Chapter 35 The Real Games Begin
THE REAL GAMES BEGIN
Drex huffed on my right, and Charlie leaned against my left side, his other arm wrapped around Helen.
It was a blustery day in the Dolomites Coliseum. The sands were empty, anticipation crackling through the air, and dense, towering clouds hung so low they almost touched the electric lines of the dome.
Lightning struck far off in the distance, bright white lines branching to the ground.
There was a long pause, then thunder rolled. “I feel ill,” Drex said with a groan.
“Me too.” I nodded. “I’m not ready.”
“Personally, I’m very excited,” Nyx hissed as she slithered around my waist. “I can’t wait to get into the arena and bite people.”
Not relatable.
Fluffy Jr. whimpered at my feet, and I tried not to look at the distended hump on his back that now had a faint blue hue. No way am I bringing him out to fight. He was clearly sick and needed to recover from … I didn’t know what.
Drex’s knee knocked against mine as he fidgeted with nerves. “We’re so dead,” he groaned. Toucey sat on the floor behind his legs, squawking as Poco tried to poke at him.
I mimed choking myself and Drex laughed (whimpered with manic enthusiasm).
Kharon made a loud, harsh noise behind me.
Peering over my shoulder, I immediately regretted looking—Kharon’s eyes were narrowed into slits, nostrils flaring as he stared at where Drex’s knee knocked against mine. Augustus frowned beside him.
Thunder boomed, closer.
“Sorry for your loss,” Augustus said harshly.
“Uh, what … loss?” I asked.
Augustus looked at Drex pointedly.
Drex paled and swayed in his seat like he was going to pass out.
Wait, did he just threaten to kill Drex?
A few minutes ago, when Charlie asked if I’d sit beside him, my husbands had said they understood that I needed to be with my brother.
Now I’d never seen two people who looked less understanding in my life.
Apparently grown men and teenage girls had one thing in common: they took seating arrangements very seriously.
Charlie linked his arm through mine and I snuggled into him. If he felt Nyx’s scales as she slid out from being squished, he didn’t show it.
“I’ve heard rumors,” Helen whispered across him. “Zeus is going to interrogate each of you personally after your rounds … Are you nervous?”
“No.” I forced myself to shrug. “It will be fine.”
“How do you know?” she asked.
“Because … I enjoy being tortured,” I deadpanned.
She narrowed her eyes like she couldn’t tell if I was joking, and Charlie smiled, but his arm was tightening around mine with worry.
In six days, Drex would be competing.
In seven days, it would be my turn (to die).
The crowd quieted.
Zeus stepped out onto the platform that extended from the bottom of the stadium. His white silk toga fluttered in the wind, its long train trailing behind him. In his hand, he held a thin white scepter with a golden eagle perched atop it.
Hades sat up straighter in his seat, staring at Zeus, as fog pulsed around him with agitation. The other leaders tensed beside him.
Why does he look like he’s seen a ghost?
Zeus held his free hand up to the stadium and electricity leapt across his palm much brighter than usual. “TODAY—THE REAL GAMES BEGIN!” he shouted to the heavens.
Sparta jumped to its feet, a bellowing crowd of creatures and Spartans.
Our section stayed seated.
“You’ll do great,” Charlie whispered beside me.
Drex whimpered. “We’re so dead, it’s not even funny.”
I nodded in agreement. “Beyond dead.”
“Wait.” I turned to my brother in shock. “Did you just … speak?” It was the same voice I’d heard calling my name in the woods.
Shadows crept across Charlie’s face as his expression changed into something indecipherable. His eyes had an uncanny cast.
“No. Why?” Charlie signed rapidly. “Did you hear something?”
“Uh—no?” I clutched at where Nyx was now coiled on my lap.
Great, I’m consistently losing my mind.
Lightning struck three times in a row on the horizon.
Down below, Zeus still had his hand raised, laurel crown gleaming, sparks coruscating. “I have only one piece of advice to give the younger Chthonics!” His booming voice echoed.
“Nequit homo se reformat …”
Zeus paused.
“Absque cruciatu!”
A man cannot remake himself without suffering.
The crowd roared enthusiastically, stomping their feet and clapping in unison.
The clouds darkened, casting the world in gray.
“Lovely message,” I said over the clamor. “Very inspiring.”
Toucey shrieked at Drex’s feet as Poco plucked a metallic feather and held it up to me like a prize.
Grimacing at Drex, I mouthed, “Sorry,” and took it. Rolling the stolen feather between my fingers, it accidentally snapped in two.
“That will be my spine,” Drex said.
I covered my mouth to hide my laugh. It wasn’t funny, but in a very real sense, it was hilarious.
Zeus banged his scepter down and the stone podium sparked. “We welcome our first competitor … Agatha. Kronos has given her two rounds and five labors to prove her worth!”
“We serve you, Kronos!” the stadium chorused back.
Whenever Father John would shout, “Montana heretics burn in the fires of Hell for all of eternity,” we’d respond with “Burn in Hell, sinners!”
This had the same energy.
“Kronos … Kronos … Kronos!” Zeus joined the crowd as all of Sparta was chanting his name.
Agatha walked out.
Everyone stomped, the force field sputtering.
Agatha’s long ruby-colored hair hung straight down her back, her pale creature skin almost translucent. She wasn’t wearing any armor, but a longsword blade glinted as she spun and raised it up.
She was all alone.
Now that I thought about it, I’d never seen her with a protector. Is it because she’s part Empusa?
Steel rattled as the gate rolled up.
Four Olympian guards stepped out in full battle armor—golden helmets concealed their faces—each of them held two swords.
She’s fighting Olympians?
Thunder boomed, closer than before.
A shocked murmur rumbled through the stadium as they realized some of their own were down there. From the growing sounds of outrage, this was not a normal occurrence.
My stomach twisted as the guards approached, twirling their two swords with practiced ease.
Agatha threw her sword down into the sand as she tipped back her head and laughed with giddiness. What the heck?
Her laughter turned into a screeching cackle as her features morphed—pale skin peeled away, revealing a skeletal monstrous face—her jaw unhinged down to her chest.
Sharp jagged teeth protruded.
A disturbing clicking noise came from Agatha’s distended jaw—it grew in intensity, a metronome of insidious clacks.
The Olympian guards stopped approaching.
They stood up straighter like they were possessed, dropped their weapons, and didn’t move. Are they paralyzed?
Ruby hair floating in the air behind her, Agatha kept clicking as she sauntered toward the Olympian men.
“She’s amazing,” Drex sighed dreamily, like he had a crush. Oh nice, we’re both attracted to lunatics.
Charlie and Helen turned away.
Wait, what do they know? I racked my brain, trying to remember what Empusa did to their prey.
Ten minutes later, I blinked in shock, my mouth gaping as I could do nothing but stare down at the arena.
I should have looked away.
Only Drex was seemingly unaffected—he was still smiling with a goofy, lovesick expression.
The last ten minutes were going to haunt me for the rest of my life (six more days). Numb horror trickled down my neck. Even Nyx was unnaturally still on my lap, like she couldn’t process what she’d seen.
It was now crystal clear what Empusa did.
They ate men.
Agatha was covered in bits of gore. The remaining pieces of the four guards lay around her, scattered across the sand—mostly just bloody armor and clothes. Apparently Empusa ate everything but the stomachs of their victims.
I’d learned this the hard way.
Nyx hissed. “Why can’t you be more like her?”
“Because—I have mental health … sort of,” I whispered (this was a lie).
“SECOND ROUND BEGINS!” Zeus bellowed.
No one cheered.
The gate once again lifted—a man walked out—his hands were bound in front of him, heavy chains trailing behind him through the sand.
He wore a short black exercise toga and a scarlet snake protruded from his bald head.
A collective gasp echoed, and my stomach plummeted.
The Chthonic leaders all jumped to their feet.
“You dishonor Kronos’s sacred sands!” Hades roared, pointing at Zeus, who stood calmly on his podium holding his scepter.
I’d failed to notice that Hermos was missing from our section.
He was bound, down on the sands, walking toward Agatha.
She was his partner.
His … lover?
I wasn’t exactly sure what their relationship was, but they were partners, and it was obvious that they were very close.
For a second, Agatha’s monstrous visage disappeared, and she was once again a beautiful woman. She looked at Hermos with devastation.
Artemis shouted profanities down at Zeus about him taking this too far, and Ares nodded in agreement. Hades’s fog was spreading through the stands in screaming tendrils. Olympians whimpered all around.
“What … does this mean?” I asked.
Drex shrugged like he also wasn’t sure.
Augustus leaned forward. “She has to hurt him as much as possible, until he’s incapacitated,” he said gravely. “Which will also force him to take the humiliation of being branded once for the defeat—any Chthonic loss in the arena results in a brand. No exceptions.”
Drex’s breath hitched.
Charlie trembled at my side.
Down on the sand, Agatha’s skin once again peeled away, and her jaw unhinged.
Click.
Click.
Cli—
The unholy noise stopped as Agatha’s skin remolded into the features of a woman. She shook her head no, like she couldn’t go through with it, as she stared at Hermos with wide, agonized eyes.
Hermos said something to her.
Agatha nodded in agreement.
They both turned and faced Zeus with mutinous expressions. They’re refusing to fight each other.
Their courage was shocking.
“IF YOU WANT WAR, WE’LL GIVE IT TO YOU,” Hades bellowed at Zeus, backing them, his terrifying fog now filling three-quarters of the stadium.
Zeus’s face was disturbingly emotionless as he stared down at the two rebelling Chthonics.
He lifted his scepter, the eagle rising with its wings spread wide.
Electricity blazed across his skin.
CRACK.
The world flashed white, and fiery heat scorched the air. My teeth stung, jaw aching as ozone filled my nose.
My vision cleared.
All around, people’s hair stood up with static electricity, defying gravity, as fog curled around them.
Zeus was pointing his smoking scepter down at the arena.
Sand protruded in a jagged, alien sculpture, mere inches from where Agatha stood.
I blinked rapidly, brain struggling to process—lightning had struck Zeus’s scepter, and he’d redirected it into the coliseum.
BOOM.
Thunder clapped deafeningly, directly overhead.
The electric dome sizzled.
Agatha and Hermos stood unnaturally still, their lips parted, paralyzed with fear.
Zeus turned on his podium, staring up at Hades. “I do not want war, old friend,” he shouted. “The games coalition of the federation has assigned each labor based on the abilities and might of the competitors. This is a test of HONOR!”
Wind whipped Hades’s black toga as he scowled down at him.
The arena was dead silent.
Mutually assured destruction, Helen’s warning echoed.
“No one needs to die,” Zeus called out, his white toga lit with sparks. “I do not want war.” He pointed down at the petrified sand. “I spared them.”
Hades tilted his head to the side, straining like he was struggling for control. He slowly lowered his hand—fog retreated to him, rushing from the stands, curling around his feet.
Lightning struck off in the distance and the crowd flinched, myself included.
Hades nodded sharply. “On your honor—no one dies!”
Zeus bowed his head low in agreement.
“What—what—what …” I trailed off. “How?” I whispered.
“Zeus is the only Olympian who can wield his power offensively,” Helen said grimly. “A single strike puts anyone who’s not ancient in a coma, and most don’t wake up from it … It’s why … only the Chthonic leaders survived the Great War.”
Charlie gripped my arm hard enough to bruise.
“It’s not absolute,” Helen whispered like she was trying to convince herself. “He needs to be outside on a stormy day to wield it.”
I didn’t feel any better.
“RESUME THE FIGHT!” Zeus bellowed.
Hermos moved with shocking speed, wrapping his chain tightly around Agatha’s throat before she could react, biceps straining as he choked her with everything he had, his expression determined.
She clawed at his forearms.
Long, awful seconds passed as he strangled her.
Finally, she fell limp to the sand, neck an abused shade of red.
She’s immortal, I reminded myself. He saved her life.
It didn’t feel like it.
Hermos stared down at Agatha’s limp body, his expression ruined, as he slowly unwrapped the chain from her neck. He turned away, hands still cuffed like a prisoner, and stalked toward the exit.
He glanced up at Zeus, then quickly looked away.
Zeus raised his scepter—the crowd recoiled. “Agatha has lost,” he announced calmly. “She will receive five brands. She failed to defeat all five of her labors.”
The stadium remained silent.
Zeus jumped from the platform—through the sizzling force field—and landed in the sand. Thud.
Light flared across his skin like the electricity had powered him, and he approached Agatha with a Vulcan metal staff in one hand, the scepter in his other.
Planting the scepter in the sand, Zeus shouted, “FIVE LABORS LOST!” He reached for Agatha’s unconscious body and ripped her toga, exposing her sternum.
He pointed the Vulcan staff at it. His arm lit with electricity, and the stamp at its tip turned bright yellow as he pressed the metal end into her chest.
Agatha’s unconscious body twitched as she was permanently branded, five separate times.
Sparks radiated from Zeus’s scepter, the Olympian eagle glowing.
It looked possessed.