The poseidon trials the.., p.1
The Poseidon Trials: The Complete Collection (Dark Gods of Olympus Book 3), page 1
THE POSEIDON TRIALS
THE COMPLETE COLLECTION
ELIZA RAINE
ROSE WILSON
Copyright © 2022 by Eliza Raine
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Editors: Hart to Heart Edits
You’re not broken.
You just haven’t found what brings you to life yet…
CONTENTS
Secret of the Broken King
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Surrender of the Brutal King
1. Almi
2. Almi
3. Almi
4. Almi
5. Poseidon
6. Almi
7. Almi
8. Almi
9. Almi
10. Almi
11. Almi
12. Almi
13. Almi
14. Almi
15. Almi
16. Almi
17. Almi
18. Poseidon
19. Almi
20. Almi
21. Almi
22. Almi
23. Almi
24. Almi
25. Almi
26. Almi
27. Poseidon
28. Almi
29. Almi
30. Almi
31. Almi
32. Almi
33. Almi
34. Almi
35. Almi
Sacrifice of the Brave King
1. Almi
2. Almi
3. Almi
4. Poseidon
5. Almi
6. Almi
7. Almi
8. Almi
9. Almi
10. Almi
11. Almi
12. Almi
13. Almi
14. Almi
15. Almi
16. Almi
17. Almi
18. Almi
19. Almi
20. Poseidon
21. Almi
22. Almi
23. Almi
24. Almi
25. Almi
26. Almi
27. Almi
28. Almi
29. Almi
30. Almi
31. Poseidon
32. Almi
33. Almi
34. Almi
35. Almi
Thanks for Reading!
Acknowledgments
SECRET OF THE BROKEN KING
CHAPTER 1
Never underestimate a librarian.
My lungs burned. My feet pounded the wooden flooring, but I could see the massive ornate doors looming closer. I willed my muscles to hold out, pushing through the pain and racing through the museum hall toward the stairwell that led up and out to freedom.
"Stop! Come back here!"
I had thought I was lucky that the archives in the museum didn't have security guards. Little did I know that they didn't need them - because the librarians were built like frigging Olympic athletes. If I wasn't desperately trying to escape with the ten-pound book I'd stolen, I might have taken some time to admire the biceps of the guy chasing me. As it was, I kept my focus forward and dug into one of the many pouches on my leather belt. I pulled out a small plastic sphere and without turning around, threw it over my shoulder, crushing it as I did so.
The smell only just reached me as I propelled myself away from the stink bomb. I heard coughing and spluttering behind me, and as I reached the doors to the stairwell, I risked a glance over my shoulder. There were three of them now, two guys and a girl, and throwing a bad smell at them had not slowed them down.
I took the stairs two at a time, trying to take deep breaths, the book heavy in my grip.
It's gonna be worth it, Lily. Totally worth it, I thought.
The wide, spiraling staircase opened out onto a new hallway at the top, and right at the end of the corridor were the large exit doors.
I dipped my hand into a different pouch and pulled out a handful of ball bearings. Once I had put a few feet between myself and the staircase, I dumped them on the carpeted floor behind me. A second later, I heard a yelp, and then a thud. This time, I didn’t risk a look back. I pictured my sister’s sleeping face and ran as fast as my malnourished ass would carry me.
I reached the doors, twisting my body and throwing my shoulder against them to keep as much momentum as I could. I blinked as I stumbled into the bright light, momentarily disoriented before the vista of the Oxford street on a sunny day settled before me.
"Stop her!" The librarian’s voice was loud enough through the open doors that a few people passing by paused and looked at me. I pivoted, trying to find the direction of the road I'd parked my shit-heap car on.
A tall woman in yoga pants and a vest turned to me, frowning. Her eyes moved to the leatherbound book under my arm, and she took a step closer. From my peripheral vision, I caught the motion of a figure bursting out of the museum doors.
I drew on what little strength I had left and sprinted down the road to my right.
Please be the right road, please be the right road, I chanted in my head, too out of breath to make the plea aloud.
A vision of my sister wearing her scolding face filled my head. You should remember these things, Almi! You're always making life difficult for yourself! The mental image of Lily spoke firmly, and I sucked as much strength from her as I could as I pelted down the leafy street.
All the roads in the university area of Oxford looked the same to me, and I had no idea if I was racing along the one I'd actually parked my car in. Praying I was, I dug into another pouch on my belt and yanked my car keys out. I could hear footsteps pounding behind me.
Might be time to use the big guns, said Lily in my head. Get the elephant projector.
I bared my teeth through my panting breaths. Reluctantly, I pulled the most expensive weapon I had from my belt. It was a small plastic box, not much bigger than a credit card, and it had taken me days to work out how to use it in my cramped little trailer. Not to mention the effort to steal the thing in the first place.
My attention snagged on something thirty feet in front of me. A small, rusty yellow Ford. My car.
There was no way I could unlock it, get in it, and start it, without the hunky librarians catching up to me, I conceded. I would have to use the elephant projector.
Pressing the little button on it, I launched it over my shoulder. I heard the clatter of plastic on asphalt, then a small cry. The footsteps stopped, and I launched myself at my car door. I rammed the key in the lock, cursing the fact that my ancient car didn't have remote locking. It didn't even have a certificate to say it was roadworthy. As the handle clicked open and I threw myself into the driver’s seat, I saw two librarians staring, bewildered, at a massive hologram of an elephant, throwing its trunk in the air and rearing up onto its back legs.
It would only distract them for a few seconds. If I could have fitted decent speakers in the little device, I could have made it better. But I didn't have the money for speakers. Hell, I didn't have the money for anything.
I turned the key in the ignition, squeezing my eyes closed and pleading for the rust-bucket to start. I gave an involuntary squeal of relief as the engine roared to life, and the two librarians stopped squinting at the electronic elephant to snap their eyes to mine through the windshield. I gulped, rammed the car into gear, and put my foot on the gas.
“Shit. That was close," I said aloud as I pulled onto the freeway. Adrenaline was buzzing through me, and my lungs still burned. I was used to being hungry, but I wasn't used to being hungry and doing a bad impression of an athlete.
Too close. You really should have remembered where you parked the car, Lily said. I always saw her in my mind with vivid blue hair and shimmering skin. The way she had looked before.
Before she fell unconscious. Before I was sent away and hidden in the human world.
My exile hadn’t stopped me trying to wake my sister up though. And after years of research, I finally knew where I might find the answers to curing her sickness.
This book was the key. This book was going to tell me what I needed to save her.
CHAPTER 2
It was almost dark by the time I pulled into the trailer park I reluctantly called home. In England, they called it a caravan park, but when I'd first been dumped in the mortal world, I had found myself in California, USA, and that's where I 'd tried to learn how to fit into a world without magic.
I had been born in Olympus, a world where the Greek gods ruled, and magic and mythology was as real, and as dangerous, as it could be.
Home was the underwater realm of Aquarius, and the first thing I had done when I found myself stranded in America, was try to find a way back there. A way back to my sister, so that I could cure her sleeping sickness.
Back then, in my lowest moments, I’d wondered if I’d invented my home world, just to escape the shitty reality of my life.
That was when Lily had begun talking to me in my head. At first, I had assumed I was going crazy from grief and frustration. But I’d started to wonder if it really was her, talking to me through some mystical sibling bond.
After all, before she fell unconscious, Lily had been one of the most powerful sea nymphs I knew.
This is it, Lily. This time, I'm sure, I told her as I switched off the ignition.
I grabbed the book and my backpack, climbed out of the car and let myself into my trailer. I called her Betty Blue, because she had a blue stripe around the top of her peeling fiber-glass hull. There were six bolts on Betty Blue's unassuming door to unlock - all discreetly installed so it didn't look like there was anything inside worth stealing to my less-than-savory neighbors.
Truth was, there was plenty worth stealing - most of it stolen by me in the first place.
I had a decent moral compass, but my need to get home and save my sister was greater than my distaste for breaking the rules. I had only stolen things I really needed, and nothing of sentimental value to anyone, or that couldn't be replaced. And only stuff I could never afford, no matter how many hours I put in at cafes, bars, supermarkets - and anywhere else a girl could get casual work with no bank account. I bought food and paid the rental on Betty Blue with honest cash, but the rest…
It had taken me a few years to find my first Olympus artifact in the human realm, which I had subsequently stolen.
I looked over at the metafora compass hanging on a peg on the wall after I locked the trailer door behind me and flipped on the lights. It allowed me to move between the human realm and Olympus, and it was worth a fortune. Not that I would ever part with it.
It only had three uses, and I was down to just one left.
Moving to the bed at the back of the trailer, I pulled my sketchbook out from under my pillow. It wasn’t actually my sketchbook, it was Lily’s. But other than the compass, it was the most valuable thing I owned.
Drawing in the little book transferred a memory to it, to be relived as and when one liked, and Lily had used it when I was a child so she could show me her memories of our mother. Through it, I had been able to see exactly what our mom had been like, at least through Lily’s eyes.
I had taken the book with me when I’d been exiled from Olympus as a way to be closer to her, but I’d found myself so overwhelmed by my own thoughts that I’d begun drawing my memories into the book too.
My sketches were crap compared to hers, but it seemed to work all the same.
I flipped the pages until I saw a rough pencil sketch of a woman lying in a bed. Blotches that had once been tears smeared the drawing, but it didn’t stop it from working. Swallowing, I touched the sketch.
It heated under my fingertips, and I was no longer in the trailer. Instead, I was standing in a small bedroom in a house that wasn’t mine.
This was an image I knew wasn't projected by some grief-stricken part of my psyche. This image was real; my own memory of the last time I had seen my sister.
There, lying on a narrow bed, was Lily. I watched her a moment. No breath came from her lips, and there was no shine on her sallow skin. Her blue hair was dull, and her eyes were closed. I knew that if I could reach out and touch her, she would be as cold as ice. For all intents and purposes, she could be dead.
But she was alive. The Oracle had said as much before I’d been dragged away.
‘The Nereid will sleep, until the gods weep.’
Tears of frustration burned at the back of my eyes as I stared uselessly at Lily’s image. "Fucking Oracle," I spat, and the image faded, the trailer returning around me.
It's not her fault, my mental projection of Lily said gently.
"It's someone's fault."
Maybe.
One tear leaked down my cheek and I scrubbed it away angrily. Before I could stop myself, I was flipping back the pages of the sketchbook.
You don’t need to see it again, said Lily.
“There might be something I missed before.” There was an edge of desperation to my voice.
Almi… Lily’s voice faded away as I touched a sketch of a platform floating on the sea, a line of indistinct, badly drawn stick figures standing on it. My fingers felt hot, and then I was eighteen again.
CHAPTER 3
EIGHT YEARS AGO, IN POSEIDON’S REALM OF AQUARIUS
“Tell me again why we’re here?” I hissed to my sister under my breath.
“Shhhh.” Lily stared ahead, avoiding my look.
I scowled. Lily had spent her whole life telling me to stay under the radar, make sure nobody knew that I was… broken. Powerless. Able to do nothing with magic. I couldn’t even sense it.
“It could be the death of you if anyone finds out,” she had told me. “We must do whatever it takes to keep it a secret. Nobody must know.”
And yet, there we were on my eighteenth birthday, lined up with two-hundred other sea nymphs on a giant floating dais in the middle the sea, being inspected by the king of the ocean himself. The almighty, and utterly terrifying, Poseidon.
I leaned forward just an inch, looking past the other women in the line, to peer at the god.
He was seven feet tall, at least, with long white hair loose over enormous shoulders. I couldn’t see his face, but I could see that he was wearing a robe that looked like the ocean, aqua and turquoise waves crashing over the fabric as he solemnly made his way down the line of women.
“This is bullshit,” I whispered to Lily.
“Almi! Be quiet!” She finally broke her stare ahead and glared at me. “This is serious. Poseidon called us here, and we have to answer. Now, behave.”
She loaded the command with so much uncharacteristic authority, I shut my mouth.
Lily had been playing the role of my mom for as long as I could remember, but she wasn’t very strict. Mostly, she left me alone to mess around with things that covered up the fact that I had no magic, while she honed her own considerable power at the Academy. Lily was everything I wasn’t. She was beautiful, with bright blue hair, skin that shone like mother-of-pearl, and a tattoo of a nautilus shell across her chest that was so vividly colored I never tired of looking at it. And she had an almost godly magic over water. She was a true representative of our kind. Of the Nereid.
I, on the other hand, had dark hair with the tiniest hint of blue, pale skin from being inside so much, and my shell tattoo was just a thin black outline. No color at all. No color, and no magic.
