Page 144 of Crown of Olympus
“Careful, son,” Hera warned. “My mirrors love to play with liars. I wonder what secret you’ve managed to keep hidden, even from your dear mother.” She spoke with faux sincerity, her high-pitched whine clawing at my eardrums.
Caelus said nothing, enduring her baiting in silence. But soon, several more wounds opened on his body. On each of us. We were each a patchwork of cuts, tears, torn clothing, and grimaces of pain.
Every time we gave in — every time we smashed the polished glass — the mirrors simply repaired themselves. The cycle restarted.
Death by a thousand cuts, indeed.
Eventually, Arch was the first to break. He fell to his kneeswith a cry of anguish as blood blossomed from the space beneath his cuirass. A circular puncture wound, almost as if a spear had impaled him, marred the flesh just above his hip bone.
“I can’t take it any longer!” he cried out.
My lip quavered. It hurt to see a friend break, knowing I was powerless to stop it. Even if I gave my own truth — which I could not afford to do with Hera present — it would not spare Archimedes from the pain. Just prolong it.
“I’m… I’m dying,” he choked out, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps.
“You’ve only been stabbed. You won’t die,” Hera sneered.
“No. That’s not what I mean.” Arch swallowed roughly. “My hidden truth is that I’m dying. A little at a time.”
My hand flew to my mouth in an odd combination of horror and confusion. We suffered no sickness; time would not weary us — I knew Archimedes was almost two centuries old, but that was still youthful by the gods’ standards. He bore no wound inflicted by immense power or by Titan blade.
I don’t understand.
“Do go on, boy,” Hera taunted, glee warping her dainty features into something wicked. Something evil.
I barely registered the sting of a blade coming down on my foot. But I felt the burn of pain as it was yanked back out.
“Ahhh!” I cried out, clutching my boot. I didn’t know how much more I could take either. My father had ensured my training included being able to withstand torture, but I doubted he’d imagined he’d be the one to inflict it.
I knew exactly why the mirror showed him.Hewas my truth. And revealing it would weaken the Underworld.
Not yet.
Not until I was out of options — out of resolve.
“I was tinkering in the forge one day,” Arch gasped, “when I stumbled across something I shouldn’t have. A voice whisperedinto my ear, told me exactly what to do — and I listened. I unknowingly forged a Titan dagger,” he sobbed. “I didn’t mean to!” he yelled at Caelus.
Caelus remained still, brows drawn low over his eyes like he did whenever he was trying to figure something out.
“I handed it to my father, knowing exactly what I’d made. He, in turn, handed it over to the King and Queen of Olympus.” Archimedes spat at Hera’s feet.
Oh, no. I had a horrible feeling that I knew exactly where this was going.
“My hands created the blade that pierced your father’s heart, Caelus… I’m so sorry,” he said softly, before hissing a breath at the new cut across his nose. “Ever since that day — ever since I channelled a power no god should be able to wield — my power has been waning.”
Arch dropped his head. I wasn’t even sure if Caelus breathed, he was so still.
“Every time I create something new, it takes a little more from me, feeding my power directly into that Furies-damned dagger,” he spat. “I don’t know how much I have left… But it’s only a fraction of what I had.”
“What will happen when it’s all gone?” I asked.
At first, no one answered. Then Apollo slowly lifted blood-slicked fingers.
Our power is what sustains us. When it’s all gone, so, too, are we.
He lowered his hands solemnly, eyeing Arch with profound sadness.
“You may go, Archimedes,” Hera said happily, as though dismissing a student from class. She waved a hand in the air and a single mirror swivelled outwards.
