YOU ARE MY HEIR.

You’re here to help us right?

We need you.

“Ophelia!”

You are the rightful queen.

Save us

With you, we can topple the gods

Stay in the shadows

Quiet!

I’m trying.

They’ll hear you.

They want to use you, Ophelia.

I can’t watch this.

“Hey!”

What are you doing?

Weak.

Stand up and fight!

You’re no match for her.

“I love demigods. I really do.”

None of us are

He’s trying!

Look! He’s trying!

It hurts! Get out! Get out!

"His."

Save us!

Look, Ophelia. Look.

“You never quit.”

No! Look away!

"Hers."

He’s weak.

He’s trying!

You’re just cowering here!

Oh no.

I can’t watch this.

“Lucky for me, there are no shortage of demigods.”

Ophelia, he needs you!

"Yours."

She killed him.

He’s dead.

No.

She killed him!

Look down.

"Theirs."

She killed him.

He’s not dead! Look down!

Ophelia opened her eyes. She heard nothing but voices, all the voices, everywhere at once and never ending. None of it made sense. Eternal choruses of the dead drowned out even the rushing of wind as shadows swirled around her. But as she opened her eyes and looked down, they stopped as one.

Alex’s bloody, bruised face stared up at her. He lay at her knees, blood pouring from wounds in his abdomen. Absolute silence fell as all she focused on was his pain.

“Alex?”

He forced his eyes open. Ophelia covered her mouth, his blood all over her hands as she shook where she knelt beside him. The cold engulfed her.

“Hey,” he said. “It’s okay."

Knuckles bloody, he tried to find her hand. She grabbed him. The shadows spun in chaotic circles around them. She couldn't speak. Each breath wheezed as air barely passed his lips.

"Take the lyre. Save the kids.”

Unable to breathe, she tried to cover his wounds. But she couldn’t put the blood back in his broken body. It kept pouring out, leaking from his abdomen like a broken faucet. So much blood. Too much blood.

“Alex?” she said, choking on tears. “You can’t leave me.”

He didn’t respond. His eyes had closed.

"You can't. You can't leave. I won't let you leave. I'm the queen. She said…she said I'm…"

His hand slipped from her grasp. Ophelia cried out, throat bleeding like the suffering Dead she’d wandered past in the Fields of Punishment. A hot fury bubbled up inside her as she looked up from him to Eris.

The goddess stopped smiling.

Ophelia felt the shadows at her side. She felt them in her black hands as she tried, desperately, hopelessly, to stop Alex from dying. She had no ambrosia. She had no nectar. But she had the shadows.

Black tar began to spread through his body, turning the skin grey and veiny wherever she ran her hands. Tendrils of shadows wove their way in and out of his wounds. Blood dried. As it flaked off into the dark wind, she felt an iron tang fill her own mouth. Blood. Bile.

Ophelia had never tried to tap into Necromancy before. But as Alex’s barely breathing body lay before her, splayed out and covered in gashes and stab wounds, she saw no other choice. He had to return to his home, even if only one of them could.

Pain seared her skin. A crackling burn shot through her arms as she muttered words of Latin and Ancient Greek. A dark, spider-like scar formed over Alex's left chest. Ophelia tried to breathe again.

She looked up.

Eris had her swords in her hands again. Ophelia screamed in frustration. This hadn’t been her plan. She’d wanted to talk to Alex. They could’ve worked this out. They could’ve solved this. No one needed to die.

Ophelia stood. Beyond Eris, she saw Kitty lying in the dirt, face covered in blood. Armored shades surrounded her. Night closed in. Dead?

“So, you have teeth after all?”

“I’ve always had teeth,” Ophelia said. She turned back to Eris, drawing her Stygian dagger. It shined in an unseen, phantasmal light.

A warm breeze rushed through the banks of the River Lethe. She heard rustling leaves, felt the heat of the sun, wind in her hair. Ophelia staggered back as light flashed, blinded. Eris screeched. When she could see again, Ophelia stepped back in amazement.

In a brilliant, sparkling white toga, golden winged shoes, and a winged helmet, Hermes stood between her and Eris. He tucked his cellphone into a side pouch. Hermes said nothing as he bent down and fished something out of the ash and gravel.

Vindication.

Hermes stared down at the glowing celestial bronze caduceus. Jaw tight, feet apart, he brushed a thumb over the metal rhythmically. Then he looked up.

“We talked about this, Eris,” Hermes said. “How many times do we have to do this before you give up?”

Eris seethed. She twisted her stance to face him head on, but her serial killer smile had fallen away entirely. “My dear Hermes.”

“My dear Eris,” he said. “No one likes you, madame. Except Ares, but he’s an idiot.” Hermes took a deep breath, glancing over his shoulder at Ophelia.

She said nothing. His brow furrowed in anger but he stayed silent. Instead, he spared a glance down at Alex. She held him now, cradled in her lap. She could feel him breathing, scratchy but audible. In the brightness of Hermes's arrival, he'd warmed. Ophelia gave Hermes a small nod. The dark pit in her stomach, the hatred she felt for the gods, deepend.

Hermes leaped at Eris. Vindication lengthened into a sword as he crashed down onto her blades, light exploding on impact. Ophelia shied away, covering Alex’s body from sparks. No matter her hatred, she couldn’t help but watch in amazement as the two warrior gods collided.

Hermes fought with speed and grace, parrying every thrust of Eris's dark blades. Feinting, sliding across the ash, even tossing stones in her eyes became fair game. All's fair in love and war. Eris struggled against his strength. But she seemed to know just where to hit him when he let his guard.

“You are not done yet, Ophelia.”

Hecate stood on her other side, appearing with a muffled snap in a dark cloud of shadows. No other words were spoken. No apology. No reprimand. Down to business. Ophelia stood back off the ground without the assistance of her mother.

“We need to send Eris back to Tartarus,” she said.

Ophelia scoffed. “Since when do you help Hermes?”

Hecate drew herself up to full height, her purple dress blowing in a wind that Ophelia couldn’t sense. Both torches, one in each hand, flickered and grew. Hecate shook her head. She pointed to Alex’s body. “This is what happens when you believe you understand all things. I suggest you don’t continue it.”

Like a punch in the gut, Ophelia found she couldn’t speak. Alex’s bloodied, beaten form, black spider-like scar visible across his chest, was her reward for fighting the gods. She would never love them, but she needed them right now.

“Fine.”

“Wise choice."

Hecate's eyes went white. She held both torches aloft, arms out to the side like dark purple wings of satin. The flames wavered. Ophelia felt her mother's voice, louder than Eris had ever been.

"Hold her. Use the shadows."

Ophelia turned to Hermes and Eris battling near the bank of the River Lethe. The goddess of discord and the god of trickery had so much in common on paper. They shared domains of chaos. But as Hermes grew in stature to twice his normal height, the wingspan of the hilt of his sword stretched to that of a small eagle. Eris matched him. Long, thin black hair flashed about with her hectic movements.

"I'm surprised you graced the Underworld with your presence, mail boy. Usually you stop at the gates."

"Anything for you." He pushed her down with a thrust of his sword. "You know, I've had nothing but trouble with golden apples, yours or otherwise."

Hermes attacked. Eris counterattacked. He never shied away, never retreated. Eris never gave up. She thirsted after this win.

"He talks too much," Hecate muttered. Then she turned to Ophelia, eyes still pupiless. "Begin."

Ophelia took a deep breath, silencing her thoughts. The Dead retreated from her mind. For the first time in weeks, she found total solace in the quiet. She could feel the Mist around her. Dark shadows wove themselves in tendrils and clouds. Raising her hands, she willed them to mix.

She felt an invisible hand on her shoulder. The shock of a thousand suns filled her. Ophelia gasped. Throwing her hands forward, twisting void shadows and the Mist to her and her mother's will, Ophelia grabbed Eris.

The goddess screamed. Several meters tall, Eris snarled like a monster as she turned to face them. Deep hatred began roiling in the pit of her stomach again. But she would deal with her mother later. Alex's ghastly, broken body lay on the ground. That took priority.

Eris maneuvered in the shadows. She could break from the grading hand like smoke with relative ease. But Hermes capitalized on the meager benefit. He landed two blows across her chest. Eris screamed. Her mouth foamed as she became desperate.

"This is my hour! Not yours!" She threw herself forward with a throat-rending scream. But the shadows held her just long enough that Eris stumbled.

Hermes attacked again. To her right, Ophelia could hear her mother mumbling Latin, Ancient Greek, and at least one language she could not understand. So she focused on the restraints.

Thrashing against the darkness like an attack dog tied to a stump, Eris simply couldn't connect with the speed, agility, and intelligence of Hermes. As Ophelia hardened her resolve, she watched him spin out of the way before kicking her in the chest.

Eris fell to the ground in a heartbeat. Hermes stood over her, sword across her neck and knee on her chest. Ophelia commanded the shadows to bind her arms and legs to the ground. Beside her, Hecate trailed off eyes returning to normal.

Resolute, torches billowing in the dry dark of the Underworld, Hecate moved to the ferocious goddess caught on the ground like a wild animal. Ophelia felt sweat on her brow. But Hecate, unphased, merely glanced up at Hermes. Both of them looked away.

"You can't do this!" Eris said. "She won't let you! Death can't stop us!"

Hecate never hesitated. She burned Eris with the torches, never once flinching as the goddess cried out in pain, fizzling to nothingness wrapped in darkness.

Silence fell.

Ophelia caught the sound of wheezing breaths. Tears welled in her eyes. Unable to control herself, she cried out again as she dropped beside her boyfriend. The black, spidery tendrils throughout his left chest had faded to a dark grey. Blood covered every inch of his skin. Ophelia pulled his head into her chest. Choking on her sobs, she leaned over him. Their foreheads touched. Ophelia reveled in his warmth. In a sea of frozen darkness, he offered fire.