The Battle of Olympus | III

19. Apollo Has A Mental Breakdown

Did any of you cry during Amara's death? Because if yes, save your tears! There are far more throughout the rest of this book.

Also, I realized that since there is no way I'm ever coming back to rewrite THIS book, I just changed the cover to the new one.

Also I was supposed to publish this like two hours ago and forgot so what can you do?

"I don't want to see Apollo."

Hermes shot me a confused look. "What? But Amara was his Oracle—"

"That's exactly why."

"Don't you think he deserves to know what happened?"

It was a logical argument, to be sure, but I had already come to terms that I was a coward. I had no desire to look him in the eye and have to explain to him in excruciating detail how Amara died and her last message to me. After weeping my eyes out on the once-battlefield, I was just numb now—numb and cold and tired.

"Eden!"

I cursed colorfully as Apollo came sprinting into view, face pale. "Polyhymnia told me what happened—as soon as she sent you down, something broke her connections—where's Amara?"

His frantic look melted into one of horror when he saw both Hermes' and I's expression. He took a step back.

"No," he said. "No, no, no..."

His voice broke.

"I'm sorry," Hermes said. "Something was keeping me out—"

"No!"

A wave of golden energy knocked both Hermes and I back, ripping up the ground and shattering the nearest windows; Apollo crumpled, hand over his heart, a sob escaping him. I wondered if that was how I looked like when Hermes found me with Amara.

"Apollo," I began, taking a step toward him, but he yelled again and sent me stumbling back into Hermes, who barely managed to keep himself from falling over either.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I... I couldn't save her. I'm sorry."

I didn't know what to say.

It was ironic, given how many loved ones I had lost, but I had also preferred being left alone to grieve, and having people tell me how sorry they were for my loss only made it worse. I only wanted to stop feeling, stop the grief and anger and pain, even if it meant focusing on something as horrible as war. Gods were supposed to be good at cutting losses, but I remembered Apollo telling me how emotional he was compared to other gods too. He had known Amara for millennia. How could I understand what he was going through?

"Come on," Hermes murmured, placing a hand on my shoulder. "We'll get Artemis. She's good with this."

"No," I heard myself say. "I'll stay. You go."

Hermes made to protest, but I had already strode forward, hoping Apollo wouldn't blast me to pieces.

He didn't, thankfully. He allowed me to approach, though I almost found myself wishing I hadn't when his heartbroken sobs were clearer than ever. I knelt beside him, but he had already leaned into me. It was strange, almost, to see a god cry, or cry so humanly. Even despite having known gods for years (technically), there was some part of me that still expected them to be some sort of mystical, divine being, and seeing one so vulnerable was jarring.

"I'm sorry," I said again. "I—"

"It wasn't your fault."

"But the only reason the primordials are even in this war is because of Claudius."