The dead began to rally around me.
On the center balcony, Hades rose, shadows and death power coiling around him, but his eyes held only me—blazing with fierce adoration and unbridled pride.
Zeus’s lightning gathered in his palms again, but it flickered, hesitant.
There was no precedent for this. No law that accounted for what I’d just done.
Raw fear flashed in the eyes of the King of the Gods as the full significance of my awakening crashed upon him.
They’d clipped Hades’s wings with their blood curse, reduced his power to embers—so long as he chose me.
Now I had awakened. I had declared my true self before all my enemies. My power surged through our bond like a hurricane, flooding into him, igniting his veins. Strength that he had not known in millennia returned in a single breath, vengeful and vast.
The God of Death stood taller, drew a deeper breath, and lifted his hands.
His shadows, his hellfire, his death power shook free—an eon of chains turned to ash.
The curse no longer held him.
He was free.
Power erupted from him in a wave of devouring darkness. It shattered the ward between the audience and the arena. The barrier exploded into a thousand fragments of light, like stars breaking.
I swept my hand forward.
The dead surged toward the balconies. They scaled marble and stone, fingers grasping for gods who had believed themselves untouchable.
They might not overpower the Olympians. But they could harm. They could chase them from this arena in shame.
The surviving hunters and minor gods retreated in a panicked scramble through the north gate, shoving and stumbling over one another.
“The trial ends!” Zeus shouted, his voice cracking. “Call off the dead! We yield!”
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
Bloom
Victory and Venom
Ashockwave ripped through the colosseum.
For one suspended moment, everything froze. Every breath, every heartbeat, locked in place.
The surviving students from Ravencrux House stared at me, stunned. Then relief broke over their faces, followed by joy. Some dropped to their knees. They’d won. They’d survived. And they’d been led by a goddess.
One boy began to laugh, the sound bordering on hysterical. A girl covered her mouth, tears carving paths through the dust on her cheeks. Another stood shaking, his body not yet believing what his eyes had seen.
Then they were moving—jumping, hugging, shouting their victory at the bruised sky. Pride simmered from them like heatfrom a forge. Pride in their house, in following me, in surviving what should have buried them all.
Sindy stood among them, chest puffed out. Her eyes found mine across the distance, holding a loyalty that went beyond friendship—a devotion forged in death and resurrection.
The Stardust students huddled in their corner, uncertain. Their faces were a mosaic of confusion, awe, and terror. Having remained neutral, they now wavered, unsure which side of history to stand on.
The surviving Kingsley faction seethed with fury, their promised victory ripped away. Some glared at me, but the majority of them now feared me.
Dante grinned savagely, even though his archdemon form was covered in wounds, blood dripping from dozens of cuts. He had waited for this.
