Chapter 19 The Price of Power
I barely managed to dodge Moros's first strike, rolling to the side as his fist cratered the ground where I'd been standing.
"Too slow," he said, already launching another attack.
This time I didn't dodge. I raised my hands and let my silver light explode outward, meeting his fist with raw power. The impact sent shockwaves through the ruins, and I felt my bones rattle from the force. But I held my ground.
"Better," Moros acknowledged, pulling back. "You've got strength. Now show me skill."
He came at me like an avalanche, relentless and overwhelming. Each strike would have pulverized a mortal, and I quickly realized that my training with Kael hadn't prepared me for fighting something this massive. Moros wasn't just strong, he was ancient, experienced, and every movement was calculated to exploit my weaknesses.
I needed to think differently. Kael had taught me to use my opponent's momentum against them, but Moros was too heavy, too grounded. Theron had taught me to sense attacks through vibrations in the air, but Moros moved with such force that everything was vibrating. I was outmatched in every conventional way.
So I stopped fighting conventionally.
Instead of dodging his next strike, I reached out with my power and unmade the ground beneath his feet. The stone simply ceased to exist, and Moros stumbled, off-balance for just a second. I used that second to blast him with concentrated silver light, hitting him square in the chest.
He flew backward, crashing through what remained of a temple wall. The watching gods gasped, and through the bond, I felt my mates' surprise and pride.
Moros emerged from the rubble, and he was grinning. "Now that's interesting. You're not just powerful. You're creative."
"I'm a lot of things," I said, breathing hard. That attack had drained me more than I'd expected.
"Let's see how many," he said, and this time when he attacked, he wasn't holding back as much.
I created barriers of silver light, but he smashed through them like they were paper. I tried to unmake his attacks mid-flight, but his power was too dense, too concentrated. I was running out of options and energy fast.
Through the bond, I felt Kael's battle instincts, Theron's calm focus, Lysander's strategic thinking, Jeron's cold calculation. They were all there, supporting me, but they couldn't fight this battle for me.
Then I remembered what had worked in the Crossroads. The combined power. I'd channeled all four of them through the bond once before. Maybe I could do it again, but controlled this time.
I opened the bond completely, reaching for my mates. "I need you," I called through the connection. "All of you."
I felt their immediate response. Power flowed into me through the mate bonds, four different energies merging with mine. Death and war and storms and lies, all channeling through me like I was a conduit.
My silver light transformed, shot through with crimson and obsidian and lightning-white and shifting colors. I felt invincible and terrifying and completely in control.
Moros's eyes widened. "What is this?"
"This is what happens when five gods share one heart," I said, and attacked.
I moved faster than I'd ever moved before, striking with precision Kael would have been proud of. My power flowed like water, adapting to each of Moros's defenses. When he tried to grab me, I turned to shadow like Jeron. When he cornered me, I summoned lightning like Theron. When he anticipated my moves, I created illusions like Lysander.
I wasn't just fighting as myself anymore. I was fighting as all five of us, and Moros couldn't keep up.
I didn't realize I was winning until I had him on his knees, my hand pressed against his chest, silver light ready to unmake him if I chose.
"Yield," I said, barely recognizing my own voice. It echoed with five different tones.
Moros looked up at me, and there was no fear in his burning eyes. Only respect. "I yield."
I pulled the power back, and the moment I did, exhaustion crashed over me like a tidal wave. My legs gave out, but before I could hit the ground, Kael was there, catching me.
"I've got you," he murmured, and through the bond, I felt all of them anchoring me, helping me handle the power drain.
Moros stood slowly, brushing dust from his stone-like skin. Then he knelt, and the gesture from something so massive was startling.
"I haven't knelt to anyone in three thousand years," he said. "But you, Goddess of Ruin, you've earned it. That power you wielded, that unity, that's what we've been missing. That's what could actually defeat the Council."
"Does that mean you'll join us?" I asked, my voice weak.
"It means I'll follow you," he said. "Me and every god in this city. We've been waiting for someone strong enough to lead us. You're it."
The watching gods moved closer, and I saw hope in faces that had forgotten what hope looked like. Forgotten deities, cast aside and diminished, all looking at me like I was their salvation.
The weight of it should have crushed me. Instead, I felt it settle like armor.
"Then we need to plan," I said, forcing myself to stand on my own feet despite the exhaustion. "The Council is activating their weapon within days. We need to strike first."
"Come," Moros said, gesturing toward the largest temple. "We'll gather the others and hear your strategy."
The meeting that followed was intense. Over fifty forgotten gods crowded into the temple, and I laid out everything we knew. The Purification Engine, its location, the Council's timeline, and our desperate need to stop it.
"The palace is impenetrable," one goddess said. She had flowers growing from her hair, wilted and grey. "The wards alone would take weeks to break through."
"Unless we had someone on the inside," Lysander said thoughtfully. "Someone who could weaken the wards from within."
"Who?" Jeron asked. "Everyone loyal to the Council would never betray them."
"Not everyone," Echo said, speaking up for the first time since the fight. "There's one goddess who might help. She's served the Council for centuries, but she's never agreed with their methods. Her name is Naia, and she's the Keeper of the Divine Archives."
"Why would she help us?" Theron asked skeptically.
"Because the archives contain the original texts," Echo said. "Including the real prophecy. If Naia knew the truth, knew what the Council was planning, she might be convinced to act."
"It's risky," I said. "If she refuses and reports us, we lose the element of surprise."
"Everything we do is risky," Kael pointed out. "But if it works, we could walk right into the palace."
"I'll contact her," Echo said. "Set up a meeting. But it'll have to be soon. Once the Council realizes we've allied with the forgotten gods, they'll accelerate their timeline."
"Do it," I said. "We need every advantage we can get."
The planning continued for hours. Moros had experience with military strategy that made even Kael impressed. We divided responsibilities, planned contingencies, identified key targets within the palace. By the time we finished, we had something that actually resembled a plan.
It was insane and risky and would probably get us all killed. But it was a chance.
"When do we move?" Moros asked.
"Three days," I said. "That gives Echo time to contact Naia, gives us time to prepare, and hopefully gets us there before the Council activates the engine."
"Three days," Moros repeated. "Then we storm the Divine Realm and tear down the Council that abandoned us."
A cheer rose from the gathered gods, voices that had been silenced for centuries suddenly finding hope again. Through the bond, I felt my mates' pride mixed with fear. We were really doing this. In three days, we'd either save thousands of lives or die trying.
After the meeting dispersed, the five of us found a quiet corner of the ruins. I collapsed against Jeron, too exhausted to pretend I was fine.
"That was incredible," Lysander said. "And terrifying. The way you channeled all of us."
"It nearly killed me," I admitted. "I can't do that often. The power drain is too much."
"Then we save it for when it matters most," Theron said. "For the final battle."
"If we make it that far," I said.
"We will," Kael said with certainty. "We have an army now. We have a plan. And we have you."
"Me," I repeated, laughing weakly. "The woman who was restoring books in Portland a week ago."
"The goddess who brought fifty forgotten gods to their knees today," Jeron corrected. "Never forget what you are, Athena."
Through the bond, I felt their love, their faith, their absolute conviction that we could win. Maybe they were right. Maybe five gods bound by fate really could challenge an empire that had ruled for millennia.
Or maybe we were all delusional and about to die gloriously stupid deaths.
Either way, we were doing it together, and that had to count for something.
"Three days," I said quietly. "Then everything changes."
"Three days," they agreed.
In the ruins of Babylon, surrounded by forgotten gods and impossible odds, we prepared for war.