Chapter 18 The Olympian Council
The Olympian Council
Cora
Once upon a time, back when I’d been just Cora, I’d seen an older child slap a toddler at the orphanage. I’d gotten in the way and earned myself a black eye in the process.
The Ellis orphanage matron had rushed in, stepped between us, and broken up the fight. She’d looked at me with haunted eyes and had said, “Cora, you need to understand. In this world, there will always be people who are stronger than others. And we... We are weak.”
All my life, I’d refused to accept this. But as I walked into the Olympian Council headquarters, it suddenly dawned on me. That woman had been completely right.
The amphitheater wasn’t so much built as carved from the mountainside itself, designed to humble anyone who dared stand on its floor.
Terraced seating rose in perfect semicircles around a central speaking floor, each section marked with Olympian symbols.
Every crest screamed of bloodlines that traced back to actual gods.
As for me… I was just a foundling who’d gotten in the way again.
Council members were already settling into their hierarchies. It was a silent shuffle for dominance that made academic politics look like a playground squabble. In the middle of it all, I’d never felt so small, so exposed.
“Stay close,” Damon rumbled, so close his breath tickled my ear. “Don’t speak unless Julian addresses you directly.”
“I can handle this,” I whispered. It was a flimsy lie, and one that would never fool him. But he didn’t call me out on it, not like he’d done in the past.
Instead, he placed his hand over my lower back, the touch a brand of ownership. If I hadn’t been there in the ice bath, if I hadn’t seen his desperation, I’d have never deemed that vulnerability possible. Not with the raw power he projected now.
A Council attendee gestured toward a section of seating, his expression impassive. “House Hades will take the accused section.”
Accused. The word landed with the dead, final weight of a failed hypothesis. The cool mountain air made my skin prickle, thick with the scent of the Olympian power I’d never thought I could touch.
The only comfort I had was Damon’s presence. It was a paradox, finding an anchor in the man who’d chained me. But last night, in the freezing water, he’d fought to protect me from himself. That memory was the only thing keeping me upright.
As I followed him to our designated seating, my footsteps echoed against the stone floors.
The acoustics were perfect, built to carry every whisper to the furthest seats.
Hundreds of gazes tracked our movement, assessing, cataloging, judging.
The metallic taste of nervous anticipation coated my tongue as we took our designated positions.
Then I spotted her.
Helena sat in the House Hera section, her hair pulled into an elegant updo. My gaze locked with hers, and her expression softened. She gave me the smallest nod, a gesture of support that made my chest tight. At least I wasn’t completely alone in this nightmare.
Damon’s control was slipping. Every protective instinct he possessed had sharpened to a knife’s edge. Did no one else see how shadows writhed in every corner of the amphitheater? Were they that oblivious, or did they simply not care?
A ceremonial gong rang out, the sound reverberating through stone and bone alike. A handsome blond man took his place on an elevated platform. His gaze shifted between blue and gold as it surveyed the assembled crowd.
Tall and broad, he commanded attention without trying. “The Council recognizes House Zeus’s petition regarding bloodline heritage and claiming precedence.”
His words reached every corner of the amphitheater, his neutral tone unable to hide the layers beneath. “I am Julian Solaris, House Apollo. I will mediate these proceedings.”
House Apollo. That explained the aura of command. They were one of the most well-known Alpha houses. While not quite as feared as Hades or Zeus, they had received blessings from the god of light and prophecy. That alone gave them an influence no one could challenge.
But Alexander showed no sign of being intimidated. He rose from the House Zeus section, power crackling in his storm-gray stare. “House Zeus speaks today on behalf of House Demeter, whose ancient rights have been trampled.”
The objection came so quickly it was obviously prepared. This entire proceeding had been choreographed well before we’d arrived. The chess game had already begun, and I was the prize piece being moved around the board by players whose strategies I couldn’t fathom.
A woman I didn’t recognize moved from the House Demeter section, her quiet approach somehow drawing every eye.
Blooming flowers adorned her chestnut hair.
When our gazes met, it felt like I was looking into the heart of the forest. “I am Lyra Dawnfield, House Demeter,” she said.
“And I stand before this Council to address a theft that mirrors one from our darkest history.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Even Damon’s shadows pulled back from their threatening positions.
“The old theft cannot be repeated,” Lyra continued, her grief thick enough to taste. “When Hades claimed Persephone against House Demeter’s will, it created wounds that have never healed. We will not stand by while House Hades repeats this pattern with our newly awakened sister.”
I stared at her in disbelief. In hindsight, it made sense that House Demeter and Hades would have some kind of rivalry. Our ancestral deities certainly did. But for this rivalry to leak into my life… Wasn’t that a little too absurd?
Obviously not, if Lyra’s glare was to be believed. “House Demeter has prior claim to our Omegas. Damon Blackwood, you will release Dr. Ellis.”
Damon moved to the center of the speaking circle, his presence seeming to suck the air from the space. “I claimed Cora Ellis according to House Hades tradition, before anyone knew her heritage.”
He spoke my name as if I were property being catalogued, not a person fighting for her life. His clinical tone was a violation, stripping away my choice and reducing us to a power play. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms so hard I almost drew blood.
One of Damon’s shadows curled around my leg and squeezed, a silent command. I bit my tongue and stayed silent.
“I understand your point of view, Madam Dawnfield, but the reality is you simply didn’t find her in time.”
Lyra refused to back down. “You arrogant… Cora is and will always be House Demeter. We don’t abandon our Omegas to Houses that take without asking.”
Helena leaned forward in her seat. She looked from me to Damon, hesitation flickering over her stern face. “House Hera supports House Demeter’s position,” she said at last. “Above all else, we must prioritize the Omega’s wellbeing.”
My heart leaped. She was defending me, just as she’d promised. But what did that mean here, in front of the Council?
Cassandra wasn’t here. That could only be for one reason. Helena had known her presence and testimony would only make things worse.
It was Alexander who’d arranged this summons, and I didn’t believe for a second that he’d done it for House Demeter’s benefit.
He didn’t seem inclined to claim me for himself, but that didn’t mean a thing.
“House Zeus maintains that bloodline rights supersede claiming traditions,” he offered.
“Dr. Ellis should have been approached through House Demeter, not taken by force.”
His gaze found mine for just a moment, not threatening, but assessing. Was it all just a show? I couldn’t tell. House Zeus’s aura had been a powerful weapon at the conference. If he was using it now, I’d never know.
I supposed it didn’t matter. The lines were drawn. House Demeter for my bloodline, Damon for his claim, and Alexander playing the righteous referee over it all.
“Dr. Ellis,” Lyra called out, cutting through the political maneuvering. “House Demeter requests permission to verify your heritage.”
Julian considered the request for a long moment. “Permission granted for verification.”
Lyra approached the speaking circle and extended her hand toward me. “Come home, sister,” she whispered. “Let us show you where you truly belong.”
Her touch felt warm and nurturing, like finding something I’d never known I’d lost. The moment we made contact, my skin tingled with a surreal sense of familiarity. Flowering vines and grain patterns appeared across my body, intricate designs that spoke of growth, abundance, and life itself.
The marks were so beautiful my breath caught in my throat. For a moment, I understood what it meant to belong somewhere, to be part of something larger than a forced claiming.
Then darkness surged from within me.
Shadow marks erupted from beneath my skin, chasing Lyra’s flowering patterns away. Where her designs had been warm and welcoming, these were cool and claiming. They wrapped around my flesh like protective bonds that tolerated no competition.
The display made gasps echo throughout the space. Observers left their seats to witness the battle. “Gods above,” someone whispered. “She’s branded by two Houses.”
“Nonsense,” Damon growled from beside me. “What matters is that Cora bears my marks. The claim is established.”
“On the contrary,” Alexander practically purred from his seat. “The competing manifestations prove neither claim is absolute. The bond is weak, incomplete, vulnerable to challenge.”
There was something almost perverse in how quickly he built a legal argument from what should have been concern for my wellbeing. Even if he hadn’t forced my heat, he was still the dangerous snake I remembered. And at that moment, I hated him more than ever.
Heavy footsteps echoed across the stone floor, interrupting the exchange. A massive figure strode into the speaking circle without permission. Battle scars marked his muscled arms like trophies, and he radiated a raw violence that made civilized talk feel like a fragile lie.