The screaming protest of her two older siblings echoed through the hall as they, too, fought the binds that heldthem. Polaris sobbed, yelling curses at their father; Altair bellowed and growled vicious threats.
“Don’t do this Father, please,” Tethys begged, holding her infant close.
General Otto descended the dais, his pale features ashen in the morning light. He faced his goddess, eyes glistening a sympathetic blue.
“Otto, please. Don’t do this. Don’t take him away. Please,” Tethys whispered, feeling her heartbreak stream down her cheeks.
“I don’t have a choice, Goddess. I…I’m so sorry,” the general replied, his deep voice tainted with ragged despair.
“I beg of you. Please,” she whispered. Otto lowered his eyes to the marble tile and reached for Aryx. The infant wailed as he pulled him from his mother’s arms. Every panicked cry shattered Tethys into a thousand pieces until all that was left was stardust.
The babe screamed for his mother, his tiny voice filling the silent courtroom. The eyes of the audience, once blazing with contempt, all looked away. They couldn’t witness this. Tethys’s knees cracked on the tile as the shadows forced her down. A cold, invisible hand pushed her cheek to the floor, its cold surface cooling the heated rage from her cheeks.
“No, please, Obscuros. Please. Give him back. I beg you, please,” she sobbed, still fighting against her binds.
General Otto ascended the dais and placed the screaming infant in Obscuros’s arms.
“Mother, Phosphora, please. You cannot allow this. Please,” Tethys begged, searching for her mother in the aether. But Phosphora was far from here. Floating some place where time and space couldn’t reach her.
Tethys’s very existence came rushing down upon her. She couldn’t breathe. Her child screamed for her, searched for her in a stranger’s arms, and there was nothing she could do. All her life, she was powerless, unheard, ignored, betrayed. Now, when it mattered most of all, when her golden haired boy begged for her,wailed for her, she couldn’t fight. Couldn’t change the fate decided for him. A talon scratched across her mind, one attached to ruby red eyes and ruthless chaos.
Then, Tethys sank into the depths and succumbed to the chaos.
“No!” Tethys unleashed a scream, more beast than woman. It exploded into the air, sending shockwaves through the council, through her siblings, through the primordials themselves. A flurry of tingles rushed up her body, stretching and growing with every last sound that poured from her lips. This wasn’t a cry of defeat.
No. It was aroar.
“He’s arrived, husband, the door opens,” Phosphora whispered. “The door opens. He’s arrived.”
Power rushed in from the void, shattering the veil between realms. Tethys called to the Rift, summoned the chaos and violence that lurked there, and siphoned it into one last shockwave that shattered the stained glass windows and sent the mortals flying from their seats.
Her skin was electric, every hair on her body pricked with violent delight, as she shredded Obscuros’s shadows.
Nothing but hunger thrummed through her chest.
Nothing but death coursed through her veins.
She took a step and the marble tile yielded to her, cracking under each footfall as she approached the dais.
“Daughter—” Obscuros whispered, but she raised her palm and sent another wave of pure, concentrated chaos, beaming toward him.
Time stood still. The moon eclipsed the sun. Even the heavens halted their endless circadian rhythm.
“Give me my son,” she commanded, the voice of thousands interwoven with her own. Her once golden eyes now blazed a deep shade of ruby.
“Tethys, you’re not in control,” Altair whispered, lunging for his sister. But she wasn’t his sibling. Not anymore.
She was a creature of the shadows—chaos incarnate.
Procyon unsheathed his gleaming golden blade. Her eyes shot to him. Irises with light of the endless sunrise branded into his skin, igniting flesh in kindled flames. He dropped the sword, cradling his burning brow.
“Cowering before me, Proc? That’s so unlike you,” she whispered, prowling toward him.
“You bitch,” he spat, clawing at the embers of skin melting from his sharp cheekbones.
“Not a little bird anymore am I?” Tethys knelt beside him, her eyes cutting into his with violent delight. “Let me show you just how satisfying I can be.”
The goddess snapped her fingers and Procyon’s bones cracked. His breath cut off as he gasped and wriggled and writhed on the cool floor. Guttural roars from the Rift filtered through the air and Tethys grinned with lethal satisfaction as the autumn king begged for her mercy.
