Chapter 47 Caelus
Caelus
Today wasn’t going how I thought it would when it began. In fact, it was going far, far worse.
Our warriors were falling in droves, our wounded tally growing, and our dead in grisly piles. Kronos’ army had managed to push past all our defensive lines, forcing us back against the tail end of the Ourean Mountains — quite literally jamming us between a rock and a hard place.
His allies far surpassed us in power and in number, but they lacked heart. In that regard, at least, we were superior.
But what good is a heart against a blade?
From past experience, I knew it stung like a motherfucker.
I had not seen so much as a hair on my mother’s head in months, but if I was being honest, I hadn’t expected to. There’s no way Tartarus Hera would dirty her hands in such an upfront manner like all-out war. No — she preferred to slink behind the scenes and do her dirty work in the dark.
Pity the dark was now my ally.
Even still, darkness was of no aid to me today — not against Hyperion’s overbearing light. At present, he was still fighting against Orpheus’ influence, seething inwardly at us but raging outwardly at his brothers.
A shadow passed overhead and my gaze flicked up as Velira darted into a sharp nosedive, my heart plummeting with her at the thought of how easily my love — my life — could be snatched away from me today.
Nyssa and her dragon fought valiantly against the would-be king, but even I was questioning how much longer they could last.
War was exhausting.
Debilitating.
It was a mirror held up, forcing one to analyse their own stark reflection of who they thought they were, and who they wanted to be.
I wanted so much, and yet so little. I wanted to protect these lands and their people.
I wanted to preserve their histories and their futures.
I wanted vengeance for those lost, and justice for those left behind.
I wanted a simple, joy-filled life with the woman who made it worth living.
I wanted a wife, children, a Furies-damned future.
And, hand me a crown, coronate me as Mr Olympus, because yes — I also wanted world peace.
The forced solitude of a lost sense forced me to reflect on it all. With my hearing temporarily gone, my mind was free to wander.
Orpheus’ song only did so much to hinder the quartet of brothers. While their bodies succumbed to the whims of the man, their minds and mouths were still their own — and you could bet that their eyes conveyed such filth, such vitriol at us, we prayed for Orpheus’ voice to never give out.
But alas, that could not be. No one could sing forever.
His song lasted just long enough for Athena to arrive with three sets of Hephaestus’ cuffs — and even I knew that the maths didn’t add up on that one.
None of us had expected this many Titans to appear after so many millennia.
But I guess we should have. After all, Kronos had escaped and he had been in the deepest darkest reaches of the abyss — why wouldn’t others have fled first?
Something niggled at the back of my mind at that thought, but before I had a chance to analyse it, my hearing came rushing back in — signalling that Orpheus was done.
Athena had successfully neutralised Koios and Krios, but she didn’t have enough time to get to either Iapetos or Hyperion. Which meant that we had quite the task ahead of us… and only one set of cuffs to see us through.
The Titans blinked as if waking from hypnosis.
Krios and Koios fought against their bindings to no avail, then turned to each other’s, clawing at the cuffs that were steadily sapping their will to fight.
Focus, Lykos growled, eyeing the manic grin distorting Hyperion’s features.
I leaped down from his back, unwilling to put him in harm's way when I channelled. With a flick of my fingers, the sky turned a deep, haunting shade of grey.
Thunder clapped in the distance, followed quickly by the sharp crack of lightning.
“What a precious little parlour trick,” Hyperion sneered, flaring his own fingers and conjuring a spear so bright I couldn’t look directly at it without suffering the negative imprint on the backs of my eyelids every time I blinked.
“That’s how you want to do this?” I raised a brow.
Within seconds, a sharp, middling weight pressed into my palm and I closed my hand around a bolt of pure, jagged electricity.
It writhed like a living thing — hot and impatient — its glare streaking across the trampled field, morbidly refracting off the gilded armour of fallen comrades.
I’ve got this one, you go for the other, I told Lykos.
He wasted no time, immediately snapping at a sneaking Iapetos as he attempted to circle around to our backs. And then I didn’t have the capacity to fear for my wolf — I had problems of my very own.
Hyperion’s grin grew — and then he swung.
He wielded his light-stick like a wooden staff — and if I’d have been in a better state of mind, I’d have come up with some scathing little innuendo about that — sweeping it perpendicular to the ground in a neat arc aimed right at my head.
I ducked beneath it, responding likewise. Hooking the bolt behind the Titan’s ankles, I made to knock him off his feet, but Hyperion was ungodly fast. I pressed forward, refusing to relinquish even a foot of space, and instead aimed a jab at his throat.
He evaded the blow, knocking the bolt aside with his own, the impact rocketing through my hand and up my arm. Our staffs clashed like an explosion, the sound echoing away, freezing those closest to us in their tracks. A hiss slid through my teeth and he grinned — taunting, leering… ball-less.
I smirked as I twisted my wrist and his spear skidded up the length of lightning. At the last moment, I twisted again, resulting in Hyperion whacking himself in the underside of his chin.
He roared wordlessly, his eyes sparking to life.
Athena leaped into the fray, blocking his body with her own. A quick glance confirmed she’d successfully subdued the witless duo, Koios and Krios — both laying slack-jawed and unconscious on the ground.
We’d known what was coming. Nyssa had explained how Hyperion had wielded his power against her, and so, we came prepared. With a quick click of a button hidden in the crest of our helms, Athena and I were protected from the Titan’s light.
Thank fuck the Caldrians had arrived in time — and that they’d brought their tinkerer’s tools with them — because we were now equipped with little electronic shields that guarded our eyes, distorting Hyperion’s light to render it ineffective and useless.
Just like the god himself.
Little more than a wavering torch light.
I only wished Nyssa had had access to such a tool — but it was her sacrifice that made us realise we needed it.
Her trial that pointed out the flaw in our armour.
Her eyes that paid his price.
“You took something,” I snarled. “You took something from someone I love. And now you’re going to tell us how to get it back.”
He laughed without mirth — the sound like broken glass crunching in my ears.
“Foolish boy,” he rumbled. “Only the blood of an Ancient can overrule mine.” And proceeded to forego the staff altogether.
He unsheathed a familiar looking bronze dagger from his waistband and my heart squeezed involuntarily at the sight — as if it held its own memories about one that looked just like it.
And the bitch who’d plunged it into my heart.
I shrugged off the deep-seated trauma, knowing that a busy mind could get me killed — and by extension, Nyssa.
My eyes narrowed to that one glinting weapon, my mind considering every possible angle.
A sharp sting — a pain not my own — lanced my breastbone.
Nyssa, brilliant as she was, could only do so much against a being who could quite literally control time.
He could pause it, turn it back, or urge it racing forward.
He could see every attack ahead of time and concoct the perfect evasion simply by twisting his hand in the air to go back and do it all over with newfound knowledge.
A savage snarl rent the air followed by a piercing whine. My stomach dropped as fear flooded the hollow of my gut. I dreaded what I’d find, but my head snapped to the giant form of Lykos lying prone before the ichor-drenched Titan of mortality.
Iapetos was more gold than god as he stood frozen before the wolf, shoulders back, chest heaving.
No.
That moment of distraction was all Hyperion needed to have me in a mirror position of my bonded wolf.
One sharp slash upwards with that cursed dagger — knocking my helm loose and slicing my face from chin to brow — and the subsequent blow of his fist to my throat, had me on my knees clawing for breath faster than I’d thought possible.
Athena paused behind them, the cuffs dangling loosely from her hand as her face twisted in indecision. Iapetos, who was closer, or Hyperion, who was striding towards me even now.
My eyes flicked to the former, urging her to incapacitate the being who could control mortality and immortality with a snap of his fingers, over the being who was essentially an overpowered glowstick.
Fighting the inherent panic that came with being unable to breathe, I pressed a fist into the ground and dragged my knees beneath me.
Hyperion tutted. “There’s no use, boy. Can’t you see it?
Can’t you feel it?” He spread his arms with glee, indicating the violence, destruction, and horror surrounding him.
“We’ve already won. Your army is defeated, so you might as well remain where you are, kneeling before me, as you swear your oaths upon the Styx to us… to him.”
And like it was a scene they’d rehearsed, or a moment crafted by Fate itself, Kronos and his beast vanished — only to immediately reappear above my soul-bonded and her dragon.
I didn’t need to feel the crushing agony clenching my heart, nor the instantaneous fear and defeat overpowering the tether — I could see Vel’s blood dripping from the mouth of the beast, and from Vel herself.
Even from down here, her blood rained like rubies.
And though she should have owned the skies — today, she fought them.
I’m so sorry, Golden, Nyssa whispered, tearing my fucking heart in two.
“NO!” The word came from deep in my body — deep in my soul. It came with a tidal wave of power, with a lightning storm and something much darker.
Don’t you dare say that, I yelled at her.
As they fell from the skies, far beyond the lines of Kronos’ writhing army, far beyond where I could reach them in time, my heart shredded into smaller, jagged pieces.
I’ll meet you in the after, she breathed, obliterating the stupid organ completely.
No!
Icy regret tightened my chest, seized my lungs, and stalled my heart — not mine, but hers. And it broke me to know that regret was the last thing she had time to feel.
I’ll meet you on the Isle, my beloved whispered half a second before they crashed into the dirt with the force of an explosion. I fell with them.
The impact of their crash-landing downed everything in their immediate vicinity.
A shock wave billowed outward, its ferocity lessening over every passing metre, until finally, it passed us by.
The breeze ruffled the locks of hair that framed my face, tickling my skin — like one final caress of goodbye.
I screamed as my body ruptured — every inch in excruciating pain and endless sorrow, rendering me less than useless. I knew nothing else but cutting agony, overbearing fear, and the allure of the darkness lingering at the edges of my vision.
I could not feel her. Not her regret, not her pain.
Nothing.
Take me, I prayed. Take me, too! I bellowed to whoever was listening.
Nothing and no one answered me, though I knew that they all heard; knew they could all feel the force of my plea.
“Gladly,” Hyperion finally purred, his filth-covered feet consuming my field of sight.
But I peered past him; stared as Kronos’ monstrous army turned back the way they’d come. Not to retreat, but to swarm the fallen dragon and her rider.
I clawed my way across the ground to reach her, inch by gory inch. My nails filled with dirt, my lungs too, all while Hyperion watched — his laughter the soundtrack of my labour.
The darkness bled, claiming more of my sight, and I hoped it would overtake it so that I could die too. So that I could meet her in the after.
And it did, though not in the way I was expecting. The darkness fled me, rivulets of it exited from the grimy skin of my hands to sink beneath the earth, useless.
Get them off her, I told it. Do not let them desecrate her. Please just let me do this one last thing.
And just before the shadows in my vision overtook me and welcomed me home into the oblivion of their embrace, the ground shuddered and trembled, roaring its defiance.
Even Ephemeron knew to mourn the fallen queen. And deliriously, I watched as its bony fingers tore through the surface — hundreds of them, thousands, perhaps — latching onto those who would destroy her.
Seconds before oblivion claimed me, a haunting, tri-layered voice whispered:
Even gods can break.