“This is humanity reduced to Mother. You are not at fault.” I offer him my hand as well.
Flynn’s throat works again. He hesitates, unsure of himself. Then he grabs both our hands, and we heave him up, setting him back on his feet.
“Thank you, Cat.” Flynn’s voice is gruff. He won’t meet Griffin’s eyes.
Tension wraps around my heart. I’m not sure he should thank me for being in total control of him. If I told him to run himself through right now, he would.
“I got Carver and Bellanca, too,” I say, pointing to them. “They’re working together now. They’re okay.”
Kato nods. “Then it’s time to gather the rest.”
I nod back, still shrinking from the idea. Griffin and Flynn spread out, defending our sides while Kato remains my faithful inner shield. Turning toward my magic again, I search for and feel the sparks of dozens and dozens of minds all around us. Many blaze with bloodlust. Some flare with pain. Others flicker, slowly dimming. The fighting was so undisciplined that it might have ended up being more incapacitating than fatal in enough cases to give me hope—hope that with effective triage and some decent healers, we can save many of these men and women before it’s too late.
Lukos comes into focus, still a bright and intact spark. I take him back next, and his bewilderment, sorrow, and shock flood me, stealing my breath and battering my heart.
From there, I jump from mind to mind, not knowing which side these people started out on and not caring. I only know that from now on, they’re mine. It’s easy once I start, like plucking cherries from a bowl. One more. One more. One more. Taking until I’ve consumed them all.
I crossed my final, really myonlyline, and I did what I swore I would never do. I overtook human minds and made them mine to control. I can’t regret it, though. I don’t regret it at all.
Mother makes an inhuman sound from her gory perch and tries to take my people back, her power wrenching hard through my mind.
The pain is fierce, and I whip around with a shout that somehow rocks the ruined city. Magic pulses from me like a shield, driving out her pollution and pain, and it’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen before, or felt, or done. It’s bright green, shimmering, and so clear that even the dust particles in the air come sharply into focus and then stop, hovering like tiny glittering specks in a vast emerald sea. Silence blankets the world, thick and absorbing. Nothing moves. No one breathes. Everything has been suspended. Everyone stops except for me.
Wings spring out from my shoulder blades, ripping through my tunic and punching holes in my leather armor. I gasp because ithurts. They grow and unfurl, huge behind me, rising like twin nightmares above my head. With the sun at my back, I see my shadow before me—beautiful, horrifying—and in that moment, I can pick out a single, golden thread in my blood, pulsing with ancient power.
The ichor in my veins snaps to life and tells me my own story. I am what frightens the untrue of heart, burns treachery from them, and demands divine justice. Nike may have contributed to my wings, but she’s not the only one. I am daughter of the winged Furies. My veins run with their harsh blood. Throughout time and worlds, the infernal Goddesses have wielded the punishing whip of justice. Truth and vengeance have always been theirs.
Ruthlessness sweeps through me, dark and cold with purpose.
Kingmaker. Truthsayer. Settler of scores.
In the silent, green stillness of pure magic, I feel the tapestry of my life overlap my body, all the threads the Fates wove for me, all their twists and turns. The Furies both gifted and cursed me with the power to discern the real from the false. They formed me in their own images and then sent me forth to punish those who break sacred covenants, those who betray life’s most valuable currency of trust.
“What’s more important than loyalty?” Griffin’s voice whispers through my mind.
“Made for me,” my heart whispers back.
My lesson was a long time coming, this unveiling of the truth. I think I’ve learned it now, after wading through the swamp of my own distrust and lies. I’ve finally stepped onto dry ground and can see the future before me.
“Punish those who swear false oaths.” New voices overlap in my mind, grating and dark, seductive and powerful, the voices of primordial beings that could boil my blood and flay me alive. In fact, they already have—an experience I have a feeling was much harsher for me than for most.
I look at Mother. Just like everyone else, even Griffin, she’s frozen in my flood of magic. And what I see is a parent whose children are pawns to her. And a queen whose subjects live in fear of her. Mother. Ruler. Her implicit pledges, the responsibilities that should have been anchored deep in her heart, mean nothing to her. Give birth but don’t protect. Hold absolute power only to abuse it. She is the very embodiment of betrayal.
A burning sensation flares in my wings, and I look over my shoulder to see the white feathers turn jet-black. A brass-studded scourge appears in my hand, a gift from my partial makers in the Underworld. The whip is wooden-handled and long, an ancient and vicious-looking tool. Dozens of thin leather straps trail in the blood and dust of Sykouri. I lift the weapon and feel the weight and sway of the studs as they clank against one another in a terrible, melodious dance.
I swing the whip up and crack it once, testing it. The menacing snap is still ripe in the air when my magic crashes to the ground, disappearing back into the fabric of the world just as suddenly and mysteriously as it appeared. A final ripple sends everything shuddering back into motion, and I fill my lungs with air that tastes of sweat and blood. I let out the inhale on a battle cry worthy of my terrifying benefactors.
Lightning strikes above my head. Thunder roars in response. Ground-shaking power pulses from me, and the remains of Sykouri gasp their last breath. The ruins on either side of the main thoroughfare collapse, imploding with a long, low groan. Stone dust clouds the sky, momentarily blinding. When the storm settles, everything and everyone is silent.
Around me, the ancient city is leveled. Newly opened marble gleams in the sun. The white stone contrasts sharply with my black wings, which suddenly seem too dark.
Mother staggers to her feet, having fallen from her shattered pedestal. She stares at me in shock, her mouth ajar.
I stare back, my mind filled with Fisans, Tarvans, and Sintans. I have them all. Everyone but Mother. I don’t want her.
“I took these people from you.” I don’t mean to sound any different, but my voice comes out powerful, layered, and deep, like an echo of thunder from the high peak of Mount Olympus. “And I give them back their free will.”
I slam down barriers behind me in each and every one of them as I exit their minds as fast as I can, leaving them fortified with my own natural resistance to compulsion. The move is impulsive and totally instinctive, but also very difficult. It shreds my power down to the deepest, rawest layers. I give so many people a piece of myself that there’s not much left when I’m done.
