The last time Hypnos betrayed Thanatos, it was for his own gain – Zeus had offered him endless lives of freedom if he stole the Chaos Stones from his brother. So that was just common sense. It wasn’t that he especially cared about the mortals, he knew that. They were good for a laugh and he enjoyed playing with them – his years as the Sheriff of Nottingham had been a riot. But they weren’t reason enough to put himself in harm’s way. So why had he done it?

He had no idea. All Hypnos knew was that when he saw his brother standing before the burning orb of the Earth’s core, with the power to destroy mortalkind at his fingertips, he had had to stop him. Loosening the boulder and slipping the stone from the pocket watch had been the easy part. What he did now? That was going to be much harder.

But he had two advantages: a head start, and he was fast. Thanatos was quick, but he couldn’t fly. Hypnos summoned all the strength in his winged head and flew as fast as he could. If he could just get to the Gods, they could protect him. If he could just—

SMACK!

Hypnos fell to the floor, dazed. He had flown into an immovable object: had he hit the wall? Surely not – his eyesight was superb; as Daemon of Sleep he had excellent night vision. No, this had come out of nowhere. And it was moving towards him. He felt for the Chaos Stone. It was no longer in his hand.

‘One of the many problems with you,’ drawled the familiar voice, ‘is that you never plan far enough ahead.’

Thanatos stepped out of the darkness into a sliver of light from a crack in the tunnel. Clutching the Chaos Stone in his fist, he towered over his brother. Hypnos tried to get to his feet. But a heavy foot on his chest soon stopped him.

‘You see, figuring out how to steal from me – twice now – is one thing,’ Thanatos said, pressing his foot down harder. ‘But take a piece of advice from your older brother.’

Hypnos tried to make a smart remark. But his breath was being squeezed out of his chest by his brother’s Daemon strength.

Thanatos leant over him.

‘Next time,’ he whispered. ‘Work out your escape route first.’

He reached for Hypnos’s throat and snatched the kardia from around his neck. Hypnos immediately felt his immortal strength ebb from his body. And his life-breath wasn’t far behind.

‘Your oath,’ he gasped. ‘You swore on the Styx—’

‘Not to kill you if you killed the child. You failed. Like you fail at everything. Since the day we were born, you have been a cockroach,’ Thanatos said, his foot pressing every last breath out of his brother. ‘And there’s only one thing to do with cockroaches . . .’