The courtyard of the demigod compound was bright with morning light, the sun slipping over the mountains in long golden rays that danced through the pine trees. Laughter echoed off the stone walls, carried by the breeze and wrapped in the warmth of youth. It was a rare moment of peace—a moment I had only ever seen through glass.

  From my high room in Olympus, I sat in my usual place: cross-legged on the marble floor, staring into the largest mirror in my collection. It shimmered faintly, its edges dusted with enchantments that hummed with Hephaestus’s magic. Beyond its surface, the demigods played.

  Zoe was running barefoot through the grass, wings tucked tightly behind her back as she chased after Damian, who darted away with the stolen ribbon from one of her braids. Bay shrieked with laughter nearby, wrestling Xandor into the shallow stream that ran through the yard. Phoenix, quiet as ever, perched beneath the willow tree with a book in her lap, but even she looked up and smiled at the chaos.

  Ella and Leander moved together like shadows, dancing around Stephen who had set his hands ablaze to keep them back, only to be tackled from behind by Helena with a triumphant whoop. Hector and Peter were further off, sparring with wooden swords while Angelina cheered them on, bouncing on her toes.

  I watched it all, my fingertips pressed against the cool surface of the mirror. My breath fogged the glass, but I didn’t wipe it away. I liked the illusion of being closer.

  I knew them by their laughter, their habits, the ways they moved when they thought no one was watching. I knew that Leander only smiled when Ella laughed first. I knew that Phoenix always glanced toward Zoe before using her powers, as if silently grounding herself—still afraid of what death could do in her hands. I knew that Hector would go out of his way to help Helena adjust her armor or check the straps of her weapons before training.

  And they didn’t even know I existed.

  I pulled my knees to my chest and rested my chin atop them. The gods said I was special. Chosen. Kept apart for a reason.

  But being chosen felt a lot like being forgotten.

  Athena had told me I was important. Hera had told me I was protected. Hecate had told me I was powerful. But none of them had ever held me when I cried.

  I wanted what the others had. Not powers or training or purpose—I had those. As a daughter of Hermes, I was fast. Unbelievably fast. But speed didn’t fill the ache in my chest.

  I wanted a family.

  I stared deeper into the mirror. Zoe had tripped, landing hard in the grass. Damian immediately turned back, offering a hand with a dramatic bow and a teasing grin. Zoe took it, laughing. I pressed my hand to the mirror and whispered, “That should’ve been me.”

  And in the silence that followed, the mirror shimmered softly.

  But it did not answer.

  I took to the sky like a storm.

  My wings snapped open with a surge of golden light, the wind rushing past my ears as I pushed myself higher, faster, toward the ridge. Toward him. Cole stood like a statue above it all, calm, composed, watching the chaos unfold below like it was a show written just for him.

  And maybe it was.

  The moment he saw me coming, he smiled.

  I didn’t wait. I dove, fury and desperation burning in my chest. Every second Cole stood there was another second my friends slipped further from me—further into his grip. I thought of Helena, still shaking from what he’d done to her. I thought of Damian’s laughter, of Peter’s steady voice, of Phoenix and Bay and their quiet strength. I thought of Hector and Ella and Stephen, trapped in their own minds. If I didn’t stop him now, I might lose them all. Everything else depended on it.

  He didn’t flinch as I descended.

  He raised a hand, and suddenly the air fractured.

  I swerved, just in time to avoid what looked like a blast of silver flame—but it wasn’t real. It vanished before it could hit me. An illusion. I clenched my teeth and hurled one of my daggers toward him.

  It passed straight through him.

  The image shimmered and dissolved.

  Behind me, I heard his voice.

  “You’re late.”

  I spun midair, just in time to block his strike. Metal rang against metal as our blades met. His face was cool, almost bored. No anger. No fear. Just precision. Control.

  I struck again. Hard. He dodged.

  “They’re not coming back,” he said smoothly, eyes glowing faintly with that eerie silver light. “Not without me. Not without my voice in their minds.”

  “Then I’ll silence you,” I snapped.

  He smiled again. “Try.”

  We clashed again, faster this time. My blades moved on instinct, my wings keeping me aloft as I ducked and spun and struck. But he was always just a step ahead—slipping through shadows, leaving illusions in his wake.

  He threw a wave of false images at me—Helena screaming, Hector falling, Damian breaking apart. I blinked, trying to push them away, trying to remember what was real.

  “You can’t tell, can you?” he whispered, voice threading through my thoughts like smoke. “What’s truth and what’s guilt? What’s memory and what’s wishful thinking?”

  I gritted my teeth and slammed my palm to the earth, grounding myself.

  Then I reached for his mind.

  It was like stepping into a maze of mirrors—fractured, warped, infinite. There were walls, doors, locks upon locks. His thoughts weren’t like mine. They weren’t open. They were forged like traps.

  Still, I pushed deeper.

  I saw flashes.

  A young man, small and furious, standing over the body of a minor god. Smoke curled from his fingers, the scent of ash and blood thick in the air. Around him, the battlefield trembled. He had led them here—older demigods who believed Olympus needed to fall.

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  Cole’s trauma wasn’t just pain. It was purpose. It was obsession.

  He slammed a wall down between us.

  Then he struck back.

  I gasped, staggering as his mind pierced mine.

  Suddenly, I was eight again. Running through the burning compound. Screaming for Helena. For Peter. For anyone.

  “No,” I whispered. “No, this isn’t real—”

  But I felt it. The fear. The failure. The guilt.

  He twisted it.

  Stephen’s face, scorched and broken. Angelina’s scream as she fell. My wings soaked in blood I hadn’t spilled.

  “You didn’t save them,” Cole said from within me. “You’ll never be strong enough. You were never meant to be one of them.”

  I cried out, clutching my head, falling to one knee.

  “You want to know what you are, Zoe? You’re a ghost. A mistake. A girl playing god.”

  “No—” I tried to push him out. I tried to reach for light, for truth, for the people I loved. For the fire in Helena’s heart. For Xandor’s fierce loyalty. For Damian’s ridiculous jokes that always made me smile. But everything was noise. Grief. Doubt. Guilt.

  I was cracking. I could feel it.

  Then it all went black.

  Pain exploded through the back of my skull, and I collapsed, my wings crumpling beneath me.

  I hit the ground hard, breath gone, vision swimming. Distantly, I heard footsteps. The cold scrape of metal.

  Ropes wrapped tight around my wrists and wings.

  Cole knelt beside me, and for the first time, his voice wasn’t calm. It was low. Triumphant.

  “Sleep, little savior,” he whispered.

  And the darkness swallowed me whole.

  The mirrors were humming.

  Not with music, not with sound, but with movement. Energy. Chaos. Each one shimmered with flickers of battle—twelve lives colliding in the dust and smoke, steel clashing with steel, vines twisting through the air, bursts of fire and magic lighting up the war zone below. The demigods were fighting each other.

  And I couldn’t do anything.

  I sat cross-legged in the middle of my mirror room, just like I had when I was little. Only now, I was older, and the ache in my chest had only grown sharper. I watched as the people I had spent my life protecting from afar fought for theirs. I hated Olympus in that moment. Hated the stone under my hands. Hated the silence. Hated the rules.

  I should have been down there with them.

  I wasn’t a child anymore. I wasn’t fragile. I wasn’t untrained. I was fast—faster than any of them. I was a daughter of Hermes. I could have made a difference. I could have helped.

  But I had made a promise. And promises, especially ones forged with gods, weren’t so easy to break.

  My eyes flicked from one mirror to the next, my heart pounding faster with every shift of the battlefield.

  Then I saw it—Zoe.

  She was glowing with sheer force of will, her wings torn and bloodied. And beside her—Helena. Controlled. Twisted. But Zoe didn’t give up. She never gave up.

  I held my breath as Zoe surged forward, a wave of green light exploding outward from Helena. Thorns spiraled and vines lashed out, slamming Zoe backward. But she rose. She pushed forward. And she didn’t stop until she reached her.

  I watched, tears in my eyes, as Zoe placed a memory in Helena’s mind. As Helena gasped and dropped to her knees. As Zoe held her, and Helena—finally, finally—came back.

  I gasped out loud.

  “She did it,” I whispered. “She brought her back.”

  I jumped to my feet, unable to stay still, and actually clapped. “Yes! Come on, Zoe. Come on.”

  But the moment of joy was brief.

  Another mirror flared.

  Zoe took to the sky.

  And Cole turned toward her.

  I watched, frozen, as she flew straight toward him—all light and fury and love. I wanted to believe she could win. She had to win. But as they clashed, I saw it begin to shift. Cole didn’t fight with rage. He fought with control. With precision. With illusions.

  My hands gripped the edges of the mirror as he twisted her memories, poisoned her mind.

  “No,” I whispered. “Don’t let him.”

  She faltered.

  She screamed.

  Then he struck.

  Zoe dropped like a stone.

  I choked on a breath, my whole body locking up. My reflection stared back at me in the glass—eyes wide with horror.

  Cole stood over her. Calm. Smiling.

  And then, one by one, the others began to fall.

  Cole starts by turning his attention on Damian, who was locked in a brutal clash with Angelina. Cole surrounded him with illusions—images of fire, false versions of his friends, shouts twisted into threats. For a moment, Damian faltered, his movements slowing, his eyes darting.

  But then—he closed his eyes.

  I saw his lips move, silently naming the people he trusted most. I could feel it through the mirror: the way he searched for emotion, not sight. He found Angelina’s presence, her confusion and conflict buried deep under the control Cole had forced on her. And somehow, Damian pushed through the fog. He fought blind but focused, his strikes calculated, his heart wide open.

  And it almost worked.

  But Angelina was faster.

  Her whip snapped around his ankle, yanking him off his feet. Before he could recover, she was on him—her movements sharp, efficient, merciless. She slammed him to the ground and knocked him unconscious with a single, brutal blow.

  I cried out, my hands flying to my mouth as a hulking monster dragged his limp body across the battlefield and dropped him at Cole’s feet. Cole didn’t even glance at him as he bound his wrists, stripping away his weapons like they were nothing more than toys.

  Then he turned, his smile deepening.

  And with Angelina at his side, he set his sights on the others.

  Angelina moved like a blade in the storm, her shockwaves slicing through the battlefield, disrupting the others’ magic with terrifying efficiency. Cole twisted reality around them, his illusions a web of confusion and fear. One by one, they fell.

  Helena, who had just come back, was dragged to Cole’s feet, her expression blank again. Peter was bound, his calm composure gone, his gaze distant. Bay—oh gods, Bay—was scorched by Stephen’s fire, her body trembling as she was carried by monsters to join the growing line of captives. Phoenix had raised an army of skeletons, her eyes blazing with grim determination. They fought with her, clawing and slashing through the wave of monsters. For a moment, it looked like she might hold the line.

  But Cole knew how to unravel her.

  He sent wave after wave of monsters—not to attack her, but to overwhelm her emotionally. Children. Women. Faces of the dead she had summoned in the past. He turned her own magic against her. Phoenix screamed, crumpling to her knees as the tide of illusion and memory drowned her.

  Stephen stepped through the smoke, his fists glowing with fire.

  He didn’t hesitate.

  A single blow to her temple sent her collapsing beside her fallen army.

  And then Xandor—brave, unshakable Xandor—was the last to fall. He fought like a hurricane, wind ripping through the field, refusing to give in.

  Until Leander’s arrow struck his shoulder.

  He dropped to one knee.

  Angelina stepped forward, her shockwaves cracking through the air. Xandor cried out, his power flickering and fading as her magic crushed the last of his resistance. Then he too was brought to Cole.

  I stood there, staring at the mirror, my hands pressed to the glass so hard they hurt.

  They were all there.

  All twelve of them.

  At Cole’s feet.

  Bound. Broken. Bent.

  And I couldn’t breathe.

  One by one, Cole placed his hands on the heads of the demigods, his power sinking into their minds like poison. I could see their faces twist in pain—Peter flinching, Helena shaking, Bay gritting her teeth before the light left her eyes. Phoenix tried to resist, her jaw locked, her hands trembling. But whatever he showed her, whatever he made her remember, it broke her. Her shoulders sagged. Her expression went blank. One by one, they surrendered.

  Except for Damian.

  When he stirred, still bruised from the fight with Angelina, he smirked. He made a joke. Then another. He kept going, voice light and ridiculous, refusing to give Cole the silence he wanted. Cole tried to dig deeper, but Damian fought with laughter, with deflection, with heart. He refused to break.

  So Cole let Angelina silence him instead.

  She stepped closer, and the moment she was near, his magic began to fade. Not pulled, not stolen—just silenced. As if her presence alone disrupted it. His humor faded. His eyes dulled. But his spirit—it was still there. Barely.

  Then came Xandor.

  He was already wounded, blood dark on his shoulder from Leander’s arrow. He didn’t speak. He didn’t move. But he stared—right at Zoe. Still unconscious. Still unmoving.

  I could feel the tension in his body, even from here. The way his jaw clenched. The way his whole stance leaned forward, like he was holding back the urge to run to her—like every part of him was screaming to move, to fight, to protect her.

  Cole touched his forehead.

  And nothing happened.

  He tried again. Deeper. Harder. But Xandor didn’t flinch. Didn’t yield.

  His love for her—his belief in her—held him steady. He wouldn’t give in.

  So they dragged him to the other side. Bound him next to Damian.

  And Angelina, cold as marble, silenced his magic too.

  I couldn’t stop the tears. I couldn’t stop the scream that tore out of me, silent but raw, echoing only inside my own skull.

  This was my nightmare. This was everything I’d feared.

  They had fought so hard.

  And now they were his.