“I’d prefer if we didn’t find out,” he said, matching her pace. A single flame fluttered in the distance. They raced toward the light—a lit torch, Tethys realized, but as the flicker came closer, the stairwell shook.
“Faster!” Tethys cried, her long, trailing cloak collecting fallen dust particles as she quickened her descent. Her siblings followed suit, every so often glancing behind them.
Down and down they went, their three frantic heartbeats thrumming in time. Tethys’s calves ached as shereached the bottom—a narrow corridor lined with entryways. At the end was a locked door, humming with ancient secrets.
“Again, another rickety old door,” Altair feigned a chuckle through rapid breaths. Tethys wasn’t sure what she expected down here among the spiders and dust, but the old, rotting door at the end of the passage wasn’t it. This old thing, mounted on rusted hinges and pieced together from gnarled wooden planks, was the gateway to the Rift? She sucked in a breath, her heart climbing up her throat.
“Save your jests for when we aren’t about to be mauled by a mythical beast, please,” Polaris snapped, scanning the stairwell once more for even the slightest disturbance.
Tethys approached the gate, feeling it beckon to her like a siren’s call. When she took another step, however, her boot froze before connecting to the floor.
A roar, loud enough to shake the very bones of the keep’s foundation, echoed around her. She knew what would greet her if she turned back to face her siblings.
“Tethys…” Polaris whispered, her voice rippling with terror.
Tethys turned around.
Standing at the base of the stairwell was a creature of nightmares. With legs thicker than oak trunks, and a broad chest, was the Minotaur. Its eyes gleamed red in the darkness as it huffed and took the three immortals in.
“Fuck…” Altair breathed, risking a slow step toward Polaris. Veins rippled under its swollen biceps and webbed down the length of its arms into enormous hands. Its claws scraped across the stairwell walls, leaving clean gashes through the rock in their wake.
“Do not move, nor breathe,” Tethys whispered, recounting her mother’s bedtime tale. The Minotaur—although with brilliant, gleaming eyes—was blind. It snapped its jaw at them, the iron ring pierced in its septumrising and falling with each heavy snort.
Altair tread closer to his sisters, his posture rigid and alert.
“Cast your wards, Altair,” Tethys said, her words barely a whisper in the heavy, silent space. She risked a step toward the doorway.
Altair flashed her a hesitant look, but raised his palms. Before his magic hummed around them, though, the Minotaur charged.
“This isn’t good…” Altair muttered. The beast lurched for the immortals with claws raised and lip snarled. It flew down the hallway, shaking the keep’s foundation with every heavy, massive step.
“Altair! Cast your wards! Now!” Tethys cried, sprinting toward the doorway. But, Altair didn’t hear her. Her brother now rushed the beast with golden sunbeams igniting his veins. The light webbed throughout his body, fueling his strides with summer warmth and raging seas.
“Sister, stay here,” Polaris said before she, too, started for the beast.
Beams of night and day intertwined as the two immortals sent their power hurtling toward the Minotaur. Violet shades of the borealis wrapped up its arms and twisted around its neck. The beast’s raging path slowed, but when it roared again, her siblings’ power dissipated.
Altair dove for its leg, wrapping himself around the massive trunk. The Minotaur bellowed and swiped for the god, narrowly missing his chest. It shook furiously, sending Altair scattering across the floor. His back hit stone with a nauseating crack.
“Brother!” Tethys cried. She felt as helpless as a child, watching her siblings battle with death. The beast slashed and snarled and lunged for her sister as Polaris blasted another beam of power. Her violet fury landed its blow, searing sinewy flesh down to the bone. The Minotaur howled.
Tethys couldn’t see past the flashing borealis andjolting sunbeams. Chaos erupted around her. The walls fractured and the floor shook. Sunlight melted into darkness. Night entwined with day. Only the Minotaur’s savage snarls and earth-shattering growls escaped from the haze of battle.
“Tethys! The gate!” Polaris called, her pale face illuminated in magenta and teal. “Go through the gate!”
But Tethys couldn’t move. Her little light sent a fluttering panic up her body, rooting her to the floor. The Minotaur lurched for Polaris, its claws outstretched, but she dodged with fluid, immortal speed.
For a moment, Tethys wondered where Polaris learned how to fight. Perhaps the Ursaean generals ensured her battle skills were proficient in the lethal, cold climate. But that thought fled a moment later when the beast turned on its heels and raced toward Altair, still limp and struggling against the corridor wall.
“No!” Polaris sobbed, rushing toward their brother. The Minotaur’s nostrils flared—it’d caught Altair’s scent. Its ruby eyes burned brighter as it charged the summer king, closing in on the wounded god.
“Altair, get up!” Tethys cried. “Get up!”
But the god strained against his injury. His body was healing, but not fast enough. “Get up, Altair, please!”
Polaris was on him, then, struggling to hold his weight. She sent one more bolt of power toward the Minotaur. It wound up its arms, each tendril scorching flesh, but she’d spent too much magic. The borealis fizzled before reaching the Minotaur’s heart, and the beast barreled toward them without failure.
Altair dropped to his knees. Polaris fell beside him, tugging their brother’s arm toward escape.
