The garden behind the little villa was quiet that evening, the kind of soft hush that only came right before the stars bloomed. The tall grass whispered under the breeze, and petals drifted from the trees like slow-falling feathers. I sat cross-legged in the grass, arms wrapped around my knees, staring at the fading sky.

  I was ten. Old enough to know something was wrong. Old enough to feel the weight of things I couldn’t explain.

  Zoe was playing nearby, her golden hair wand wings catching the last of the sunlight as she chased a hummingbird made of light. She was only four then—tiny, curious, and bright in a way that made people smile just by looking at her. Most of the gods ignored her, but I saw her. I always had.

  We were sisters. Half-sisters. But that had never mattered to me.

  She looked over at me suddenly, her wings fluttering instinctively as she ran toward me. Her tiny feet padded across the grass until she flopped onto the ground beside me, giggling.

  “You’re sad,” she said with all the blunt honesty of a four-year-old.

  I blinked, caught off guard. “Am I?”

  She nodded solemnly, crawling closer until she sat in my lap, her arms wrapping around my waist.

  “Don’t be,” she whispered. “I’m here.”

  My throat tightened. She didn’t understand. Of course she didn’t. But in that moment, it didn’t matter. Her little hands reached up and pressed flower petals into my hair like they were magic spells.

  “See?” she said. “Now you’re sunshine.”

  I laughed. It slipped out before I could stop it. And suddenly the ache in my chest didn’t feel quite so heavy.

  “Thanks, Zo,” I murmured, brushing her bangs back from her forehead.

  She grinned up at me, proud of herself.

  I didn’t know how much time we had then. I didn’t understand what the gods were planning. But I knew this: Zoe made me feel like I belonged.

  Like I had someone.

  And I swore, sitting in that garden with her in my arms, that I would protect her.

  Even if she never remembered me.

  Even if I had to do it from far, far away.

  The wind howled across the mountain, cold and sharp as a blade, but it wasn’t the chill that made my chest tighten. It was the silence. The stillness in the air, just beneath the sound of monster footsteps and the shuffle of chains.

  We were moving—dragged like trophies across the slopes of Olympic National Park, higher and higher toward the mountain that had once been named in honor of the gods. Now it was just a peak. Cold, ancient, indifferent.

  And it was about to become something else entirely.

  As we trudged higher, I caught sight of a battered wooden sign jutting out of the brush. It was half-buried in moss and mud, but the words were still legible: Welcome to Mount Olympus.

  Damian let out a wet, bitter chuckle beside me. “Standing on Mount Olympus to break into Olympus. The irony’s killing me.”

  Before I could even smile, Stephen slammed a fist into his side.

  Damian grunted, but didn’t stop smirking. “Still worth it,” he wheezed.

  Gods, he was stronger than any of us gave him credit for. Stronger than me. He had resisted Cole’s mind the longest—alongside me—but while I had stayed silent, tight-jawed and grim, Damian had resisted with laughter. With sarcasm. With fire.

  And even now, bloodied and bruised, he hadn’t stopped fighting.

  I’d never seen him like this before.

  And I’d never respected him more.

  I glanced sideways at Damian, his body being pushed between Leander and Stephen. His mouth was bloody, but his eyes were still burning—defiant, even as they forced him up the trail. Zoe…

  Zoe was limp.

  She didn’t move in Bay’s arms. Didn’t flinch when her foot caught on a root. Her golden wings trailed in the dirt, dimmed and dust-covered. Seeing her like that made something inside me twist until I couldn’t breathe.

  We had stood on the edge of something real—something good. A moment beneath the stars, where her hand brushed mine and time held its breath. We’d agreed to wait until Cole was defeated. Until this was over.

  But what if she never woke up?

  Peter held my arms behind my back with brutal efficiency. His grip was mechanical. Gone was the strategist. Gone was the friend. All that remained was a puppet wearing his face.

  We crested the peak.

  Cole motioned for the controlled demigods to form a circle. Like clockwork, they obeyed—silent, obedient, hollow-eyed. Peter shoved me roughly into position. Stephen dragged Damian beside me, shoving him to his knees with a grunt. Hector cradled Zoe’s limp body with surprising gentleness for someone so deeply broken, positioning her like a sacrifice.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Angelina lingered between Damian and I, silent and watchful. I could feel it the second she stepped closer—the way her presence muted the wind in my veins, silencing the very magic that had always been mine.

  And I felt the mountain hold its breath.

  Cole stood at the center, framed by a sky that had started to darken into evening. Behind him, the shimmering outline of the gates to Olympus pulsed like a heartbeat—almost real. Almost ready.

  This wasn’t how it was supposed to end.

  The gods should have stopped this. Cole was their mess. Their war. And now we were the ones bleeding for it. We were the ones being used.

  And Zoe—Zoe was the only one who had even come close to stopping him.

  The arrow Leander had shot into my shoulder still throbbed with a sickening pulse, the wound wrapped hastily in cloth that was now soaked through. Every jolt of movement sent pain lancing down my side. My jaw still ached where Cole had punched me earlier, a brutal crack that had knocked me to the ground and left my ears ringing for minutes.

  But none of that hurt as much as this.

  Watching her—my Zoe—lay limp in the dirt, unconscious, her wings torn from trailing behind her, her golden light dimmed. Her face was pale, streaked with blood and ash, and her body didn’t move—not even a twitch. And I couldn’t do a damn thing. Couldn’t hold her. Couldn’t shake her awake. Couldn’t even reach her.

  Every part of me screamed to get to her. To shield her. But my legs wouldn’t move. My hands were pinned. And my heart—my heart was breaking with every breath I took without her.

  I would’ve taken a thousand more hits if it meant shielding her from this. I would’ve gladly fallen again and again if it meant seeing her eyes open, hearing her voice, watching her fight.

  She had to wake up.

  Please, gods. Let her wake up.

  Cole raised a blade.

  It was ceremonial—curved, ancient, etched with symbols I didn’t recognize. He didn’t speak at first. Just walked slowly around the circle, calm as ever, like this wasn’t a desecration. Like this wasn’t a betrayal of everything we were.

  Peter tightened his grip on my arms as Cole stepped in front of me.

  I met his eyes.

  He smiled.

  Then he grabbed my hand and sliced open my palm.

  The pain was sharp, immediate, a fresh line of fire across my skin. Blood welled and dripped to the earth.

  “By the blood of the thirteen divine,” Cole intoned. “Let the gates hear us.”

  He moved on. Damian snarled as Stephen forced his hand forward. Another slice. Another offering.

  Zoe didn’t stir when Cole cut her palm. Her blood fell silent to the ground.

  Each one of us bled. Each drop a key. A lie.

  Cole was last.

  He stood in the center, lifted the blade, and dragged it across his own hand. Blood spilled from his palm as he raised it to the sky.

  “Thirteen,” he called. “Thirteen demigods stand united! Open the gates of Olympus!”

  For a moment, nothing happened.

  Then the air shimmered. The outline of the gates burned into the sky—tall, radiant, pulsing with ancient energy. They looked exactly as the legends said they would. Glorious. Untouchable.

  Cole stepped forward, hand outstretched.

  And the gates didn’t move.

  I felt Peter’s grip falter just slightly.

  Cole paused. Confused. Then furious.

  He slammed his bloodied hand against the air where the gates shimmered.

  Still nothing.

  He turned, slowly, his expression darkening with every step.

  “What… is wrong?” he hissed. His voice cracked around the edges now. “Why didn’t it work?”

  No one answered. The wind held its breath. The mountain waited.

  Cole’s eyes moved over us, his jaw clenched.

  And in that silence, I felt it.

  A smile tugged at the edge of my lips.

  The gates hadn’t opened.

  Cole’s grand ritual. His thirteen sacrifices. His perfect circle. And it had failed.

  I couldn’t help it. I let the smile grow, sharp and full of quiet satisfaction. Even through the pain, even with Zoe still unconscious beside me, there was something vindicating in the look on his face.

  Damian broke first. A laugh burst from his throat—short, ragged, and hoarse. He doubled over, still held by Stephen, wheezing out more laughter between coughs. “Thirteen, huh?” he rasped. “Guess someone’s math is off. All that blood, and still locked out? That’s rough, man.”

  Cole snapped.

  In one brutal motion, he crossed the circle and backhanded Damian across the face. The crack echoed like a whip, and Damian’s head snapped sideways, blood flying from his mouth.

  Then he turned to me.

  My smile hadn’t faded. Not yet.

  His fist slammed into my side, right above the wound Leander had left. I gasped, the pain white-hot, blinding, but I didn’t stop smiling.

  He wanted fear.

  He got fire.

  I stood in front of the mirror—Zoe’s mirror—my fingers white-knuckled around the gilded frame. I couldn’t sit anymore. I couldn’t breathe. Every mirror in the room reflected the same nightmare from different angles—blood, silence, fury.

  And Cole.

  I watched him lift his blade. I watched him cut them, one by one. Xandor. Damian. Zoe. The others.

  My stomach churned.

  When he reached the center and raised his hand to the sky, I held my breath. The gates shimmered into being—radiant, immense, powerful. My heart slammed against my ribs.

  And then… nothing.

  They didn’t open.

  Cole froze.

  And I smiled.

  Not a big smile. Not one of joy. But the kind that comes when a truth you’ve carried for too long finally unfolds the way you knew it would. The kind of smile that burns.

  My breath released in a shudder.

  I knew why.

  He didn’t.

  He thought there were thirteen demigods on Earth.

  But he was wrong.

  There were twelve.

  Only twelve.

  Because I was the thirteenth.

  My legs nearly buckled as the weight of that truth hit me again. I had always been the missing piece. That’s why they brought me to Olympus. That’s why they locked me away.

  It wasn’t just to protect me.

  It was to stop him.

  Cole turned back to them, his face contorted with rage. I saw Xandor smile. I saw Damian laugh. And I saw Cole hit them both. Hard.

  I flinched.

  My eyes snapped to the mirrors beside hers. Damian was coughing up blood. Xandor was swaying where he stood, barely staying upright. And the others…

  They were all broken. Forced into silence. Bent to Cole’s will.

  How long until he turned on them again? How long until he took that knife and made an example of someone else?

  I could feel the weight of it in my chest—this knowledge that they were standing at the edge of something irreversible. If Zoe didn’t wake up soon… Cole wouldn’t stop. He wouldn’t let the failure go. Someone would pay.

  He could kill them.

  He could kill her.

  “Zoe,” I whispered, barely able to form the word. “Wake up. Please. You have to wake up.”

  She didn’t move.

  I stepped closer to her mirror. Pressed both palms to the glass.

  “Come on,” I whispered. “Please, please, please…”

  The mirror was cold, but I didn’t care.

  I closed my eyes.

  And I reached.

  Not with magic. Not with words. But with the bond.

  Sister.

  Half-sister.

  Two souls who had been connected the moment they were switched.

  We had never spoken this way before. I had never dared.

  But I couldn’t wait anymore.

  I pushed. Harder than I ever had. I focused everything I had on her. Her voice. Her light. Her laughter. The way she looked at the stars like she belonged to them.

  “Zoe,” I said aloud, voice shaking, “You have to remember who you are. You’re not just one of them. You’re more. You were always more. Please wake up. Please remember. We need you.”

  The mirror didn’t shimmer.

  But the bond did.

  And I didn’t stop pushing.

  The mirror didn’t shimmer.

  But the bond did.

  And I didn’t stop pushing.