Page 140 of The Mortal Trials

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Isearch every table and every space for the source of the scent. For billowing smoke, ivory or crimson – but find nothing out of place. “Do you smell that?” I ask August.

He sniffs the air. “The flowers?”

Absently, I shake my head.

Lightning forks outside, striking all around us. Brilliant flashes of anger. An arid wind gusts and for a moment, it’s like I’m home, where desert storms are known for their brutality. Their rage can carve canyons.

I wish one would cleave this island and bury it in the sea.

“Do you feel that?” August quietly asks.

Slowly I nod. And wait.

There are moments in life when you realize that when you weren’t looking, everything changed. When you wonder how you missed the pivotal point that separated then from now. Your security is torn away. Your world tilts and you struggle to keep your footing.

And then there are moments like this. When you’re aware of the shift as it happens, and you’re fortunate enough to mark the moment as one of the ones that matter most. When you brace for that tilt and welcome it.

The rain is tentative at first, pushing petrichor into the temple. And then the sky opens and washes the world in her tears.

Zeus pulls Hera across the room to dance, their steps synced to the storm and the bolts that skewer and slash. The gathered divine clap.

They think the storm is his doing.

A gust roars in, snuffing all the candles with one fury-filled breath. Tendrils of smoke don’t even get the chance to curl.

Pele rekindles the flames as Njord stands, forcing the wind outside and pinning it there. The gods laugh and dance and drink to our deaths as the championed sit, grateful for a seat at their executioners’ tables.

I turn to August, our knees brushing. “Want to get out of here?”

He smiles, surprised. “Absolutely.”

Elias notices us stand and watches me put my hand in August’s. And much to Athena’s chagrin, he releases a suggestive whistle. At Anansi’s table, Koda chuckles. Ulani and Vailea raise their glasses to us.

Our allies glance toward the dance floor, where they likely assume we’re heading, but we cut a path to the side of the temple and run out into the violent storm instead.

In a handful of hours, we’ll have to walk back between those columns to either receive instructions about the trial or be left to our own devices – and we will either survive it, or we won’t.

And if none of the gods in that building are willing or brave enough to stand up to Ares, Aymes and I will be forced to forfeit the games before they even start.

“I need to do something, but I want you to be there.” Rain carves rivers over my face, spilling over my lips as I speak.

He nods. “Whatever you want.”

My heart flutters at the resoluteness in his stare. I grin at him as the storm lashes us both and yell over the wind, “To my oikos!”

The staircases are waterfalls.

Our pale clothes are soaked through.

We dash across pelted, pocked sand to my empty house. Inside, we catch our breath and smile at one another.

“I forgot. What I need to do requires fire.”

He grins. “Are you burning it down?”

I shake my head. “No, I just need it.”