Page 9 of Crown of Olympus
Predictably, and almost immediately, Poseidon couldn’tkeep it in his pants and struck out a final time. His trident clipped my upper arm, and I exploded.
The room was immediately plunged into darkness. Instant midnight burst from within me, and I felt my face hollow out.
My true nature was on full display, skeletal features glowing within the blackness.
I knew how I looked; how my current form inspired fear. My skull peered through semi-transparent skin, dark hair billowing on a phantom breeze. I recalled seeing my father in this state once, as a small child. He’d terrified a six-year-old Charon, but I had been enraptured.
Gods and goddesses shrieked or cowered, knowing exactly what my father was capable of in this form — what I was capable of. They were right to be afraid. If a threat emerged, I wouldn’t hesitate to show them exactly how monstrous I could be.
I was the unrivalled apex predator. Icouldkill a god with my bare hands.
And they all knew it.
I was death incarnate, just like my father.
Only one person remained still. A set of blinding white irises pierced through the blackness, my power triggering his own.
Caelus’ expression was unreadable, but the fact that he met my skeletal gaze and did not shrink startled me out of instinct. My shadows flickered.
Then, a high, metallictingpierced the silence,and all at once the air felt sharper. Ominous. A golden glow ignited high above. The light flickered and solidified as the Crown of Olympus revealed itself. Slowly, it descended until it deigned to hover just above my head — almost, but not quite, touching.
Gasps of horror broke out among the council. And yet, it did not stay; instead, it flicked left to pause above Aphrodite’sgleaming golden tresses. Her eyes widened with hope before the crown once again flew across the room. It floated above Poseidon’s long, dark locks, and greed captured his face for all of a second before the crown swiftly departed. It taunted each of us in turn: Hestia, Athena, Caelus, Ares, Apollo and Artemis, Hephaestus, Hermes, Demeter, and finally Hera.
Then, it vanished.
Its meaning was clear: the crown had not yet found any of us worthy, though we were all in contention. Even me. But for now, the throne of Olympus would remain empty.
What that meant for the realm, I wasn’t sure.
I reeled my shadows back inside my skin, and sunlight slowly filtered back through. Disheartened, and with the matter of Zeus temporarily forgotten, the gods sank back into their seats. Notably, there was no seat for the ruler of the Underworld, so I crafted my own. A large black throne appeared between Aphrodite and Poseidon, built entirely out of swirling darkness.
I sauntered over, boot heels tapping on the marble floor, and sat. I turned to grin slyly at Aph, then swivelled to level a wink at Poseidon. His deep blue eyes narrowed in irritation, and I suppressed the urge to snicker.
It was all too easy to rile him up.
“The Crown finds no one worthy. It cannot choose, so we must aid it,” Ares declared, from Poseidon’s other side. His words were considered, and one by one, the gods nodded, silent agreement filling the room.
Hera stood. “We must enact the Rite of the Ascension Trials.” More nodding. It was beginning to look like a synchronised head-bobbing contest.
“Each god or goddess in contention has the right to compete for the throne in a series of trials,” Hera continued. “They may enter themselves or choose a champion to competeon their behalf. The architect of each trial shall be determined by random lottery and must challenge various qualities essential to rule. Make no mistake — you may sacrifice your life or that of your champion in this competition.”
She looked around at her peers, daring them to decide.
Surprisingly, Aphrodite was first to speak. “I will enter myself.”
Hera quirked a brow, then turned to Ares.
“I need time,” he said. “You will have my answer on the morrow.”
She nodded and moved on.
Artemis spoke next. “I select my daughter, Diana.”
Beside her, Apollo raised his umber hands, fingers moving through the air with calm, practiced grace.
I enter myself,he signed.
“I will enter my son, Archimedes,” declared Hephaestus. “I have no desire to compete, and the boy will do well enough.”
