Page 57 of Heroines of Olympus

33

HESTIA

Pain cuts through Hestia’s body like shards of glass, reaching every crevice of her being, like death by a thousand cuts. Like her bones are shattered and stabbing Hestia every time she moves, breathes. It does not come in waves, or spurts. This pain is constant. There are so many things the god of knowledge knows, but Hestia did not know it was possible to hurt this much. Or which is worse, the pain itself or the psychological torture of its incessantness.

Unable to contain it, a tear rolls down Hestia’s cheek, following a well-established path, and her breath hitches to prepare for a sob. The jerky movement is excruciating, and she opens her mouth to scream, but doing so hurts so much that no sound comes out.

Her stomach heaves, but it is empty, so nothing comes out. Every new movement is more unbearable than the last, as if being multiplied exponentially each time.

The life is leaving her body, Hestia can feel it. Her vitality, her immortality, and everything that could have been flashing before her eyes as her mind loops on the things she will never get to do now. A pair of steel-gray eyes keeps taunting her with the knowledge that she will never get to be held in his arms.

Alec.

Hestia imagines running her fingers through his gray beard and pictures the rough feel of it against her fingers, desperately clinging to him as her immortality continues to drain, despite the heartbreak that comes with it.

The daydream of them spending their days together has always been nothing but a fantasy, but Hestia cannot fault herself for having indulged in it.

In her mind, his hand cups her cheek and he whispers to her, “Hold on for me, I’m coming.”

It matters not if the voice is a delusion, if it gives Hestia the strength to try. The cage will take the choice from her before too long.

Footsteps approach, but the thought of lifting her head to investigate is too much. Everything is too much.

The cell door opens, and Hestia still doesn’t move.

“No, don’t do this!” A female voice. Who is that?

A scream of pain echoes around the room and someone falls to the floor of the cage in front of Hestia.

“Psyche?” Hestia’s voice is weak and drowned out by Psyche’s wails of pain.

Psyche takes a few breaths, bracing herself through the pain, and looks over at her.

“Hestia. Thank the gods.” Psyche reaches over and takes Hestia’s hand. The pain is almost blinding, but Hestia welcomes the contact, refusing to spend her last few hours hurtingandalone.

“I don’t have much time left.”

“Do you know where we are?” Psyche asks, fighting through the onslaught of the god cage.

“Love Island.”

“That’s great news. A rescue team is on their way. Help is coming.” Psyche squeezes her hand gently.

“There’s not enough time.”

“Shh,” Psyche says. “Just hold on. We will hold on together. They will find us.”

34

MEDUSA

Medusa’s thoughts cycle between everything that can go wrong, and if Psyche is okay. She looks at Cadmus and has to wonder, is he really safe to trust? Or is she falling into trusting him in the absence of Psyche? Should she put aside any uneasiness she has regarding him since the Allegiance trusts him? It could just be the stakes of the mission, but her instincts scream that this will not end well.

The Allegiance group reaches the procession of people walking to the temple. Medusa sucks in a deep breath and holds it as they step out into the street and merge with people walking, only letting it out when no one gives them a second glance.

They walk briskly, but make a point to not appear too rushed and out of place.

“How did you become so close with Hestia?” Medusa asks Alec quietly. “You don’t have to talk about her if it’s hard right now.”

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