Page 103 of Crown of Olympus
It was beautiful.
And I felt completely undeserving.
“Arch—”
“Do you have a name picked out?”
“A name?” I stuttered.
“Yes. Names hold power. A good name makes a weapon stronger.”
I rubbed the surface of the orb hanging around my neck without thinking.
Then it struck me.
“Nightbreaker,” I told him, my tone laced with certainty.
Arch simply nodded once and carved the word near the hilt in an elegant script. When he was done, he handed it back hilt-first, inclining his head slightly.
“A weapon fit for a Queen.”
I rolled my eyes, grinning.
“You’re on your own,” he said to Caelus, who frowned but picked up an etching tool and started carving into his own blade.
“The next step is crafting the hilt. There are bags of leather over by the door.” Arch began to walk away, but I lurched forward to grab his forearm. I whispered my request into his ear.
Surprisingly, he agreed to help with no questions asked.
Twenty minutes later, I decided to forego the forge’s stores of leather in favour something more personal. Hephaestus had said to imbue the weapon withourselves, and I intended to do just that.
Using a dagger of shadow, I hacked at the base of my black, leather cuirass. When a section had been removed I stretched it out, cutting away the uneven edges, then began winding it tightly around the hilt of my newly forged sword.
It was perfect.
As I held Nightbreaker, twirling and testing its weight, the sword hummed and flickered. Shadows coiled along the blade and wrapped around my fingers at its hilt.
With little more than a thought, the modified hilt flashed brightly. Arch smirked as the gem woven into it sparked again. Lightning flashed in its depths.
Caelus’ eyes shot to the orb, then to the absence of it around my neck. His brows shot up. I flashed my teeth in a feral grin.
Let Ares test me now.
The godof war and violence posed upon a freshly built stage in the familiar training arena, one hand resting on the podium. Hephaestus stood beside him, snickering at the champions before them in their various states of disarray.
Of the nine, only Arch and Caelus remained unscathed. The rest of us were sporting bandages covering an assortment of blisters, welts, and cuts.
Aros twirled a gleaming double-headed axe. A surprise, apparently, given the look on his spear-wielding father’s face.
“She’s pretty, no?” Aros grinned, pointedly ignoring Ares’ narrowed brows.
“Suits you. Does she have a name?” I asked.
“Flameless.” His cheeks turned slightly pink at the admission. An insatiable curiosity prowled to life in my chest.
“Darling, I’m awfully curious… How does the weapon of a flame-wielding god of war end up with a name like Flameless?” I tapped a finger against my lip, waiting.
Our conversation drew amused looks from the other champions. Aros saw all of the grinning faces and scowled half-heartedly.
