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Chapter Twenty-Two

Prometheus

I stride deeper into the temple as quickly as possible. Once I discover the secret of the bonding ritual, there will be nothing left to do but snatch my bride and flee to Zeus. Hebe may rage at me for betraying Atum and the mortals, but she won’t even be one of them anymore. And it was me she kissed in the bathhouse, not Atum.

My skin still burns in the most delightful way, and I dare a glance over my shoulder.

Hebe is following close behind me, her head ducked low, like she is avoiding my gaze. Or mayhap she is deep in thought. I certainly gave her plenty to ponder only a few moments ago . . .

“There you are!”

I wince at the booming voice of my fellow Entity in Atum’s service. It’s not that Sia gets under my skin specifically, but several of his forms do. As the Entity of Perception, he loves to alter how others perceive him. Unfortunately, not every perception allows for a positive reaction.

Sia strides into view, looking like an Egyptian mortal, only a little too tall. His face appears older than usual today, with what looks like wrinkles near his eyes. “And this must be your new bride.”

“Hebe,” she whispers, like she’s not sure if she’s permitted to speak to another Primordial.

“It is good to meet you, Hebe. I am called Sia, the Entity of Perception.” Sia smiles sadly. “I cannot foresee the future, though. Hopefully, any kin you have will survive the coming scourge Zeus has planned for them.”

My wife stops fast. “‘Coming scourge’?”

But Sia is already halfway up the corridor where the heart of the temple lies; too far away to answer.

Hebe rushes forward, trying to chase him down.

I follow more slowly, my stomach sinking with her every step.

Her earnest kisses may have assured me she would pardon my coming betrayal of Atum, but I would be a fool to think her loyalty belongs to me alone. She will never forgive me for turning my back on her people that already forsook her.

Foolish mortal.

Clenching my fists, I stride into the largest chamber in the tunnel, which is a cave in the mountain that everything else was built around.

The cave is as open as it is large, its size comparable to the hut Hebe and I spent our wedding night in, if the upper room was set alongside the main floor and all internal walls were removed.

In the center of the cave is a large stone altar. It is large enough that Hebe and I could lie on it side by side with no danger of tumbling off. It is the only piece of furniture, though the corners of the cave are laden with stacks of clay canopic jars from Egypt bearing dried fruits and nuts that are regularly sacrificed to Atum, Sia, and me to sustain our strength.

Atum and the High Priestess are waiting for us in the room on either side of the altar. A stone Tablet rests on it next to Atum, and curiosity draws me closer.

Hebe, on the other hand, shrinks back at the sight of the altar. Then she turns toward the entrance just as servants on the other side close the two heavy stone doors, sealing the five of us in.

“Sia discovered something else during his tenure in the Underworld besides this Tablet,” Atum says solemnly.

I reach to place a comforting hand on Hebe’s back so she knows I’m not going to let anyone spill her blood. She’s just as safe as the last time I rescued her on the altar.

“Zeus has a new weapon,” Atum adds. “The likes of which Sia has never perceived before.”

Before my hand can make contact with Hebe, she darts forward, her fear forgotten. “And he means to use it against my people as a scourge?!”

Sia nods solemnly, the usual light in his eyes dimmed. “He came to Hades boasting of the power he stole from time.”

I glance between Hebe, drawing further away from me, and the table that kept me close to her. “Can we not perform the ritual first and discuss this recent development second?” After all, I can hear about it from Zeus’ own lips momentarily. It is only the knowledge on that Tablet that keeps me bound to Atum.

“The Tablet isn’t going anywhere,” Atum assures before turning to the other Entity in his service. “Show them what you saw. The more minds we have set to sorting out the puzzle of what to do, the better.”

Sia nods. Then he throws out his hands. Something like a rift opens with his gesture. Only, instead of an oval portal leading to a new location, it is a depiction of an event that took place in the past.

Two men are depicted in this scene. One, a man wearing a black chiton sitting on a massive throne carved from ebony bones, I recognize as Hades in his Greek form. A black and gold cobra slithers in an eternal circle on his head, eating itself yet never being consumed. That is not nearly as alarming as the expression of barely contained rage on his face, though.

The other man in the room, standing at the base of the throne, is his opposite in every way. Long golden tresses brush broad shoulders adorned in a white chiton. His expression is open and jolly. If not for the trace of madness swimming in his blue eyes, one would think he was the more merciful of the two.

Zeus most certainly is not.

Hades stands, shadows swirling at his feet in response to his barely repressed rage. “First, you dare to steal from my store of the Sands of Time-—”

“It is not as though you have any duty to protect it any longer. The Creator reassigned you to oversee the dead now, did he not?”

Hades gestures violently at Zeus, and two Shadows spring at the Firstborn. However, Zeus just flicks them away, too powerful to be injured by mere essences of the Underworld.

“You are missing the most important aspect of my tidings,” Zeus says calmly, like his host didn’t just risk breaking the laws of hospitality in an attempt to injure him. “What I stole from the mortals’ future is the key to destroying them today.”

“Are your storms not enough?”

At this, Zeus twitches ever so slightly. No Primordial appreciates the weakening of our powers. Only Hades seems immune, since his power is no longer concerned with keeping mortals alive.

“As you well know, Hades,” Zeus begins, only a hint of ice behind his words, “there are consequences when we turn our domains against the mortals.”

“And do the opposite of what the Creator specifically designed you to do?” Hades snorts. “Fancy that.”

“But we can’t be held accountable if they destroy themselves . . .”

Hades narrows his eyes suspiciously. “How?”

Zeus sweeps back his blue himation , revealing a glowing urn filled to the brim with black powder. “Fire.”

I lean forward, my interest piqued.

The Primordial who shall soon own my loyalties, takes a handful of the black powder and tosses it onto the floor. A moment later, a tiny bolt of lightning shoots from his finger to the scattered powder on the floor.

The loudest sound I’ve ever heard shakes the perception, and then the Underworld is on fire, just as Zeus promised.