering under my metaphorical banner be better equipped?
Besides, why not put the Prophêtis’ pretty little army to the test? It would give me something to amuse myself with while Tartarus took his time doing whatever he was doing with the Oneiroi.
A sizable group of agathos—and some human followers—were already approaching the Spartoi, and I sprouted a row of olive trees in their path, directing them to where they would encounter the Keres and his forces. For now, I would provide them with enough food to survive, and perhaps some good quality rocks for throwing since they weren’t outfitted with swords and shields and armor as the Spartoi were. Yes, that was enough to be going on.
It hadn’t escaped my knowledge that this strange collection had probably been my least favorite subsect of the agathos population. Those who’d twisted my doctrine into something that suited their own interests so entirely that I scarcely recognized it with their enormous vehicles and concrete-covered towns. I disliked them, and yet they fought for my cause, advocates for maintaining the world as it was. Let them demonstrate their loyalty. Let them make amends for their past behavior.
I wasn’t going to go silently into obscurity, without so much as a final battle to my name. Until Tartarus fulfilled his duties to me as his beloved and consort, I would take down as many traitors as I could, and remind humanity just why I was a goddess worth worshipping.
Chapter 15
Weallcametoa stop as one, without instruction, without intention.
We stilled because the earth had stilled. The wind died, the waves flattened, and the already limited sounds of life on this ravaged planet went silent.
It wasn’t peaceful. It was eerie and unsettling.
The taste of impending battle grew sharper, the phantom scent of blood in the air more potent. Whatever this stillness was, it wasn’t a sign of peace but the uneasy quiet before a war. The night before battle, when the soldiers were restless, filled with a fear they disguised with overconfident bluster because they didn’t want to believe—couldn’t let themselves believe—that they would become a casualty of combat.
The metallic tang of blood filled my lungs and coated my tongue, a sensory memory of violence, calling to me like a siren song.Soon. If soldiers of Gaia were coming to meet us on the battlefield, then I was going to unleash every drop of Keres rage I possessed on them and I wouldn’t regret it for an instant. I welcomed it.
The breeze picked up again, lazily winding its way around us like a caress. The ocean moved, waves lapping at the shore as though someone had hit the unpause button. The Spartoi moved restlessly around me, and Theras and I exchanged a knowing look.
Something had changed. In a split second of perfect quiet, something was different. An image of the Fates as giant spiders came into my mind, weaving new threads as chess pieces moved across the board, changing the game in real-time.
Butwhatwas the change?
Had Grace been successful?
That thought was bittersweet. The idea of her traveling to Tartarus alone…
Fuck. I wanted her to succeed; I wanted a safe, peaceful world with food to eat so that she would be happy and never have to worry about anything again. I just didn’t want Grace to be the one who had to do it. My throat ached with the need to scream at the injustice of it all.
She’s okay. Grace will be fine. Bullet saw a bright future ahead of her.
Somehow that future never seemed even remotely within reach.
