Page 2 of Blood of Olympus

One left to be slaughtered.”

“What does that mean?” I cried. “Please! Tell me what you mean.”

Atropos fixed her empty, black sockets on me. “It means, dio hēmisysa, that Fate is stirring.”

“Coming to collect,” Lachesis added, her sharp gaze somehow less piercing than the hollow glare of her eyeless sister.

“And even gods can break,” Clotho whispered as they faded into the darkness.

I registered a soft, downy dampness pressed against my face before I could even open my tear-drenched eyes. My pillow, soaked with the physical manifestation of my grief, tried to cling to my cheek like the memory of the man I mourned, as I jerked upright — but gravity inevitably won out.

Those same four words tumbled out of my mouth in rapid succession, the tempo and tenor rising with every repetition.

“Even gods can break,” I sobbed. “Even gods can break.”

“Shhh, it’s alright.” A soothing, caramel-scented voice whispered in the dark. A voice I would recognise anywhere, even in this deep, suffocating state of woe.

Two strong, warm arms wrapped themselves around my chilled body, pulled me close, and tucked my head under a rough, stubble-covered chin.

Caelus.

“What did they mean?” Salty tears cut tracks down my cheeks as I leaned into his embrace.

“What did who mean?” he asked softly.

Confusion swirled within my chest like ink in water, but it was muted. Foreign. His.

The silence stretched as I stitched my thoughts together, weaving them into a tapestry I could vocalise while his patience held the space for me to do so. I let the steady tempo of his heartbeat soothe me until my own slowed to match. I leaned into the sense of safety and surety his arms offered — a feeling that was just as foreign as his emotions lingering beneath my breastbone. It was a feeling that had evaded me almost my entire life.

He exhaled deeply, fracturing the silence as his breath rushed past, tickling the outer curve of my ear.

I sniffed, no longer trapped in the throes of despondence, wiped at my eyes, and unfortunately, slid immediately into prickly irritation.

Alright, tears — you can fuck off now.

“I had a nightmare,” I finally offered, pulling back just enough to peer into his silver, newly black-rimmed eyes.

“I’m aware,” he murmured, frowning. The skin between his eyebrows puckered as his gaze flicked briefly away, recalling the last few minutes. “You were thrashing in your sleep — crying, and singing some creepy song.” His teeth flashed briefly as he grimaced, illuminated by the light of the dying hearth.

I lurched, almost falling out of his lap and onto the floor. “Did you hear the words? The exact words?”

His frown deepened. “I’ll not forget them anytime soon, Nightshade.”

“Write them down! Quickly — it’s important!”

Caelus jolted out of bed, his urgency finally matching my own. His head darted wildly around the room, finally landing on the desk in the corner — the desk that I only just now remembered was conveniently left bare.

“Where do you keep your writing supplies, woman?” he growled, face pinched.

I shrugged. “I’ve no need for them.”

That stopped him. “What do you mean you have no need for them?”

“I write with shadows.” I shrugged a second time, a small smirk tugging at my lips.

“You write with — nevermind how incredible that is — I don’t suppose you have any grand ideas as to how I write said creepy song down? With no pen? No ink?” One blonde brow rose, his sass rising along with it, and my smirk turned into an amused scowl at its appearance.

Our gazes clashed for what felt like a small eternity, each silently taunting the other. The mingling fragrances of raspberry, vanilla, and caramel slowly filled the air, entirely bewitching in their intensities.