“Damn, what’s in that woman’s blood that it fuels you so?”

Urian laughed at Archie’s question as he kicked his brother back and almost beheaded him. “What’s the matter, adelphos? Can’t you keep up?”

“Theo!” Archie cried out for reinforcement.

Urian turned to take both of his brothers on at once. They weren’t supposed to use their powers while practicing on the field. It was something their father insisted on, just in case they were ever in some kind of trap or device where their powers were locked or stripped, and they were forced to use nothing except their battle skills.

Tonight, Archie and Theo decided to cheat. Without warning, both unleashed a god-bolt on him that knocked him flat on his ass. Groaning in pain, he rolled and came to his feet. He felt the fury rush through his veins.

Before he could stop himself, he lashed out with his own powers. His blast rolled out and sent them flying.

“Urian!”

At first, he didn’t recognize his father’s stern voice. Not until Stryker grabbed him and shook him hard.

Slowly, Urian came to and saw what his family did.

Peculiar symbols glowed all over his body, iridescent and beautiful. He’d never seen anything like it.

Blinking, he swallowed. “Solren? What happened?” He had no memory of anything from the last few minutes as he turned a slow circle, trying to get his bearings.

His father let out a deep, sinister growl. “Do you remember anything?”

Shaken by what he saw, he slowly scowled. “Nay.”

His father turned to glare at Archie and Theo. “What did you do?”

They gaped.

Then Archie sputtered, “Why’s it our fault?”

Releasing Urian, his father stalked them like a fierce predator ready to tear them apart. “Because you’re the ones who assaulted your brother.”

Theo used his sword to gesture at Urian. “That doesn’t make us responsible for the fact that he’s a freak!”

Paris draped himself against Urian’s back. “Hear that, Uri. You’re a freak.”

“Shut up.” Urian shrugged him off.

Laughing, Paris staggered away.

But Paris’s amusement and Urian’s irritation were cut short as a scream rang out.

“Dear gods, what now?” Stryker sighed heavily.

Until he realized it was Telamon’s wife, Natassa, they heard. Then he teleported to their home.

Urian stood paralyzed in their practice arena as he felt pain piercing his chest. It was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. Without being told, he knew his brother was dead. He didn’t know how, but he did.

Rage blinded him as he went running through the dark streets of Kalosis. He was so blinded by it that he didn’t even think to use his powers to flash himself to his brother’s home.

Instead, he dodged the curious onlookers who were heading toward the screams to see what was happening. By the time he got to Telamon’s house, Urian was breathless and panting. Shaking and sweating.

Terrified, he pushed his way through the crowd, into the house to where his family was gathered, in hysterics and tears.

If Urian lived for eternity, he would never forget the sight of his father kneeling on the floor of Telly’s room by his brother’s side. Holding Telamon’s hand, their father wept as if his very soul had been shattered. Urian hadn’t even known that his father was capable of such gut-wrenching tears. Never mind the racking sobs that shook a warrior so fierce. So proud.

His father clutched at Telamon’s lifeless body as if it were a rag doll. All around him, his brothers were on their knees, every bit as shaken.

Those communal wails rumbled through Urian’s body like a second heartbeat and shook him to the core of his foundation. Only Apollites left a corpse to bury. Daimons disintegrated upon death. Were his father to die, there would be nothing left of his body for them to mourn. Within minutes of death, all six feet, eight inches of their father’s massively muscled warrior’s body would be nothing more than a fine golden powder that would flitter away, forever lost in the breeze.

A faint memory.

But Telamon was still an Apollite.

His body remained intact. And their father refused to release him.

His brother looked as if he were simply sleeping. As if he’d awaken any moment and insult Urian. Or call him out for some imagined slight.

In that instant of his own grief, Urian felt his entire being heating up again. Felt the same electrical charge stirring that had gone through him when his brothers had attacked him earlier. It was bitter and tasted like acid in his mouth. Those peculiar markings on his flesh returned. Only brighter this time. From shoulder to fingertip, his arm glowed.

Before he realized what he was doing, he moved across the floor to where his brother lay in his father’s arms and splayed his hand against the center of Telamon’s chest.

The instant he touched him, a bright flash shot from his fingertips and into Telamon. Urian felt the jolt charging through his entire body, radiating through his cells and flowing into his brother’s chest.

Telamon’s back arched. He vibrated all over as if he were being electrocuted. Then after a few minutes, he went stone still.

Everyone turned toward Urian. They glared at him accusingly. His father rose slowly to his feet.

Urian didn’t move. Nor did he let go of Telamon’s chest or arm. It was as if they were bonded together. As if were he to let go, it would kill him for sure. He didn’t know why he thought that, but he did.

Gasping, his brother opened his eyes to stare up at him.

Then cursed Urian.

Their father’s jaw fell open. He eyed Urian as if he were Zeus himself, come down from the theocropolis of Olympus to meet them. “What did you do?”

Stunned, Urian shook his head, every bit as dumbfounded as they were. He looked down at his glowing arm and hand. They continued to throb with a power of some primal energy he couldn’t even begin to describe or comprehend.

Not until Apollymi appeared in the room in her Destroyer incarnation.

Her black hair whipped out around her while her red eyes swirled. An unseen wind caused her hair and gown to twist about her lithe body like ribbons in a hurricane. “Who dared to summon a Source god into my domain!”

His father moved to shield him so that the Destroyer couldn’t see Urian’s glowing arm or anything else. “No one, akra.”

Those actions only made him love his father more. The fact that he’d seek to protect him was the ultimate act of loyalty, but Urian wasn’t a fool.

No one could hide this from Apollymi. It would be suicide to try. And she’d kill them both for the lie.

“Something happened to me, akra.” Urian held his arm up for her to see it.

Her hair turned white again as she lowered herself to the floor and became the goddess who used to let him gaze into her mirror to see the daylight. She cast her gaze around the room to everyone gathered there. “Come with me, Urian.”

Without hesitation, his father stepped forward. “Akra—”

“Stay out of this, Strykerius,” she hissed.

His father hesitated.

Urian wanted to reassure his father that he’d be fine, but by her tone, he knew better than to speak. She was not in the mood for any kind of argument or another word.

Though to be honest, he wasn’t quite sure what this mood of hers was. It hovered between a pique and unadulterated fury.

So instead, he cast what he hoped was an unassuming smile toward his father and followed her from the room, out toward her palace.

As soon as they were alone, Apollymi turned toward him with a glower that he normally received from his father after he punched one of his brothers. “What did you do?” Her tone was sharp and brittle.

Urian shrugged. “My brother was dead, and I touched him and …”

She cursed beneath her breath.

Completely baffled, he tried to comprehend why she was so angry at him. “What is it?”

“A power I never foresaw you possessing. Now you must learn to control it or else, like Midas, it will destroy your life. And everyone around you.”

Those words chilled him all the way to his soul, especially the way she said them. What could she mean? “I don’t understand, akra.”

She growled deep in her throat before she answered. “Those markings on your arm are from the most ancient of languages. One of the very first. You hold powers from the goddess Bathymaas.”

His jaw went slack at the mention of the first goddess of balance and life. A goddess of divine justice.

Long ago, when the gods had warred with each other, she alone had found a way to protect mankind and the Apollites from them. Until the bitter gods had destroyed her for it.

But it didn’t make sense that he’d have been born with her mark. Why?

“How is that possible?”

“You’re born of the gods, Urian, you know this. Such creatures are ever a hodgepodge of peculiar gifts. One never knows how they’ll align inside their children. Not until it’s too late.”

He supposed that made sense. Yet Bathymaas was one of the oldest of the goddesses. A primary power.

Enemy of Apollo.

Why would she choose him as a vessel to carry a gift of such magnitude when they weren’t related and didn’t even share a pantheon? It didn’t make sense.

Apollymi’s expression turned even grimmer. “But the real question is, what will become of that power inside you once you turn Daimon? Therein lies the rub, pido, as no one has ever done so before. And it’s not something Apollo took into account when he cursed you and your father and brothers.”

“What are you saying, akra?”

“That your inherited power from a goddess that powerful could mutate into who knows what.” She let out a long, tired breath. Then she turned to stare at him. “Today you saved your brother’s life, Urian. Tomorrow, you could kill them all … and yourself. Because we know nothing of your powers and you don’t understand how to wield them. One day, you might even have the ability to rupture the very fabric of the universe. There’s just no telling who or what you could become. All we know is that it’ll be an exciting day.”

She laughed bitterly. “Maybe not a good one for whomever is in your path. But exciting nonetheless.”