THE CRIMSON PANTHEON

Chapter 5

Ronan carefully slid his glowing arms under Olivia’s body. He lifted her. She felt impossibly light, like a feather. Even though his body was breaking apart, his physical strength was still god-like.

He held her tight against his chest and ran.

He darted around the broken statues and leaped over deep holes in the floor. The Troll swung its giant club at him, but Ronan was already gone, leaving only a trail of golden sparks in the air. The club smashed into the ground where Ronan had been standing a second ago.

Ronan reached the back of the sanctuary. The heavy iron doors to the crypt were half-open, leading down into total darkness.

He rushed inside, carrying Olivia down a long, circular flight of stone stairs. The air down here was cold and smelled of damp earth and old dust. It was completely silent, a sharp contrast to the screaming monsters above.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, they entered a large, circular room made of solid black stone. Old stone tombs lined the walls.

Ronan gently laid Olivia down on the cold floor. He immediately spun around and ran back to the large stone and iron doors at the bottom of the stairs. He grabbed the heavy iron handles and pulled with all his might.

The heavy doors groaned loudly, scraping against the stone floor. They were thick enough to stop an army, but they were incredibly heavy. With a final, powerful pull, Ronan slammed the two doors shut.

BOOM.

The sound echoed loudly in the dark crypt.

Ronan saw a massive, thick wooden beam resting against the wall. It was meant to lock the doors from the inside. He grabbed the beam, lifted it easily, and dropped it into the heavy iron brackets across the doors.

The moment the lock fell into place, Ronan’s strength vanished.

He collapsed onto his hands and knees. He coughed violently, and a splash of glowing, golden blood hit the dark stone floor. It sizzled, melting a small hole into the rock.

His entire body was shaking. The cracks on his skin were glowing brighter. The heat was cooking his organs. He was dying. The power of the Seed of Eros was a wild, untamed fire, and without a place to channel it, it was consuming the very vessel that held it.

"Ronan...?"

The voice was weak, rough, and confused.

Ronan lifted his heavy head.

Olivia was awake. She had pushed herself up onto her elbows. Her beautiful green eyes were wide, staring at him in total shock. The crypt was completely dark, but the bright, golden light pouring out of Ronan’s body lit up the entire room like a bonfire.

"Olivia," Ronan choked out, forcing himself to crawl toward her. "You're awake."

Olivia winced, touching the side of her bleeding head. "What... what happened? The Troll... it hit the ground. I flew. I remember falling." She stopped talking and stared at his chest. Her eyes widened even more. "Ronan. You are... you are glowing. Your chest... it's cracked open! What is happening to you?"

She tried to reach out to him. She tried to summon her magical fire, a simple healing spell her bloodline possessed. She closed her eyes and focused, but nothing happened. Only a tiny, pathetic wisp of smoke came out of her fingertips.

"My magic," she whispered, her voice filled with panic. "It's gone. I'm completely empty."

"It's okay," Ronan said, his voice straining with pain. He finally reached her, sitting back on his heels. "I can fix this. I can save us. But I need to tell you what happened up there."

Olivia looked at him, confused and scared. "You should be dead. Your ribs were crushed. I saw you dying."

"I was," Ronan admitted. He looked down at his glowing, cracking hands. "But something fell from the sky. A Seed. The Seed of an ancient god. The Voice told me the gods are dead, and their powers are looking for new hosts. It offered me a choice. Die in the mud, or take the power and become a god to fight the monsters."

Olivia stared at him as if he had lost his mind. "A god? Ronan, that is a myth. The old gods are fairy tales."

"Does this look like a fairy tale?" Ronan asked, holding up his glowing arm. "I caught the Troll’s fist, Olivia. With one hand. I crushed its bones. The power is real. It is inside me right now."

Olivia was a fiercely pragmatic woman. She was a survivor. She looked at the impossible golden light. She felt the incredible, rolling heat coming from his body. She knew magic when she saw it, and this was magic far older and stronger than anything she had ever felt.

"Okay," she breathed slowly. "Okay. I believe you. You have the power of a god. So why are you bleeding golden light? Why do you look like you are about to explode?"

Before Ronan could answer, the crypt shook violently.

THUD!

A massive boom echoed down the stairs. Dust and small rocks fell from the ceiling.

The demons had found the door.

THUD! THUD!

The heavy iron doors rattled against the thick wooden beam. The monsters were battering it from the outside. They could hear the Troll roaring, a muffled but terrifying sound of pure rage. The Scavengers were scratching at the iron, hissing and shrieking.

"They are trying to break in," Olivia said, her survival instincts kicking in. She tried to stand up, but her legs gave out. She fell back onto the floor with a groan of pain. "We are trapped down here. And I have no magic left to fight."

"You don't need to fight," Ronan said quickly. The pain in his chest flared up again, making him gasp. He clenched his teeth, trying to stay focused. "Olivia, listen to me. The power I took... it's the Seed of Primordial Eros."

Olivia frowned, confused. "Eros? The old god of passion? Of... desire?"

Ronan nodded, sweat pouring down his face, turning into golden steam as it touched his hot skin. "Yes. The power is wild. It's the power of the flesh, of creation. The Voice told me that a mortal body cannot hold it alone. If I don't share the power, it will burn me into ash. Right here. Right now."

"Share it?" Olivia asked. "How?"