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Nothing happens.
“Well, fuck,” I mutter, assuming there’s some distortion in how deep that pool actually is, or perhaps it’s protected by a spell placed by the gods. Not sure why they’d bother because they know no demigod would ever steal from them.
And yet… here I am doing that very thing.
I quickly remove my clothes so I’m not weighed down, take a deep breath, and dive into the water.
The first thing I realize once I breach the surface is that it’s not as shallow as I had thought. I dive, down and down and down, but I don’t seem to get any closer to the weapons. My arms pull at the water, my legs kicking hard. I might be an immortal demigod, but I still breathe oxygen, same as humans.
Finally, I get closer to my treasure, but as I’m reaching out for the battle-ax, something grabs my ankle. I’m so startled that a rush of air expels from my lungs, and I turn to see a tentacle tightening around my entire leg. It pulls me backward, and I curl in, using my hands to try to pry it loose.
Another tentacle appears through the swirl of bubbles that’s been created and goes for my hand. I bat it away and decide to make a harder push for a weapon. I pull hard with my hands, kicking my free leg and calling on every bit of my super strength to get me there.
I’m relieved when my fingers close around the handle of the battle-ax, ignoring the barnacles that slice into my palm. I twist on my captor and bring the blade down on the appendage. It slices through cleanly, and a jet of blood swirls before me in the water.
I wait for it to come back, but whatever the creature is, it seems to have retreated.
My lungs burn, and I’m starting to see stars. I make a renewed push to the bottom and grab the lightning bolt, the spear, and the mace. The bow and arrows I leave behind because those aren’t good for close-quarter fighting.
Loaded down with the crusted weapons, I plant my feet on the bottom and look up to the edge of the pool. I squat, gather my resolve and my strength, and I push up hard from the sand.
I’m propelled through the water so fast that I shoot out and onto the rocky ledge, rolling several feet with a clatter of metal weapons as they fall from my hands.
When I stop, I’m surprised to see that now free of the ocean, the weapons are completely clean and shining, as if brand new. Perhaps it was all an illusion, although I distinctly remember the barnacles slicing my skin.
Regardless, I’m out of the pool and armed with what I hope is enough power that two demigods, a Dark Fae, and an immortal with some magical skills can take on Ariman, Rune, and the Blood Stone.
***
Amell, Nyssa, Carrick,and Finley await me not on the Bridge of Judgment but on the banks of the Crimson River, which forms at the base of the obsidian castle. It was here where Amell pulled forth a dragon made of lava and fire, incinerating his enemies when they tried to rise against him. Zora told me the story after it happened, and that was at the time I hated her talking about Amell in any form or fashion. But deep down, I admired the move.
Carrick looks at the weapons I’m carrying. “How hard was it to get them?”
“Not hard at all. Just a small tangle with a tentacle or two.” In ordinary circumstances, that might have produced a laugh. Everyone looks grim as hell. “Obviously, no gods showed up to stop me.”
Amell steps forward without invitation and takes the mace. Finley reaches for the spear, but I shake my head. “The lightning bolt. Pretty sure it shoots electricity, and you’re not getting close to a battle. You need to stay at a distance.”
“But—”
“No buts,” Carrick growls and takes the bolt to examine it. He points it toward the river, and a stream of neon-blue light streaks forth. When it hits the flowing lava, shrieks of torment echo around us, and a wave of molten heat rises up to intercept. It explodes into sparks and hisses before settling back into a normal flow. Carrick lifts his eyebrows in surprise before handing it to Finley. “Point and shoot.”
Carrick takes the battle-ax, which leaves me the spear. I’m good with that. The way I feel right now, I could rip off Rune’s head with my bare hands. Although with him having the Blood Stone, I might be better off with a shield of some sort.
“What about me?” Nyssa asks.
Amell turns to her, shaking his head. “You can’t come.”
“Why not?”
He puts his hands to her face and pulls her in to kiss her forehead. “Because you’re too precious for me to ever put in danger. Besides… I need someone to maintain the peace here, and the citizens of the Underworld like you better.”
Amell kisses her mouth, and she nods with disappointed understanding.
“Now what do we do?” Finley asks.
“Zora’s not here in the Underworld,” Amell says confidently. “The Scryer said she was near the Crimson River, but I’ve had my fae search every square inch.”
“Then the Scryer is wrong?” Nyssa asks.
