Killer Frost (Mythos Academy #6)(70)
Author: Jennifer Estep

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.”