I unsheathed my dagger with all the energy my agonized body could muster. The sirens gasped. Lorelei spun. Her widened eyes told me that, just like Succo, she feared my weapon. Without allowing anyone another breath, I clasped both hands around the hilt and plunged the blade into my heart. As I started to fall, I sought him out, needing to see him one last time.

He was running toward me, chest heaving in a gasp. His eyes glistened. His lips parted, but the sounds never reached my ears. Weakness sank into every muscle. Heavy. Cold. My eyes closed. And then all went dark.

Chapter thirty-three

Rylander

Running for Lou’s life, I slid under her crumbling form, catching her before she hit the floor. She laid heavy in my arms, her body limp, golden locks draped over my elbow. Behind me, Lorelei’s blood-curdling screams of outrage echoed off the cavern’s walls. Her children hissed like nervous cats. Over and over, Mother shouted Father’s name, smacking her hand against the black rock wall.

Certain Mother was unharmed… for now… I assessed Lou. Her cheeks paled to an ashen gray. Her lips, still painted red with blood, parted without breath. The hilt of Apollo’s dagger protruded from her breasts, the gems sparkling against the lights, taunting me.

“Don’t you dare die on me,” I commanded, a sob choking my throat.

I placed my palm on her stomach and called upon my healing magic. The exuding power’s warmth pricked my skin and permeated through her. Rays of light shone across her torso, and the scrapes and bruises she’d received fighting my sister healed closed. I let my hand drift higher, targeting her heart more directly, but there was nothing I could do. My magic flared, beginning to knit skin and sinew, but it couldn’t reverse the catastrophic wound in time. With a final release of breath, her chest stilled.

“How in Hades’ name does she have the God Slayer?” Lorelei’s voice sounded from far away.

When I looked up, she had retreated across the pool to her water throne.

“I gave it to her,” thundered Apollo.

My eyes shot to my father, stepping to shield my mother in his full, godly splendor. Gone was King Delphi’s bearded, aged, mortal visage. His blond hair brushed his shoulders in locks of sun-spun gold. His pure porcelain skin glowed from the power trapped within. He wore garb from Mt. Olympus, a short cream tunic and gilded sandals.

My jaw slacked.

“Hello, son.” He smiled wide, showcasing his stark white teeth.

“How?” I breathed.

Apollo gestured to the crimson insignia behind him. His divine symbol.