31. Amber

I shudderand glance at the light streaming through the windows, not liking the sound of the penalties.

Apollo, twin to Artemis, I remind myself, running through everything again in my head. God of the sun, music, prophecy, and healing?—

"Who will go first?" the Buddha asks, interrupting my chain of thought.

"I will." I step forward, wanting to get this over with.

The Buddha's eyes focus on me. "First question," he says. "Who are Apollo's parents?"

"Zeus," I say quickly, since Zeus had a ton of children, which made that an easy one to remember. "And…"

Quickly, I comb through the "hints" I gave myself while memorizing facts about Apollo. Someone once told me that the way I study is called "mnemonics," which means creating visual patterns to remember information.

I know this one.

I call on the visual I used to memorize it—of Apollo's mother serving him pizza. Which never happened—obviously—but it's my cue to help me remember her name.

Because Lido is a pizza restaurant. Apollo's mother's name is similar, but different. It's…

"Leto," I say.

"Correct," the Buddha says, and even though I knew I was correct, relief swells within me.

I also have a sudden craving for a slice of pizza.

"Good job," Damien murmurs, but I barely pay him attention, since I'm too busy running through more facts about Apollo in my mind.

"Second question," the Buddha says. "What's the name of the dragon Apollo slew as a child?"

The image from the mural of Apollo holding a bow and arrow as he slayed the dragon pops into my mind. As for the dragon's name…

It ends with the sound "on," because Apollo was on his game when he slayed the dragon.

"You're losing time," the Buddha says, which strikes me as ironic, since Buddhas are supposed to be patient. "The longer you take to answer your question, the less time your friends will have to answer theirs."

Crap.

I need to say something—now.

"Typhon," I say, since I know that name from Greek mythology somewhere.

"Incorrect," the Buddha declares, and my stomach drops in defeat. "The answer was Python."

My frustration surges, heat flooding my veins. Because not only did I get the answer wrong, but I was so close.

The Buddha's eyes glow with an eerie light, and a gong echoes through the chamber. The sound vibrates through the air, reverberating off the walls and ceiling, so loud that my skull feels like it's going to split open.

I press my fingers to my temples as it fades out.

Is that it? I think when it's gone. We just get… gonged for a wrong answer?

Unless the gong scrambled my brain? Made me forget some of the facts I studied?

It was so loud that I wouldn't be surprised.

"Who's next?" the Buddha asks, the unnatural light fading from his eyes.

"I'll go," Damien volunteers.

The ear-splitting gong sounds again.

"He can't have gotten the answer wrong," I say to the Buddha. "You haven't even asked it yet."

"The gong isn't only going to be struck after wrong answers," the Buddha says. "It's the consequence for your incorrect response, and it will sound sporadically throughout the rest of the test."

"Oh," I say, and the gong is hit again.

Morgan flinches, although she quickly gets ahold of herself.

Damien remains focused on the Buddha. "I'm ready for my question," he says, his eyes unwavering as he stares the statue down.

"How many horses draw the Hindu goddess Surya's chariot?" the Buddha asks.

Another loud, reverberating gong nearly gives me a heart attack, and I put my hands over my ears to protect them from the sound.

This is going to get real old, real fast.

"Seven," Damien answers after the gong silences.

That's when I realize—not only is the gong distracting, but it's going to slow down how quickly we can get through the test, since we'll have to wait until after each strike quiets to say our answers.

Assuming we'll be able to hear at all by the end of this, given how much my ears are already ringing.

"Correct," the Buddha says. "Second question: Name two of Surya's sons."

"Manu and Yama," Damien rattles off without a second's thought.

I don't have to brace myself for another punishment, because Damien's confidence makes it clear he got it right. He probably studied Hinduism in his spare time in the 1800s or something.

"Correct again," the Buddha says, followed by another clang of the gong. It quiets down, and he looks to Blaze. "You next."

I frown, since the Buddha let Damien and I pick our order, but I don't say anything. We're all going the same number of times. The order doesn't matter.

"How many punishments until we fail?" I ask before the Buddha can ask Blaze his question.

"As many as you can withstand." He smiles menacingly, and his eyes travel to Blaze, his head not moving. "Now, Blaze. In which ancient text are Sunna's stories primarily found?"

Blaze's brow furrows, clearly straining to think about the answer.

Another gong hit crashes through the chamber, louder this time, the echo so intense that I have to brace myself from being physically pushed back from the vibration.

Blaze holds his hands to his ears, closing his eyes as he thinks through the aftereffects of the gong.

Finally, he pulls his hands away and drops his arms down to his sides, fire crackling around him as he stares up at the Buddha in determination.

"The Poetic Eddica," he answers.

"Wrong," the Buddha says, and Blaze blinks, as if he isn't sure he heard right. "The answer is the Poetic Edda. Close, but incorrect."

Blaze glares at the Buddha and makes a fist, as if he's contemplating launching himself at the statue and punching it.

"Since you were close, I'll go easier with my penalty," the Buddha decides. "A time penalty. One minute will be removed from your countdown. Which means you have ten minutes to go."

Ten minutes.

Given the penalty minute, it took us four minutes to get through five questions.

And we have… eleven questions to go.

Dread washes over me. This is going to be tight.

"Second question," the Buddha says to Blaze. "What realm does Sunna travel across daily with her chariot?"

"Easy," Blaze says with relief. "Midgard."

"Correct." The Buddha turns his attention to Morgan, and I release a relieved breath that Blaze got his second question right.

I barely have time to center myself before the gong strikes again. It's softer this time, but maybe that's because my ears are ringing and drowning it out.

Morgan flinches, but gathers herself together.

"Morgan," the Buddha says. "What did the Aztecs believe they needed to offer to keep Tonatiuh strong and moving across the sky?"

"Human hearts and blood," she says quickly.

"Correct," he says. "Second question: What were the four previous suns before the Fifth Sun, in order, that Tonatiuh presides over?"

Morgan's eyes widen, and she glances at me, panic flickering in her gaze. I can see her mind racing, trying to recall the details she memorized.

Unfortunately, not only is it against the rules to help her, but I know nothing about Aztec gods.

"The four previous suns were…" Another deafening gong crashes through the chamber, and she clutches her head, her face contorting as she speaks through the pain. "Jaguar Sun, Rain Sun, Water Sun, and…" She pauses, her eyes squeezing shut. "And…"

I glance at Damien.

From the frustrated look on his face, he already knows that Morgan's answer is wrong.

Another clang of the gong.

"Air Sun!" she yells over the sound of it.

It silences after she speaks.

"Incorrect," the Buddha says, and my heart drops. "The correct answer—in order—is Jaguar Sun, Wind Sun, Rain Sun, and Water Sun."

His eyes glow, and blinding beams of light burst through the windows, streaming into the chamber and making it almost impossible to see. The light's so intense that it feels like it's searing my skin, and my eyes burn with the effort to keep them open.

Focus, I think. I am sunlight. I will not be blinded by it.

I reach for my sun magic, calling for it, becoming part of it. It surrounds me and becomes one with the light streaming through the windows—and one with me.

As it does, the onslaught stops hurting my eyes. Everything's still bright, but I can see without being in pain.

The others are in various stages of distress, covering their eyes with their palms to shield them.

Blinded by light and deaf from the gong.

I don't want to know what's next if we get another question wrong.

"Next." The Buddha looks to me, and I take a deep breath, trying to focus through the disorienting haze. "What is Helios's daily task?"

"To drive the chariot of the sun across the sky," I say quickly, the answer clear in my mind.

"Correct. Second question: Who were Helios's parents?"

"Hyperion and Theia."

After the question about Apollo's parents, I'd been reminding myself of Helios's parents like a broken record.

"Correct," the Buddha says, and relief floods through my veins.

No more questions for me.

I can release all the random facts about Helios from my mind.

Damien next. He should have no problem remembering his answers, since he apparently knew all about these gods before we got here.

I look to him, and worry flows through me.

Because he's kneeling on the floor, curled up, burying his face in his elbow so he can block the light with his sleeve.

He's so still that he looks like he's about to break.

And I've never viewed Damien as someone who could break—ever.