“Something happened to me, akra.” Urian held his arm up for her to see it.
Her hair turned white again as she lowered herself to the floor and became the goddess who used to let him gaze into her mirror to see the daylight. She cast her gaze around the room to everyone gathered there. “Come with me, Urian.”
Without hesitation, his father stepped forward. “Akra—”
“Stay out of this, Strykerius,” she hissed.
His father hesitated.
Urian wanted to reassure his father that he’d be fine, but by her tone, he knew better than to speak. She was not in the mood foranykind of argument or another word.
Though to be honest, he wasn’t quite sure what this mood of hers was. It hovered between a pique and unadulterated fury.
So instead, he cast what he hoped was an unassuming smile toward his father and followed her from the room, out toward her palace.
As soon as they were alone, Apollymi turned toward him with a glower that he normally received from his father after he punched one of his brothers. “What did you do?” Her tone was sharp and brittle.
Urian shrugged. “My brother was dead, and I touched him and …”
She cursed beneath her breath.
Completely baffled, he tried to comprehend why she was so angry at him. “What is it?”
“A power I never foresaw you possessing. Now you must learn to control it or else, like Midas, it will destroy your life. And everyone around you.”
Those words chilled him all the way to his soul, especially the way she said them. What could she mean? “I don’t understand, akra.”
She growled deep in her throat before she answered. “Those markings on your arm are from the most ancient of languages. One of the very first. You hold powers from the goddess Bathymaas.”
His jaw went slack at the mention of the first goddess of balance and life. A goddess of divine justice.
Long ago, when the gods had warred with each other, she alone had found a way to protect mankind and the Apollites from them. Until the bitter gods had destroyed her for it.
But it didn’t make sense that he’d have been born with her mark. Why?
“How is that possible?”
“You’re born of the gods, Urian, you know this. Such creatures are ever a hodgepodge of peculiar gifts. One never knows how they’ll align inside their children. Not until it’s too late.”
He supposed that made sense. Yet Bathymaas was one of the oldest of the goddesses. A primary power.
Enemy of Apollo.
Why would she choosehimas a vessel to carry a gift of such magnitude when they weren’t related and didn’t even share a pantheon? It didn’t make sense.
Apollymi’s expression turned even grimmer. “But the real question is, what will become of that power inside you once you turn Daimon? Therein lies the rub,pido,as no one has ever done so before. And it’s not something Apollo took into account when he cursed you and your father and brothers.”
“What are you saying, akra?”
“That your inherited power from a goddess that powerful could mutate into who knows what.” She let out a long, tired breath. Then she turned to stare at him. “Today you saved your brother’s life, Urian. Tomorrow, you could kill them all … and yourself. Because we know nothing of your powers and you don’t understand how to wield them. One day, you might even have the ability to rupture the very fabric of the universe. There’s just no telling who or what you could become. All we know is that it’ll be an exciting day.”
She laughed bitterly. “Maybe not a good one for whomever is in your path. But exciting nonetheless.”
July 9, 9511 BC
“From leper to god in three heartbeats. It’s terrifying. Really.” Urian passed a disgusted grimace to Davyn as he dislodged another beautiful woman from his crotch.
This one actually whimpered in protest.
