The mountain shook like it wanted to rip itself apart.
Erebus's shadows climbed higher, blotting out the last stars, while Tiamat's five heads tore through the waves and skies at once. Her brood poured without end, snapping, clawing, shrieking. Every time one fell, three more crawled from the tide.
But the gods did not break.
Athena's spear flashed, its bronze head sparking as she split a shadow into two, then turned on her heel to stab through the throat of a serpent that had broken past Ares. Her voice rose above the din, sharp as a trumpet call.
"Shields left! Push together! Do not let them scatter us!"
Her command rippled down the line. River gods and spirits snapped their shields into formation, their auras weaving into a wall of light that stopped a wave of venom spewing from one of Tiamat's heads.
