There was no way out. No window, no exit, no place to breathe as water flooded the hall up to the ceiling.
Hunt grabbed Bryce, his lightning rendered useless in the water, and swam toward where he guessed the stairs might be in the tumbling dark. His helmet filled with water, warping his vision—
A light shone. He hadn’t thought Bryce had that kind of power left—but no. It wasn’t Bryce. Tharion was swimming toward them through the hall. Ketos had never commanded enough power to control this much water, and with such force, yet here he was, clearly the master of this flood.
An air bubble formed around Hunt and Bryce. He yanked off his helmet, splashing water down his front. “What the fuck,” Hunt spat, choking on the water.
But Bryce got it before Hunt did, and yelled at Tharion through the air bubble now saving their asses, “Don’t drown them all! We need them on the battlefield!”
“I had a bag of antidotes,” Tharion shouted, his powerful, tiger-striped tail thrashing, “but the force of the water snapped the strap. It’s down here somewhere, just wait for me to—”
“No time!” Bryce shouted back. “Find it, then find us!”
Bryce was right: to delay getting to that room, cutting off the Asteri’s power at the knees … it wasn’t a risk worth taking, even for the antidote.
The water roared past, into the stairwell. “Go!” Tharion called as the water vanished from the hall, the mer and the demons swept upward in its current. “I’ll be right behind you!”
Hunt and Bryce landed hard on the stones, soaking wet and sputtering, but they didn’t wait.
“Hurry,” Bryce said, grabbing his arm to haul him to his feet. “The firstlight core’s below us.”
It was all Hunt could do to shake the water from his eyes, grab his helmet, and race after her.
Ruhn had fucked up. In so many ways, he’d fucked up.
He could think of nothing else as he stood before Pollux, hands raised, before the door down to the hall with the firstlight core running underneath it.
There was no sign of Actaeon or Brann.
“Where’s Lidia?” Pollux sneered, pointing a gun at Ruhn’s face, his white wings glowing with power.
Ruhn had left her bleeding and wounded on the stairs, utterly vulnerable, hating him—
“Where are the boys?” he growled.
“Someplace else,” Pollux said, and Ruhn’s stomach churned at what that might imply. “Rigelus guessed you’d seek out his mystics, so he instructed them to feed the lie to you. Which you swallowed so fucking easily, because you’re a gullible fool.” The Hammer stepped forward and jerked his chin at Ruhn. “Move. I know Lidia’s around here somewhere.”
Ruhn had little choice but to obey. To let the Hammer lead him away from the firstlight core, out of the archives, then back down that hall to where Lidia would be lying bleeding on the stairs.
Pollux’s breathing hitched as the scent of her blood filled the hall. “Lidia,” he called in a singsong. Her scent became overpowering as they turned the corner to where Ruhn had left her—
There was no trace of her.
Tharion helped Lidia limp along, a band of living water wrapped around the hole in her thigh. Chasing down the satchel and antidotes, he’d found both bag and Hind on the stairs, right before they’d heard the Hammer snarling.
Only two vials had made it. The rest had burst, thanks to either the impact or the volatility of Athalar’s lightning. But Lidia had been shot—by Ruhn, she’d told him. Tharion didn’t know whether to admire or curse Danaan for it. The idiot had done it to keep her from harm, so he’d face Pollux alone.
Tharion hadn’t needed to ask what she and Ruhn were doing down here in the first place. Why they’d risked everything to be here, why they’d separated from Bryce and Hunt.
Pollux had gloated about Lidia’s sons to Ruhn, how the mystics had been ordered to lie about where they were, leading her into a trap. But that meant her sons remained captive elsewhere in this palace—and Pollux knew how to find them.
“Lidia …,” the Hammer crooned. “Lidia …” He practically sang her name.
Lidia gritted her teeth. With a surge upward, she launched for the hall, for the Hammer, but Tharion grabbed her, hauling her back down beside him.
“We need to regroup,” he hissed.
“I need to get to my sons,” she hissed back, and tried to move again. They spoke so quietly that their words were barely more than whispers of breath.
Tharion held her still. “You’re in no shape—”
She tried once more, and Tharion decided to Hel with it. He willed the water band around her thigh to push in tighter, to send a tendril into the hole in her skin for emphasis.
She clapped a hand over her mouth, swallowing a scream.
Tharion pulled back the tendril, hating himself for the pain he’d caused, but he held his magic in place to keep any hint of her blood from showing where she’d gone. Her eyes widened, surprise replacing pain as the water eased up at his command. A simple, normal bit of magic, but he knew his eyes blazed with power—with the raging rapids of the Istros itself.
He said, low and swift, “Hypaxia managed to develop an antidote for the parasite. It temporarily returns the magic the Drop took from us—more than that, actually.”
Tharion could have sworn something like pride gleamed in her eyes. “I knew she’d figure it out,” Lidia murmured.
“Here.” He used a plume of water to free the case of antidotes from his pack. He lifted one of the precious two remaining vials. “Take it. You’ll black out for a sec, but …”
But to face the monster in that hallway, she would need to be fully healed. Need that wound gone. Lidia didn’t hesitate as she grabbed the vial, uncorked it, and drank.
She swayed, and gold flashed in her eyes. He caught her as she blacked out, counting the breaths: one, two—
Her gunshot wound healed instantly. Lidia’s eyes flew open, blazing gold. She looked down at her hands, flexing her fingers. “I knew she’d figure it out,” Lidia repeated, more to herself than to him.
Tharion gently set her down and motioned for her to keep quiet as steps sounded once more, far closer than before.
“We do this slow and smart,” Tharion warned, and helped her to her feet. She rose without a grimace or wince, all traces of pain now gone. But she nodded.
On silent feet, with Tharion’s magic sending little particles of mist to evaporate the trail of their scent, they descended the steps.
“Lidia …,” Pollux crooned again.
A glance between them, and they halted at the bottom of the stairwell. Tharion peered around the corner to the long hall beyond, where Pollux held Danaan at gunpoint in front of him.
“Lidia …,” Pollux sang again. “I found your companion, so you can’t be far away …”
Tharion withdrew. Lidia shook with rage and power. Tharion could feel it shuddering around him, rising up like a behemoth from the deep.
What had that antidote woken in her? What had been taken during the Drop? And what had lain dormant, all this time? His water seemed to quail at it—like it knew something he didn’t.
“You’re here,” Pollux said. “I can sense your soul nearby. It is entwined with mine, you know.”
Lidia’s teeth flashed, her power growing around them like a physical presence. Tharion sliced his hand in front of them, indicating that she should stand down. Until he had a clear shot at the Hammer, they couldn’t give away their position—
“Very well,” Pollux said. A whistle through his teeth, and a door down the hall groaned open. Footsteps sounded, approaching them, approaching Pollux.
Tharion dared risk another glance around the corner. Two angels in imperial armor had stepped out. And between them …
Two teenage boys, both bound and gagged.
Lidia didn’t need to look. She inhaled, scenting whatever was coming—
Her eyes flared as she recognized her sons’ scents. Pure, murderous rage filled her gaze, and Tharion was suddenly very, very glad she was on their side.
So he knew better than to stop Lidia as she emerged from their hiding spot, rounded the corner, and said, power ringing through her voice, “Let them go.”
Bryce had enough strength to make it to a hall a level above the archives. From there, she and Hunt snuck down on foot, trailing water, as quickly and quietly as they could. She might have pushed herself to teleport them down to the hallway with the firstlight core, but she needed to conserve her strength. Only one Asteri was currently down—
She’d killed Polaris.
The realization kept rippling through her. How it had felt, how Polaris’s blood had felt, showering her, the primal, raging satisfaction in seeing the other Asteri’s outrage as Bryce impaled their sister with the sword and dagger, ignited by Hunt’s Helfire.
And then Polaris had been sucked into nothing.
Into nowhere. The blades, fueled by her starlight and sped along by Hunt’s Helfire, had opened a portal to a place that wasn’t a place.
One Asteri had been banished from Midgard. But would she be lucky enough to get near the others? Now that they knew what she could do, what she bore, they’d avoid her, as they’d avoided Apollion.
The thoughts shot through Bryce’s mind, dread sinking in her stomach, as they ran through the palace.
There was no point in staying hidden. Everyone knew they were here. A nod to Hunt, and her mate blasted open the doors into the archives.
Glass shattered, spraying everywhere, and a shield of Hunt’s lightning kept the shards from shredding them as they raced through it, Bryce leading them toward the door to the hallway where the power of Midgard was held—
The glow of the room spilled up the stairs, leading the way down.
There was no sign of Lidia’s sons. Indeed, the hall was exactly as it had been before. A crystal floor. The seven pipes, each with an Asteri’s name on an engraved plaque beneath, and next to the plaques, small screens showing their power levels.
Sirius and Polaris were now dark. But the others were nearly full.
One of them, the seventh, was at full power. And standing before it was its bearer, smiling faintly at them.
Rigelus.
