3. Nyssa #2
Though they were all officially at war until the crown settled upon one of their wretched heads, tempers were surprisingly held in check.
I figured it wouldn’t take much to shove them over that edge, however.
Soon, they would be arguing and competing against one another like they actually believed they could sway the crown’s decision.
Furies, maybe they could. I wanted no part in it, other than to do the shoving.
Fate, of course, had other ideas.
Hera opened her mouth to speak, but the arched portal at the rear of the room flickered with golden light, stealing all our attention.
A god-shaped silhouette appeared within the archway, and footsteps sounded as a tall, white-haired male passed through the magic of the arch.
He strode purposefully into the chamber, twelve sets of eyes tracking his every movement.
“Apologies for my tardiness,” the god said, his deep voice thundering across the room.
“Caelus?” Hera’s perplexity would otherwise be amusing, were I not trying to connect the godly dots.
“Mother.” He dipped his chin in greeting, walking past her to stop in front of the only empty golden throne — Zeus’.
Bold move.
“Just what do you think you’re doing here? We are in the middle?—”
“Of a meeting. Yes, I’m well aware.”
He dropped into the gilded seat gracelessly and without ceremony. Tilting his face upwards, his eyes met mine for the first time since arriving. They were an unsettling metallic silver, like liquid mercury — and just like his father’s.
The memory of Zeus’ eerie stare locked my muscles in place. I barely breathed, my face frozen in disdain.
Caelus frowned, pressing his thumb to his chin while his forefinger curled against his lip, contemplating.
“Excuse me—” Hera began, indignantly. The decibels she’d just produced, combined with her pitch of a banshee’s wail, would surely be the cause of a migraine soon. Could gods even get migraines?
“You’re excused,” Caelus muttered. My brows flew up my forehead.
“That is your father’s throne,” she hissed.
“My father isn’t here to sit in it, now is he?” he replied quietly, his tone low and laced with severity.
Silence. Finally. The screeching had come to a temporary halt. All I’d needed was a beautiful male to shut her up.
“The bylaws state that, in the case of a Primal’s demise, their seat on the council passes to their heir. Is that not correct?” Caelus enquired.
“That is correct,” Athena confirmed, her gaze darting between the ex-Queen, Olympus’ golden child, and me. This was probably the most thrilling council meeting they’d had in decades.
Hera’s face flashed with barely contained rage. She took a moment to compose herself before speaking.
“Very well, then.”
His swirling silver eyes had not left mine. Not once since he’d sat on the King’s throne — taking up space, claiming what he believed he was owed.
He might be a problem.
But first, we had to indulge in Hera’s pathetic notion of justice.
“So, you’re the god responsible then, Nyssa, daughter of Hades?” Hera snapped.
“That depends entirely on what it is you believe I am responsible for,” I replied scathingly.
Hera glared like I’d just bad-mouthed her favourite clothing designer.
“Don’t play coy with me, child. You have been summoned before your betters, to answer for your treasonous sentencing of Zeus’ soul, and thus, treason against the Crown.”
I tilted my chin, cocking a brow. Crossing my arms, I drawled, “Treason? Since when has performing my godly duty been considered a betrayal of the highest order?”
“Since you abused your position to sentence our King to Tartarus for eternity,” Hera seethed.
I fought the urge to rub at my temples, opting instead for a dark glare.
“Do you dare deny it?” she crooned.
The silent members of the Primal Council leaned forward, muscles tensed, awaiting whichever damning answer I chose. Each bore expressions ranging from quiet curiosity to outright hatred.
Hera drummed her perfectly manicured nails against the pristine golden arm of her throne.
“Well?” she trilled.
Rolling my shoulders back, I let a corner of my mouth tug upwards. The drumming ceased as Hera leaned forward, a scowl pasted on her face.
“No.”
Pandemonium ensued.
Primal energy surged through the air. Gods shouted over one another, Hera — shockingly — screeched, Ares’ crimson mane was quite literally aflame, and Poseidon had leapt to his feet, pointing his tiny-dick-prongs in my direction. I cringed at the visual.
“Change it! Fix it!” Hera screamed.
“Do you know what you’ve done, girl?” Athena rumbled.
“Undo it now! Resentence him!” Poseidon roared.
I felt the rage building with every jab, every accusation hurled my way. If Fish Boy pointed his dick-stick at me one more time, I would not be able to hold back the tide of my own anger.
Predictably, and almost immediately, Poseidon couldn’t keep it in his pants and struck out a final time. His trident clipped my upper arm, and I exploded.
The room was immediately plunged into darkness. Instant midnight burst from within me, and I felt my face hollow out.
My true nature was on full display, skeletal features glowing within the blackness.
I knew how I looked; how my current form inspired fear. My skull peered through semi-transparent skin, dark hair billowing on a phantom breeze. I recalled seeing my father in this state once, as a small child. He’d terrified a six-year-old Charon, but I had been enraptured.
Gods and goddesses shrieked or cowered, knowing exactly what my father was capable of in this form — what I was capable of. They were right to be afraid. If a threat emerged, I wouldn’t hesitate to show them exactly how monstrous I could be.
I was the unrivalled apex predator. I could kill a god with my bare hands.
And they all knew it.
I was death incarnate, just like my father.
Only one person remained still. A set of blinding white irises pierced through the blackness, my power triggering his own.
Caelus’ expression was unreadable, but the fact that he met my skeletal gaze and did not shrink startled me out of instinct. My shadows flickered.
Then, a high, metallic ting pierced the silence , and all at once the air felt sharper.
Ominous. A golden glow ignited high above.
The light flickered and solidified as the Crown of Olympus revealed itself.
Slowly, it descended until it deigned to hover just above my head — almost, but not quite, touching.
Gasps of horror broke out among the council.
And yet, it did not stay; instead, it flicked left to pause above Aphrodite’s gleaming golden tresses.
Her eyes widened with hope before the crown once again flew across the room.
It floated above Poseidon’s long, dark locks, and greed captured his face for all of a second before the crown swiftly departed.
It taunted each of us in turn: Hestia, Athena, Caelus, Ares, Apollo and Artemis, Hephaestus, Hermes, Demeter, and finally Hera.
Then, it vanished.
Its meaning was clear: the crown had not yet found any of us worthy, though we were all in contention. Even me. But for now, the throne of Olympus would remain empty.
What that meant for the realm, I wasn’t sure.
I reeled my shadows back inside my skin, and sunlight slowly filtered back through.
Disheartened, and with the matter of Zeus temporarily forgotten, the gods sank back into their seats.
Notably, there was no seat for the ruler of the Underworld, so I crafted my own.
A large black throne appeared between Aphrodite and Poseidon, built entirely out of swirling darkness.
I sauntered over, boot heels tapping on the marble floor, and sat. I turned to grin slyly at Aph, then swivelled to level a wink at Poseidon. His deep blue eyes narrowed in irritation, and I suppressed the urge to snicker.
It was all too easy to rile him up.
“The Crown finds no one worthy. It cannot choose, so we must aid it,” Ares declared, from Poseidon’s other side. His words were considered, and one by one, the gods nodded, silent agreement filling the room.
Hera stood. “We must enact the Rite of the Ascension Trials.” More nodding. It was beginning to look like a synchronised head-bobbing contest.
“Each god or goddess in contention has the right to compete for the throne in a series of trials,” Hera continued.
“They may enter themselves or choose a champion to compete on their behalf. The architect of each trial shall be determined by random lottery and must challenge various qualities essential to rule. Make no mistake — you may sacrifice your life or that of your champion in this competition.”
She looked around at her peers, daring them to decide.
Surprisingly, Aphrodite was first to speak. “I will enter myself.”
Hera quirked a brow, then turned to Ares.
“I need time,” he said. “You will have my answer on the morrow.”
She nodded and moved on.
Artemis spoke next. “I select my daughter, Diana.”
Beside her, Apollo raised his umber hands, fingers moving through the air with calm, practiced grace.
I enter myself, he signed.
“I will enter my son, Archimedes,” declared Hephaestus. “I have no desire to compete, and the boy will do well enough.”
Hestia murmured, so softly she was nearly missed, “I will also enter myself.”
My brows rose in surprise.
Demeter entered a son named Thallo.
Athena named herself.
Hermes also chose a son. That left only Poseidon, Hera, and me.
“Leander shall champion on behalf of myself and the seas,” Poseidon decreed. “And when he wins, I shall be your King,” he grinned, a hint of malice peeking through his teeth.
I noted more than one set of rolled eyeballs in the vicinity and smirked.
“And on behalf of both Zeus and myself, I choose our son, Caelus, to be our dual champion,” Hera decided. My smirk faltered. “Competitors will report here?—”
“I enter myself,” Caelus cut in. Hera’s mouth popped open, then closed repeatedly, eerily like a fish as she processed his words.
“Zeus’ seat on the council is mine. I sit where he once did.”
“As recently as yesterday,” Ares scoffed.
Caelus shot him a glare. “I am his heir, and the crown touched my head as well, Mother.”
Hera appeared at a loss. She pursed her lips, eyes darting furiously around the room in search of a way out.
“It is his right,” Demeter spoke quietly.
“Very well,” Hera huffed. “Caelus champions for himself, which now leaves no choice but for me to do the same.”
Silence.
I’m not sure anyone knew what to do with the knowledge that our ex-Queen was opting to get her own hands dirty.
“Now, as I was saying, champions?—”
“I enter myself,” I cut in, echoing Caelus’ earlier interruption. Also noticing the parallel, Hera scowled. Her son smirked.
I rose. “I will compete on behalf of Hades.”
“Hades already rules over one realm. You cannot have both!” she whined loudly, stomping her sandaled foot on the marble tiles like an oversized toddler.
Furies, does she only possess two volumes?
“That decision rests solely upon the crown,” I replied coldly. “Would any here dare to refute its choice, no matter who's brow it rests upon?”
More silence.
Honestly, if I’d known all it took to shut them up was saying something unexpected, I’d have done it years ago.
“Hades reserves the right to put forth a champion, and as he isn’t here, I enter myself on his behalf.”
“And just where is your beloved father?” Hera hummed.
I straightened, lifting my chin. “Hades is attending to business.”
“Business, hmm? Exactly what business might that be?”
“Death god business,” I snapped. “Underworld duties beyond the scope of your comprehension.”
Hera sputtered but held her tongue. She skewered me with her gaze as I returned to my conjured throne, crossing one leg over the other.
“Please. Do continue.” The corner of my mouth lifted.
The goddess seethed. Her face turned a mottled shade of red, but to her credit, she resumed her speech, even if it was through gritted teeth.
“As I was saying,” she paused, levelling a glare at me. “Competitors will report here tomorrow morning. Hermes will deliver all instructions and rules for the trials. You are dismissed.”
“Wait,” Poseidon barked. “There is still the matter of Zeus’ sentencing to discuss.” His blue eyes glared at me from beneath lowered brows.
Hera’s were raised — as if she had forgotten the reason we were assembled.
“What is there left to discuss?” I asked. “Zeus is dead. Murdered, in fact. I sentenced his soul, as is my duty. Perhaps you should be looking for his murderer instead of wasting your time with me.”
Poseidon’s fingers twitched around his trident. I knew he longed to skewer me — again — with more than his gaze. But he had no right.
“Perhaps we cannot punish you for your heinous sentencing,” Hera began, “but mark my words, child: you will pay for this.”
“The bastard had it coming,” I seethed. “You all know what he did, and yet, you allowed him to go unpunished.”
Demeter flinched.
“Well, now he’s suffering the consequences of his actions.”
I willed the throne to swallow me whole. As I fell into the comforting embrace of my shadows, I caught the shock in Hera’s eyes. If they’d bulged any further out of her sockets, they would have rolled right out of her pretty head and bounced, bloodily, across the pristine floor.
Chuckling darkly, I let my shadows take me home.