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Lamias, empousas, sphinxes, manticores, griffins, boars, gorgons. The depictions in my textbooks came to life, and descended on Deucalion Academy in a terrible, unstoppable wave.
Kazran said the monsters moved out of the area when they accepted the castle was impenetrable. But it wasn’t true. They never left. All this time—
—they’ve been waiting.
Roaring, they poured onto the grounds—their eyes glinting with rage, and intelligence.
The gods came to life.
Zeus struck the ground with his bolt. Electricity ripped through the dirt, surging into the many legs of the arachnes. They stopped dead in their tracks—bodies seizing. Mouths open in silent screams. Zeus tore the bolt free, and they crumpled onto their backs—their legs reaching for the air like every dead, disgusting insect.
The only other god quicker off the mark was Ares. His weapon slashed the air, loping the head typhon’s head off in one smooth move.
“Brother!” Half a dozen tentacles pointed in every direction. “The statues,” a typhon bellowed. “Destroy them!”
The monsters changed course immediately, racing toward the statues, and me.
I thrashed in Aphrodite’s grip, near losing my mind fighting to get free. Harpies zipped across the sky, coming for me and the love goddess fast.
Aphrodite glanced at them, then turned away.
“What are you doing! You have to fight. You have to do something.”
She gave no sign that she heard me. How the hell was I supposed to know if she could?
“At least put me down!”
Aphrodite raised her mirror and pointed it at... nothing. Not the monsters, not the oncoming harpies. The useless lump of stone stood there, presenting her mirrorless mirror to a whole bunch of nothing.
I screamed in frustration— No, fear. The gust of the harpies’ wings blew my hair back. This was it. I was dead.
The ground rumbled. My head snapped around, jaw cracking but nothing coming out.
Gnarled limbs, wood faces, stumpy legs, and razor-sharp twig teeth. The dryads grew before my eyes, rising to as tall as the statues. Taller than their trees.
The screeching tree rat swung her fist, and smashed the harpy out of the air—stopping it just inches from my skull. A boulder soared over my head, taking out another one.
The dryads joined the fight. Crushing, punching, tearing, and destroying all that dare invade their home.
I gaped at Aphrodite. “Of course,” I whispered. “Love doesn’t fight. Love gives others the strength and courage to fight. Is it you?” My voice trembled. “Are you truly the gods of Olympus? I thought you scattered.”
No reply was forthcoming, but my eyes were seeing what my ears didn’t need to comprehend.
Hephaestus caved in cerberus skulls with his hammer. Seemed just because you have a head that sees the future, doesn’t mean you can escape it.
Apollo played his stone lyre, and before him monsters fell—clutching their ears and screaming torment. I couldn’t hear what they did, and all the more thankful I was.
Hera swept her scepter, cutting down swathes of the beast. They hit the air as monsters, and struck the ground as rabbits, squirrels, peacocks, and other harmless creatures.
Hestia, goddess of the home and hearth, tipped over her pot and steaming, burning lava poured out—immolating the typhon who dared to charge her.
Ares had lost his scowl. He beamed with pure wicked glee as he cut, sliced, and hacked every monster in his sight—even the ones who turned to flee, he chased them down.
The gods were amazing. They were wonderful. They were powerful, but they were outnumbered.
Monsters kept coming—streaming everywhere all at once.
A swarm of arachnes shot unending streams of webs at Apollo, lashing his arms, legs, face, torso, and lyre. He went down with a boom that shook the earth.
