The Spirits of the Universe (PJO)

Chapter 95

The throne room was . . . huge.

And I didn't mean "huge" like a skyscraper or a stadium. If Olympus were a cathedral, this place would be the entire sky.

Naturally, each throne in the massive U-formation was ten times the size of the Olympian seats, and the primordials occupying them were scaled to match. They would've been utterly terrifying, if not for the deeply incredulous expressions plastered across their giant, glowing faces.

Speaking of faces, a few familiar ones dotted the room—Daphne and Gilbert, for example. I kept my eyes locked straight ahead, avoiding their gazes as best as I could.

After all, it wasn't every day the primordial of night gave a bruised, battered demigod a piggyback ride into the cosmic equivalent of the principal's office.

Chaos was the first to speak. Her throne shimmered a deep, impossible midnight blue at the dead center of the room. "Nyx, what is the meaning of this?"

"My Lady—" Nyx started.

"I'm still severely injured, and you forced me to come," I interrupted, my voice echoing a little too loudly. "What did you think was going to happen? That I'd miraculously walk on my own?"

Judging by the synchronized looks of absolute horror around the room, I had crossed a massive line.

I'd always imagined primordials to be impassive, unshakeable forces of nature. But in retrospect, they'd probably never watched a teenage mortal challenge the creator of the universe.

The ambient temperature of the throne room immediately plummeted. Frost pricked at the edges of my vision.

The creator of the universe didn't say a word. She just stared at me, her eyes like collapsing stars.

Beneath my legs, Aridne's arms tightened like steel bands, betraying a heavy spike of nervous energy.

What are you doing? End snapped in my head, her voice a sharp crack of panic. You're going to get all of us killed!

I thought you'd be proud of me for standing up for myself, I replied, genuinely taken aback.

There's a difference between confidence and pure recklessness.

You can't disrespect Chaos like this in her own home, Order chimed in, his tone infuriatingly level. Just look at everyone's reactions. They're shocked you haven't been vaporized yet.

My stomach dropped as the reality of the situation finally caught up with my mouth. My face must have drained to the exact shade of the marble ceiling. I opened my mouth to backpedal—to offer the most groveling apology in human history—but Chaos beat me to it.

"Give him a place to sit."

She really is the most merciful being in the universe, I thought in awe, watching as Aoine snapped her fingers. A stool woven from solid, shadowy iron materialized in her hands, and she carried it toward me.

Just ten minutes ago you were cursing her out, End snorted. You are incredibly two-faced.

I feel like that's a better description of Chaos, I shot back.

"My savior," Aoine greeted, her eyes bright and unreadable as she set the dark metal stool on the floor. "It's nice to finally meet you. Though I hope this isn't our first and last conversation."

Aridne carefully detached me from her back, lowering me onto the seat. I bit back a groan as my bruised ribs settled, sighing in relief. I glanced up at Aoine. "Uh . . . Chaos isn't going to kill me, is she?"