Chapter 35
Bellanca winced at Carver’s weak, strangled shout, the broken sound knifing through her. Magical healing hurt , mirroring the pain of the original wound. She had zero experience with venom, but this one must be indescribably terrible if Zeus had banished it from the mortal worlds.
And Carver hadn’t hesitated for one second to trade his life for hers.
Her chest knotted, aching fiercely. A sting crawled toward her eyes. She didn’t waste magic and blinked hard. How could she have everything she wanted for mere seconds before it got mortally endangered? Was this a cosmic joke? She deserved better. So did Carver.
And so did Atlantis, because this danger was far from over.
Fully healed, Hera kept Zeus just out of reach, her snakes hissing and her claws bared. Her power might’ve suffered, but she was still strong enough to break free of Zeus’s lightning cage and confident enough to face off with the king of gods.
Trying to focus on something other than Carver’s awful silence now, Bellanca gathered every scrap of magic she could still find inside herself and called it toward the surface. It wasn’t a lot. She’d tapped herself out battling that relentless barrage of boulders. Touching Carver—the intensity of that connection—had helped. Together, they’d been ready and able to kill Hera. Alone, she barely burned, and no sun flare even peeked out.
Zeus advanced, pressing Hera toward the wall. Before he could trap her, Hera struck and gouged four thick slices across Zeus’s jaw.
Ichor stained his beard with gold. “Don’t make me hurt you, wife .”
She scoffed. “What’s one more hurt in a line of thousands? Husband .” She clawed him across the face again. He didn’t try to stop her, but his countenance darkened. Golden liquid dripped to the debris-littered ground. Returning her lion paws to normal hands, Hera slid away from him as she shook Zeus’s ichor off her fingers as if it were mud instead of the lifeblood of gods.
Zeus stalked her, his great, deep voice rumbling like a thousand earthquakes ready to shake the worlds. “You have cause to be angry with me. I also have cause to be angry with you, Hera Olympus. You bring down your vengeance on innocents and not on me, where the blame lies for your anger. Take the fight where it should be.”
“What do you think I’m doing?” A shining sword appeared in Hera’s hand—long, lethal, and starlight bright. She struck at Zeus without preamble.
Zeus narrowly evaded and conjured a weapon of his own. He struck back at Hera, and each deafening clash of their blades sent a lightning bolt shooting from his sword.
Bellanca backpedaled closer to the altar. This was it. Olympianomachy. The War of Gods had started in Thalyria and would end in Atlantis. It might end Atlantis. Icy terror spread through her, raising goose bumps, and she didn’t have the magic to spare to chase it from her bones.
Hera leaped for the sky. Zeus chased after her, and they took their fight to the air. Swords collided and lightning flashed as Hera viciously attacked Zeus, finally drawing blood with a triumphant cry. Zeus healed almost instantly and resisted returning the insult. He pounded at her sword, trying to knock it away, and she fought back with a ferocity that could only come from the force of her own fury since she’d lost so many worshippers today.
Hera came dangerously close to severing Zeus’s head. Growling, he retaliated with a god bolt that crashed into her with a blinding shock. She flew backward and slammed into her own temple. Falling stone muffled her enraged shriek as she crashed through the roof of the empty, already damaged building and brought down the whole structure.
Bellanca held her breath, her eyes huge and her hearing thick from the deafening boom. Still in the air, Zeus stared down at the now-leveled temple. His slow, heavy exhale, full of regret and melancholy, was so human that sympathy panged inside her.
Everything stayed eerily quiet until the ruins rumbled and Hera rose from the carcass of her sacred temple, rage and rubble cascading off her. She hovered, her eyes ice cold, and then flew at Zeus again, attacking so brutally that he wavered under the strength of her blows. His stern, handsome face hardened, and instead of simply holding Hera off, he started fighting back hard. They battled furiously, blow for blow, their combat ruthless and awful.
Hera’s starlit sword collided with Zeus’s lightning-charged blade, and a ringing flash ripped toward the altar. Bellanca grabbed onto the little magic she’d gathered and hit the thunderbolt head on as it barreled toward them. With fear on her side, her magic was just strong enough to send the bolt sizzling past Apollo’s shoulder. It struck the sandstone wall behind them, crumbling the whole section and leaving the hillside exposed to the harbor.
She swallowed hard, not at all sure she had another surge in her strong enough to deflect more lightning. Ready to shield Carver with her own body if her magic failed, she watched in stomach-flipping horror as the buildings around the heart of Atlantapol took hit after hit. Athena’s temple caught a direct lightning strike and trembled. The roof blackened, smoldering. Bellanca heard the terrified screams of the people hiding inside, and her heart skipped a beat until the sanctuary settled. After that, Zeus seemed to consciously rein in his power, preventing any more thunderbolts from leaving his sword.
Bellanca prayed—she wasn’t sure to whom—to bring Atlantis through the Olympianomachy without any more destruction. She dared a quick glance at Carver. No change. Dread heaved inside her as she turned back to the battle.
Zeus parried Hera’s next strike, then shoved her away from him. “You’ve always been a force to be reckoned with, but you can’t win.” The already thunder-colored sky darkened to an apocalyptic gray-green that chilled Bellanca to the marrow. “You’ve lost Atlantians—maybe forever. Attica doesn’t matter anymore. The Underworld is my brother’s.”
A terrible glint lit Hera’s eyes as the two gods hovered above the temple square. “The Underworld has its own problems now.” She smiled cruelly. “But they’re no concern of mine.”
Zeus’s whole face twisted in anger, his mouth a thin line. “Yes. You’ve been busy.”
“I have more allies than you think.” She landed, setting her feet on the ground despite the debris and damage. If Hera’s paleness reflected fatigue instead of a coating of marble dust, she hid it well, keeping her sword up and her steely eyes on her husband.
“Where are they?” Zeus asked coolly, landing in front of her. “I see no allies.”
“They were distracting you so you wouldn’t arrive in time to help Atlantis. But look.” She laughed without humor. “Here you are. Ruining my life again.”
“I saved your life.” His searing-white gaze flicked toward the altar, burning a warning over Bellanca before focusing on Hera again. “And you’re ruining your own life now.” Zeus suddenly lowered his sword. “But I’m responsible, too. I’ve betrayed you, ignored you, disregarded your advice. I’m sorry.”
Bellanca’s eyes widened in shock at the same time as Hera’s. Did the king of gods just apologize to his wife?
Hera stared at Zeus, seeming to wait for more. When nothing followed, her voice rising, she said, “You’re sorry?”
Zeus’s thunderbolt blade vanished, reabsorbed into the cosmos. “Yes.” Taking a cautious step forward, he held out an empty hand. A small olive tree grew from his palm, new and delicate now but with so much potential to turn sturdy and strong. Hera glared at the peace offering. “And I’m sorry it’s come to this,” he said gravely.
Her eyes snapped back up. “You’re sorry to lose your throne.” Ignoring his olive branch, she kept her glittering blade up and stood her ground.
Zeus shook his head. “I won’t lose my throne. You’re strong, my love, but not strong enough.” Hera’s nostrils flared at the endearment. “I have a temple full of worshippers praying to me right now. You have an empty ruin. I have the biggest cult in Thalyria. You have no one in Atlantis now.” Zeus took another restrained step forward. “Surrender, Hera. It will be better for you.”
Bellanca watched, stunned, her heart racing. He still loves her.
Hera backed away. “You’ll punish me. You’ll send me to Tartarus.” The word trembled in her mouth, because even gods feared the realm of eternal torture. “I’d rather die.” She lunged at Zeus just as a white light popped behind him. Hermes appeared, swinging a sickle-shaped blade at his father.
“Watch out!” Bellanca cried just as Hermes sank his scythe deep into Zeus’s shoulder. Zeus roared in pain, lightning branched across the sky, and Hera rammed her blade into his stomach just as Hermes yanked his scythe out.
Hermes’s winged sandals flew him up and back as Zeus whirled and struck out with a god bolt. Hermes dodged. The punishing magic sailed out to sea, and new fear crashed over Bellanca. Apollo still chanted over an ashen, unmoving Carver. They weren’t done yet, and if Apollo left to help his father, it could mean the end of Carver.
“Athena, Athena, Athena,” Bellanca whispered frantically. It was a prayer, a supplication, a desperate plea for aid. She needed the goddess—one who’d helped them before—to fight on Zeus’s side so that Apollo could stay with Carver.
Zeus’s god bolts chased Hermes across the sky above Atlantapol. Hera sprang at Zeus from behind with a new sword, her other one still lodged deep in his body. Bellanca gasped in horror as Hera swung at Zeus’s neck, his back to her.
The air split, and Athena crashed down onto Hera’s moving blade. She crushed it under her armored feet and slammed her spear into Hera.
Hera stumbled back, a pained breath rushing out of her. She regained her balance and flung one hostile, bitter word at Athena. “ You .”
Athena yanked the spearhead out, and golden ichor flew from the weapon, splattering around them as she glared at Hera. “The second I have permission to kill you, it’ll be my pleasure.” Athena’s crested helmet trembled from her rage. Her shield and spear glinted. She’d come ready for war, and she was magnificent. Gratitude surged through Bellanca.
Hera breathed harshly, slowly healing. Zeus spun on them both, his eyes thunderous. He dragged Hera’s first sword from his body, snapped it in two with a snarl, and hurled the shards away from the battle. Athena moved out of the way, and he prowled toward Hera just as Dionysus and Hephaestus appeared, blocking him. Dionysus swung a blade. Zeus caught it in his bare hand, ripped it from the god of wine and revelry, and tossed it aside. Gaping in shock, Dionysus scrambled away from his father. Hephaestus poured lava from his hands and turned it into burning-hot hammers. He threw both at once, one slamming into Zeus and the other into Athena.
The force of the hits sent both gods skidding backward, their feet gouging deep tracks in the ground. Hermes swooped in from above, brandishing his scythe again. An arrow suddenly clipped a wing from his sandal, and he tilted wildly, dropping his weapon with a shocked yell. Bellanca spun in time to see Artemis let fly a second arrow from the steps of her temple and sever a wing from the other sandal. Hermes spun out of control and crashed into the toppled-over statues of the twins guarding the road to the castle.
Walking toward Hermes, Artemis shot arrow after arrow, her bolts so fast he didn’t have a chance to move before she pinned him by every limb to the fallen statue of her brother. Groaning in pain, Hermes pulled against the arrows. He ripped an arm free, and the huntress pinned him again. Cool as moonlight, graceful as water, her dark, curling hair held back by a crescent-moon tiara, she shot him over and over until he gave up and slumped against the cracked marble, soaking in his own ichor.
The harsh ring of metal drew Bellanca’s eyes back to the main battle. Athena took on Hera while Zeus battled Hephaestus and Dionysus. Dionysus got in everyone’s way, sloppy and frenetic, his wine-colored eyes more fearful than focused, but Hephaestus fought like ten lions, sending Zeus’s blood spraying toward the altar.
Bellanca ducked the golden droplets, her pulse racing and her magic stirring and reaching and heating. She stood her ground, guarding everybody at the altar and raging with anguish as Olympianomachy took a huge and deadly toll on Atlantapol. The temples lining the square shuddered. The people inside them cried out in fear. Some even dared to race outside rather than go deeper underground. One whole side of Ares’s house of worship suddenly collapsed, and she gasped, her chest folding violently inward along with the building.
“No…” Her heart pounded sickeningly hard. Anyone inside who hadn’t gone down into the sanctuaries had just been crushed under half a temple’s worth of marble.
Columns cracked, staircases shook, and Atlantians screamed, the muffled sound of their terror coming from inside the temples. She bit down to keep from screaming with them. They’d found shelter that could bury them alive. This time, she prayed to Zeus, pouring all her strength into it. All her passion, all her hope, all her ferocity of spirit. He had to keep her people safe. Besides, he needed them. Right now, Atlantians praying just like she was as he defended them from Hera kept him bright with Olympian power despite his injuries while Hera struggled, barely deflecting Athena’s blows.
Her heart and soul blazing with the intensity her magic didn’t have right now, she prayed and prayed. If worship was power, she offered Zeus and his allies everything she had.
Athena struck out with her spear, shearing through Hera’s cheekbone. Artemis hit Dionysus with a trio of arrows, making him squeal like a satyr and dive away from her. Hermes finally tore himself free and stumbled toward the battle. Artemis turned her bow back on him while Hephaestus pummeled Zeus with huge hammers made of volcanic stone and bubbling lava. Zeus pummeled him back with god bolts meant to stop but not kill. They left the smith god riddled with burns, his skin bubbling like the lava that poured from his weapons.
“Enough!” Zeus suddenly thundered. Lightning sprang from him in four directions, blasting into his foes. Instead of hitting them with a lethal god bolt or sending them straight to Tartarus, he turned his magic into ropes of living lightning and captured them, dragging all four of them to where he stood. With a great downward heave, he buried each bolt deep into the ground and tethered them to the core of the island. “My family is at war! This should never have happened!”
“And whose fault is that?” Hermes spat, his wounds dripping gilded patterns onto the fractured marble. He staggered to his feet along with the rest of them.
Zeus leveled a blinding-white stare on the fleet-footed messenger. His jaw tight enough to make his beard tremble, he let off two concentrated thunderbolts and destroyed Hermes’s golden sandals, obliterating the two wings still weakly hanging on to them. Hermes gasped as he fell to the ground, his feet charred and useless.
“My own son.” Shaking his head, Zeus called Hermes’s scythe to his hand. It flew out of the rubble and into Zeus’s waiting palm. He threw it out to sea with a snarl.
Breathing shallowly, afraid to move, Bellanca kept her weakly flaming hands up and ready, though Zeus seemed to have just put a sudden and unbelievably mighty end to the battle. Had her prayers helped? If this was the result of fervent human worship, it was tremendous. Truly something to wage wars for. Still being treated by Apollo, Carver moaned a dreadful sound behind her. Her heart cramped in fear, but she didn’t dare look away from the gods as they argued.
“She’s not even your mother,” Zeus growled to Hermes.
“Ah. Does he begin to see one of the problems?” The messenger’s upper lip curled in hostility. “Another is that you’ve ignored me just as much as you’ve ignored Hera.”
Zeus sucked in a breath that made every leaf still clinging to any tree still standing pull in his direction. “You’re a millennia-old god. I didn’t think you needed constant supervision and validation to not betray your own king and father.”
“No. You’re more interested in your human pets—yet another problem.” Hermes tossed Bellanca a venomous glance, and it was all she could do not to take a quick step backward.
“Those pets change worlds. Worlds I’m responsible for keeping in balance. What have you done lately?” Zeus thundered.
His feet already healing, Hermes stood again, swaying slightly. He smirked. “I might’ve whispered in a few Titan ears in the Underworld. They’d be thrilled to overturn its…balance.”
Lightning cracked out of Zeus again, his thunder rocking the city. Bellanca staggered, reaching behind her to grab the edge of the altar. She darted a quick look at Carver. Was his color better? His breathing steadier? Sudden hope burst inside her. Apollo seemed to be coming out of a trance, his power-heavy eyes shimmering and unfocused. The god stopped chanting, and her pulse shot off like an arrow. Now, if Carver would just open his beautiful gray eyes, she could handle anything else the cosmos threw at her.
She swung back around, her magic blazing hotter.
Scowling, Zeus curled his hands into fists. “I should never have let Perses out of Tartarus.”
Hermes shrugged. “I’d say he’s your brother’s problem now. Poor Hades.” Bellanca knew spiteful glee when she saw it, and it was written all over that sneaky little bastard.
Hermes’s sandals reformed on his healed feet, new wings sprouting on either side. Zeus charred them off again, and Hermes crashed to the ground with a howl.
“This time, it’s permanent,” Zeus growled.
Hermes blanched. “My wings.” He stared in horror at his bare, lightning-burned feet.
“You just lost your access to the Underworld.” Disappoint-ment rolled off Zeus like a storm. Regret too. Guilt, maybe. “Your feet will heal. But it’ll be an age before you earn back your abilities or your title.”
“But…I’m the messenger.” Hermes looked wildly at his father. He moved forward, his feet already significantly restored but with no sign of his iconic sandals. “I’m the only one besides Hades and Persephone who can come and go from the Underworld.”
“Not anymore.” Zeus tightened the lightning rope tethering Hermes to the core of the island.
“No! Father!” Frantic now, Hermes struggled against the sizzling shackle. “I’ll work. I’ll help. I promise.”
“I’ll deal with you later.” With those ominous words, Zeus turned his back on his son’s tortured face and swung his displeasure on Hera. “Perses? The destroyer? The ravager? You wanted Hades and me distracted enough by that awful excuse for an ancient god that you pushed him to rebel in the Underworld? The afterlife is a gift, not a punishment. Do you truly want every human’s afterlife to be ruled over by him? Is that possible outcome worth this failure of yours in Atlantis?”
Hera lifted her chin. “Tell me… Do Hades and Persephone already feel the noose tightening around their necks? Do they feel their thrones trembling under the ground?”
Zeus laughed, the sound unpleasant but almost impressed. “And while we met on the banks of the River Styx to discuss their growing problem, you nearly destroyed Atlantis.”
Hera conjured another starlight sword, lengthening the sharp, shining blade until it almost reached Zeus’s chest. “The shadow mist obscures the vision of gods. After all, it’s where we used to hide.”
Zeus’s jaw twitched violently. He eyed her sword but didn’t tighten her lightning chains. They wrapped around her waist like fire-bright, golden belts, holding her to the square but leaving her room to move. “I have to say, your timing was almost impeccable. Or was that Hermes’s doing as well?”
Hera’s face hardened. “I owe you no explanations. I haven’t seen you in a thousand years.”
An earthquake rattled in Zeus’s chest. Echoing tremors shook the square, and Bellanca widened her stance, shooting an anxious look toward the weakened temples. “You knew where to find me. Mount Olympus isn’t that big.”
“You knew where to find me , and yet you never opened the door!”
“Would you have welcomed me?” Zeus grated. “I was showing contrition by respecting your space.”
Shock flashed in Hera’s eyes. “You respected my space so thoroughly you forgot I existed until I made a bid for your throne.”
“You’re angry, and I understand why.” Zeus’s radiant eyes dimmed, something like sadness replacing the lightning-bolt gleam. “But you go too far and assume things that aren’t true. Worse, you punish innocent people for my flaws.”
“It’s not just about us!” Hera snarled. “I’m powerful. I can rule. I have capacities that everyone has ignored. I have ideas. Opinions. I will not be set aside for another two thousand years.”
Unleashing a heavy breath, Zeus stepped right up to the tip of her sword. “You’re right. You should be heard. You should be seen.”
“Father…” Athena cautioned. Artemis raised her bow.
Zeus only had eyes for Hera. “If you truly want me dead, send me to the Underworld. I’ll help my brother there, and you can rule here.”
Bellanca gaped in shock. Hera had turned into a monster. She’d done terrible things. She shouldn’t get what she wanted.
Hera stared at her husband. “You see everything else. Everyone . Why are you so blind to me?”
Reaching out to caress her cheek, he murmured, “Because you’re my one weakness, Hera Olympus.”
Her eyes spit blue fire. She ran him through with her sword.
Bellanca gasped. Athena and Artemis sprang forward, but their father held them off with a firm hand. Zeus grabbed Hera’s wrist and pulled her straight in to him along with the rest of her blade. Lowering his head, he kissed her. Hera’s eyes widened. She reared back, leaving her sword. Her hand flew to her mouth.
“What other surprises do you have in store for me?” Zeus almost sounded eager.
As if in answer, Dionysus lashed out with a knife. Bellanca’s heart slammed up her throat, and she called out a warning, but Zeus didn’t dodge fast enough. The blade sliced through the skin below his ear, and ichor seeped from the gash.
Whirling, he slapped a hand to his neck. Magic cracked in his eyes, and he pulled Dionysus’s tether so tight the god crashed to the ground.
Standing over him, Zeus gave his son a disgusted shake of his head. “What have I done to you? Because, honestly, I don’t know. You frolic and drink and have the time of your life. What could possibly have made you turn on me?”
Dionysus paled. He tried to sit up, and Zeus banded another magical rope around his chest. Struggling against his lightning bonds, the younger god bit out, “No comment on my improved combat skills, father? I just took you by surprise.”
“Should I be proud that you tried to stab me in the back?”
“And almost succeeded,” Dionysus hissed.
“My thoughts were elsewhere.” His gaze swung to Hera and dropped to her lips. “It won’t happen again.”