“What other things?” I asked.
“Blood,” another voice called out. “My blood.” Suddenly, Raven was there, striding down the main
aisle toward me, Nike, and Loki.
“What is she doing here?” I whispered to Nike. “You’ll see.”
Raven stopped, her white hair and gown swirling around her in a way I’d never seen them do before. Her black eyes locked with mine.
“You always wondered what I was hiding with my wrinkles, Gwendolyn,” she said, her voice light, sweet, and pure. “Well, let me show you.”
Raven held her hands out wide, her palms up, as though she were somehow drawing the air in around her. And I watched while her hair slowly blackened, her wrinkles melted away, and her skin smoothed out and tightened up, as if she were growing younger instead of older. The only thing that remained the same about her were the old, faded scars that marred her hands and arms. In a moment, she went from a mysterious old crone to a gorgeous goddess. And suddenly, so many things about her made sense to me, including her real identity.
“Sigyn,” I whispered. “You’re Sigyn, the Norse goddess of devotion. Loki’s wife.”
Another thought occurred to me, and my gaze flicked up to the second floor, where her statue was. “That’s why your statue in the library seemed so hollow and empty that one time I touched it when I was searching for the Helheim Dagger. Because you were in the mortal realm all along instead of being . . . here.”
Wherever here really was.
Sigyn smiled. “Yes, Gwendolyn. That is exactly right. I have spent centuries in the mortal realm, watching over the members of the Pantheon, the Protectorate, and the academy students.”
“But why?”
Sorrow filled her black eyes. “Because Loki tricked me into helping him escape all those centuries ago. Because I believed he was truly sorry for orchestrating Balder’s murder. Because I thought he had really changed and wanted to be a better person, instead of trying to bend us all to his will. If I hadn’t been so foolish, none of this would have happened. So much pain and suffering could have been avoided. So much . . . loss.”
She stared down at her former husband, who was still on his knees in the middle of the marble floor. “So I decided to devote myself to setting things right, to making up for my mistake as best I could. And I finally have, with your help.”
She stepped toward me and held out her hand. I realized that she wanted Vic, and I handed the sword over to her. Sigyn stared at the blade a moment, then sliced her palm open on it before handing Vic back to me.
She walked over to Loki and stared down at him again.
“I’m sorry that it had to come to this,” Sigyn said in a soft voice. “But you gave me no choice.”
Loki glared at her, but he didn’t say anything.
Sigyn sighed, so much sadness in that one soft sound, as if she felt all of the evil Loki had done more intensely than anyone else. In a way, I supposed she did. Then, she clenched her hand into a tight fist until blood dripped out from between her fingers.
Plop . . . plop . . . plop . . .
One by one, the drops of her blood hit the mistletoe bracelet still wrapped around Loki’s wrist. He hissed and struggled with all his might, but some invisible force held him in place. Strangely enough, it felt like that same old, watchful, knowing force I had sensed around Grandma Frost so many times when she was having one of her visions of the future. Somehow, I knew that it was Nike’s victory magic at work.
Finally, Sigyn stepped back.
“There,” she said in a tired voice. “It’s done. The mistletoe is bound on him, and he is bound here—forever.”
“And now,” Nike murmured. “For the final step.” She waved her hand. I blinked, and Loki was gone,
and the floor was empty again. I whirled around and around, but Nike placed a hand on my shoulder and pointed up to the second-floor balcony. For as long as I’d been at Mythos, there had been a lone, empty spot there in the circular pantheon of the gods—an open space where Loki’s statue would have been.
But now, the god himself stood in that spot.
Nike, Sigyn, and I looked up at him, and I realized that we weren’t the only ones in the library anymore. All of the statues had turned their heads in his direction, and they weren’t statues anymore, but real, live people.
Real gods and goddesses.
My breath caught in my throat, even as I tried to look everywhere at once at all of the figures I’d read about in my myth-history books, since they’d all come to life right before my eyes. Bastet, the Egyptian cat goddess, with her sleek, feline body. Athena, the Greek goddess, with her wise, solemn features. Coyote, the Native American trickster deity, with his wide, mischievous grin. And hundreds of others from all the cultures of the world.
All gathered here to watch this—Loki’s final defeat and punishment.
“We have all agreed as to what his fate is,” Sigyn said. “He has brought this upon himself.”
One by one, all of the gods and goddesses nodded their heads in agreement, giving their approval for what was to come.
“Eir,” Nike said. “If you will be so kind, please.”
On the balcony above, a goddess stepped forward. Black hair, green eyes, pale skin. I recognized her from my trip to Colorado—Eir, the Norse goddess of healing and mercy. The one who had given me the silver laurel leaves and the mistletoe bracelet.
Eir stepped forward and held out her hands. A force rippled off her, shot through the air, and slammed into Loki on the far side of the balcony.
The evil god let out a scream, and I realized that the mistletoe bracelet around his wrist was glowing with an intense silver light.
And then it started to spread.
I watched as the mistletoe sprouted, and more and more vines slowly began to curl out of the bracelet, reach up, and wrap around his body. Loki screamed and screamed, but there was nothing he could do to stop the slow, steady onslaught. The vines quickly crept up his arms, trapping his hands against his sides before climbing up his chest and neck. He tried to keep his face up out of the greenery, but the vines wrapped around his head, pulling it down, before swallowing him whole. After a while, even his screams faded away to nothingness.
That silver light flared a final time, pulsing brighter and more intensely than ever before, and I had to close my eyes against the burning brightness.
When the light faded away, and I finally opened my eyes again, I realized that another statue had been added to the pantheon—Loki.
His head was down, and his eyes narrowed, as though he were glaring at the mistletoe bracelet on his wrist, the source of all the vines that had wrapped themselves around him. But he was solid stone, even while the other gods and goddesses still showed their true forms. I let out a long, tired breath.
And just like that, it was done, and Loki was locked away—forever.
Chapter 31
“So it is done,” Nike finally said in a loud, booming voice, echoing my own thoughts. “Forever.”
One by one, the other gods and goddesses nodded their heads at her before stepping back and slowly melting into their stone forms once more. In an instant, only Nike, Sigyn, Vic, and I were left in the library.
“What’s going on?” I said, staring up at the pantheon. “What’s happening? Why are they leaving?”
“The Twilight of the Gods is upon us, Ragnarok, some mortals call it. Either way, the gods are withdrawing from the mortal world,” Nike said, glancing at Sigyn. “With a few notable exceptions, of course.”
A faint grin pulled up Sigyn’s lips. “Some of us still have work to do.”
Nike returned her grin. “And warriors to mold. Spartans in particular.”
Sigyn’s smile widened. “Something like that.”
“But why?” I asked, totally not understanding their cryptic talk.
“Because we have caused too much damage here over too many years,” Nike said. “Too much pain, too much sorrow, and too much death.
We will not risk that happening again. We will not risk another god trying to rise up and enslave everyone as Loki attempted to. It was a mutual decision.”
I knew that what she was saying made sense, but I couldn’t help but feel a pang of loss and longing all the same. Because the gods’ withdrawing from the world meant that Nike would leave too. She’d been such a big part of my life these last few months. I didn’t always agree with the goddess, and I’d long since grown tired of her games and riddles, but I also didn’t want to lose her the way I had my mom and Nott.
I swallowed. “Will I . . . ever see you again?”
She gave me that familiar, slightly mysterious smile, the one that was so old, knowing, wise, and yet so infuriating all at the same time. “Perhaps. But never fear. I will always be here, watching over you.”
“And don’t forget about me,” Vic piped up, breaking his long silence. “I’ll always be with you, Gwen. For as long as you will have me.”
“So . . . what do I do now?” I asked. “What happens next?”
“Whatever you want to happen, Gwendolyn,” Nike said. “Although Loki is gone, there will still be battles for you to wage as my Champion. And for others as well. Your friends, your . . . family.”
Something about the way she said family made me think of Rory, but before I could ask her exactly what she meant, she smiled at me again.
“Either way,” Nike said. “Your part in this fight is finally finished.”
I shook my head, still not understanding.
“Perhaps this will help set your mind at ease.”
Nike nodded, and Sigyn stepped forward, a book in her hand. Sigyn opened the cover and held the book out to me. Slowly, the pages began to turn, and I realized the images there held the story of my life, the pictures moving the same way the drawings in my myth-history book always did.
Me growing up. My first day at Mythos. Me sitting in classes, the dining hall, and even the library. All the battles I’d endured right up until the moment I’d stabbed myself in the chest with Vic. After that, the pages were mostly blank, although every once in a while, I caught glimpses of my friends. Daphne. Carson. Oliver. Alexei.
And then there was Logan.
His face was one of the constants, and somehow I knew we would get through this and everything else that came our way, good and bad. Oh, there would be fights through the years. Breakups and makeups. But through it all, we would always love each other. We would always find our way back to each other.
And some day, in the future, there would be a little girl with black hair, violet eyes, and a teasing grin that was exactly like her father’s. She would laugh and play and run through the Library of Antiquities while I worked as the head librarian. Late at night, the two of us would lie on a blanket on the marble floor and stare up at the amazing fresco on the ceiling, and I would tell her stories about our battle against Loki. And one day, I would hand Vic over to her, and she would continue on with the Frost family tradition of serving Nike and being her Champion.
The last page of the book fluttered by, and I realized that it was blank. But before I could ask what it all meant, Sigyn closed the book and stepped back.
She nodded at me. “Until we meet again, Gwendolyn.” Sigyn strolled over to where Raven’s, or rather her, coffee cart was, stepped around it, and melted into the
shadows.
But Nike stayed where she was in front of me. The goddess took my hand in hers, and I felt the cold waves of power flow from her, into me, and back again.
“So Loki’s trapped, and I’m still here,” I said. “How am I going to get back this time?”
“You saved yourself, Gwendolyn,” she said. “When you gave what was left of Sol’s candle to the Spartan librarian. He’s using it at this very moment to heal you, along with the last laurel leaf.”
I shook my head. “I told him to save the leaf for himself. Not me.”
“Nickamedes is making his own sacrifice—for you,” Nike said. “Don’t dishonor him by not accepting it.”
I nodded. I looked down, and I realized that there was a silver glow right where the stab wound was in my heart. I concentrated, and I could feel the power of Sol’s candle surging through me and repairing all the damage that had been done to my body, both from my own actions and from Loki ripping into my mind, heart, and soul.
“And now, I must leave you, Gwendolyn,” Nike said. “This is good-bye—for now. Know that I am so very proud of you, and so very honored to call you my Champion. Now and forever.”
Then, the goddess leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek, making even more of her cold power flow through me. Tears streaked down my face, freezing on my cheeks like tiny snowflakes. Nike bowed her head. The silver laurels on her brow glinted; then her wings slowly curved forward and closed in on her body. That bright silver light flared again.
And then she was gone. And so was I.
Chapter 32
Once again, I woke up with a gasp and sat bolt upright. I sucked down breath after breath, trying to figure out what was going on and where I was. Slowly, everything came rushing back to me.
I looked up to find my friends clustered around me. Logan. Daphne. Carson. Oliver. Alexei. Linus, Metis, and Grandma Frost loomed over them, while Nyx was sitting on the floor beside me. So was Nickamedes, a small bit of white, melted wax clutched in his hand. They all looked at me with wide, frightened eyes.
I stared past them up at the fresco on the ceiling. It was completely free of shadows now, and I could see all the images of the battle that we’d just been through. Me, Logan, and everyone else fighting the Reapers, from the first attack at the main gate to the final confrontation here in the library. The fresco featured all that and more, and somehow, I knew it would never be covered with shadows again.
Next, I looked down at my right palm. Now, instead of two scars, I had three. But the really weird thing was that they formed a sort of snowflake design—one that was exactly like the necklace Logan had given me, the one I was wearing right now. And I knew that if I pushed my shirt aside, I’d see the exact same three marks in the exact same pattern on my chest, right over my heart. I grimaced, but I didn’t really mind. Because the marks would always remind me of the battles I’d survived— and how victorious I’d been in the end.
“Gwen?” Logan asked, his voice hoarse, as though he’d been screaming and screaming for a long time. “Is that really you?”
“Yeah,” I said. “It’s me. I’m . . . okay. I think.”
My gaze flicked up to the second-floor pantheon to the empty spot, but it wasn’t empty anymore—a statue of Loki stood there, wrapped in thick, marble strands of mistletoe.
The others followed my gaze. One by one, their mouths dropped open, and they all let out sharp gasps of surprise.
“Is that . . .”
“That looks like . . .” “Could it be . . .”
“Loki,” I said. “He’s gone now, and he won’t ever be able to hurt us again.”
“What happened?” Linus asked.
I shook my head. “I’m not quite sure. Nike came to me. She said that when Loki . . . infected me, he gave up his own immortal body, and I forced him back into the gods’ realm by stabbing myself. She said that he would never be able to come back to the mortal realm ever again. So . . . I think we’re finally safe from him. I think we’re finally free from him. Forever.”
“Are you sure?” Metis asked.
I looked at the statue again, half-expecting it to glare at me the way all the other ones did, but Loki remained still, frozen, and locked in place, and I didn’t sense any vibes rippling off the stone—not a single one.
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m sure.”
For a moment, there was silence. Carson peered up at the statue of Loki, then around at everyone else.
“So,” he said. “I guess this means that we . . . won?” More silence. Then, slowly, grins spread over my
friends’ faces. Everyone started laughing and cheering and clapping e
ach other on the back until the entire library was filled with the happy sounds. Logan held out his hand, helping me up and onto my feet. He wrapped his arms around me, holding me tight, and I leaned into him, enjoying the moment.
It was over.
The second Chaos War was over. And we’d won. For good.
Forever.
But our happy respite was short-lived. Because we had been through the battle to end all battles, and we had all paid a high cost. Many Reapers were dead, and Logan had managed to kill Agrona for all her crimes against him and his dad. But most of the Protectorate guards were dead as well.
Including Sergei.
Warm, happy, boisterous Sergei had fallen in the library to a Reaper’s sword. Alexei crouched over his father’s body, holding his cold, dead hand and crying and mumbling in Russian. Oliver stood by his side, his hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder. My own heart ached in response to the waves of grief rolling off Alexei.
And Sergei wasn’t the only friend we’d lost. The bodies of many of the gryphons littered the quad outside the library, right next to those of the Black rocs they’d been fighting. Still more wounded and dead—mortal and creature alike—could be found in and around the library, on the quad, and all the way across campus and down to the main gate.
The next few days passed by in a blur, filled with an odd mix of tears and smiles. I went from one place to the next, trying to help wherever I could. Carrying bodies down to the morgue in the bottom of the mathscience building until they could be properly identified and buried. Cleaning blood off the floor in the library. Returning all of the artifacts we’d used to their cases and original locations in the library. Rounding up the artifacts the Reapers had used, including Lucretia, and putting them in the library basement until they could be examined and catalogued. I got up early, worked all day, and then dropped into bed at night utterly exhausted. And still, there was more to do the next day.