Acheron set his gaze on Apollo and was oblivious to the fight. All he could focus on was stabbing the god through his callous heart. But just as he reached Apollo, the god knocked Xiamara back, into Acheron. She turned into him with eyes wide as his stomach shrank in the realization that Apollo had slammed the demon into the knife . . .
Acheron felt her blood coating his hand. Looking down at the wound, she staggered back with a small cry of pain. He wanted to say something to her, but without his tongue, it was impossible.
He grabbed her against him as she struggled to breathe.
She lifted a bloodied hand to place it to his cheek. "Apollymi loves you," she whispered in Charonte-a language he somehow understood even though he'd never heard it before. "Protect your mother, Apostolos. Be strong for her and for me . . ." Then the light faded from her eyes as her final breath left her body.
Acheron threw his head back and tried to vent the fury inside him. But it came out as a strangled cry. Grabbing the knife, he spun on Apollo.
Apollo caught his hand and wrested the knife from him. The god seized him again by the throat and threw him down to the ground. Acheron kicked him back and rolled to his side.
A shadow in the corner caught his eye. He froze as he saw Artemis standing there, watching the fight with her hands over her mouth. Her eyes were filled with horror.
Needing her, he reached a hand out toward her.
She shook her head no and took a step back, out of her brother's sight.
In that instant, something inside him died. Coldness filled every raw inch of his body.
Artemis refused to intervene. Even now when he was wounded and hurt more than any human should ever be hurt, his love wasn't enough. He didn't matter to her.
Tired, grief-stricken and defeated, he rolled over onto his back at the same time Apollo appeared before him. He met the god's angry glare. Growling in rage, Apollo sank his dagger deep inside Acheron's heart and sliced him open all the way to his navel.
Unmitigated agony burned through him as the god slowly gutted him on the floor, no more than three feet from Ryssa's body, and right there, before Artemis.
Tears fell from his eyes as the light and pain began to fade . . .
Artemis remained in the shadows, silently weeping as she watched her brother kick Acheron's dead body aside. It wasn't until Apollo approached the king on the bed that the king realized Styxx was also lying dead in the doorway.
Not that Artemis cared about the prince.
Her heart aching, she slid down the wall to crouch in the corner as her teary gaze remained on Acheron and what was left of him.
She'd thought his death would bring her relief. Instead agony over his loss tore through her with a finality that left her bereft of any thought. Only raw emotion.
It hurt on a level she'd never known existed.
The king's cry of pain matched the one in her soul as Apollo took Ryssa from his arms and he realized that his heir was dead.
For all his dignity and power, the king crawled on the floor to Styxx and screamed as he rocked his son against him.
No one mourned Acheron.
No one save her.
Unable to stand the sight, she returned to her temple where she shattered every mirror, every piece of glass and pottery. Her rage roiled through the room, laying waste to everything around her.
What had she done?
"I let him die."
No, she'd tried to kill him. Last night, she'd wanted him dead. But never had she dreamed just how much he meant to her.
His touch, his friendship . . .
Now he was gone. Forever.
"I love you, Acheron," she sobbed, tearing at her hair.
It's over. No one will ever know about the two of you now. You're safe.
It seemed so petty a concern compared to the fact that she'd live out eternity without ever seeing his face again . . .
Apollymi gasped as she felt the weight in her chest lift. Without being told, she knew that she now had the ability to leave Kalosis.
Leave . . .
"No!" she screamed as she realized the significance of that. There was only one way for her to gain her release.
Apostolos was dead.
Those three words chased themselves around in her head until she was sick from them.
Unwilling to believe it, she ran to her pond and summoned the universal eye. There in the water, she saw Xiamara lying dead on the palace floor and Apostolos . . .
No!
From the deepest part of her being, a scream of rage and grief swelled and when she gave vent to it, it shattered the pool and rocked the garden around her.
"I am Apollymia Thanata Deia Fonia!" she screamed until her throat was raw and bleeding.
She was ultimate destruction.
And she was going to bring her son home . . .
May the gods have mercy on each other because she was going to have none for them.