Zeus (The God Chronicles #1)

Chapter Twenty Two

I'd never seen him like this before. Elegant black armor covered his body, glowing with power. Lightning in his left hand crackled dangerously but did no harm—I didn't know if it was from the gloves he wore or the power he held. Pure hatred rolled off him, filling the room with the force of his rage as he scowled at his father.

"Kronos," he growled.

The chains that held me evaporated, and Kronos released me with a push towards the throne. A guard stood by, sword in hand and poised, ready to pounce if I tried to run.

"Zeus," he said, his voice remarkably calm in spite of the anger emanating from him.

There was a strained silence as we waited to see what would happen next. Then—so fast I almost missed it—Zeus released a mighty shout, pulling a sword from the scabbard at his waist with his free hand. Light glinted off the blade as it sliced through the air, breaking the chains holding both his comrades and brothers. Sparks shot from the tip as he dragged the metal across the marble floor, pulled it up in a grand arc, and leapt at Kronos, releasing the lightning he held in his other hand.

Mass chaos ensued as the opposing sides leapt together, each determined to destroy the other. Screams of agony and triumph filled the air and the smell of blood grew stronger. My guard rushed into the battle, leaving me free to run behind the throne—the only shield I had among these immortals.

It was the most brutal thing I'd ever seen. Blood slowly covered every inch of the floor. Gods I'd never heard of—wielding strange weapons—climbed the pillars and walls like spiders and jumped around so quickly I could hardly see them. Some slipped on the slick floor, sometimes gaining the advantage, others being dealt what should have been a killing blow. Silent screams were lodged in my throat as I watched a terrifying monster cut the head off Morpheus. Before I could even comprehend what happened, his body picked the severed head up, placed it back in its spot, and a bright light sealed the two pieces back together. Evidently, none of the weapons were fatal. It seemed that everyone around me should be dead, their body parts littering the ground, but they weren't. Impossibly, they were pressing on, determined to snatch a victory for their respective sides. My brain couldn't even comprehend what was happening—it all seemed so fake.

I suddenly remembered Nike and looked over to her pillar. Still chained there, her eyes were locked on a specific point in the battle field. A weak golden glow emanating from her, matching what must have been her heartbeat. My gaze searching for her target, I realized she was using her powers to try and help Zeus.

I didn't have to scan the crowd long to find him. The other Gods were giving him and Kronos a wide berth, trying to stay out of the way of the lightning. As soon as I started watching, I wished I hadn't. Thunder shook the building, causing the floor to pitch and roll, while white hot lightning danced around Zeus. Kronos was wielding a large scythe, his jaw unhinging and snapping repeatedly. Every move they made left me fearing the worst, and I cringed at the sights and sounds around me.

Tears were beyond me—all I could hear was the hammering of my own heart, matching each blow Zeus dealt and received. I couldn't look away, and the desire to run and forget everything happening around me gripped my throat. Regardless, there was nowhere to go, and even if there had been, I needed to be here for Zeus. I began sending out victorious thoughts—my own kind of helpful vibes.

He and Kronos were moving so quickly it should have been impossible for them to even lay a blow on each other. Every few seconds, there would be a bright flash of lightning, and I would hold my breath until I could see them again. Each time, the previous underdog seemed to have stepped up to the winner's seat. I was certain they hadn't touched each other, but blood trickled down Zeus's face while Kronos's shoulder spat out grey smoke, proving otherwise. I was glad that I was far enough away I didn't have to smell the burnt flesh. Although, I don't think I could've smelled anything past the overbearing iron smell of blood—which seemed to be permanently stuck in my nose.