When she goes for Zai, I have an axe ready, and I throw. It hits the creature in the arm, and the siren screams. But then two more descend, taking her and Zai with them when they go.
My axe clatters to the ground in their wake. I run over to scoop it up, only for that same sound to come down close by. When I look around, Amir is gone.
There’s a flash of gold flying through the air at the siren coming for Rima. Samuel must have thrown his Aegis at whatever is after her. But he misses, and almost a single breath later, a siren takes him, too.
Then Rima. Then Dae.
And then…I’m alone.
I mean completely alone. Abandoned in the middle of the desert, cracked, dry earth beneath my feet. Quiet settles all around me. Even the kraken and minotaur, trapped behind the walls at my back, have gone silent. And the darkness feels like it’s pressing in on me, growing heavier and heavier.
I can’t breathe.
All the champions are gone.
I swallow.
Then jump when that flash of movement comes down right on top of me, and suddenly, a siren is standing before me.
Even with the Tears of Eos painting the details of her face and form in unique lights and lines, I can still see the beauty and deadly danger of the creature. She is all woman except for her arms, which are wings, the feathers reaching the ground. She wears a skirt of sorts, belted low over her hips and with slits up the sides that bare her long legs, and flowers cover her breasts. Her hair is made of feathers sweeping back from her face like a warrior’s headdress, reminding me of Athena’s armor.
I don’t think her skin is human flesh. It’s white, with intricate, swirling markings that look like feathers and tears at the same time. And her face and features could rival Aphrodite for symmetrical, curving perfection.
The siren lifts her chin, slowly turning her head from side to side, eyes skating past me as she seems to search around her. “I sense you, mortal. Why can’t I see you?” Gods, what a voice. Like honey and music and the sound of gentle running water. “Come to me and let me love you.”
I stay very still, holding my breath so even my chest doesn’t move.
She cocks her head the way a bird of prey does. “I will love you better than anyone in your life,” she tempts.
For the briefest second, Hades’ face fills my mind. Then the siren’s gaze shoots to me, and I wrap my hand across my mouth to smother my breath.
But she still can’t see me.
Like I’m invisible.
And that’s when I know for sure.
What Homer didn’t know when he composed the Odyssey, something they now teach us in school, is that sirens don’t just lure humans with their songs—they crave the human’s love almost to the point of sickness, and so they steal them away to their island, where there isn’t food or water to sustain mortal lives.
My stomach twists into a thousand knots, my chest so tight I can’t breathe from the pain echoing in my heart.
Hades didn’t choose me because he saw something special when we first met. The exact opposite, in fact.
I take a shuddering breath. Then another. Hades picked me because of what I’m not.
Lovable.
106
The Choice Was Always Mine
Hades knew. He had to have somehow found out Zeus’ Labor, and he knew I could win it. Because of my curse.
Because I can’t be loved.
And that makes me invisible to the sirens.
With no warning, the siren standing before me spreads her wings and takes to the sky. So fast. They move so incredibly fast. I can’t even track where she goes.
I search the skies for any trace that she’s nearby. What if I move and she sees and pounces? I take a single, tentative step forward.
Nothing happens.
And another step, and another.
Still nothing happens.
And then I blink and the gate is right before me. Not close, but with luck, I can make it there without the siren finding me. I can’t tell what kind of metal the gate is made from because of my distorted vision, but I swear angels’ wings are designed in the scrollwork, like they are the gates of heaven of a different god.
What they are to me is salvation. The finish line. I can win.
I could end the Labor for the others as well.
Let’s end this.
Slowly, I make my way, step by careful step, to the swirling gates, the finish line beckoning. An enticement, just like the sirens. And I get there. I get to where I only have to take one step. One single step.
