“We’re . . .” Lore’s voice trailed off as she stared back.

While Lore was the last of Perseus’s mortal descendants, the new god had once been Rhea Perseous, the ruin of her bloodline. It took Lore’s mind a moment to actually understand that Tidebringer was real, that she was right in front of her—a living, breathing being, not simply the cautionary tale Lore and the other hunters had reduced her to.

“This is Melora Perseous,” Athena said. “And I am—”

“I know who you are,” Tidebringer snapped. The chains attached to her ankles dragged against the damp floor as she took an unsteady step forward. She looked past the goddess to Lore, as if to say, I know you, as well.

Lore moved to examine the new god’s restraints. Athena blocked her path.

“Tell me,” Athena said. “Why is it that you agreed to serve the false Ares?”

“Just as the sea has no master,” Tidebringer growled back, “I serve only myself.”

“Then why did you bring the flood?” Lore demanded.

The new god regarded the thought with outright disdain. “The Perseides were weak and foolish, unwilling to accept change. That which refuses to grow destroys itself.”

“I asked you for answers, not a soliloquy,” Lore said.

Tidebringer leaned back against the wall, snorting. “If you want the story, you’ll have to bring me the keys from the guard.”

Lore ignored the warning look Athena sent her way and went to do just that. As she stepped back into the small, dark hell of the prison, the smell of human waste emanating from a nearby bucket almost overpowered her.

The new god’s body shook, and she never once, not even as Lore approached, took her gaze off Athena. Lore started to kneel in front of her to unlock the restraints, but quickly thought twice.

Even chained, Tidebringer was still dangerous—she could snap Lore’s neck before she’d registered the pressure of the woman’s fingertips on her skin.

She passed the keys to the new god. “I’ll give you the pleasure.”

Tidebringer nodded. “I will gladly take it.”

“The rest of your tale?” Athena prompted, impatient.

Tidebringer slid back down the wall, motioning for Lore to bring the lantern closer, so she could better see. The new god’s brown skin had shrunk tight to her muscles, and there were distinct hollows beneath her high cheekbones. Judging by her appearance, Lore couldn’t begin to guess the last time Tidebringer had any sort of food or water.

“The Kadmides swarmed me at the Awakening. I was brought here and given a simple choice—die, or serve with my power when Wrath required it. I thought it best to live, discover what his plans were, and take my revenge in the next cycle.”

“And you were foolish enough to believe that he will allow you to live?” Athena said.

“He does not see himself as needing to be the last god,” Tidebringer said. “Merely the one who will bring about the end of the Agon. He believes he’ll usher in a new age once his divinity is permanent and he has access to his full power.”

Lore rubbed her arms, trying to dispel some of the cold crawling along them. Standing between the burning gazes of the two gods felt like being trapped in the path of two stars about to collide.

“Does he mean to overthrow my father?” Athena asked.

“He thinks your father has completely retreated to the realm of the divine and left this world to be claimed by the victor of the Agon,” Tidebringer said.

“Preposterous,” Athena said sharply. “My father does not control the whole of the world. There are many lands and many gods.”

“Well, how many still reign now?” Tidebringer asks. “Wrath seems to be laboring under the impression that he will crush all of his rivals and their worshipers through war.”

Athena recoiled at that, pulling back like a snake poised to strike. Rather than let her, Lore pushed on.

“That’s only if he gets the aegis,” Lore said. “And he won’t. Do you know anything about the inscription on it? How to read it?”

Tidebringer stared at her, and the slow, dawning horror in her face, plain as anything, set off a shrill noise in Lore’s ears.

“Oh gods,” Tidebringer said. “You think he still needs to find the poem. That he doesn’t know how to read it.”

The feeling left Lore’s hands. Her body.

“They had the shield for years—you really believed they didn’t comb over every inch of it? The inscription is on the inside of the interior’s leather lining. All they had to do was remove it.” Tidebringer shook her head, releasing a noise of frustration. “You’re already too late. He didn’t spend this week searching for the shield—he’s been putting his plan into motion. He’s within days—hours—of winning the hunt.”

“I just—” Lore replayed it all in her mind, everything Iro had told her, her conversation with Belen, the message on the wall. Vomit rose in her throat, leaving a bitter tang in her mouth. She swallowed it, and her fear. “No—it’s not too late. He still needs the aegis, otherwise he wouldn’t be searching for me.”

“I pray that you’re right,” Tidebringer said. “He does need you. I can’t wield the aegis or give it to him, even if I were of the mind to. It can only be done by the last of the mortal bloodline.”

“And you don’t know what he needs it for?” Lore asked. “He didn’t give any kind of indication?”

The new god shook her head. “By the time he found me, he was already well into his plans. He’s a hundred steps ahead by now.”

“We can still stop him,” Lore insisted. “We can kill him.”

“It won’t be enough,” Tidebringer said, prying off one of her cuffs. “His followers will just continue whatever work they were doing down here.”

“Work?” Athena questioned. “Of what kind?”

“I can’t be certain—it was chemical, based on what I could smell and hear. Explosives of some kind, I think,” Tidebringer said, prying off her other cuff. Her eyes shifted quickly to Athena, then back to Lore. “Whatever it is, it killed a few of them while they were working. A few hours ago, before the flood, they took their work out through the tunnel.”

Athena’s nostrils flared. “That information is useless—”