Page 77 of The Mortal Trials

Their green edges graze my collar bones.

A horn sounds from the temple on the hilltop. I glance at the window. The sun hasn’t risen, but the horn means it’s time to start the ascent.

I take my spear from under August’s bed and meet him outside. Our eyes collide and in them, we speak a thousand unspoken things.

We’re allies. We’ll fight together. We both need to survive. We can win.

We cross the sand path, our strides aligning at the shore, and take the stairs to every landing until we crest the hill, striding into the temple before anyone else. The portal at the bottom of the short stairwell isn’t active, so we wait.

Ulani and Vailea arrive next, hand in hand, wearing fighting leathers. Ulani’s is bronze with aqua accents. He clasps a golden trident; Vailea, in white, holds a long, thin sword. They come to stand with us.

Ulani leans in. “We’ve been advised that having a group today will give us an advantage. Will you join us?”

August tells them that we’ve also agreed to ally with Koda, Niall, and Elias.

The couple confers, and while neither of them likes Elias, they agree to the team – for this trial, at least.

My skin crawls when the horn blasts again from atop the temple. What are we about to endure?

Other contestants clad in white trickle in, forming their own large team nearby.

Niall and Elias enter the temple with Koda between them. Draped in Anansi’s blood red, Koda struggles to catch his breath after the climb.

Will we be able to protect him today?

From the opposite side of the temple, Torsten plows into the room wearing Freyja’s heavy, feathered cloak and expectations on his back. He has plaited his hair from crown to end and smeared ash all around his eyes like Freyja wore when she claimed him.

“That’s Hazi,” Koda whispers to us as another man strides in. “He’s been championed by Erra.”

My brows rise at the mention of the Mesopotamian god of war. He’s known for his cruelty, violence, and for the plagues he enjoys inflicting on mortals.

Hazi’s features are stern and focused. His head is clean shaven. His dark beard trimmed. His body is muscled and draped in deep purple with a leather baldric and a curved, golden blade tucked safely against his chest.

Veronia’s silken brown hair swishes behind her as she walks across the stone to stand with Hazi and Torsten, her stride long and proud. Clad in bitterness and lavender hunting leathers, she sneers at our group as she leans in to whisper something to Torsten right as a middle-aged man joins them.

“And that is Kallik. He’s championed by Nanook of the Inuit pantheon,” Koda reveals.

Kallik’s sable eyes are as cold as the icy realm Nanook made for his people. He’s dressed in brown wool; a fox pelt stretches over his shoulders. He’s not broad like Torsten; his build is lean and lithe. As he studies the other contestants, I wonder if he’s as sly as the animal whose hide he wears.

A vicious smile spreads over Torsten’s face when he spies my spear, then Ulani’s trident and Vailea’s sword. He moves his cloak to reveal a golden broadsword on his side.

Who’d he steal that from?

Satisfaction blossoms in my chest when Torsten comes close enough for me to enjoy seeing the scabbed laceration on the bridge of his swollen nose, and a crooked deviation he didn’t have when he crawled out of the hole.

I was wrong. The Norseman isn’t wearing ash at all. Days have passed and his eyes are still blackened, with bruises that have seeped beneath his eyes and onto his cheeks.

Taeniset, Isis’s mortal, arrives wearing delicate golden armor. She doesn’t join the group of champions, or the larger team in white, but walks to a petite young woman who must be the chosen of Susanoo. Her kimono bears the wave pattern he wore on his clothing last night at the feast. I swear his storm rests in her gray eyes.

“That’s Akira Hoshino,” Niall informs us. “I don’t know who her champion is.”

“Susanoo,” August and I provide at the same time.

All chatter and scheming ceases when a gust of wind tears across the space, ushering Ares into the temple, his red cape snapping. He stops and gestures to the staircase and the portal comes alive. Its golden glow chases the shadows from the sunken steps.

“For the second trial, you may compete individually or with a group. If you elect to go with a team, hold hands as you cross through and the portal will carry you into the trial together.”

No other rules or advice is given, though everyone waits for a moment to be sure he won’t say something of value.