Julian Cavendish's Arc

Chapter 1 of 4

Herman Cavendish had blacked out a Manhattan skyscraper the last time he lost his temper. Now the gods wanted him to do it on purpose, in front of an audience, without killing anyone. He stood at the center of a golden arena on Olympus, marble under his boots, sunlight spilling through carved arches. Above him, tier after tier of gods leaned on gilded rails. He was twenty-nine years old, the adopted heir of the Cavendish banking family, the lead software developer at their New York tower, and, according to everyone in this arena, the demigod son of Zeus. He needed to prove he could hold a bolt in his hand without cooking the god standing next to him. If he passed, he earned a permanent seat on Olympus. If he failed, they sent him home, or worse. Gianna found him behind the target dummies before the demonstration began. His twin sister wore a long coat and boots that had no business in a coliseum, and a gold thunderbolt at her throat that matched the one under his shirt. "Breathe through your nose," she said. "Count to four. You spike when you rush." He nodded. She tapped the lightning bolt at his collarbone, the Hellenistic chain their mother Eliza had given him at sixteen. "Hold this when it slips. It's just metal. Let it be heavy." She did not hug him. She never did. She walked back to her seat. Apollo was already in the front row, laurel crown crooked, lyre across his knee. He winked. That was the extent of the support. Herman felt the familiar ache and pushed it down before it could reach the sky. A wet cloud was already gathering above the open roof. He wrapped his fingers around the pendant under his shirt and counted. Zeus stepped onto the sand. He did not announce himself. "You will call the bolt," Zeus said. "You will hold it. You will release it into the pillar. Not the sky. Not the crowd. The pillar." He pointed to a marble column at the far end of the arena. "I am your father. I am the king of this council. I will stand beside you. If you cannot control the strike, it will find me first." Herman opened his hand. The cloud above the arena thickened. His pulse climbed. He thought of the blackout, the elevator full of screaming interns, and the pendant burned cold against his skin. Four counts in. Four counts out. The charge came down his arm clean, white, and quiet, and settled in his palm like a held breath. He looked at Zeus. Zeus did not move. Herman turned his wrist and threw. The pillar split down the middle and fell in two neat halves. The gods did not cheer. They went very still. Zeus studied the broken marble a long moment. Then he looked at Herman with an expression that was not pride. "Again," he said. "Tomorrow. Against Ares."