“What?” I tightened my grip on the weapon.
“And then a secret tunnel opened—by the grace of the goddess, I don’t know—and the room it led to was full ofweapons records.But not just any weapons.”
“Weapons forged in sacred sources?” I guessed, blocking a second arrow—this one flaming—with the blade of my scythe. The curved metal glinted sharply in the mystlight lanterns hanging overhead.
“Yes,” Malakai confirmed as the gorgon raised her bow again. The men behind her kept their hands in their pockets, amused, hungry smirks on their faces as we dodged two more arrows. “And one specifically that was crafted during Xenique’s time within the Gates of Angeldust. It was claimed the Angel herself had it laced with unknown powers and gifted it to a warrior who saved one of her daughter’s lives.”
“Makes sense. Nothing was more precious to Xenique than her daughters.” The entire capital was adorned in portraits and statues of the trio. The three dynastic families that ruled beneath the chancellor and acted as advisors were modeled after them. Some even claimed to be direct descendants.
Another flaming arrow whizzed past, and I sliced my scythe through its path, knocking it off course. The fire extinguished as the head clattered to the ground at my boots, the shaft disappearing.
The same onyx as the one that shot Jezebel back in Valyn gleamed up at me. I exchanged a look with Vale over my shoulder. Her nod said she’d noticed, too.
“The file I found traced the weapon through history,” Malakai said, getting us back on track. He ripped a small knife from a vambrace at his wrist and launched it at one of the men behind the gorgon. I did the same from the band of knives across my chest, but they waved them away with a flick of their fingers, steel disappearing into shadow. “It was passed down among that warrior’s descendants. His grandson ended upmarrying intoa different dynastic family, and then the weapon was passed among them, sitting in their trove untouched because no one knew what power it held.”
More arrows. More knives spiraling through the air from Malakai and me as we backed around the space, the shadows seeming to creep out to us. Vale murmured beneath her breath behind us as she read.
“And one day, aMystique Warriorcame along,” Malakai said. “He served that family as he was commandedby his Revered, ended up on a quest that took many weeks across the continent, and he nearly gave his life to save a member of that dynastic family.”
“Mali,” I said, “are you saying…”
“I’m sayingthatis where your scythe comes from, Cypherion. It was created by the Angel herself—that’s why it has the three markings that signify it’s from the highest honors—and it was given to your father.” A thunderous crack echoed through the city, almost like the shattering of a giant glass dome. Overhead, Angellight of seven different colors spiraled high into the sky, colliding into a barrage of sparks.
That couldn’t be good.
Malakai finished, eyes still locked on the gorgon, “The names were never mentioned, but the stories line up perfectly. I doubt Riolan ever knew what power it retained. He was just leaving it to his son.”
His son.The words shot through me, as right as holding this weapon had always felt.
“The mural even showed it being fed those unknown powers,” Malakai added.
“But why the fuck would Xenique create a weapon that could hurt the Angels?” I grunted as I dodged another arrow. The gorgon’s quiver was nearly empty now. “This scarred Thorn, remember?”
“Because,” Vale answered behind me, arrowheads in her hands, “the Angels had abandoned her. Ophelia learned as much from the sphinx when she was in the Hall of Wandering Souls. Xenique wanted community, companionship. She waslonely, and for many centuries, even her closest comrades did not answer her pleas.”
So, she created a way to destroy them, and left it among her lineage. Spirits, what unknown magicdidthis thing contain?
Clearly trying not to say too much more about our theories in front of the gorgon, Malakai said, “Remember the murals.”
The murals we’d thought Damien may have been pointing to. That led us—among other hints—to try to forge a dagger that could kill a god.
And now…
I tossed the scythe from one hand to another.
Now, I possessed a way to kill Angels. My gaze lifted. Possibly a way to killanycreatures of other realms.
I stepped forward as the gorgon put together what we’d realized. Her black hair swished around her as she cast a look over her shoulder at the two men stalking after her. “Children, flee,” she commanded.
“I knew it,” I muttered.
The demigods obeyed, drifting into the shadows faster than I could track them, simply vanishing. But the gorgon’s desire to save them caused her one grave mistake—one fatal second. Iswung my scythe back, swiping down across her neck before her eyes even widened fully.
Echnid was right to be wary of this weapon. Perhaps it wasn’t the one that could kill him, but it was powerful enough to take out his followers. If you removed the armies building up a corrupt regime, you could topple the entire Spiritsdamned rule itself.
And as the gorgon’s head was severed from her body, hair gruesomely mid-shift into serpentine coils, a confident purpose ripped through my muscles. Here I was, a man who’d once been a boy with nothing—not even a strong warrior name—ready to help lead an army against a god.
“I need to go find Mila,” Malakai said, rushing toward the alley she and her gorgon had disappeared down. Barrett and Dax were still fighting theirs, her wings out and eyes red.
