The Last Hunter: Collected Edition (Antarktos Saga #1-5)

The water rises and bends, curling over the base, over the temple, and then directly overhead. The wall of water flowing above us is lit by the sun, glowing in surreal blue, the light shimmering down around us like we’re inside a giant aquarium.


I turn with the wave, directing its course. My arms shake from the weight of it, pulled downward by gravity, but repulsed by my connection to the continent. And then, I allow gravity to do its thing. The water at the front of the wave falls, crashing down on the front line of Nephilim who can drown just like anyone else. The pounding water races forward, propelled by the girth of the wave still rising and descending like a solid blue rainbow.

Using all the strength granted to me by Cronus, I push the wave back through the valley. As the cliffs come together, the water deepens and races faster, exiting the bottleneck with explosive force, slamming into the second behemoth and taking hundreds of thousands of Nephilim warriors with it.

Sun strikes us again as the last of the wave passes overhead, slams to the valley floor and flows into the distant, now-flattened, jungle beyond the bottleneck. Then, the water is gone and the battlefield has been scoured clean. Humans, the Nephilim, the gigantes—even the behemoth corpse—are all gone. It’s like a battle had never been fought here.

Weakened again, I stagger and I’m caught by Kainda. She helps me stand upright and catches my eye. She says nothing, but it’s clear she approves.

As does the rest of my surviving army. Cheers rise up all around.

It’s a perfect moment. My dear ones are all here, and living. The battlefield is cleared. The sun warms us like a blessing from some higher power.

And then all of that goodness, every last ounce of it, is erased.

First by the circling shadows above. Then by the army once again filling the gap of the bottleneck.

The wave delivered a serious blow to the Nephilim numbers, but they are an army of nearly a million.

And now we are an army of a few thousand—wounded, tired and beaten.

The approaching Nephilim are no longer charging. They’re marching, confidently. Despite my improvised weapon of mass destruction, the battle—the war—is theirs. Their numbers are too great.

To my army’s credit, the mix of hunters, soldiers, cresties and Titans stand their ground and wait. I step out ahead of them and walk to the center of the group, followed by Kainda, Em, Mira and Kat, who are in turn followed by Luca, still holding the shofar, Merrill and Aimee. I couldn’t be more proud of all of them. Cronus brings up the rear of our small group, carrying more strength than all of us, and strangely, an unwavering confidence.

“How can you be so confident?” I say to the Titan.

“We are not yet beaten,” he says.

“It’s more than that,” I say. “You know something.”

“Adoel sends his greetings,” the Titan says.

Adoel? The angel? “Is he here?”

“He cannot leave Edinnu,” Cronus says. “You know this...but I visited before coming here.”

“Then what?” I ask. “Is it the Tree of Life? Do you have its fruit?”

He chuckles, actually chuckles, despite our circumstances.

“We...said goodbye,” the Titan says.

“Goodbye?” I ask, growing worried—more worried.

“My end will mark a new beginning,” Cronus says. “Those were the last words spoken to me by Adoel. The words that helped save me in Tartarus. And it is those words that will soon come to fruition.”

I’m about to press him for more. I’m not a fan of vague answers and he knows it. Before I can speak, he says, “It has been an honor serving with you.”

And then, a voice, from the Nephilim.

“Solomon!” The voice is small. Human. And old.

Ninnis.

But not Ninnis. This is Nephil—the dark god Ophion—speaking to me.

The marching horde stops a hundred feet away. I can feel the tension of the small army behind me, just waiting for the order to charge and fight to the death.

Winged warriors land at the front of the Nephilim, lining the front of their massive force with ancient, blood-red clad gods. Enlil is among them, burning with anger at having been turned away by me. Enlil, and Zeus beside him, fold their wings down. From between them, a lone man wanders out.

Ninnis’s body still looks old, but the beard has been shaved, along with his hair, and he stands more upright than I remember. His eyes, once dark, are now yellow and more Nephilim than human. As he walks, tendrils of black snake out from his body, lifting him into the air.

As Luca clings to my side in fright, Cronus kneels and whispers. “He is more powerful than ever.”

Not helping, I think.

The giant continues. “He has bonded himself to the very essence of his brethren, drawing strength from their life force.”

“I don’t see anything,” I say.

“You can’t see it,” he says impatiently. “But I can feel it, tugging at me, trying to claim me as one of his own.”

“Will he?” I ask.