Others? Like Nike?
Sulfurous air stings my tongue, and I snap shut my wide-open mouth. “You made me?” I blurt out, incredulous.
He scoffs. “Your mother and father made you.”
I draw back as if slapped. I don’t like that any better, all considering.
“You look like them,” he says. “That’s the outside. Inside, you’re all ours.”
If it weren’t so damn hot in this hole, a chill would probably be ripping down my spine right now. “Ours like who?” Why can’t the Gods just say what they mean? Tell you who they really are? Be clear for once?
“Like Nike,” he growls in answer, clearly losing patience with me.
Nike. I turn my head to look at Ares again, careful to keep a steady upward path this time. Nike is a Goddess synonymous with strength, speed, and triumph. One of Athena’s closest companions. The idea of being partially shaped by Nike slowly starts to sink in—and I like it.
“Are you saying the Winged Goddess of Victory put her blood in me, and now I can fly?”
“You could always fly,” he snaps. “You just repressed it, like everything else.”
Shock ripples through me. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Before he can answer, a sudden gust of cool wind pushes heavily downward on us from above, and flying gets infinitely harder. I spread out my arms, trying to steady myself. We’re almost to the top.
I shoot a glare at Ares, my pulse pounding hard. “Knowing I could fly would have been helpful when I was falling over a cliff. Or two!”
“You weren’t ready. You weren’t ready for a lot of things until recently.”
Frustrated and desperate to get to Griffin, I beat my wings harder and practically shout, “What does that mean?”
“It means you weren’t balanced enough for that much power, and deep down, you knew it. You had no grounding force and no confidence in your own humanity.”
And then I met Griffin. My grounding force. He didn’t coax me from my shell; he dragged me, but every second that he was doing it, he also made me believe that I was good, worthwhile, and capable. He showed me how strong we could be together.
“I’ve always been an Elemental.” I speak out loud for my own benefit, to finally believe it. “Who could fly.”
Ares grabs me, stopping me just before I reach the top. Our eyes connect, and my breath cuts off. I’ve never seen him look so serious, and we’ve been through some serious stuff.
“You’ve been so scared of what you might be able to do that you never stopped to actually figure out what you can do. You’ve buried every bit of power you possibly could since you were six years old and made that one mistake with Ianthe. Your compulsion nearly killed her, and you’ve punished yourself daily by locking up your own magic and being terrified of it. Anything you’re unsure of or don’t understand? You bury it so deep it can’t hurt anyone—or help. The Gods have favored you. Zeus offered you power like none other and gave you his own thunderbolt. You have a job to do here, but you keep throwing away the tools.”
“I didn’t throw anything away!” I wrench in his hold, but he doesn’t let go of me. “I didn’t even know I had them! And you could have helped me! Taught me! I could have saved lives!”
I could have saved Eleni! A sharp inhale tangles in my throat.
He shakes his head, reading my thoughts. “You were too weak by then. Andromeda had been battering you both in that arena for days.”
“Which would never have happened if I’d had any idea of what I could do.” My words are rough and accusing. And they should be.
If only I’d known Griffin then. He would never have just stood by and watched those dreadful days in the arena play out. The Gods may have gifted me with magic, but Griffin is the one who has truly helped me. His support and love gave me the courage to open those locked doors, even just a little, and to believe in my own decency and humanity enough to let my repressed magic peek out.
Ares releases one of my arms and then pops me again with the flat of his hand, this time right in the center of my forehead. My vision momentarily goes dark. “He brought stability to your chaotic heart. Helped you to believe in your own goodness. In your fated path. But free will, little monster. You have to know yourself.”
I scowl. “Because everyone just wakes up one day and thinks Hey, I’ll bet I can fly and shoot lightning from my hands. Let’s do it!”
Ares’s face turns terrifying. “I may love you like my own, but you are not exempt from my wrath.”
I swallow the rest of the angry words boiling in my mouth. I believe him.
Slowly, he unlocks his hand from around my arm and then nods in the direction of up.
Heat rises from the magma-filled pit below. Chilled air races down from the snow-capped peaks above. The two collide and try to toss me around like a leaf in a storm, but I’m steadier now, inside and out. I beat my wings and shoot upward toward the open sky.
With a shout, I fly out of the chasm north of the burning house and then gulp down a less sulfurous breath. The air is thick and dark with smoke, though, and doesn’t taste much better. I tilt, swooping around and scanning the meadow for signs of Griffin.
There!
I squint against the acrid burn of rising smoke and see Griffin stumbling across the grass. He staggers toward the cliff, damaged and unsteady on his feet, but my heart still sings in relief. I need him. Griffin helps me to see things differently. To see myself differently. Courage and strength were already there, but the most fundamental part was lacking: belief in myself. Through the mirror of his eyes, I finally saw someone worth knowing and fighting for. By his side, there’s no more hiding or walking in the shadow of my potential. Griffin won’t stand for that, and I find that lately, neither can I.
As I fly toward him from the side, Griffin falls to his knees near the edge of the pit and lets out a bloodcurdling howl. It chills me to the very marrow of my bones. His cry still echoing off the mountains, he reaches up and fists both hands in his hair. He pulls, rocking hard.
Fear sends goose bumps crashing over me in a wave. He’s too close to the edge, desperate and devastated, and I’m suddenly terrified he’s going to try to follow me over the cliff. I might be able to fly, but I can’t carry him out.
A hot ache bursts beneath my breast. “Griffin!”
His dark head jerks up. He turns toward the sound of my voice, and his eyes widen, standing out in his blood-streaked and sooty face.
Tears burn my eyes. I close in on him, wobbling as I try to slow down.
His expression goes from stark and hollow to pure shock. He jumps up, reeling back from the cliff. “Cat?”