The Battle of Olympus | III

10. We Get A Few Primordial Enemies For Christmas

Wow I'm actually updating kind of at a normal schedule now??? Amazing??? It's mainly because I feel bad that I kind of basically went all but MIA last year after publishing this book and I also need to just FINISH soon. Except we're only on chapter 10 and this thing is gonna be like a million chapters so fun times.

Also I literally am running out of steam when it comes to chapter titles so try not to roast it too hard.

Apollo was crying.

I had never seen him cry before—not even during the Trojan War, when his beloved champion Hector was killed—but when we tumbled—literally—back to Olympus, carrying pitifully few containers, the tears had yet to stop falling. He half-collapsed on me, the jars falling from his grasp, weeping silently as I held him, as if I could protect him from what we had just seen.

But I couldn't.

Claudius had timed it perfectly—Pholus had been alive for just a moment longer, a moment longer for Apollo to hope that he had time to heal him—before he was suddenly dead and his body was melting through the ground.

I was still in too much shock to even cry.

"Apollo?"

He didn't look up, but I did dazedly.

It was Artemis, her expression one of pure worry as she rushed forward, gently taking him from my arms and forcing him to look at her with red eyes.

"What happened?"

"Pholus," he whispered, his voice cracking—it was a jarring contrast from his usual melodic voice. "Artemis, he killed—"

He couldn't continue. He crumpled into his sister's arms, who almost staggered under the sudden weight. She glanced at me helplessly, and I suddenly remembered Apollo's confession back at the cafe: My emotions are heightened compared to the other gods. And clearly, I was seeing that part, because while Artemis' grip tightened and her eyes turned sad, she didn't break down like Apollo.

"Come on," she said, standing up. "We'll go to your place—Athena is waiting for you, Eden—"

I nodded soundlessly and rose, but Apollo glanced up, already opening his mouth to say something when Artemis cut him off in a language I didn't know. He stiffened, but after a moment's hesitation, he nodded, and allowed his sister to pull him away while I gathered up the rest of the jars and walked—stumbled—away, unsure of where to even find my best friend but also uncaring of if I ever did.

I understood the reason for Pholus' death well enough. It was supposed to be a message, a warning, a threat from Claudius—he had morscula still in his grasp, he had my blood, he wouldn't stop until he got what he wanted, and that nobody was safe. He could kill anyone, he could get to anyone—my vision began swimming and it was with horror that I realized I was starting to cry.

Crying, I didn't mind, but crying because of Claudius? Again? I had once swore to never cry about him again, and yet, here he was, forcing me to break that promise. I furiously rubbed at my eyes, but that didn't stop them.

What if he got to my friends? What if he got to my family? What if he got to Athena? What if he got to Apollo? Morscula had been developed for human warfare only, but Claudius had used it successfully against a monster—my stomach twisted at the thought of Pholus being just another experiment to Claudius. Who was to say that it wouldn't work against a god either?

"Eden? Eden, are you crying? Where's Apollo? What happened?"

It was Emerson and Aden.

I tried to say something but the words got caught in my throat; I tried to choke them out but all I managed was a pathetic strangled half-sob. I didn't even know Pholus that well, but I still remembered how kind he had been when Apollo and I had been in Tartarus, how he had taken time out of his hands to help us, how he had given us shelter when we had so desperately needed—and then he was dead in a blink of an eye.