They landed with a bone-shattering crack on top of the ruin. The harpy broke the worst of her fall, but the air was pummeled from Danae’s lungs, and the entire left side of her body was in a vice of agony.
Then she felt it, the whisper of life-threads leaving the harpy’s body. She placed her good hand on its chest and sucked the creature’s fleeing life force into herself. She gasped as the sinews in her shoulder knitted together and the pain melted from her bones, just as it had done on Lemnos when she took the life of the panther. Energy raced through her, and she was bright and new again. She could see the translucent strands moving through each blade of grass, the insects that flew from leaf to leaf, and Phineus. He was radiant, a glowing tangle of moving energy.
But something was different. The power rushed through her faster and faster until it felt like her body would break open; it surely could not contain so much life. Everything around her was so bright, too bright, the colors exploding together until she could see nothing but blinding white light.
Excruciating bliss.
Then the world came back into focus. She sat up slowly and looked at the mangled body beneath her. The harpy was dead, and yet she felt no joy. Something had shifted, and she didn’t know what. It unsettled her. Perhaps absorbing a life taken by force felt different to taking one that was offered willingly, like the panther’s.
She clambered down to the ground, where Phineus sat, calmly eating the bread and cheese he’d unwrapped from the harpy’s parcel.
He choked as Danae pressed her blade against his neck.
“Why did that thing bring you food?”
“It was my tormenter,” he spluttered.
She squeezed her knife into his skin. “Explain.”
Phineus gulped down his mouthful. “The creature brings food and some days it allows me to eat, others it waits until I’ve unwrapped the victuals, then attacks...”
For the first time Danae noticed the silver scars that laced Phineus’s arms.
“Why?”
“It was my punishment...from the gods.”
Danae stared at him.
“Do you know what it was?”
Phineus shook his head. She believed him.
“It was a harpy. One of the creatures that killed Manto.”
Phineus stiffened. She waited a moment to let the revelation sink in, then touched his shoulder. “We must leave now. There are two more of them, they could be anywhere.”
“Is it dead?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” Instead of getting to his feet, the old man placed a knob of cheese in his mouth and resumed chewing. The line between Danae’s brows deepened.
“Phineus, you’re coming with me.”
He swallowed. “No, child. I would only slow you down. Besides, I have played my part.” A smile spread across his face. “It’s time I saw my Manto again.”
“You don’t have to die,” Danae said quietly.
“Oh, but I do. Sooner or later the gods will come searching for the harpy, and when they do...” He paused. “All mortals must travel to the Underworld. Leave me the dignity of choosing when.”
“Who will bury you?”
Phineus’s mouth quirked. “Don’t you worry, I’ve had a long time to plan for this.”
“I’m not leaving you here.”
“You must.” Phineus spoke with iron-hard resolve. “Your life is not your own anymore, you are the last daughter. Your destiny is all that matters. I can be of no more help to you. But you are not alone. The Children of Prometheus are out there. There are powerful people in our ranks. When the time comes, they will find you. But you must go now.”
