Page 55

Chapter Thirty Six

P asnia stumbled forward, her heels scraping against the marble as she strained against my magic. The grunts of frustration she let slip echoed through the desolate hall. For a fleeting moment, I thought I won.

Were she Mortal, I would have shoved her through the portal already, sealing it with ease. But she wasn’t. Her strength was a force of nature, making my power feel like an ember flickering against a roaring inferno.

Blood trickled from my nose, dotting the marble floor in steady, rhythmic splatters. I poured everything I had into pulling her closer, my magic tethering her like a golden chain. Just a little further. Just one more step.

She stumbled again. Her crimson hair hung in disarray, and her burning gaze locked onto mine with a hatred that seared. I pulled harder, summoning strength from the deepest, most desperate parts of me.

But then she straightened.

And laughed .

The sound grated, sharp and mocking, as she tilted her head with infuriating ease. “Oh, that was fun,” she said, brushing at her gown as though she’d merely tripped on a step. With a flick of her wrist, my magic snapped like brittle thread.

The recoil hit me like a blow, rippling through my body and forcing me back a step. I gasped, clawing for the remnants of my power, but the well had run dry. My legs trembled, barely holding me upright .

Pasnia’s smirk widened as she smoothed imaginary dust from her shoulder. “You didn’t really think it would be that easy, did you?”

The suffocating fog of her magic crept into my mind. I clawed at my temples, trying to fight the weight of it, but with my power so depleted, it slithered through easily, filling my thoughts with screams and death. The images seared into my mind like branding irons.

“I didn’t need you to lower the Veil all the way,” Pasnia continued, her voice maddeningly calm, as if this were all a game. “I just needed you to crack it.”

My vision cleared just enough to see her pull a small vial from the pouch at her waist. The crimson liquid inside shimmered and the tiniest bit of magic left in me flared, recognizing it.

That was my blood.

“No.” The word came out as a broken whisper, my head shaking as if I could will it out of existence.

She uncorked the bottle with a measured twist, dipping her finger inside to smear a streak of blood onto the open pages of the Book of the Gods . Her lips moved, a single whisper—a sentence so soft it was barely more than a breath.

And everything changed.

Pain erupted in a white-hot blaze, consuming every nerve in my body. My knees buckled, and I hit the floor hard, but the impact was a distant ache beneath the agony ripping me apart. My screams filled the air, raw and unrelenting, but they sounded far away, swallowed by the torrent of shock.

It wasn’t just pain. It was theft. My very essence—the magic stitched into my soul—was being wrenched free against my will. The golden threads that defined me, that were me , tore away violently, spilling from my body in radiant, blinding waves. They scattered across the floor like molten light .

“You na?ve little girl,” Pasnia’s voice cut through the haze, mocking and sharp. “You think you’ve matured into a goddess, but you’re nothing more than a child wearing a crown that doesn’t quite fit yet.”

The portal shimmered, alive and writhing, expanding as if it had a mind of its own. My stolen magic fed it, the golden glow pulsating with each beat of my heart, and every breath it took drained me further, leaving me raw and hollow.

Cracks splintered through my power. The windows shattered, golden light exploding outward as more portals, wild and uncontrolled, tore the world open. The ballroom filled with chaos, glass shards raining down as the threads of my magic unraveled everything around me.

I clawed for control of my power, desperate to summon even a flicker of strength. But nothing remained. Everything I was Pasnia now controlled.

Through the haze, I saw it.

A pair of boots stepped through the portal, their heavy tread resonating across the marble. My gaze followed, past the dark trousers and simple tunic that revealed strong forearms to the figure’s face.

A neatly combed beard, streaked with silver. Eyes as sharp and as bright blue as my own.

Hyrax.

The God of Death. My father.

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. All I could do was watch as Pasnia, wielding my stolen power, widened the portal further.

Behind him, shadows twisted and writhed. The legions of the Underworld poured into the ballroom, their forms monstrous and endless.

M y magic ran out.

Only hollow emptiness remained.

The portals flickered, their golden light dimming, then vanished entirely.

I felt Pasnia’s hold fade with the last of my power.

My knees buckled beneath me, my body crumpling to the cold marble floor.

Across the room, Pasnia slumped as well, falling heavily to her knees before collapsing entirely.

Her head lolled back, her eyes rolling into nothingness.

“Pasnia!” Hyrax’s voice boomed, raw and thunderous, shaking the very air around us.

Gentle hands slipped beneath me, pulling my head into a lap. I blinked, struggling to focus, until Caldrius’s sharp eyes came into view.

“You’re here too,” I whispered drunkenly, my words slurring. My lips barely moved, as though even speaking drained what little strength I had left.

“It’s a surprise to me as well,” he murmured, brushing strands of my damp, matted hair away from my face. His touch was achingly tender, but his eyes betrayed his worry.

“I can’t feel my magic,” I said weakly.

No tingles. No energy. No hidden well.

It wasn’t like when Camilla had pushed it out of my reach, or when Mortal blood had dampened it. This was different. This was pure nothingness, a gaping void where my magic used to be.

“Shh,” Caldrius soothed, though his jaw tightened. “It’s going to be okay.”

But I saw the lie in his eyes. He didn’t know if it would be.

“Pasnia!”

Hyrax’s voice tore through the air again, dragging our attention back to the center of the room. He knelt over her, his enormous hands cradling her limp body. Her head lolled against his chest, her once-glowing skin now pale and lifeless .

“What’s happening?” I rasped, my voice barely audible.

“She exerted herself too much,” Caldrius said tightly, his hand still brushing against my temple. “She was already weak. She’s entering the Eternal Slumber.”

Hyrax roared, the sound feral and heart-wrenching, as Pasnia’s body faded. Her skin lost its luster, the glow of divinity draining away until all that remained was a gray, brittle husk of what she once was. Her fingers crumbled like ash as Hyrax tried to hold on to her, his grief palpable.

Pasnia had risked everything to bring Hyrax to the Mortal Realm—and hadn’t even lived long enough to greet him.

“Who did this?” Hyrax bellowed, his head snapping up as he rose to his feet. His power surged through the room, oppressive and suffocating, pressing down on every soul present.

In the Underworld, he had seemed like any other man.

Among Mortals, he was larger, stronger, more terrifying.

He scanned the room, his obsidian eyes blazing as they swept over us. They locked onto the Dragon.

The Dragon was still on his hands and knees, his misshapen wings jutting from his back at painful, unnatural angles. He groaned, his muscles straining as he flexed his back, desperate to either complete the shift or return to his Mortal form.

“That bitch cursed me,” the Dragon cried, his voice a pathetic whimper as he clawed at the floor. “I can’t complete my shift!”

Hyrax’s steps echoed ominously as he strode forward, his fury palpable. He loomed over the Dragon, reaching down with deliberate slowness. His massive hands clamped onto the base of each wing, and with one violent motion, he tore them from the Dragon’s back.

The sound was sickening. Flesh and bone ripped apart with ease, the wings falling to the ground in a bloody heap. The Dragon’s screams filled the air, sharp and agonized, making my stomach churn .

Hyrax sneered, his lip curling as he slammed a boot into the Dragon’s ribs, sending him skidding across the floor.

“You’re the bastard who beat my daughter,” Hyrax growled, his voice low and venomous. His words vibrated with an otherworldly power, sending chills down my spine. “And now you call my wife a bitch?”

The Dragon whimpered, clutching his chest, but Hyrax was unrelenting.

“ This is how you speak of your Gods ?” Hyrax roared, his tone dripping with disdain. He brought his boot down on the Dragon’s leg, the femur shattering beneath the force.

The Dragon screamed again, a hollow, broken sound.

Hyrax grabbed him by the jaw, hauling him upright as though he weighed nothing. His fingers dug into the Dragon’s face, forcing him to meet his gaze. The room seemed to darken, the shadows lengthening as Hyrax’s power surged.

“You are nothing to us,” Hyrax snarled, his voice like a death knell.

Shadows descended, curling unnaturally around the Dragon’s body. His screams were short-lived, swallowed by the black mist that writhed and consumed him. When the shadows dissipated, all that was left of the Dragon was muscle and bone—his skin stripped away like a cruelly discarded shell.

I pushed away from Caldrius’ lap, choking on bile as my stomach heaved violently. I vomited onto the floor in front of me, trembling as Caldrius reached for my hair, gently pulling it back from my face.

Hyrax turned, his movements sharp and violent, his gaze sweeping over the Mortals still in the room. “I am your ruler now,” he declared, his voice cold and unyielding. “Bow to me, or meet the same fate.”

One by one, they fell to their knees.

The Athenian guards, who had served the Dragon loyally, were the first to bow, their weapons clattering to the floor in surrender. Then came the resistance fighters, their heads lowering in silence.

The room held its breath, heavy with submission, until the soft scrape of boots broke the stillness.

Clay stood.

“No,” I croaked, my voice barely audible, too weak to carry across the vast ballroom. I reached for him, my fingers trembling, but Caldrius held me firmly in place.

If I had my powers, I would have forced him to his knees, forced him to do the thing he would never do on his own just to be sure that he would live through this night.

But I didn’t have my powers, and Clay was born to lead.

To protect.

To stand when no one else would.

Hyrax’s expression shifted, disdain curling his lips as he looked Clay over. “You must be the Dragon Prince I’ve been so hoping to meet,” he said, his tone mocking.

To my horror, Iris stepped forward next, rising slowly to stand beside Clay.

And then Rankor joined them.

My friends. My stupidly brave family.

“Kill them all,” Hyrax commanded, his voice as calm as if he were ordering wine.

A sob ripped through me, ravaging my body like a tempest. I shuddered in Caldrius’ grip, my chest heaving as my eyes burned, too dry now to produce anymore tears. “No, please,” I whimpered, the plea tearing from my throat.

“My liege!” Caldrius’ voice rang out, sharp and commanding, cutting through the tension in the room .

Hyrax turned, his eyes narrowing as if only just now realizing we were still there.

Caldrius rose to his feet, cradling me in his arms. “Your daughter is unwell,” he said, his voice steady but edged with urgency. “She needs rest. Perhaps we can delay this… punishment until after she recovers.”

Hyrax’s expression softened marginally as he rushed toward me, placing a hand against my clammy forehead. His touch burned like ice, and I flinched.

“She’s burning up,” Hyrax muttered, his voice low, but sharp with concern.

“She needs a healer,” Caldrius replied, his tone firm.

The two exchanged a long, silent look, unspoken words filling the space between them. Finally, Hyrax gave a curt nod. “Very well. I’ll deal with this myself. You see to it that she is cared for.

No.

I struggled weakly against Caldrius’ hold, my limbs too heavy to fight properly. He tightened his grip, pulling me closer to his chest.

“Don’t you think she would prefer to be present for the execution of those who stood against her father?” Caldrius reasoned, his voice smooth and calculated.

Hyrax paused, his gaze flicking to me. His obsidian eyes softened slightly, his lips pulling into something dangerously close to concern.

“Take them to the dungeons,” he ordered over his shoulder. “She can witness their fate when she is well.”

“No!” I cried, thrashing weakly as the guards moved to seize my friends.

“Get her a healer,” Hyrax barked at Caldrius, ignoring my pleas. “Now.”

Caldrius didn’t hesitate. He turned sharply, carrying me out of the room as I screamed for my friends.

Clay’s voice tore through the air, raw and desperate. “Thea!” he shouted, his voice echoing after us even as the heavy doors slammed shut.

I cried harder, my sobs breaking me apart as Caldrius carried me farther and farther away.