Chapter 17

The ignoble captureby the deusvenati—using a net, of all things!—left Typhon disgruntled, but his true anger came from seeing his witch collared.

How dare they lay hands on her.

How dare they try and quell the spark within her.

But worst of all, what would they do to Deino?

He didn't know, and it bothered him. Roused his guilt because he knew they shouldn't have come. The plan was flawed. They needed more than a disguise. They needed an army. But she'd insisted they had to come, and like a moron who listened to his dick, he'd agreed.

And now they were both, as the modern humans would say, fucked.

As the deusvenati escorted Typhon through the rough tunnels, he couldn't help but notice the starkness of the place. How far they had fallen.

He'd known Atlantis before, when it still had magic and its pair of gods. A beautiful paradise that favored intellect and innovation over violence and strife. But then the deities that ruled it, closer than any brothers, fought. Not over land or power, but a lover.

War was waged. Devastation ensued. One god died, and the other emerged victorious, only to find out he'd actually lost because the reason for their fight fled into the arms of another.

Despondent, the remaining god didn't fix the chaos he'd wrought but rather sank into despondency. Perhaps if he'd at least mended what he'd done, the Atlanteans wouldn't have revolted. But the renamed deusvenati avenged themselves, murdering their god and, in doing so, spelled their end. An end that had just begun when Typhon had been locked away.

Judging by what he'd seen, it wouldn't be long before they ceased to exist, which made their recent violence puzzling. Why were they still focused on eradicating magic? It made no sense.

The net, with him still in it, got tossed into a pit. The sides of it were lined in metal ore, the same sapping version that the soldiers wore. Shrugging off the netting didn't do anything to help. His cloak remained limp and dull. His senses were reduced to sight, sound, and smell.

Just like his last prison.

The shove into the portal led to him losing his balance and stumbling as he arrived in a dark and rocky place. He fell, and it hurt! The surprise had him cursing in four different languages before he rose and dusted himself off. His cloak rippled but did nothing to stop the shiver of cold as he looked around.

Where am I?

Didn't matter. He wasn't staying. He turned to eye the place he'd emerged and noticed a column of stone carved with symbols of power but currently inert. He slapped his hand on it.

Nothing. Just solid stone. It probably needed an infusion of magic. He grabbed for his power, only to find it greatly weakened.

His fingers went to the collar around his neck, snapped in place when Ariadne ambushed him. He tugged. It didn't separate.

"Argh." He pulled and only managed to bruise his flesh. The collar wasn't coming off, and he'd bet it was why he had no power.

"I will kill you!" Soon as he got back to Earth.

Since he had barely a spark to call upon, he wondered how to activate the portal. The ones he usually used just required him to step through.

In this case, he bounced off the pillar and frowned. He kept frowning as he read the inscription on the column of stone, the gist of it being the door would only open when the planets aligned. He assumed that would happen at least once a day, so despite there being nothing of comfort or interest in the rocky bowl he found himself in, he remained sitting by the column. Napping out of boredom. Plotting his revenge against the woman who'd dared to steal from him.

The darkness turned to day. An orange sun rose to cast a fiery glow upon this strange world. A barren place of rocks, stunted trees, and monsters.

The first one he encountered almost took his life. It dove from the sky, talons outstretched, only its caw of hunting triumph giving him warning. He half-turned and grabbed the claws, yanking down the bird with its three eyes and a beak that snapped angrily. He narrowly avoided its chomp by shoving its head against a rock. The angry bird sheared the stone with a single bite.

A good thing it wasn't any of his body parts.

He killed it by wringing its neck and, from that point on, became more wary and savvy. He had no weapons, and so he had to create some using gnarled branches to which he attached the sharp claws. He used the bird's own beak to cut it open and gut it. A god might be immortal in the sense he wouldn't die of old age, but a lack of food would weaken him, and he could be killed.

He built a shelter by the pillar, piling rocks to create a cairn to sleep in at night. He explored the area around it and found a stream, the water metallic tasting. He kept track of the days by marking a line for each rise of the sun. At one hundred and forty-seven, while skinning a hoglike beast, the sun went dark as a moon passed over it.

In that sudden somberness, a glow startled him.

The column showed a seam!

He jumped to his feet and ran for it. At last, the door opened. He shoved his fingers into the crack and felt a resistance on the other side. A force shoved him back and he could only stare in disbelief—and a bit of horror—as his chance to escape disappeared.

The count started over.

A hundred and forty-seven days later, he stood by the column as the moon once more passed the sun.

Again, the crack never widened enough to allow him passage.

Year after year passed.

He left his camp for a time, thinking to explore the world and find another exit. He found nothing but danger and the ruins of a city long abandoned. A vast, stormy ocean thwarted his attempts to explore any other islands or continents.

When he tired of searching, he returned to the rocky valley with the pillar. When despondency made him desperate, he thought of his revenge. He couldn't die, not while Ariadne lived.

A decade passed.

Then another.

The god of monsters, once worshipped and showered with attention and gifts, became a hermit who did nothing but hunt and survive.

When the eclipse hit every one hundred and forty-seven days, he barely roused himself. He'd glance at the column, see the tiny seam and grunt.

Therefore, when it did finally open fully, he spent a moment staring, not daring to believe.

Move, you idiot!

He'd walked through that doorway and found that not only had he changed but so had the world. Time had passed much more quickly than he'd realized. His century on the other side was more than a millennium on Earth. But at least he was finally free.

However, the revenge he sought didn't come easily.

Will I ever regain what I lost?

He'd not lapsed into that memory to flagellate himself over his failures but to remind himself that he'd not given up when banished to that barren wasteland. He certainly wouldn't surrender hope now, not with Ariadne so close. Not with his witch in danger.

He eyed the sides of the pit, the metal and rock jagged but not enough to grip and climb. At a depth of a dozen or so feet, he couldn't jump and catch the lip either. As for tools… He didn't even have a blade, just the woven metal net.

It led to him eyeing it. He tugged at its strands. The magic-nullifying metal woven into the threads made it sturdy enough it didn't break. A glance upward didn't show anything protruding from the lip of the pit that he could have tossed the net on.

Stumped, he sat down and meditated. As his mind relaxed, it went back to his time in his prison…

The attack took him by surprise. The water rushing over the rocks hid the noise of the beast's advance. The slam of a heavy body pushed him to the ground, and only his honed reflexes kept him from getting chomped. He managed to slide out and roll, bouncing to his feet to see an ugly creature similar to a wolf but with leathery skin. It advanced on him, growling.

So he growled back. To no effect, he should add.

The beast leaped, and he held up his spear just in time to impale it, but the death throes snapped his weapon. He had more back at his camp, only, as he whirled to head for it, he noticed two more of the creatures waiting for him.

They charged at him in tandem and slammed him to the ground. He could barely hold their snapping muzzles from his flesh. If he had his godly power, he would have commanded them, but he had little magic.

Little and yet he had to do something, or they would tear him to shreds.

With nothing to lose, he huffed a word of power, pushing what little bit of magic he still had into it. I command thee.

One of the creatures suddenly stilled before tearing into the other one. He didn't stay to watch the outcome but hurried to his camp, lightheaded and weak.

But alive.

Typhon snapped upright in the pit with a sudden idea. These caves surely had creatures roaming them, and while they might not be classed as monsters, they couldn't ignore if he pushed just right.

Given he wouldn't get more than one opportunity—because Ariadne would most likely notice—he had to make his attempt count. He listened for the scratch of claws on stone or the swish of a tail. Instead, he heard a clank as a golden figure peeked over the edge.

A monster if he'd ever seen one.

Worth a try. He threw the powerful compulsion at the soldier. I command thee. He threw everything he had because this would be his only chance.

The soldier froze before he extended a hand. Typhon quickly tossed the netting high enough the gauntleted fingers caught and held it. He clambered up the side of the pit, moving fast lest the order wear off and he plummet. At the top, he didn't pause before grabbing the helmet and twisting. He had no doubt the soldier would have attacked the moment the magic wore off.

The body fell to his feet, limp, and Typhon stripped it of its sword before he dumped the body in the pit. He grimaced as the pommel tried to suck his power. It rendered his cloak inert, but he'd spent a century honing his body. His strength came from hard work. His speed from practice. His determination was fueled by vengeance.

He glanced around. The room had only a single light, some kind of glowing rock, barely enough to illuminate. He saw nothing of interest, just a single exit.

The corridor beyond was also empty, and he knew from recollection of the memorized path how to get back to the portal room. A selfish god who'd just escaped a long isolation could have returned to that chamber and chosen to leave, but Typhon was more than a god. He was also a man and a lover with a score to settle—and a witch to save. Arrogance and anger fueled his brisk stride.

He encountered no one in his path, not that it would have mattered. He simmered and boiled, ready to fight. If he died, so be it. He tired of cowering.

Finding his witch didn't take much effort. She was connected to him by more than his blessing. The moments they'd shared had entwined them in a way he wasn't yet ready to define. It surprised him to find the tunnels so empty. Then again, would a dying world really have that many people left? How many had been sacrificed in their razing of Zuzamenn? And why?

The connection he had to his witch grew strong, and he knew he'd find her at the end of the hall. He strode into the chamber, only to halt suddenly at the sight.

Firstly, there was Ariadne with a smug smile of triumph, wearing a crown, thinking she'd already won.

Second, he'd found his witch, looking beautiful and unafraid as she stood on the edge of an abyss.

But the most shocking thing of all in this room? The power boiling below their feet.

"What have you done?" he accused.

"You! How did you escape?" Ariadne's eyes narrowed in anger.

"I asked, what have you done?" His voice reverberated, causing a slight tremor in the rock.

Whimpers drew his glance to the people gathered and huddled by the walls. So few, and frightened. They should be. A bomb brewed under their feet.

"She's been killing arcane users and storing their magic in the well," Deino shouted. "She thinks she can use it to become a real goddess."

"Are you mad?" he breathed.

Ariadne pursed her lips. "Hardly. We both know gods are made. Speaking of which, any last words before you die and your power becomes mine?"

"Kill me and you'll be next." He dropped to his haunches, put his hand on the floor, and felt the tremor of power in need of an outlet.

"What are you doing?" Ariadne snapped.

His lips twisted. "Seeing how long we have before your arrogance destroys this planet."

"Shut your lying mouth. I know what I'm doing."

"No, you don't. Otherwise, you'd know you can't mix powers. My power and what's brewing in that well are incompatible." There was a reason why gods couldn't just murder each other to get stronger.

"You're just saying that because you're jealous I'm going to be more formidable than you ever could be." Ariadne refused to listen.

"I'm saying it because I'd rather not die when you destroy this planet with your stupidity," he spat.

"You're lying. I've had the power of three gods without issue."

"Via the collars and their matching bands. But the power was never truly yours. Remove the band and"—he snapped his fingers—"you'll be mundane again."

"He's telling the truth." Deino jumped into the conversation. "When Frieda was gifted the oracle's power, she lost her blessing from Typhon."

The news narrowed Ariadne's gaze. "Your sister is the oracle? Good to know."

"Not really. She's the one who told me to come here and stop you. You're going to fail," Deino stated.

Doubt entered Ariadne's expression, and while she mulled over the news, Typhon glanced at Deino still on the edge of the pit. He had to get her away from here before the worst happened.

"You seem awfully concerned with the witch," Ariadne stated, noticing his attention had wavered.

"She's my champion."

"I think she's more than that." Ariadne waved a hand. "Enough blathering. Toss her in!"

"No!" he roared as he surged into action.

"Seize him!" Ariadne shouted.

Her soldiers tried. The first two died. He slashed and stabbed with the sword he'd stolen, but their sheer numbers overwhelmed. He found himself crushed under their weight, pinned to the floor.

Deino screamed, "Leave him alone, you twat! Haven't you done enough to him?"

Ariadne moved to stand over him, looking smug as she knelt to brush her fingers over the collar at his throat. "Your champion defends you staunchly even as she stands on the eve of her death, and now I wonder, do I make you watch her die, or should her last memory be that of you being torn apart by my soldiers?"

In the grips of her golden defenders, Typhon seethed, too impotent to do anything.

"Or do I throw you in the well?" Ariadne mused aloud.

"Do it," he dared. "It will strip me of my power, and you will return to being just Ariadne the mortal with no magic to keep you young. Not that it will matter, as that will be the match to light the bomb you've created."

A perturbed Ariadne retreated from him. "Your lies bore me. This conversation is done, and lucky for you, I won't kill you. I'm going to let you live. Live with the knowledge your champion has failed. Live knowing I've become greater than you could imagine." She snapped her fingers. "Take him to the third portal and toss him in. Once you do, shatter it so he can't return."

As the soldiers dragged Typhon away, he fought, but their armor sapped his magic, and their sheer numbers overwhelmed his skill and strength. There was no escape.

The deusvenati brought him to the portal chamber, and he struggled in their grip. He couldn't leave. Not with Deino literally on the precipice of danger. He had to save her.

The portal loomed, and he eyed it, wondering where it would send him.

The moment he hit the rocks on the other side he knew.

No.

Not again.

He was back in his prison.