Daughter of Poseidon: Chapter Four

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 three? Read it here, or go back to chapter one here.

CHAPTER FOUR

CROSSROADS

Finally the light diminished, and Syrena looked ahead to see which goddess had caught her and Diana. She braced herself for what might come next.

The deity was suspended in the air before them—tall and strong, beautiful and terrifying. Then again, Syrena thought, aren’t they all? She wore long robes so dark they reminded Syrena of a bottomless pit, a blazing torch in her hand, its fire illuminating the goddess’s medium-olive skin. Her burgundy hair hung straight to her waist, her irises the same striking silver as the twinkling stars above.

“Hecate,” Diana said, eyes wide. “Goddess of Crossroads, Witchcraft, and Ghosts. Daughter of Asteria and Perses.” Syrena was fairly sure Diana had never met the goddess before them, but because her father, Apollo, always taught the demigods’ history lessons, she possessed a plethora of knowledge about most gods and monsters.

Hecate smiled with perfect straight teeth, but it couldn’t be for joy; her expression was sinister. Syrena shivered. She stroked her pegasus’s neck, trying to keep it calm in the presence of this deity, and moved a hand toward her saltwater pouch. I won’t go down without a fight, no matter how hopeless things may seem. Not when I’ve come this far already. She twirled her fingers above the pouch, hot power coursing through her body, and drew the liquid out. If there’s going to be a war on the gods, then maybe we have a chance against Hecate, even if she is immortal. So long as there’s a chance, I have to try.

“What do you want, Hecate?” Syrena asked. She threw up her hands, raising her saltwater like a liquid whip.

Hecate laughed, although it sounded more like a hiss than anything, and floated toward Syrena. “Daughter of Poseidon, hmm? I never would have expected such insolence from you. Not after your little incident with the Son of Hades and the Son of Zeus all those years ago.”

Syrena’s nostrils flared. “Yet here we are.”

“Yes, darling, here we are. In a situation where you have betrayed the Olympians and wish to fulfill the Dreaded Prophecy.” The goddess paused before Syrena and placed her free hand on the demigod’s shoulder. She leaned down, so close her breath grazed Syrena’s neck. What in all of Hades is she doing? Why hasn’t she attacked us already if she knows the extent of our plans? “You have reached a crossroads, Daughter of Poseidon,” she said. “But are you ready to choose which path you’ll take? To decide on the consequences you can accept?”

“What are you talking about?” Syrena asked. “I’ve already chosen my path, and I understand what could happen because of it.”

“Don’t be so sure, darling.”

Syrena pulled away. “What do you mean, don’t be so sure? I ran away from Olympus, stole pegasi and weapons . . . I’ve made my choice. I’ve decided what has to be done, and I know I can never go back.” She glanced at Diana. The demigod gripped her pegasus’s mane, silent as she stared at the goddess before them. “We both do.”

Hecate grinned some more, sending chills down Syrena’s spine. The deity floated backward, away from the demigods, then began her ascent toward the clouds above. “As I said before, you’ve reached a crossroads, the both of you. And you think you’ve already chosen your path? Think again. You have no idea what consequences await you in the coming weeks, none at all. But I do, and I intend to give you a glimpse of them.”

Before Syrena could figure out what Hecate meant by that, the goddess raised her arms toward the sky. Her silver irises flashed, her fiery torch crackling. She chanted incoherently, ancient words that held magic in every syllable, and brought down her hands.

As she lowered them, her torch flickered out. Her irises turned black, spreading into the whites of her eyes like spilled ink until the orbs were all-consumed. A powerful gale whipped back and forth, and Syrena’s stomach twisted in knots as she grasped her pegasus, the wind nearly toppling her off its side. Instinctively she looked up, toward the sky, and saw that it appeared as if the very heavens were falling, the clouds dissipating, stars raining down.

Hecate uttered a few last words, and her gale switched directions; it shoved Syrena, Diana, and their pegasi toward the trees below. The demigods screamed as they fell. All the while, glittering celestial spheres cascaded around them.