Page 168 of Crown of Olympus
Piece by fucking piece.
He stood leaning against a gilded throne, arms crossed, bladed hand dripping with gold. A gloating smirk was plastered across his face — but all I saw was red.
I had no power, no weapon, no thoughts of self-preservation. Only fury running through my veins like rivers of molten lava. Only vengeance on my mind and decades of training given by the one who now lay broken at my feet. Perhaps that did not bode well for me, but he was the best swordsman in any realm, and I owed it to him to try.
“Nyssa, no!” Caelus shouted as he reached for me — too slow.
I ran straight at the smirking motherfucker — the Titan who had forever altered the trajectory of my life. I managed to land a flying fist on his unsuspecting cheek before he reacted. His eyes flashed a glowing red as he grabbed my throat in one hand and dragged my flailing body into the air.
Caelus followed me into battle, wearing an identical expression of promised violence. But he had more than vengeance on his mind — I felt the fierceness of his drive to protect flowing through the bond. And I knew: if it came down to killing Kronos or saving me, he would choose the latter.
I kicked hard at Kronos’ chest as Caelus pummelled his head with a lump of broken marble. I almost wrenched myself free, but Kronos clicked his tongue in mock disappointment, holding his gilded blade to my eye.
“Yield!” he demanded.
Caelus dropped the stone, palms raised.
No! Kill him!
I wanted to scream it. I wanted to shout the words and demand it of my golden warrior. It was my right as Queen, for however briefly the title would be mine. I thrashed and clawed at the hand around my throat, my vision darkening at the edges.
“This will not do, Deathbringer,” he said, dangerously quiet. “Yield.”
“Let her go!” Caelus roared, stepping forwards.
Kronos hissed and pressed the blade into my eye, halting the storm-wielder in his tracks.
A choked whimper forced its way past my crushed windpipe as the blade skewered my cornea. If I’d thought hydra venom burned, it was nothing compared to this. Agony skittered through, and I could think of nothing else.
At least it drowned out the grief.
My vision went black in the punctured eye, but still, all I could see was red. Pain and fury melded together into a blazing furnace within me. Internally, I called out for help. Screamed it — to the sky, the sea, the land. I called to Olympus, the Underworld, the mortal realm. To the Fates, the Furies, to anyone or anything that could help end this murderous bastard.
Not to save us.
Not to save me.
Just to endhim.Permanently.
Or, at the very least, send him back to Tartarus. To the coldest, deepest abyss within it.
And to my surprise… something answered my call.
A cold, wet weight settled in my palm. Icy water dripped from my fingers as they wrapped around a familiar leather-wrapped hilt.
Nightbreaker.
I swung the blade through the air, cleaving the Titan’s ribs apart with a satisfying squelch.
Kronos roared and dropped me.
It was then that my internal cry projected outwards. I was a torrent. A tempest. I was a raging inferno.
Nightbreaker responded instantly. She flared to life, my dark magic imbued in the steel blazing like black fire along her sharp edges.
Simultaneously, something I’d hedged a bet on during the forging happened.
Bright, white bolts of pure, raw energy also surged from the glass orb in Nightbreaker’s hilt — Caelus’ gift. Shadow and lightning embraced along her steely surface, dancing together in disastrous harmony.
