Nov 26, Liz rated it really liked it Recommends it for: everyone who read the previous books and enjoys Greek mythology Recommended to Liz by: I did it myself Finally! Finally I have it in my hands! And I am so not overestimating it! Giving up? There is not much time left for Helen and neither does she have many people to support her and give her useful advices. She finds help where she does not expect it.
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It was a roaring torrent, riddled with icebergs. No sane person would dare swim across it. Feeling stranded, she limped around in a tight circle. A quick scan of the horizon showed that there was no one else on the barren plain. Her vocal cords were not completely healed. Less than an hour ago, Ares had slit her throat, and although it still hurt when she spoke, cussing made her feel better.
He was dying in her arms, and she swore that she would make sure that he drank from the River of Joy in the afterlife. Helen intended to keep her promise to Zach even if she had to carry him to the Elysian Fields and right up to the banks of the River of Joy herself—broken ribs, wonky leg, and all. Normally, all she had to do was say out loud what she wanted and it just happened. She was the Descender, which meant that she was one of the exceedingly few Scions who could go down to the Underworld in her living body and not just as a spirit.
She could even control the landscape to a certain extent, but of course just when she needed that talent the most, it found a way to go on the fritz. It was just so Greek. One of the things Helen resented the most about being a Scion was that it meant that there was an appalling amount of irony in her life. Helen pinched her bruised lips together in frustration and raised her hoarse voice to the empty sky. Tall and poised, he was wreathed in shadows that dissipated like fingers of fog relaxing their grip.
The Helm of Darkness and the extra yards of fabric from the black toga he wore obscured most of his face, but she could just make out his lush mouth and square chin. The rest of his toga was draped over his body like a decorative afterthought. Half of his smooth chest and his powerful arms and legs were bare.
Helen swallowed and concentrated on focusing her swollen eyes. Two simple, padded folding chairs appeared, and Helen eased her abused body into one while Hades took the other.
Why did you come here when you should be healing? Where he belongs. Unlike Ares, the god who had just tortured her, Hades had always been relatively kind. But he was still the lord of the dead, and the shadows around him were filled with the whispers of ghosts. And heroes go to the Elysian Fields.
I made a promise, and I just want to keep it. Not you. This was his world. All she could do was stare at him pleadingly. You lack understanding. The Furies? She got even angrier when she considered what the Furies themselves went through. If those three girls were tormented for thousands of years just to prove that Helen was a compassionate person, then there was something terribly wrong with the universe.
They call you the Descender because you can come here at will, but the ability to enter the Underworld is the smallest manifestation of your power. You do not understand what you are enough to judge others yet.
She suddenly wanted to see his eyes very badly and leaned closer to Hades, trying to dip her head down to see under the fabric obscuring his face. The words from the Tyrant prophecy came to her mind—born to bitterness.
She sat back. She bore me a son named Mordred, and since then my burden has haunted the House of Thebes. She slipped her hand into his and allowed him to help her stand.
Come to me as often as you like, niece, and I will try my best to bring you to understanding. His lips parted, revealing diamond-shaped incisors. But right now you are too badly injured to be here. What about Zach? As Hades released her, Helen heard him whisper in her ear. Rest now, niece. She fell into a deep slumber, her broken body greedily sucking up sleep as it tried to heal itself.
Daphne had only been running for a few moments when her daughter fell asleep in her arms. For a moment, Daphne was worried. In the early morning light, Daphne carried Helen up the Delos staircase and down the hallway to the first room she could find that seemed to belong to a girl.
She looked regretfully at the pretty silk comforter that her filthy, blood-soaked daughter was about to ruin. Not that it mattered.
The House of Thebes had a large enough fortune to replace it. The prophecy that started the Purge said that when the Four Houses were made into One House by the shedding of blood, then Atlantis would rise again. The exact wording that Daphne had memorized stated that in the new Atlantis, the Scions could find immortality. The whole thing was a sham, as far as Daphne was concerned, sanctified by a lot of mumbo jumbo from the last Oracle—who they all knew had gone crazy after making her first prophecy.
But it worked. Like Daphne herself. But Daphne had never cared for money. Remembering this, Daphne placed Helen on the bed and destroyed the lovely comforter with a little smile. Daphne assumed that Helen had descended. Time ticked by. Daphne waited, her anxiety growing with each moment.
So much time went by that Daphne began to wonder if she should wake up the rest of the house, but before she made a move, Helen reappeared. Her body smelled like the barren air of the Underworld. She had nearly died so many times now that she could guess what part of the Underworld Helen had visited. Daphne guessed that meant she must have gone to the banks of the River Styx itself.
Helen had been terribly injured in her battle with Ares, but if she were going to die, Daphne knew she would be dead already. Daphne had to die in battle like Ajax had, or she would never end up in the same part of the Underworld. Heroes went to the Elysian Fields. Suicides went—who knows where? She had thrown herself into every honorable fight she could find. Many times, Daphne had been nearly killed in battle and made the journey down to the Underworld, always seeking her husband by the banks of the River Styx.
But all she had found was Hades. Unrelenting, enigmatic Hades, who would not restore her husband to life and take her instead no matter how much she begged or bargained. The lord of the dead did not make deals.
But Daphne had been working for nearly two decades to change that. Daphne immediately understood. She, too, had wanted desperately to see Hades and had tried to pull the Helm of Darkness off his head. Eventually, after Daphne half died enough times to pay off all of her blood debts and rid herself of the Furies, Hades had finally showed her his face.
It was recognizing Hades that had set her plan in motion. She wiped her damp face and turned to see that Matt had Ariadne draped limply across his arms. She was a ghastly shade of gray and barely conscious, having exhausted herself trying to heal Jerry.
He carried Ariadne over and laid her down gently next to Helen. Ariadne mumbled something unintelligible to Matt before he pulled away, her face crinkled in protest at his departure. He stopped to smooth her hair. Daphne could nearly smell the love wafting off of him and filling the room, like something sweet and delicious baking in an oven. He ran his lips across her cheek, stealing the smallest of kisses. He turned to Daphne and looked down at Helen. Do what you need to do. Like a warrior. It was strange at first.
How in the world could she be watching herself like she was watching a movie? No dream had ever felt so real or been so logical. Still not understanding what was going on, she quickly got wrapped up in the drama and just went with it.
Dream Helen was wearing a long, diaphanous white dress, held together by a richly embroidered girdle. Her sheer veil had come loose from the pins in her hair, and streamed behind her as she ran. She looked frightened. As the giant lighthouse loomed closer, Helen saw her dream-self recognize a figure standing at one of the points of the octagonal base.
The Starcrossed Trilogy
It was a roaring torrent, riddled with icebergs. No sane person would dare swim across it. Feeling stranded, she limped around in a tight circle. A quick scan of the horizon showed that there was no one else on the barren plain.
Overview[ edit ] Starcrossed follows a seventeen-year-old teenager named Helen Hamilton who lives in Nantucket. After having a series of mysterious dreams, along with hallucinations of three young girls who appear to be pained, Helen finds herself strongly romantically drawn to a teenage boy named Lucas. It is eventually revealed that Helen is a modern-day Helen of Troy , and that the women she sees are actually the Furies. Discovering that many of the people she has just met are actually Archetypes of Greek characters from the Trojan war that are reborn and reincarnated over and over again for unknown reasons. It is also discovered that a union between Lucas and Helen may initiate a new Trojan War. Amidst these revelations, Helen and Lucas seek a way to pursue their blossoming romance without endangering those around them. The novel was eventually given release dates of April 5, in Spain, May 15, in Germany, and May 31, in the United States.