Blood of Hercules (Villains of Lore Book 1)

Alexis

In the pouring rain, a lithe pale figure with long inky hair sauntered slowly down the podium toward Zeus.

He wore a ruby crown with tall, jagged silver spires, which was the famed symbol of the Chthonic House leaders.

He was an entire head taller than Zeus.

The man’s countenance was abrasive.

Menacing.

If he was a musical melody, he’d be the Locrian mode—the darkest musical scale played on a piano.

Dark fog swirled around the man’s feet, and his eyes were an insidious shade of black.

A monstrous three-headed dog added to his daunting visage. The terrifying animal followed him with matching black eyes.

The man and his beast were notorious for running the underworld, a maximum-security prison that only housed immortal inmates in the North Sea. The place where Titans and incarcerated Spartans were tortured. It was where Medusa was infamously imprisoned.

Beside him walked a short woman with dark skin in a pink dress.

She was his foil: pretty and delicate.

A small laurel crown sat atop her curly blonde hair—signaling she was an Olympian heiress—and a dog-sized dragon was perched on her golden-tan shoulder with its tail wrapped around her neck.

Heiresses were super rare and highly sought after because of all the Spartan fertility issues.

As the woman stood on her tiptoes, whispering, his expression softened, and he wrapped his arm around her protectively.

Hades and Persephone.

Their love was legendary.

Persephone was the daughter of Demeter and Iasion—a dark creature who was rumored to have power over plants.

Because of her heritage, Persephone was uniquely powerful and beautiful.

That was partly why Hades and Persephone were so infamous.

It was also because everyone knew Hades would do anything for Persephone. Humans had been killed, and Spartans had been imprisoned for merely looking at her wrong.

The other part was Spartans were known for their promiscuity (they had both male and female lovers in the multiples), and as a result, few Spartans took marriage oaths, and even fewer took an oath with a single person.

The rest of the House leaders were in relationships, such as Zeus and Hera, but they didn’t take Spartan oaths and were known to have affairs with other Spartans and humans.

It was rumored that centuries ago it was the norm for Spartans to take marriage oaths, and the largest wedding was between seven people.

Hades clapped Zeus on the back in a warm greeting, towering over the shorter, gold-skinned man.

While none of the separate Spartan families were related, they were rumored to be as close as brothers, and their collaboration had ended the Great War.

The hair on the back of the dog’s three necks stood on edge as it growled at the lion. The beasts stood eye to eye, teeth bared.

As Zeus walked away and his lion followed, a feeling of certain doom settled into my bones.

I took another step back in the sand.

Rain soaked me to the bone.

Hades spread his arms wide. “The initiation massacre begins now. Like always, weapons are not allowed—whoever wields one will be killed.” His voice projected around the coliseum like a gunshot.

He looked down at us and his face was carved from marble, emotionless and cruel.

“Use your fists and your wits,” Hades said. “The adrenaline pumping through your veins will keep you going when your body would otherwise fail—above all else, this is a mental test.” His voice rose. “Spartans are gods . . . remember . . . there is no such thing as a stupid god!”

The crowd roared.

Shadows stretched around Hades.

“This is your chance to prove your worth!” he bellowed, and black fog gathered at his feet.

The inky fog poured down the high walls into the sands where we stood.

His legendary power streamed toward us. No one knew exactly what it did, but everyone knew to fear it.

The House of Hades was known as the House of Death for a reason. Their abilities were as scary as the House of Ares.

Chthonics are all evil.

My breath left my mouth in an unnatural frosty puff as the fog rolled in and the temperature plummeted. I rubbed at my chest, heart racing uncomfortably fast from the adrenaline they’d injected into my veins.

Thunder cracked.

I was painfully alive.

As the black fog approached, it carried voices—a woman wailed, a male begged me to call the Spartans, a young boy sobbed, a strange male shrieked in pain, and Nyx hissed in confusion.

I turned to run from it, but there was nowhere to go—the screaming fog surrounded me on all sides. Dark and solid. It trapped me.

My teeth chattered.

“FIGHT TO THE DEATH!” Hades bellowed, his voice warping with a strange cadence, and three dog barks boomed.

“Immortality is not a right, it is a privilege . . . Immortality is not a right, it is a privilege . . . ” echoed through the coliseum.

Off to my right, a boy bellowed, and flesh smacked in the fog.

I turned my head and squinted.

To my left, a boy’s shriek was abruptly cut off.

There was a grunt, then silence.

Lightning flashed, and electricity filled the air. My wet hair fizzled. I turned in a circle and squinted into the fog, but I couldn’t see anything.

“You need to get ready—stay alert,” Nyx said.

“Ready for what?” I whispered.

A boy appeared out of the fog, charging at me.

I turned to run—he slammed against me, and my face banged against wet sand. My limbs tingled from being body-slammed. He was all over me. He was touching me.

There was a moment of pure shock.

I froze.

Nyx yelled something at me, but I couldn’t hear.

Fists slammed into the side of my head, and the ringing in my left ear got louder. Another blow caught my chin.

He was still touching me, and I didn’t want it.

Something inside me snapped.

Bucking against the boy’s hold, I swung and kicked blindly. Scratched. My fists landed against thick muscles. We grappled, rolling through the wet sand.

He punched me in the stomach with insane force.

I tasted vomit.

Nyx slid against my neck.

My attacker collapsed on top of me, convulsing.

She’d bit him.

I shrieked through my teeth as I shoved his body away and scrambled to my feet, heart racing, frosty breath uneven, as I struggled to catch my bearings and think. My skin crawled where he’d touched me.

I rubbed my hands across my grit covered arms like I could wipe the disgust away.

“Thanks.” I gasped for air.

“Kid, you need to stay alert and run,” Nyx said. “If they get close, I’ll bite them so you⁠—”

Two bodies slammed against me.

Then a third.

A fourth.

I lost count. Boys fought everywhere. There was no tact, no dodging and expert maneuvers like the fiction books described in the library.

There was no honor.

We were animals.

Cymbals crashed, and haunting music played.

Hell was not a place; it was cracked bones and hoarse shouts in the middle of a scrum. It was fighting in a melee of screaming black fog that sounded alarmingly like my foster parents.

Sanity disappeared as I punched, kicked, and scratched blindly in the middle of the chaos. Blood sprayed. Rain poured. Thunder boomed.

Baptism by fire.

A fist pummeled my face. My nose broke, and blood splattered. Copper flooded my mouth.

Someone pulled him back into the fog.

Hands tried to wrap around my throat from behind, but Nyx was already there, and they convulsed with a scream.

My ragged breath puffed in the air.

The temperature was below freezing as the fog rolled over me like a sadistic blanket—a woman wailed as she died.

“Filthy, abandoned mutt,” someone growled.

The ringing in my left ear was now a high-pitched burn.

I turned and ran.

Stumbled. Dodged. Sprinted in a stupor across the wet sand through the opaque fog. Away. Away. Away. I needed to get away.

The ignominy was too much to handle. I pulled at my hair as I ran, retching with shame that I didn’t fully understand.

Lightning flashed, and thunder boomed.

Everything was distorted.

Between the voices in the fog and the fighting bodies, I couldn’t tell what was real and what was in my head.

I screamed into someone’s bloody face; they screamed back.

A boy kicked me, and my forearm cracked.

I barely noticed. I was used to violence, but not like this. The adrenaline had me sprinting as fast as I could when I shouldn’t have been able to stand.

Nyx’s invisible scales slithered against my neck as she lunged in every direction.

Hands held me down—they fell away, convulsing.

I backed away through the fog, trying to put distance between myself and the fighting.

I bumped into something and jumped.

Whirled around.

“No. No. No.” A boy in tattered black robes sobbed into his hands and didn’t move. Somehow, he hadn’t felt me knock against him. “I didn’t mean to. I swear . . . I didn’t mean to.”

He was on his knees, all alone.

Tiny black horns protruded off his head.

He’s a creature.

The black fog writhed around him like it was attacking him.

“No, I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!” he choked, and lightning illuminated his distraught features. “I’m so sorry. I lied—I meant to do it!”

He punched himself in the head.

Thunder rolled.

Dark music played.

Blood splattered across the sand as he pummeled himself to death with his own fists. His horns landed in the sand.

“Oh dear,” Nyx whispered.

Turning, I ran but slipped.

I caught myself with my hands in the deep puddle. Pain streaked down my arm. When I got back to my feet, my arms—fingertips to elbow—were coated in red.

Thick raindrops splattered across it.

I stared down at the puddle of viscous blood I’d fallen into. Teeth chattering, I spat sand out of my mouth. Shaking with horror. Gasping as I struggled to inhale.

I can’t breathe.

“I’m so sorry,” Nyx said despondently. “If I’d known, kid . . . I would have prepared you.”

I stared dumbly at my trembling hands.

“In my experience, those with power suffer for having it,” Nyx whispered.

Screaming fog wrapped around my legs. I slammed the edge of my palm against the side of my head to make the noises stop.

They didn’t.

I was covered in open wounds and drenched head to toe in blood, and not all of it was mine.

Gore was caked beneath my nails that hadn’t been ripped off.

“But I don’t have any powers,” I whispered.

Scales slid against my neck. “It’s in your blood, whether you want it or not,” Nyx said. “You do. You always have—you just haven’t known it.”

“TWENTY COMPETITORS REMAIN.” Hades’ distorted voice cracked like a whip. “ONLY TEN WILL MAKE THE CRUCIBLE—PROVE YOURSELF NOW OR PERISH.”

I wiped crusted blood from my throbbing nose.

The “C+A” tattoo on my forearm flashed, and my vision blurred. I miss Charlie. I miss Fluffy. The urge to fall to my knees and crawl into the fetal position was overwhelming.

Maybe in an alternative world, I did.

In this world, a large body came barreling out of the fog. Yet again.

A fist caught me on the left side of my head. I kicked out and scratched as arms wrapped around me and wrestled me to the ground. They ripped at my hair, trying to get purchase on my head to snap my neck.

Nyx hissed and lunged.

Like the others, the boy collapsed.

I shoved his body off and lay on my back in the rain, gasping as I tried to catch my breath—a leg kicked out of the fog.

This new attacker slammed a steel-toed boot against my side. Ribs cracked. A second appeared and kicked before I could get to my feet.

“An abandoned female mutt—you’re clearly an abomination who was abandoned for a reason. Our Houses taught us how to deal with defects like you,” he snarled.

A third joined.

Thunder boomed.

Nyx lunged off my neck. Thwack. Her weight slammed down against my chest.

I stopped feeling the blows—didn’t notice my blood spraying across their shins—as panic filled me.

Rain poured harder.

“NYX!” I screamed as I grabbed at her invisible body. She was icy and limp in my arms.

No. No. No. No. No. No.

The feeling inside my chest was overwhelming.

I shrieked like an animal and clawed with my nails at the legs of the beasts who’d hurt Nyx. My arm cracked as a boot hit it, and I didn’t care.

NYX!

Scrambling, grappling, screaming, I clawed at the men with my remaining nails—tore their skin off their bones as they swore and tried to shake me off. Lunging forward, I bit them with my teeth.

Their blows did nothing, because I knew how to take a beating.

One of them slipped and fell. I threw myself to my feet and lunged after them. They scrambled back.

Three against one.

They hurt Nyx. She’s always been there. Curled around me in a cardboard box.

I bared my teeth and shrieked at them as my heart burned like it was breaking into a million pieces.

The three of them took a step backward and gaped at me.

I took a step forward.

Rage filled me.

Someone shouted—all four of us whipped our heads to the right.

A shadowy figure was silhouetted by the fog. There was movement, and his hand extended toward my attackers.

Glowing red light reflected off the black fog.

I forgot how to breathe.

Pain stabbed my chest.

The boy in the fog had Chthonic power—he could hurt us, and we’d have no way of stopping him. As if to punctuate that thought, my three attackers fell to their knees and cried out in pain as they stared up at me with horrified expressions.

Zeus said there were no Chthonics this year. Does no one know what he is?

Foam dripped from the dying boys’ lips, and their bodies arched like they were on fire as they stared at me and bellowed.

The fog in the immediate vicinity thickened and rushed toward me like it was attacking. Male voices in the fog shrieked at me.

I closed my eyes.

The screams intensified: real and imaginary.

Panic stabbed hotter through my heart.

Icy fog twisted against my skin.

I was frozen, glad they were dying but unable to stomach the sight. Finally, the three of them let out the most god-awful stomach-curdling wail, then fell silent.

Rain splattered softly against sand.

It’s over.

Panic abating, I peeked open my eyes.

The pale Chthonic boy stepped forward out of the fog. A few scraps of his clothes were left around his shoulders, but the rest had been torn off. He glared at me with a disgusted expression. Loathing rolled off him.

Lightning cracked, and a crescendo of thunder made the sand vibrate.

I stared back.

Waited for him to make his move.

He took a step⁠—

“THE MASSACRE IS OVER.” Hades’ voice crackled through the air like electricity. “THE FINAL TEN HAVE QUALIFIED FOR THE CRUCIBLE—CONGRATULATIONS.”

The black fog cleared. It retracted up the walls and curled around Hades’ feet. The awful screams dissipated. The temperature returned to normal.

Mangled bodies were strewn everywhere.

Everything—the sand, the fallen, the ten of us standing—was coated in red.

“Welcome to Sparta!” the crowd cheered as they waved their House flags through the rain.

I looked down.

My clothes were torn and hanging off my body as rags, but at least the hair ties still covered the raised scars on my wrists.

I was half-naked, covered in scraps and streaks of sand, but I couldn’t find the energy to care. Free the nipple and the lips (vaginal)?

My head spun, and the world kaleidoscoped.

The adrenaline was still affecting me.

Nothing seemed real.

I exhaled with relief as I felt Nyx slither up my legs and around my neck. “Need . . . rest,” she whispered weakly.

Through the rain, Hades stood calmly on the edge of the podium with his heinous black fog swirling around his ankles.

His power had felt like insanity.

Father John was wrong; the devil was real, but there was no god to stop him.

The leader of the House of Hades stared down at the sands with an uncaring, ruthless expression.

Nothing could save humanity from him.

He was the reason Nyx was hurt, the reason so many were dead.

I’d never hated anyone more.

“Congratulations to our ten Spartans who showcased the mental and physical fortitude of gods,” Zeus said, sparks leaping off him as he stepped beside Hades with a smile. “Welcome to the crucible. Survive this next year, and you will be named a citizen of Sparta. Immortality is within your grasp.”

The coliseum cheered louder.

I could still feel the black fog wrapping around me like a vise. I’m losing my mind.

Zeus beamed at the crowd and glowed brighter. “Thank you all for joining us. Sparta, and the Spartan Federation, are stronger than ever because of you! Now, honored Spartans who’ve been chosen as mentors, join me now on the sands.”

Boom.

Zeus and a dozen men jumped over the edge of the wall and landed in the sand with bent knees. Their animals followed.

The wall was at least five stories tall.

I stared at the approaching men blankly. Everything was fuzzy.

Time warped.

Zeus was speaking on the other side of the sand. “Being a mentor is a great honor. As you know, if your initiate survives the crucible, you will be granted general status . . . the highest demarcation a Spartan can reach, and a chance to join the federation!”

The Spartan men who’d leaped from the stadium fell to one knee and bowed their heads toward him. “It is our honor!” they chorused back.

They knelt in blood.

There was a muffled sound. “What . . . name?”

A diminutive elderly lady stepped out from my left side. “What’s your name?” she repeated. Her hair was bright white, eyes a strange shade of violet.

I stilled.

She looked familiar, but my head was rushing with adrenaline, and I couldn’t remember why I recognized her.

Zeus droned on about honor.

The lady held a pen over a scroll and looked at me expectantly. A yellow raincoat was draped over her, and she wore neon-orange galoshes. She looked ridiculous.

“What is your name?” she repeated. “You’re the last one on the list . . . we have to write ya down, make this all proper.”

A manic snort escaped my nose.

“Snap out of it, girl.” My head snapped to the side as she slapped me across the face.

Who does that to someone they just met?

Dorean would—I missed her.

As I rubbed my aching jaw, the little old lady (violent assaulter) grabbed the mangled remains of my sweatshirt and pulled me down to her level with surprising strength.

“The fates are rooting for you—don’t you dare make us regret backing you, Alexis Hert.”

I yanked out of her grasp.

If she already knew my name, why did she ask? I would have asked her, but it turned out even a massacre wasn’t enough to overcome my fear of speaking to strangers.

Her eyes glowed an unnatural shade of electric blue. “Tell me your name?” Her voice register dropped three octaves. “Tell me now.”

“Alexis H-Hert,” I whispered.

Her blue eyes faded back to violet as she patted me on the cheek and smiled sweetly. “And don’t you forget it, dearie.” She leaned close and whispered conspiratorially, “Girl to girl—I’d take a chance on the killers, if you know what I mean—even with their hounds.” She winked and wrote my name on her scroll. “Don’t let their . . . passion . . . scare you away.”

“What?” I asked.

She wiggled her brows and waddled away, stepping on bodies as she headed toward Zeus.

She might be worse off than neighbor Paul, pre-shovel.

I’d only ever heard of Chthonic eyes turning red when they used their power. What did it mean that her eyes turned blue?

What can she do? What is she? Why does she look so familiar?

A strange sensation skittered down my spine.

It felt like⁠—

“Fate has written these ten Spartans into our ranks,” Zeus announced as he held the scroll, then read off it. “Maximum, mutt from the House of Hera.”

A short naked boy with blue streaks in blond hair and brown eyes stumbled forward.

“Your mentor is Ryax,” Zeus said, “another mutt from the House of Dionysus.”

A Spartan man stalked forward with an albino crow on his shoulder. He glared and looked intense. I’m glad I didn’t get him as my mentor.

The crowd cheered.

Lightning flashed across a gray sky and thunder boomed.

My teeth chattered.

Names were read, men stepped forward, but I barely noticed. Everything was falling to pieces around me. Nothing was real.

“Drex Chen,” Zeus said, and I jolted because I recognized the naked Chthonic boy who stepped forward. It was the one who’d killed my three attackers.

No one in the crowd cheered.

Zeus’s smile slipped.

“Abandoned mutt!” someone yelled.

That must be why I don’t know about him. Am I the only one who knows he’s Chthonic? That’s not good.

Zeus nodded toward a handsome blond man with deep-golden skin and storm-gray eyes. A gold-headed vulture sat on the man’s shoulder. “Your mentor is Theros, heir to the House of Zeus.”

This time the coliseum erupted in cheers.

Theros frowned, the small gold laurel wreath gleaming atop his head, but then his face transformed with a brilliant smile, and he waved to the crowd as he walked over and clapped Drex on the back.

Zeus cleared his throat. “Finally, we have Alexis Hert—the fates have . . . blessed us. Please welcome the first female mutt in centuries.”

There was a splattering of awkward applause as hundreds of Spartans scrutinized me. Drex looked over at me with a pinched expression.

The air hummed with whispers about me being unwanted. Since I lived in a cardboard box behind a trailer park, their judgment was easily ignored. Their derision had nothing compared to Jessica, my high school bully.

“Because of her and their . . . special circumstances, Alexis’s mentors are—” Zeus paused and stared at me with an inscrutable expression. “—Patro the mutt of the House of Aphrodite and Achilles the mutt of the House of Ares.”

The Olympian section was mostly silent; there was a splattering of applause.

But the Chthonic section stomped and screamed at the top of their lungs, waving their flags.

Two tall shadows stepped forward from the edge of the arena.

They stalked across the bloody sand.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up.

As the two men headed in my direction, they were somehow more feral than the monstrous wolf and jaguar that walked beside them. Both animals bared their teeth as they stared at me.

Run while you can.

I took a step back.

They stopped an arm’s length away—one handsome as sin, the other savage with a muzzle stretched across his jaw. The videos didn’t do their size justice. I had to tip my head back just to see their faces.

Close enough to maim me.

They towered above me in their perfectly tailored suits. On their wrists, gold cuff links glinted with diamonds, but unlike everyone else, they had weapon holsters strapped across their chests, thighs, and arms. They were covered in guns and knives.

Lucifer himself would have been less intimidating.

“You’re ours now,” Patro said slowly, his voice cold.

What a way to greet someone.

He took a menacing step closer.

“Let me be crystal clear,” Patro snarled. “We own you—and we won’t go easy on you because you’re an abandoned girl.” His lips curled.

“Also—you disgust us, we don’t like you, and we never will, so rid yourself of all romantic delusions. Here’s exactly what’s going to happen . . . you’re going to survive the crucible and make us generals, then—we’re going to forget you ever existed. You’re Olympian, and we’re Chthonic—we don’t give a single shit about you. Got it?”

Green eyes flashed with warning, like flickering trailer lights in the middle of a storm. Unsettling and sinister.

He bared his teeth.

The internet was right; Chthonics were evil.

“Understand?” Patro leaned forward, and Achilles grabbed his shoulder like he was holding him back. The muzzled man glared at me and his red eyes made it clear that he would eviscerate me to protect Patro.

They loomed over me, radiating hatred.

“You disgust me too?” I started at my audacity.

Their eyebrows rose.

I swallowed the urge to beg for mercy, but I refused to cow before brutish men.

“Good, glad the feeling’s mutual,” Patro said with deceptive softness. “But that’s not what I asked . . . I asked if you understood me.”

He leaned his head to the side tauntingly; “Achilles” was tattooed in red letters down the side of his neck.

The son of the most beautiful woman in the history of the world radiated hatred.

Chills traveled down my spine.

“Yes, u-understood,” I whispered and ducked my head.

Zeus said something, and they stepped forward, repositioning so they flanked me on either side. Millimeters away.

Close enough to kill.

The shivers worsened.

On my right, Patro leaned down, and the frosty scent of mint burned my nose. “You don’t want to mess with us . . .” The unspoken we’ll hurt you hung in the air between us.

He didn’t need to say it; he wasn’t the first person to threaten me.

I shifted away from the chilly breath fluttering against my temple, and my side bumped into Achilles. I jumped and took a step forward to get away.

Patro grabbed my arm and yanked me back between them.

“Smile,” he ordered under his breath. “Everyone’s looking—pull yourself together.”

The jaguar hissed with warning.

He was touching me. My skin prickled, and sweat broke out across my body. There was something off about him, something . . . cruel.

Panic mounted.

I never should have talked back to him.

What was I thinking?

I pulled away and bumped into Achilles again. He glared down at me with heartless eyes ringed in dark circles. He smelled like amber and fire. Heat radiated off him.

A chill surrounded Patro.

Fire and ice.

“I said—smile,” Patro ordered harshly.

The edges of my lips pulled up, muscle memory taking over. There was comfort in wearing a mask and pretending everything was all right. I’d done it every day of my miserable life.

Zeus droned on. “If an initiate survives the crucible until the January Citizen Initiation Ball and the graduation ceremony the next morning, then they will be an immortal citizen of Sparta. Their mentors will be named generals . . . and given a seat in the Spartan Federation.”

He cleared his throat.

“If an initiate is Chthonic, which there aren’t any this year, they will be enrolled in the Assembly of Death at the graduation ceremony.”

They definitely don’t know the boy who saved me is Chthonic.

I looked over at him, but he was staring down at his blood-covered hands with a wide-eyed shell-shocked expression.

His secret wasn’t mine to tell.

At least there was no chance I’d end up in the Assembly of Death and I most likely wouldn’t survive until January.

A silver lining.

Yay. Lucky me.

A wolf growled at my feet, but I didn’t look down.

“Kid, why is that dirty mongrel growling at you?” Nyx’s voice hissed, and I slumped with relief because she sounded healthier.

Patro’s grip on my bicep was the only thing that kept me standing. “Get it together.” His voice was sharp, like a serrated knife.

“You’re okay?” I asked her quietly.

“Of course I’m okay.” Nyx coughed. “Stupid boy knocked me out—it takes more than a child to kill me, obviously.”

Warm scales slithered across my neck in a suffocating hold, and a forked tongue licked tears off my face. “Uh—kid . . . why are the Crimson Duo standing next to you?”

“They’re my mentors,” I whispered.

Patro dropped my arm and shifted closer so our sides were touching. “Stop mumbling nonsense to yourself and stand up straight.”

I inched away from him.

He inched closer.

“You’re screwed,” Nyx said in a matter-of-fact tone. “That man is not well. You can see it in his eyes. He wants to devour you. Violently.”

I grimaced.

Charming.

Zeus glanced at me. “Initiates, you will spend the next two weeks living and healing with your mentors as they prepare you for the crucible. Additionally, over the next year, you will spend three days every two weeks training and strategizing with them.”

Scales slid across my neck, and Nyx said, “I don’t see this ending well.”

A manic snort escaped my nose.

“What’s so funny?” Patro’s voice was icy.

Did he even have to ask?

I was half-naked in front of hundreds of Spartans standing next to the Crimson Duo—who already loathed me for being Olympian—and Zeus was talking about how we’d be spending copious amounts of time together.

“Initiates, your adrenaline will wear off soon,” Zeus announced, power sparking off his golden skin.

“Mentors, heal them and lead them—and remember . . .” He raised his hands to the crowd. “Immortality is not a right, it is a privilege!” The coliseum chorused in unison with him.

Zeus smiled, his skin glowing.

Callused fingers wrapped around both my biceps.

“Domus,” Patro whispered, and we leaped away.

White-hot pain flared along every one of my nerves. Smoke filled my lungs. Darkness tore me to shreds, reality morphed into a⁠—

The agony stopped, and the hands released me.

I dropped to my knees, smoke billowing around me.

“Welcome home,” Patro said cruelly.

I did the next best thing to dying—I fainted.