But as we turned to move deeper into the alley, a shadow fell over us. Not from a statue. From above.
I looked up.
Perched on the roof of the silo, silhouetted against the burning sky, was a figure. It wasn't Athena. It wasn't Hera.
It was a man with wings on his heels and a staff entwined with snakes.
Hermes. The Messenger.
He looked down at us, his face unreadable.
"You really lit a fire under her ass," Hermes said, his voice light, almost conversational. "I haven't seen Mom that mad since the Trojan War."
Kaelen raised his sword. "Get out of the way, Herald."
"I'm not here to fight," Hermes said, holding up his hands. "I'm just the mailman. I have a message."
"From who?" I asked.
Hermes hopped down, landing lightly in the alley. He looked at me, his eyes gleaming with a trickster's light.
"From the guy in the basement," Hermes said. "He says you forgot something."
He reached into his pouch and pulled out a small, unassuming object. He tossed it to me.
I caught it.
It was a seed. A pomegranate seed. Or at least that’s the closest thing I could think of that it resembled.
"What is this?" I asked.
"Protection," Hermes winked. "He said if you're going to break the world, you might get hungry."
Before we could ask another question, the ground shook again. A massive stone hand smashed through the building next to us, debris raining down. A giant marble face peered into the alley, its eyes glowing with Hera's white light.
"Playtime's over," Hermes said, vanishing in a blur of speed. "Try not to die. It's bad for business."
The Colossus roared, a sound of grinding stone, and reached for us.
"Run!" Kaelen shouted.
But as we ran, clutching the seed in my hand, I couldn't shake the feeling that Hades hadn't just given me a snack.
He'd given me a weapon.
Why would the Lord of the Dead give me a seed of the Underworld in the City of Light?
THREE
Kaelen
We ran.
It wasn’t the coordinated, tactical retreat of a unit moving through hostile territory. It was a scramble, a chaotic flight driven by the primordial understanding that the thing behind us was bigger, harder, and angrier than we were.
The Colossus didn't have footsteps; it had earthquakes. Each time its massive, star-metal foot struck the pavement, the impact shuddered up through the soles of my boots and rattled the teeth in my skull. It was fifty feet of animated, divine alloy, a statue of Ares that Hera had woken from a millennia-long nap with a bad temper.
"Left!" Elias shouted, his voice cutting through the roar of crumbling masonry.
