“Georgie?” I asked.
“Get out.” She sighed.
I looked ahead, seeing a mirror of the place we first started this trial in. Everyone was already there. Well, not everyone.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Nine with us.
Just like the guy said.
A shiver ran down my spine. Three people didn’t make it back, including Arianna.
When we approached, everyone snapped their gaze to us. I ignored them and headed straight to the table that the godsstood behind. My legs trembled, and a drop of blood glided from my open wound to the lower side of my leg. I was aware everyone was looking at my naked ass, but I had only one priority then.
Make Georgie better.
“Help her.”
The gods took their sweet time analyzing me from head to toe before exchanging a look. Demeter pointed to one glass already filled with wine.
I squinted. Were they trying to make her worse?
“Hell, no.” My head shook. “I said help her, not drug her again.”
“I believed you should have said ‘Underworld, no.’ Hell doesn’t exist, human. You invented it.” Dionysus blinked calmly, nodding his head at me.
Demeter smirked. “This wine will help your friend, mortal. Drink it yourself, and the trial will be over.”
I hesitated but grabbed a glass, turned around, and bent down to offer it to her, only to be halted by Dionysus’s sudden words.
“Note that the choice not to save her is a possible course of action,” he announced, and I flicked a murderous look his way. Dionysus leaned back, placing a hand on his chest. “Was I wrong to inform you?”
I stared straight into his eyes, not blinking. He had to be kidding.
Demeter snorted, but Dionysus kept his expression blank. “I would consider it advantageous to diminish the number of adversaries. You’d soon have to fight your little friend there to win.”
“Good thing I don’t have to do it right now,” I replied through gritted teeth.
My hand opened Georgie’s mouth, and I poured the liquid inside, before taking a sip myself.
Fuck the gods.
My back ached, a heavy weight from eyes that lingered too long. A silent moment passed as I turned around, and then the crowd’s attention scattered like leaves in the wind.
“Give me your shirt,” I said, pointing at the redheaded man.
He pointed at his chest, then looked around. “Me?”
“Yes, you,” I said with a sigh, lowering Georgie onto the floor. As if lost in a deep sleep, her features were settled in a silent expression.
The guy nodded, then with a quick tug, freed his shirt from his head, handing it to me. His fingers brushed against mine, and my head drew back, eyes rounding.
As I blinked, I felt a peculiar detachment, and I observed my body as if I were a wandering ghost. I lay on the chamber floor, my chest a gaping wound, and my heart a bloody mess beside me. A crimson river of blood snaked its way across the floor, originating from the cavernous wound in my rib cage and pooling around the still-beating organ that had been ripped from my body. I watched, a detached observer, as the life slowly ebbed away, the last vestiges of my existence slipping away into the encroaching darkness. A single, ragged breath evaded my lips, and then, silence.
The vision flashed before my eyes, and its intensity filled me with unease. Before I could ask anything, the redhead knelt and whispered in my ear. “The trials are the least of your concern. Listen to the Shadow and obey its command if you value your life.”
And just like that, he ripped away from me, his shirt hanging between my fingers. How the hell did he know about the Shadow? I assumed it was the same way he knew about the number of people who will perish today.
My lips settled into a straight line.
