Chapter 41
The Last Titan
Hera tugged on the reins of her chariot. Her flying horses beat their magnificent wings as they trod the air, sending gusts of freezing wind lashing across Danae’s face. Like Athena’s, Hera’s armor covered every inch of her body from neck to toe.
The Queen of Heaven raised a golden, gauntleted hand.
The shock wore off just in time for Danae to dive out of the way. A jet of wind, so powerful it drilled a hole through the snow into the rock beneath, hit the place where she’d just been standing.
Hera aimed again. Danae tried to move, but her bag caught on a shard of rock. Her numb fingers were clumsy in her gloves, and she only just freed herself in time to narrowly avoid the next blast. Ice hailed down as she scrambled to the far corner of the ridge.
The cold stabbed her lungs with each panting breath.
Frantically, she felt for her life-threads and sent them hurtling into the snow.
Like she’d done with the water of the Black Sea, she grasped the glowing strands and flung them upward.
Whipped by her life-threads, a wave of white reared up and before Hera could move, her chariot was engulfed.
Danae dropped her arms and for a joyful moment she thought she’d done it.
Then the chariot broke free, the horses tossing their heads to clear their eyes of snow.
Hera stared down at Danae, her luminous eyes round with disbelief.
“It is true.” The goddess’s voice was sharp and rich like poisoned wine.
Hera let go of the reins and with both hands sent out her life-threads to rip chunks of ice from the rock. She held the frozen slabs suspended in the air, then whipped them forward. Midair, they split into knife-sharp splinters, long as branches, and smashed into the mountain.
Danae threw herself out of the way, tumbling from the crag to land with a sickening crack against the jutting rock below.
Pain spiked through her back, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it, or the fact that Hera’s power seemed to be a stronger version of her own.
She gathered more life-threads and cast them into the snow.
Hera was quicker.
The goddess snapped her metallic fingers, and flames burst from her palm.
Danae gaped. Hera manipulated the fire into a burning orb, until it was the size of her head, then hurled it at Danae.
She raised a sheet of snow in front of her just in time to absorb the worst of the fire, but it still charred her furs and burned the hairs from her face.
Hera was unbelievably strong. The goddess didn’t look like she was weakening at all, whereas Danae could feel herself being depleted each time she cast her life-threads out of her body. She didn’t have the energy to keep defending herself.
Clenching her jaw, she sent two torrents of threads into the air as Hera sparked another fireball into being.
She whirled them over her head, faster and faster, until a tiny maelstrom formed beneath Hera’s chariot.
The goddess was about to discharge her fire when she stumbled, then screamed as the miniature typhoon swallowed her.
Danae could feel her energy waning, she was dangerously close to losing too many life-threads. With one last push, she yanked her threads downward and let go.
The chariot tumbled from the sky, falling out of sight. She heard it collide with the mountain below. A few moments later the white winged horses reappeared, braying and flapping away from the swirling cloud of snow.
Danae slumped against the rock, her limbs heavy as iron.
Through the falling flakes, she spotted a glint of golden armor. Hera was on the back of the russet horse, flying away into the clouds.
Danae groaned and pulled herself back onto the ridge, wincing at the spasms shooting across her back. The rock face looked as though it had been hacked by an axe.
And Prometheus was gone.
She stared around frantically, then spotted the Titan crumpled in the snow where the sheer rock met the crag below. Hera’s attack must have broken his chains.
She scrambled forward. Even before she reached him, she could feel the life-threads leaving his body. When she drew closer, she saw shards of razor-sharp ice protruding from his chest. His furs were matted with blood.
“You’re dying?” He couldn’t be. He was a Titan. He was immortal.
Prometheus’s skull-like face was placid. “At last.”
Up close, his eyes were so pale they almost looked white.
“No.” Danae placed her hands on his chest. “If I can heal myself, so can you.”
“What is your name, daughter?”
“Danae.”
Prometheus curled what was left of his bony fingers around her hand. “You must cast aside your fear, Danae, or you will not be able to do what needs to be done.”
“I’m not afraid,” she lied.
Prometheus stretched back his scarred lips into what once might have been a smile.
“What did you mean about the gods?”
Prometheus drew a rattling breath. “The world you know is an illusion. Those you call gods have spent centuries weaving lies.” He spluttered as wheezing coughs racked his body.
She waited. Every moment that slipped by fed her desperation to understand.
“The religion you slave under is false. There have only ever been mortals and those mortals who were chosen to become Titans.”
Her head felt like it was going to explode. “But...the gods are real. They created mortals. You made the first man’s body out of clay.”
“Lies,” Prometheus rasped. “Man is not made from clay. Demeter does not command the seasons, just as Apollo does not drive the sun across the sky. Hades rules the Underworld, but there is no afterlife there.”
She felt as though he’d pushed her off the mountain and she was falling endlessly into darkness. She jerked her hands away from his. “What do you mean?”
“You are more powerful than you know...just like me and those who call themselves gods...you are a Titan.”
She stared at him, unable to ground herself as Prometheus’s revelations smashed through the structure of her reality.
“That’s impossible.”
“Seek out Metis on the island of Delos... She will help you.”
Prometheus’s breath was so shallow she could barely see it in front of his mangled lips. The skin on her palms began to itch, and a longing ache spread up her arms. It was there, it was so close, the ecstasy, she could have it again.
Do it, said the voice. Take his life-threads. He’s dying anyway.
She shoved her hands into the snow. The shock of the cold brought her back to her senses.
“Where is my sister?”
Prometheus’s eyelids began to flutter.
“No!” She launched forward and grabbed his furs. “My sister is dead. If she’s not in the Underworld, where is her soul?”
“I...don’t...”
“Prometheus!” She shook him so hard his jaws clattered together. But when she let go, she could no longer feel his life-threads. He was gone.
She dropped the lifeless body of the Titan and screamed into the sky.
Danae sat on the highest peak of the tallest mountain at the end of the world, staring at the rock where Prometheus had been chained. She didn’t know how long she’d been there. She didn’t care.
You must leave, said the voice. They will return.
She did not move.
Seek out Metis, as Prometheus said.
She laughed. Her throat burned but she couldn’t stop. The mountain echoed the sound back as though it were mocking her. Everything she’d done, everything she’d sacrificed had been for nothing. The gods would never stop hunting her. She could never go home.
Every time she tried to entertain the possibility that Prometheus’s claims could be true, she felt like she was falling again. Her sister had to be in the Underworld. All the dead went there. If there was no afterlife, then what happened to every mortal soul after death?
Anger shook her body. She’d battled to the ends of earth. She’d lied, manipulated and abandoned her friends, all to be told things that could not possibly be true.
But you have powers just like the gods.
She raked her hands over her face. She wished she could block out the voice, but it invaded every crevice in her mind.
Yes, the Twelve had lied and exaggerated the scope of their powers to keep mortals in line, but how could she and they be the same? They had existed since the dawn of time. They were immortal and...
Her gaze slid to Prometheus’s body.
Immortal but not invulnerable.
So the gods could be killed, just like mortals.
Something snorted behind her. She turned and saw the winged horse that had escaped the fallen chariot sniffing her bag. It gave the strap an exploratory nibble, then picked it up in its mouth and tossed it toward her. It hit her in the legs.
She stared at it for a moment, then leaned forward and undid the fastening.
She slipped her hand inside, drew out the crumbled remains of the last biscuit and held it out on her palm.
The horse lowered its muzzle and munched.
The sensation of its teeth nipping through her glove was strangely comforting.
She raised her other hand and stroked its neck.
“What do I do now?”
The horse whinnied and flexed its wings.
With great effort, she pushed herself to her feet, slung her bag across her chest and rested her head against the creature’s neck. It was good to touch something warm, something alive.
She didn’t know what was real anymore and she’d lost too many life-threads to ask questions of the omphalos shard. The only thing she could count on was what she could see in front of her.
She raised a hand and grasped hold of the horse’s mane. It didn’t back away as she’d expected but lowered its front legs so she could climb on. She was grateful, she didn’t know if she’d have the strength to heave herself onto its back.
Burrowing her gloved fingers into its milky hair, she supposed she should give it a name.
“I don’t know where we’re going, Hylas. But I’m going to find out.”
Seek out Metis, fulfill your destiny.
She knew she should listen to the voice, that her fate was tied to the destruction of the gods. But after Prometheus’s claim, the idea that Alea’s soul was not in the Underworld threatened to tear her apart.
She had to know.
There was only one way to find out for sure if Alea’s ghost was in the Asphodel Meadows. She would have to go to the Underworld. She had no idea if it was even possible for the living to visit the realm of the dead. But she had to try.
Then, once she found Alea and knew her sister’s soul was at peace, she would go to Delos.
She took a deep breath of frozen air, then gave Hylas a kick and clung on as the horse beat its snowy wings, carrying her up through beams of sunlight, beyond the clouds.
Destiny could wait, she was going to find her sister.