Cover illustration and design © Gabrielle Ragusi
Syrena has a chance to make a difference, and so long as there's a chance, she has to try.
Five hundred years after the Greek gods destroyed the modern world, Syrena, Daughter of Poseidon, lives under the gods' tyrannical rule. However, a centuries-old prophecy says a war will be waged on them. And if that means there's a possibility to help those the Olympians have hurt, a possibility to change things for the better, Syrena will do anything to bring this prediction to life.
Even if it means losing everything she loves.
"Daughter of Poseidon" is a short story that serves as a prequel to War on the Gods, a completed series perfect for fans of Greek mythology and dark YA fantasy. Binge it today!
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Missed chapter seven? Read it here, or go back to chapter one here.
CHAPTER EIGHT
WORTHY
Syrena drew the saltwater from her pouch as fast as she could. She flicked her wrist, forming a whip with the liquid, and one of the Empousai kicked her hard in the shoulder. She fell onto her back and the fluid splattered across the grass at her feet. Twenty feet away, Diana launched arrows at the other two creatures, but they dodged her assaults with ease.
The monster landed before Syrena and licked its lips with a long forked tongue. “That was easy. Too bad, I thought you’d be at least a little bit of a challenge.” Its voice was soft and sweet, like an innocent young woman’s—a stark contrast to its horrid appearance.
Syrena sat up and focused on her saltwater scattered across the turf, blood pounding in her ears. She gritted her teeth, and her fingers trembled as hot power coursed through her body.
“Do you have any idea what an Empousa does to creatures like you?” the monster asked, leaning over Syrena. The stench of rotting flesh hung on its breath, thick smoke rolling off its flaming hair, and she shook her head despite being fairly certain she already had the answer. She didn’t have to pay close attention during Apollo’s lessons to know this creature’s intentions. “Pathetic and stupid, are we? For your information, an Empousa eats beings much like yourself. Are you ready to suffer in Tartarus for all eternity?”
Syrena smirked and raised her shaking hand, beads of sweat rolling down her face. The saltwater she’d lost only moments ago rose from the grass in dozens of large quivering drops. “No, not yet.” The Empousa snarled, but before it could attack, Syrena clenched her fists. In response, the drops sharpened into miniature daggers, and the demigod thrust her arms forward. This launched the weapons straight into the monster, impaling it. It screamed, losing its balance. Syrena scrambled out of the way before it could fall upon her.
Golden ichor seeped from the Empousa’s wounds as it lay in the grass, a sign of its immortality, but Syrena knew it would take a while before the creature could regenerate after death. Enough time for us to escape. She drew the saltwater up into the air and, with a jerk of her wrists, rid the liquid of any of the monster’s ichor that might still cling to it.
“Let me go!” Diana yelled from afar, and Syrena looked over to see that the Daughter of Apollo had been pinned by the two remaining Empousai. One held down the demigod’s wrists while the other had her ankles pressed against the forest floor. The monsters hissed, their tongues lolling out of their mouths as though they were readying themselves to feast upon the demigod’s flesh.
“Diana!” Syrena cried, bolting toward them as she readied her saltwater whip. “Get away from her, you hideous Harpies!”
Unsurprisingly, this insult caught the creatures’ attention, but they still didn’t heed Syrena’s command. Instead, they held fast and grinned wickedly at one another. “Do you think this one will prove herself of worthy blood?” the Empousa grasping Diana’s ankles asked.
“No,” the other replied, then motioned at Diana with a quick head movement. “And this one’s already proven herself to be a failure.”
Syrena reached them, preparing to attack, but before she could do anything Diana laughed scornfully at the Empousa’s remark. Her hands began to glow with golden light, and Syrena stepped back. If Diana was about to attack with what Syrena suspected, the demigod didn’t need her help just yet.
Sparks flashed and flittered from Diana’s hands, the light in her palms growing brighter and brighter. The Empousa holding her wrists shrieked and fell back. The skin of its palms smoked and sizzled like meat in a fire pit. Diana sat up to face the other Empousa still holding her hostage, and the glow of her hands faded, only to morph into an orb of golden light—a miniature sun, blazing and hissing—in her palms.
Since Diana’s father was a god of sunlight, one of her powers consisted of conjuring and manipulating those particles to use them as a weapon. Usually she didn’t harness this ability during the night or when the sun wasn’t visible, as demigods grew weaker the farther they were away from what gave them power, but it seemed to Syrena that the Empousai had wounded Diana’s pride enough that the demigod deemed such an assault necessary.
Diana raised her hands to launch the attack, but the Empousa screeched and darted into the air. Its leathery wings flapped furiously. “Perhaps we underestimated you, Daughter of Apollo.”
Syrena reared back her saltwater whip. “Perhaps you underestimated the both of us.” She lashed the weapon at the monster. The assault struck it in the wing, and it howled in pain and tumbled to the forest floor.
Syrena pulled back the liquid and focused on transforming it into something to slay the Empousa with as she stepped toward the creature. The monster swung around. It shrieked and bared its teeth, its forked tongue twisting between its fangs, and in response she clenched her fists. The saltwater morphed and solidified into a spear. With a wave of her arms the demigod sent her new weapon through the monster’s chest. It fell limp.
Another screech sounded from behind. Syrena swung around to see the final Empousa as it lunged toward them. Diana pitched her orb of sunlight at it. The attack collided with the creature’s shoulder, and it screamed and crashed onto the forest floor. Before the monster could stand, Syrena leapt forward and thrust her saltwater spear through its throat, golden ichor spewing into the air as it crumpled to the ground for good.
Syrena allowed her weapon to liquefy and guided it back into her pouch, then turned to Diana and took the demigod’s hand in hers. Both their breaths were labored from the energy they’d exerted during battle. “Hey, good job,” Syrena said, offering a small smile. “I couldn’t imagine bringing a prophecy to fruition with anyone else.”
“I feel the same,” the Daughter of Apollo replied with a chuckle, then frowned. “But we do have an issue—our pegasi are gone. After I escaped Hecate’s illusion, I didn’t see them anywhere. They must have flown off. How are we ever going to reach the Fates without them? The gods will catch us, and then . . .”
Syrena pulled away and hugged her sides. This couldn’t be the end. Not after fighting bloodthirsty monsters, not after giving up any chance she had to reunite with Spencer and Karter, not after sending herself to her own death. Right?
“No, they won’t catch us.” Syrena straightened herself and looked up at the tall pine trees, at the moon and stars as they shimmered in the night. “At least, we’ll do everything we can to make sure they don’t. Even if we have to walk the whole way, even if we’re forced to fight more monsters and every demigod on Olympus to the death . . .” Tears pricked her eyes at this thought, but she continued. “There’s a chance for us to change the world, as slim as it may be. And so long as there’s a chance, we have to try.”
As she finished her sentence, a woman’s sinister laugh echoed all around them, and she narrowed her eyes at the sky. Hecate. “Well done, well done,” the Goddess of Witchcraft said. “I wasn’t entirely sure whether you’d prove yourselves worthy, but now I see your blood is more than adequate. Congratulations, little demigods. Your pegasi will be waiting for you outside of the cave. But before retrieving them, you will speak with the Fates.”
A deafening crack that sounded as though the sky were splitting open thundered over their heads, and Syrena shielded her face, brilliant orange beams blinding her once again.
Read chapter nine here.
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