“I’m the last daughter!”
Prometheus blinked.
“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 continued to stare at her.
“I destroyed the oracle at Delphi.” Her throat ached as she strained against the wind. “And I’ve had visions of a golden apple tree. How am I meant to end the reign of thunder and become the light that frees mankind?”
The Titan tilted his head, his bones crunching. Waiting for him to speak was agonizing.
“I’ve come such a long way to find you. I’ve worked some things out on my own, but there’s so much I don’t understand...even with my powers, how can I ever hope of defeating the King of the Gods?”
“There are no gods.” Brittle with disuse, his voice scraped like nails over stone.
She must have misheard. He couldn’t have said what she thought he had.
She shuffled closer. “Sorry, what did you say?”
“There are no gods.”
She gaped. “I don’t...”
Prometheus’s gaze shifted to focus on something behind her. Danae turned around.
Flying toward them through the clouds was a chariot pulled by two winged horses, one russet, one white as the mountain snow. Its rider was clad in golden armor overlaid with a filigree of peacock feathers that matched the trim on her billowing purple cloak.
As the figure drew closer, Danae could make out the face beneath the indigo-plumed helm. To call it beautiful would have been reductive. None of the likenesses carved on statues or painted on murals did her justice. Even Alea’s radiant features would have looked clumsy next to these. Her skin was flawless ebony, her eyes dazzling umber. Her face was that of a lioness and the most delicate flower all at once. A face so perfectly formed it didn’t look real. It was the most devastating face Danae had ever seen.
Hera, Queen of the Gods, had come.
41
The Last Titan
Hera tugged on the reins of her chariot. Her flying horses beat their magnificent wings as they trod the air, sending gusts of freezing wind lashing across Danae’s face. Like Athena’s, Hera’s armor covered every inch of her body from neck to toe.
The Queen of Heaven raised a golden, gauntleted hand.
The shock wore off just in time for Danae to dive out of the way. A jet of wind, so powerful it drilled a hole through the snow into the rock beneath, hit the place where she’d just been standing.
Hera aimed again. Danae tried to move, but her bag caught on a shard of rock. Her numb fingers were clumsy in her gloves, and she only just freed herself in time to narrowly avoid the next blast. Ice hailed down as she scrambled to the far corner of the ridge.
The cold stabbed her lungs with each panting breath. Frantically, she felt for her life-threads and sent them hurtling into the snow. Like she’d done with the water of the Black Sea, she grasped the glowing strands and flung them upward. Whipped by her life-threads, a wave of white reared up and before Hera could move, her chariot was engulfed. Danae dropped her arms and for a joyful moment she thought she’d done it.
Then the chariot broke free, the horses tossing their heads to clear their eyes of snow.
Hera stared down at Danae, her luminous eyes round with disbelief.
“It is true.” The goddess’s voice was sharp and rich like poisoned wine.
Hera let go of the reins and with both hands sent out her life-threads to rip chunks of ice from the rock. She held the frozen slabs suspended in the air, then whipped them forward. Midair, they split into knife-sharp splinters, long as branches, and smashed into the mountain.
Danae threw herself out of the way, tumbling from the crag to land with a sickening crack against the jutting rock below. Pain spiked through her back, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it, or the fact that Hera’s power seemed to be a stronger version of her own. She gathered more life-threads and cast them into the snow.
Hera was quicker.
The goddess snapped her metallic fingers, and flames burst from her palm. Danae gaped. Hera manipulated the fire into a burning orb, until it was the size of her head, then hurled it at Danae. She raised a sheet of snow in front of her just in time to absorb the worst of the fire, but it still charred her furs and burned the hairs from her face.
