Chapter 26 #2
The dead swarmed them, climbed their backs, dragged at their legs, and pulled at their arms. The centaurs kicked and screamed, trying to shake off attackers who felt no pain, knew no fear, could not die again.
Their equine bodies reared and bucked. Hooves crushed skulls. But for every dead destroyed, two more took its place.
I walked toward them through the battle chaos. Spirits parted, clearing a path. My sword was back in my hand.
The male centaur saw me coming. His eyes widened with recognition, then terror.
My blade rose and fell. I beheaded him with one strike, power sheathing the steel so it cut through muscle and bone like air. His head hit the ground, and I kicked it high toward Zeus’s balcony. It didn’t go through the barrier though.
I drove my sword through the female centaur’s chest next. She gasped, blood bubbling from her lips. Her eyes held mine.
I leaned close. “That was for my friend, bitch. You don’t cross Persephone.”
I yanked back the blade. She gave a final shudder and crashed to the ground.
Nearby, the students from Stardust House huddled in a corner, white-faced and clutching one another. They had thrown up wards with all their might—glowing purple barriers—for protection. I could tear them down with a snap of my fingers.
They had not fought against us or Kingsley House. They had stayed neutral, true to their headmistress’s ways. The dead flowed around their glowing barrier like a river around a stone, leaving them untouched.
Students from Kingsley House fled toward the gates, scrambling over one another in their panic. They had been so confident at the start, so eager to spill blood for their god’s favor.
Now they ran like the cowards they were.
But they weren’t my concern.
I let my army of the dead focus on the hunters, monsters, and the minor gods who had joined the fray. Skeletal warriors dragged them down, overwhelming them through sheer, relentless numbers.
More of the dead rose. An endless tide. They answered my call from across realms—from every forgotten battlefield and every grave.
Thousands of them charged the audience seats, climbing railings, swarming up the tiers. The wards couldn’t stop them. Minor gods screamed and scattered. Some fought back with bursts of magic, but what good were spells against the dead?
“Stop!” Zeus’s roar shook the arena. Thunder cracked, lightning arcing down in multiple murderous strikes.
Hades’s shadows surged upward, forming a protective dome that caught the bolts and rendered them harmless. His power was growing stronger as I displayed mine.
“You stop!” I roared back at the King of Gods, my voice amplified across the entire amphitheater, ringing in every ear.
“End this trial now, or the dead will keep coming for you.” I gestured as another hundred spirits clawed up from the cracks.
Then another hundred. “I can do this for days. I can summon every being who has ever fallen and set them on your ass.”
And who did not fear the dead who could not be killed? Who felt no pain, no fear, who would rise again and again until their enemy was dust?
“You dare, girl?” Zeus thundered, his face dark with rage, lightning dancing across his skin. “You dare threaten the King of Gods?”
“I am not a girl.” I sneered up at him, pouring centuries of contempt into the look. “I, Persephone, Goddess of Death and Queen of the Underworld, have returned! And I command the dead. You will address me by my title and show me respect that’s long due.”
The absolute declaration charged the air, witnessed by all the gods.
“No! No!” Poseidon shouted, his eyes wide, his beard shuddering. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this! The Fates said—she should not—she cannot—”
“I can,” I said icily, turning my gaze on him like I was marking him as my prey. “You can no longer stop me. No one can.” I raised my voice. “I am not merely the Goddess of Death and Spring. I reclaim my title as Goddess of New Life.”
I lifted my hand toward Sindy’s corpse, still lying in the bloodied sand. I’d caught her soul before it could cross the Veil, tugging it close to me.
Power erupted from my fingertips. Not death magic but its opposite. A thread of light and shadow woven together—life and death entwined at my command. It cocooned her, turning the arrow in her throat to mist, healing torn flesh and shattered bones.
Then I slid the spark of her soul back into its vessel.
Slowly, Sindy sat up. Not as one of the dead. Not a corpse animated by will.
Herself. Alive. Breathing.
Color returned to her cheeks. Her chest rose with a sharp, startled gasp.
Her hand flew to her neck, fingers finding only smooth, healed skin. Her hazel eyes locked on mine.
“You brought me back,” she whispered in awe as she stood, steady on her feet.
A wave of disbelief swept through the crowd.
“It’s forbidden!” Zeus’s roar edged on panic. “You cannot restore a mortal life! That divine power belongs to no one!”
“You may be King of the Gods,” I said, “but you hold no authority over Hades. Or over me.”
And I let the last vestige of Bloom fall away.
I stood as Persephone—taller, stronger, more radiant. Not the gentle Goddess of Spring, but something regal, formidable, and wholly new.
I let them all see what I had become.
“I am what I am,” I declared. “No one holds both life and death. Except me.” My voice sharpened. “I am the new dawn. Forged in fire and ninety-nine deaths. I broke an eon of curses.” I lifted my chin, meeting Zeus’s thunderous gaze. “I dare you to try and stop me.”
The dead began to rally around me.
On the center balcony, Hades rose, shadows and death power coiling around him, but his eyes held only me—blazing with fierce adoration and unbridled pride.
Zeus’s lightning gathered in his palms again, but it flickered, hesitant.
There was no precedent for this. No law that accounted for what I’d just done.
Raw fear flashed in the eyes of the King of the Gods as the full significance of my awakening crashed upon him.
They’d clipped Hades’s wings with their blood curse, reduced his power to embers—so long as he chose me.
Now I had awakened. I had declared my true self before all my enemies. My power surged through our bond like a hurricane, flooding into him, igniting his veins. Strength that he had not known in millennia returned in a single breath, vengeful and vast.
The God of Death stood taller, drew a deeper breath, and lifted his hands.
His shadows, his hellfire, his death power shook free—an eon of chains turned to ash.
The curse no longer held him.
He was free.
Power erupted from him in a wave of devouring darkness. It shattered the ward between the audience and the arena. The barrier exploded into a thousand fragments of light, like stars breaking.
I swept my hand forward.
The dead surged toward the balconies. They scaled marble and stone, fingers grasping for gods who had believed themselves untouchable.
They might not overpower the Olympians. But they could harm. They could chase them from this arena in shame.
The surviving hunters and minor gods retreated in a panicked scramble through the north gate, shoving and stumbling over one another.
“The trial ends!” Zeus shouted, his voice cracking. “Call off the dead! We yield!”