Page 52 of The Brothers Bane

I nod because I know the stories—how Fate mated with four gods, each representing an element, birthing the higher races. Dionysus with Fate for the Nymphaea; Gaia with Fate for the Ursa; Ouranos with Fate for the Turul; and the Mother Dragon with Fate for the dragons.

“The Mother Dragon chose Fate instead of Chaos,” Typhon continues, “and Chaos... he didn’t take rejection well.” There’s a bitterness in his tone that makes me shiver. “He created my sister Echidna and forced us to breed. Our children were monsters like us—Cerberus, the Nemean Lion Alcides slew... even the Caucasian Eagle tormenting Prometheus. There were others, but those are the ones I was allowed to see when they were born.”

My mind reels at this new connection, recalling Prometheus’ voice echoing in my ears during my tours of the prison. A tortured Titan bound by his own sacrifice—now linked to Typhon through this shared history of pain.

“And your sister?” My voice is barely above a whisper.

“Echidna,” Typhon says with a sadness that envelops us both like a shroud. “She remains in Tartarus, isolated in one of the darkest corners ever since she lost her mind when her last child was taken.”

I feel sick at the thought of these creatures being used as pawns—bribes for gods or experiments in cruelty. “And the others?” I ask.

“They were given to the gods,” Alcides admits quietly beside me. “As gifts or challenges. I was responsible for killing two of them. I nearly killed Cerberus too, but he was my last labor and I was weary of death, so I took him to Tartarus instead.”

The weight of their stories presses down on me like a physical force—stories of beings manipulated and forced into existences they never asked for by powers beyond their control.

Campe finally speaks up, her voice laced with guilt and resolve. “When I learned what Chaos was doing, I pretended to be my sister in an attempt to claim Typhon and Echidna myself. My sister had turned a blind eye, too busy with her Fate-spawn, to care about the fallout from her rejection of Chaos.” She looks at Typhon with an apology in her eyes that no words could convey.

I’m still processing everything when Erebus signs again from where he stands just out of reach.“We knew nothing of our brother and sister, or their offspring, until Campe was sent to Tartarus.”He looks at Typhon now, something like kinship in his dark gaze.“That’s when we asked Chaos to commit them into our care.”

Their stories weave together—a tapestry of pain, defiance, and survival against all odds. And as I stand here surrounded by these beings who’ve suffered so much at the hands of others, I can’t help but feel both fury and an overwhelming need to protect them from any more harm.

But right now, there are more immediate concerns—like surviving whatever comes next in Vegas. We need to be ready for anything Chaos might throw at us. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned from these stories—it’s that monsters aren’t born; they’re made. And we’re not going to let anyone else suffer that fate if we can help it.

“I’m ready to go down now. I want to see this Pandemonium for myself.”

23

Nemea

I’m ready to storm the fucking castle after the story Typhon told, but they force me to see reason. So we venture no farther than the sidewalk outside the Pandemonium casino resort. We stand staring at the brilliantly lit architecture, an odd mix of Grecian and Gothic styles, framed by the largest fountain I’ve ever set eyes on. Hundreds of water sprays dance in an almost hypnotic display lit with a rainbow of lights. Despite how beautiful the water show is, my gut roils with hate for the creature inside who so carelessly fucked with the lives of the people I love.

The low hedge that separates the sidewalk from the resort property is lined with other onlookers, and my Rachel disguise is back in place. We had to grab a pair of sunglasses from a convenience store to hide Typhon’s glowing purple eyes, which he hasn’t managed to figure out how to change himself.

“The eye color is the one thing most shifters can’t control,” Campe explains, even as her own shifting shade cycles through several colors.

“What’s up with yours, anyway? All the dragons I’ve met are just one color, and their eyes match their scales.”

“I’m technically a Prismatic,” she says. “But I only ever have one power at a time. It can be a bit of a crapshoot unless I focus. You help me focus.” She laces her fingers into mine and raises my hand to her lips. Her eyes are green this time, a color that suits her, regardless of what it means.

Her kiss distracts me from some of my ire, but I scowl back at the resort anyway.

“Why are we even bothering with the Titans ifhe’sthe one who causes all the damage? Fate too, for that matter.”

“Fighting Chaos is like holding back the tide,” Alcides says. “The same goes for Fate. The best we can do is learn to play their games and try not to get caught in the crossfire.”

“Even if you all worked together? Even if I helped?”

I’m met with a series of stony looks, and it’s Erebus who finally signs,“He created my brothers and me. He can destroy us with a thought. He is Chaos.”

“What’s to stop him from doing that?”

“His pact with the gods to ensure Tartarus remains secure enough to hold those sentenced to rot there,” Typhon mutters. “We’re toys to him and don’t have much choice but to do as he wishes. If he knew Erebus and I were AWOL, he might take issue, but I’m sure Vesh has been careful not to let him in on that complication. Or on how close you are to us.”

“He’ll have inferred as much since Vesh refused to use you as a bargaining chip,” Alcides says. “But bargaining is the only way to control what he does. A show of force would backfire, likely with devastating consequences.”

“Vesh isn’t exactly bargaining with him tomorrow,” I quip. “How is he so sure his scheme is going to work?”

“Not here,” Campe says, gripping me by the elbow and reaching for the others. “Let’s head back and I can tell you.”

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