Danae followed him into the collapsed room. A musty pile of rags was heaped in one corner and on the other side was an eclectic collection of objects. Small pieces of rock, shards of bone and a scatter of broken pottery were lined up in neat rows. It looked like he’d been excavating.
“What are you doing here?”
“I was exiled,” he said quickly. “Tell me, do you have news of the last daughter?”
He didn’t look like an agent of the gods, but then how could she be sure?
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Phineus.” The old man leaned on his staff. “But please, friend. I have lived alone all this time, wondering, waiting. Is there news from the watcher?”
Her eyes prickled. “The watcher is dead.”
The old man jerked as though she’d punched him. He sagged, reaching behind him as he crumpled onto a jutting piece of stone.
“Manto,” he whispered. His stick clattered to the ground as he raised his shaking hands to cover his face.
“Holy Tartarus,” she breathed, realization crashing over her. “You’re Manto’s father.” She edged toward him. “Phineus, I’m so sorry.”
He raised his mangled head. “Get out.”
She faltered.
His frail voice shook. “How dare you come here and say my Manto is...is...”
“I’m not lying.” Danae reached into her bag and pulled out the prophecy stone. She grabbed one of his hands and pressed the rock into his palm.
Phineus tensed, then drew the stone into his chest, caressing its wrappings like an old lover.
“You should not have brought this here,” he said quietly. Then his face spasmed, and the ghosts of tears tumbled from his empty eye sockets. Danae wept too, cracked open by the old man’s grief.
When he regained himself enough to speak, he said, “How did it happen?”
“Saving my life.”
She felt the weight of his guilt like it was her own. He hadn’t asked Manto to wait for the last daughter because he didn’t love them. He did itbecauseof his love for them. So no more parents and children would have to live under the tyranny of the gods.
“Did they suffer?”
Danae saw Manto’s final moments. The bloody gash where the harpy had ripped out their heart.
“No, it was over quickly. We were leaving Delphi and our ship was attacked by harpies. Manto pushed me into the sea and distracted the beasts so I would survive. They died a hero. I gave them a sea burial and made sure they had coin for the ferryman.” Her voice grew thick. “They asked me to tell you that they kept their promise.”
“I don’t understand.” Phineus shook his head. “They would never have left Delphi without...” He grew very still.
Danae could not breathe.
“Tell me who you are,” Phineus whispered.
She felt as though she were standing on the edge of a precipice. She briefly closed her eyes and imagined stepping off the ledge.
“I’m the reason Apollo razed Delphi...because I destroyed the oracle.” She forced herself to draw a breath. “I am the last daughter.”
The old man reached for his staff and, still holding the prophecy stone, pushed himself to his feet, murmuring, “When the prophet falls, and gold that grows bears no fruit, the last daughter will come. She will end the reign of thunder and become the light that frees mankind.” He pressed the prophecy stone back into Danae’s hand, then raised his gnarled fingers to her cheek, mapping the contours of her face. “I have waited so long. Since my exile, I’d given up hope of ever meeting you, but here you are.”
She lowered his hand. “There’s something I need to tell you. I’m not a warrior, but I can do things—manipulate the threads of my life force and use them to influence the elements. But I’m working off intuition and I’ve no idea what I’m doing most of the time. If I’m ever going to be ready to take on Zeus, I need to understand what this power is and what I’m supposed to do with it, and why I keep being shown that bloody tree.” She stopped to draw breath.
Phineus lowered himself back onto the rock, his wrinkled face deep in thought.
