Zeus stood at the head of the table, trying to project dominance even in defeat. His lion mask was gone, his face exposed. He looked older than I’d ever seen him.
Fear did that, even to gods.
“What are your terms for ceasing fire?” Zeus’s voice still dripped with arrogance. As if he held any power to negotiate.
“The only term is your utter surrender,” I said, letting my voice carry. “Complete and unconditional.”
His face darkened. “Unacceptable.”
“Then we continue,” I said simply. Shadows coiled around my arms, hungry for violence.
Zeus and Poseidon moved as one. They’d fought together for eons, knew each other’s moves. They hoped coordination could overwhelm me.
They charged.
Behind them, the other elite gods scrambled—some to flee, some to join the fight.
Persephone’s fingers flexed. Threads of silver and black and crimson spiraled out, wrapping around Athena, Aphrodite, and Hera and binding them where they stood.
They strained against the threads, pouring their power into breaking free. They failed. Shock tore across their pretty faces. They’d never seen weaving like this. Never imagined Persephone could be this strong, even after she’d turned their own power against them in the tower.
“Surrender, Persephone!” Demeter demanded. “I am your mother, and you will do as I say!”
“Nice try, Mother,” Persephone replied. “I don’t take orders from anyone, not even from my husband and king. Zeus and Poseidon are small men who fear powerful women. Hades is secure enough to stand beside one. Now be quiet. I want to watch my husband teach these chauvinists a lesson.”
I chuckled. That was my queen.
I summoned my shadow blade—the obsidian steel forged in the inferno of my realm. It had drunk the blood of countless enemies over millennia.
Zeus and Poseidon drew their weapons. Lightning crackled along Zeus’s spear. Water coiled around Poseidon’s trident.
We clashed.
Steel met steel. Sparks flew. The impact shuddered through the ground.
Two against one. Both skilled, both ancient.
It didn’t matter. I was better.
I’d always been better. More powerful. That was why they’d feared me. Why they’d plotted. Why they’d exiled me.
I parried Zeus’s overhead strike and spun to meet Poseidon’s thrust. My blade moved like an extension of my arm. Defense flowed into offense, then back again.
They pressed hard, coordinating their assaults. One high, one low. Left, then right. Trying to overwhelm me through sheer aggression.
I let them think it was working. Let them believe they had a chance.
Then I stopped holding back.
My blade became a blur. I caught Zeus’s sword and twisted, nearly ripping it from his grip. At the same time, I booted Poseidon in the chest, sending him stumbling back. Pressing my advantage against Zeus, I drove him backward with a flurry of strikes.
Poseidon recovered and charged from my blind spot, trident aimed at my ribs. He was always sneaky.
I dropped low. The weapon hissed over my head. I came up inside his guard and drove my elbow into his face. Bone crunched. Blood sprayed.
Zeus struck behind me while I was occupied, his blade seeking my spine.
I spun, caught his sword on mine, and shoved him back with raw strength.
