Page 19 of Crown of Olympus
I stepped through— landing not on solid ground, but on the treacherously shifting surface of sand. My boots sank, grains already worming their way inside, further souring my irksome mood. Wobbling precariously on the crest of a scalding, red dune, I resented the heat, the sand, the sun god, and the Rite in its entirety.
Fucking prophecies.
Once I’d regained my balance, I scanned my surroundings and realised two things.
First, I was completely and utterly alone. No footprints, nor animal tracks. Nothing moved except for small handfuls of red grains, scooped up in the hot breeze.
Second, there was nothing else to see. Just dunes, stretching for miles in every direction. And with the sun glaring directly overhead, I had no way to get my bearings.
What was it Apollo said?
Find your way to me.
But where in this fervid hellscape would he be?
The longer I stood still, the more my pale skin burned under Helios’ blistering sun. For the first time in two decades, Ilamented my usual choice in attire — black leather was the worst possible option for this trial. My dark armour clung to my skin, sweat pasting it down, the midnight hue drinking in every ounce of heat the midday sun could throw.
A breezy chiton from Aphrodite’s wardrobe would have served me much better today. I wondered how my friend was coping. Had she managed to figure out which way to go? She would undoubtedly be suffering in this miserable desert — but Aph had more fortitude than anyone gave her credit for. Neither gods nor mortals knew what she was truly capable of. I was certain she’d not only pass this trial, but would outlast most.
I looked skyward again. The sun had inched across the sky, no longer directly overhead, but slightly to my right.
If it rose in the east and set in the west, then surely I was facing south.
Would Apollo align himself along the sun’s path, then? Logically, it made sense. And if he did, would he wait where it started, or where it ended its day’s journey?
I figured I had about a fifty percent chance of guessing correctly. I turned west, bracing for the sun’s assault, but I figured there was nothing for it but to soldier on and complete the trial.
An hour later,with skin the colour of a ripe strawberry, half a dune’s worth of sand in my boots, and an unquenchable thirst clawing at my throat, I was no closer to the end.
I had seen nothing but red dunes and blue-grey skies with every trudging footstep. No champions dotted my horizon andno bird graced the skies. Not even a whisper of desert-dwelling serpent, rodent, or critter scurrying along at my feet.
Just silence.
Just emptiness.
Forgotten.
As if all life had been sucked right out of it.
For the hundredth time, I tried to coax my shadows into forming some sort of veil, some kind of barrier between the heat and my skin. But they resisted, just as opposed to the light as I was to the heat. Inky darkness pooled in my palms, stubborn and slow. No matter how gentle I was with it, the shadows refused to budge. Frustrated, I watched as they bled back beneath my skin.
Temperamental bastard.
I huffed into the dry air and stomped forwards. My foot landed so hard that the ground trembled. As I stepped again, the sand rumbled once more.
Perplexed, I paused.
The land shuddered so violently I stumbled sideways. The vibrations intensified just as the ground where I’d stood exploded in a spray of red.
A creature born directly from my nightmares hissed at me from the gigantic crater it had erupted from. An enormous copper-toned serpent reared up, fangs bared and dripping with clear venom; jewel-coloured eyes narrowed and fixated on my every breath. It was huge — rising higher than two horses stacked on top of one another.
I barely dared to blink.
The serpent stilled, its muscles tense and ready. The creature had sized me up, made its decision. I was lunch.
Not today, ophis.
My shadows seemed to understand — finally — and coiled into the shape of a longsword. I clutched the hilt with both hands, shifting my feet to shoulder-width, bracing.
