Page 70 of Harbinger

“Forgive us, Attie, Awakener,” Arethusa mumbled, similarly repentant.

“It is alright, sisters,” Atropos said briskly. “You must pardon our haste. Though we have much to talk about, time is of the essence right now. Can you spare a Golden Apple for Ivmir?!”

Hesperia and Arethusa startled.

“A Golden Apple?” Arethusa repeated.

“Yes.” Cassius stepped forward, tension knotting his shoulders. “Ivmir is dying of Tenebra’s Rot. Atropos believes the only thing that can save him is the fruit of the Sacred Tree.”

Hesperia and Arethusa exchanged a troubled look.

“Come,” Hesperia said in a flat voice.

Cassius’s heart sank at her tone. He and Atropos followed the Hesperides as they flew toward the hill at the center of the garden and the bright tree crowning it, Ladon trailing ponderously in their wake.

It took a moment for him to discern the golden branches and leaves soughing in the wind when they landed beneath the Sacred Tree. Fear drained all the strength from his limbs.

“No,” Cassius mumbled in denial.

He would have fallen to his knees had Atropos not grabbed his arm and steadied him.

The tree was empty but for its dazzling foliage.

Cassius barely heard Hesperia’s despondent words above the loud buzzing in his ears.

“It has been fifty years since the last crop of apples sprouted. Alas, it will be another one hundred and fifty before the next harvest.”

“Did you not use to keep them?” Atropos asked, horrified.

“We did. But with both Ladon and Erytheis gone, our ability to preserve them was severely reduced,” Arethusa replied wretchedly.

She crouched and carefully parted the tall grass masking the base of the tree.

Carved into the trunk was a hollow chamber holding the last crop of Golden Apples. They were a dull yellow and had lost their sheen. Most had crumbled, their remains slowly returning to the hallowed source from which they had been born.

“No!” Cassius choked out. Tears blurred his vision. The agony searing his heart was so deep he wished it would strike him down. “This cannot be!” His desperate gaze shifted to a pale-faced Atropos. “Does this mean there is no way to save Ivmir?!”

“I—”

Atropos paused, her features crunching up in a miserable expression. A fraught silence descended between them.

Something fell lightly on Cassius’s head. He reached up and touched it distractedly.

It was a golden leaf.

Another spiraled down to his feet.

31

Hesperia startled. “Ladon?!”

The dragon had his faces buried in the Sacred Tree’s tallest branches.

“There is still one,” he said excitedly. “I can smell it!”

“You can?!”Arethusa gasped, stunned. “But it’s been so long since the last apple sprouted!”

Hope burst into life inside Cassius, bringing with it a rush of adrenaline that quickened his pulse.

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