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FORTY FOUR, battle at the summit
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LUKE TIED ASTER'S HANDS behind her back, and ushered her up the hillside with his sword at her back. Of all the things Luke had done, Aster thought the creation of Backbiter had to be one of the most sinister. The long sword was made of two metals: tempered steel and celestial bronze. The combination meant that the sword could kill mortals, demigods, and immortals—it could even sever their souls. The weapon made no practical sense; why would a demigod need to harm a mortal? All their natural enemies could be killed by celestial bronze alone. The intention behind it was simply malicious and cruel.
Luke prodded his sword point into her back, and she resisted flinching at the sharp poke. "Move faster. Stop stalling."
"I'm not stalling," Aster argued. "You try navigating a rocky hill with your hands behind your back. I'm trying to not fall on my face. Don't want to damage your trusty weapon."
He sighed. "Aster, you're not a weapon."
"Sure seems like it to you."
Luke stopped her with a hand on her shoulder, turning her to face him. His expression was pained. "No, Aster, you're not. You just– You... You're important. To me. And not just because of your powers. You're my little sister."
Anger flared in Aster's chest. "I'm not your sister. You lost that privilege two summers ago. You didn't have to do this—any of this." She paused, staring into Luke's eyes and pleading with him. "You still don't. Don't make me do this, Luke. It's not who you are. You don't have to follow Kron–"
"No!" Luke exclaimed, pacing away from her. "N-no, I have to do this. The gods abandoned us, don't you see? They don't care! And if I don't do something, it will never stop. Demigods will keep dying, or suffer even worse fates. They'll stay unclaimed, and the Hermes cabin will keep overflowing. This will fix everything. Demigods will be safe—you will be safe."
"Can't you see that Kronis is manipulating you? The world won't be better under him; it'll be worse. Don't you remember the age of the Titans? Before the gods? It was horrible. The gods aren't perfect parents, but at least the world will still be okay. Kronos will turn it into a wasteland."
Luke stormed up to her. "Be careful what you say out here." His eyes looked around frantically. "You... you're wrong. He told me he would make it better—better for my mom, better for you. He'll make sure you won't be sent off for slaughter."
His words almost sounded like the ramblings of a madman
Aster swallowed hard. "Why do you keep saying that? Who's sending me off to slaughter? What does that even mean?"
Luke was quiet for a long moment. He stared at her, his expression unreadable. "We need to keep moving. We're almost there."
He directed her with his sword again, and they walked for about five more minutes before they reached the summit. A few yards ahead of her, gray clouds swirled in a heavy vortex, making a funnel cloud that almost touched the mountaintop, but instead rested on the shoulders of a twelve-year-old girl with auburn hair and a tattered silvery dress: Artemis, her legs bound to the rock with celestial bronze chains. She was drenched in sweat. Aster had never seen a goddess in pain before, but the weight of the sky was clearly too much for Artemis.
