Blood of Hercules (Villains of Lore Book 1)

Fate

I draped the long toga over my crossed legs and sat completely still in the field. Stones from Delphi were placed in a circle around me.

I’d collected the rocks when I was a little girl, thousands of years ago.

Palms relaxed and open.

Head tipped back.

A smoking pipe hung from my lips.

I inhaled the herbs, and pain pulsed through my closed eyes as I activated my powers.

Glimpses of patterns, numbers, and probabilities flashed through my mind, too many images to comprehend.

The path of existence was nothing but chance, and chance was nothing but a circle of events.

Sharp sensations transformed into agony, but I inhaled smoke and withstood the onslaught.

The nonsensical images changed into cryptic words.

They spoke themselves to me:

“The lost one shall change what is before;

Chained to death’s soldiers, becoming evermore;

Or Titans will inherit the earth, and there will be nothing but war.”

My eyes shot open.

Dark possibilities tasted bitter on my tongue, and I felt the paths forward in the marrow of my ancient bones.

My brand of Spartan power was nothing without action, but I never shied from unsavory choices. It was why I’d survived, while the rest of my kind had perished.

The future hinged before me on a razor-sharp edge: apocalypse and peace were two sides of the same coin.

It could tip either way.

Action was needed. After all, nullum magnum ingenium sine mixture dementia fuit.

There has been no great wisdom without an element of madness.

Gasping out smoke, joints aching as I got to my feet, I tripped and stumbled as I ran through the field, into the palace, then hurried down a long white marble hall.

My purple eyes and white hair reflected off the mirrored walls.

When I got to the heavy onyx door of the inner chamber, I didn’t bother to knock. I pushed against it and threw it open.

The members of the federation were standing behind gold podiums in the grand arena, arguing.

They turned and looked up at me.

Crack.

They fell to their knees.

Pulling the smoking pipe from my lips, I waved it in the air. “The marriage law we’ve discarded must pass—today,” I rasped. “The age to wed must be twenty-six.”

The room erupted with a roar. “But we were discussing a century!” someone shouted. “Twenty-six is far too young to be bound for all of immortality!”

I held up my hand.

Everyone shut up.

Immediately.

“That’s not all,” I said. “Kharon and Augustus must be professors in the crucible this year.”

Everyone blinked with confusion.

“Why?” Zeus asked with narrowed eyes, electricity sparking off his skin as he knelt next to the speaker’s podium in the center of the room.

I arched an eyebrow. “Are you questioning my abilities—young boy?”

“Of course not.” He lowered his head. “My apologies for my disrespect. I was just curious.”

I stared at him. “Don’t be.”

The silence expanded.

One by one, the House leaders bowed deeply—their foreheads pressed flush against the red marble floor.

Slowly, I walked down the long black-rug-covered stairs that led to the center of the arena.

When I got to the leader’s podium, I picked up a pair of scissors and reached into the basket, where the laws that hadn’t passed were wrapped in scarlet ribbon.

I snipped.

The ribbon fell away.

The scroll unrolled—“Marriage Law” was printed across it in black ink.

“Pass it,” I said as I leaned low and handed the previously discarded law to the still-bowing Zeus. “Pass it now—make the age changes and assign the two new professors.”

Electricity sparked across the paper as he took it, then he immediately resumed his position.

I turned.

Slowly hobbled back up the steps, with immortal beings prostrated on either side.

I scoffed as they cowered—Kronos, if only you could see what your empire has become. . . Spartans have become so weak.

Unlike the House leaders, my word was absolute.

I was the only thing standing between the rise and fall of Sparta.

Kronos save us all.