Prologue

There was no other way.

Many times in the past, that had not been the case, and it had taken a great deal of hindsight to figure it out, but this time, there was no other way. No deal to strike, no bargain to plea, no trinket to trade in exchange for one more day.

He had lived for thirty one hundred years, and he felt every single day of it.

He felt it in the way his soul seemed to bend under unholy duress, as if the sky itself had decided to use him as a walking cane.

He was not meant to be so old, and so young. He had not aged one day in all this endless time, but it was the fault of no god. No god had wanted anything to do with him for a very long time, not even his own father.

A long time ago he had been afraid. Now fear was something he told the new ones about—the younger demigods who hadn't yet lived half a century. He told them about fear, and how it was everything and nothing all at once. He told them about how love hurt, how war killed, how death renewed. He told them all about the power that time had given him, and about how it meant nothing in the end.

In the end—which was today.

Because, as he'd mentioned, there was no way out this time.

For so long he'd somehow avoided this, and he'd preached its blessing to those not cursed to live forever. Except that forever had come to an end, and he'd honestly stopped believing that this was even possible about nineteen centuries ago.

And yet, here it was.

And like a ghost, the fear was back—bigger, darker, uglier than he'd remembered it.

He remembered, how it started. Now the memories were like the hazy details of infantile remembrance— but he still remembered.

He remembered a boy with green eyes.

And that was how it started.