VENUS AND MARS ( piper mclean )

𝐨. prologue

COWARDICE WAS ONE OF THE GREATEST SINS YOU COULD COMMIT AS A CHILD OF Ares. Even if you were the worst fighter on the field, the shakiest shot ever, the most mistimed swiper in the game, bravery was something anyone with the spirit of war could respect; the courage to do something weighed more than the ability to persecute the action properly.

As she sat in her cabin, sharpening the blade of her sword, staring at her golden reflection, Noor al Hadid saw nothing but a coward. With the grip of her hand on the hilt of the sword, she couldn't help but think about how the other heroes were out in the war field, she was sitting in her cabin, sharpening a weapon she wouldn't even be able to use. Demigods were out there dying for their cause, to fight against Luke and the Titans who were trying to take over, and here Noor was. Useless and cowardly.

There was a shadow in front of her, but she didn't look up. She knew who it was without looking. "What do you want, Sherman?"

"You know," he said, not missing a beat. "We have to go out there, Noor. We can't sit here like ducks waiting for something to hit us. Even if we hate them and they hate us, those assholes out there need us. Without Ares on their side, they won't win."

Noor exhaled through her nostrils. "You think I don't know that? What the hell do you expect me to do about that?"

"I don't know. Talk to Clarisse!"

"I can't, okay? She's not gonna listen to me—or anyone, actually. She didn't even listen to Chris."

The crackling of electricity of the barbed wire outside their cabin was the only sound in the room. "Unless..."

Noor looked up, and with one look at the expression on Sherman's face, she shook her head. "No way. She would never listen to her."

"She would! She's an idiot and she doesn't see but we do! We see the way she looks at her. Silena would be able to convince her."

"No way," Noor repeated. "I'm not letting another camper get in the way of Clarissa's warpath."

"That's the only shot we've got, Noor, and you know it," Sherman said seriously. "We're running out of time, and next thing you know, we'll be walking onto a field of corpses—and not of Titans."

He stood by for a second, evidently waiting for Noor to say something, but she didn't, and once he realised she had nothing else to say, he scoffed and left.

From the corner of her eye, Noor glanced at the sword again. Its celestial bronze was rippling in the sunlight, the magnificent glow of the godly metal emphasised greatly under the heat which it was forged. The inscription on the hilt glared at her mockingly, 'Anéndetos'—Unyielding.

Then, suddenly, the air before her started actually shimmering. For a moment, Noor thought it might have been a figment of her war-obsessed imagination, but then, the air came to life with the image of a scrawny, pale young boy with shaggy locks of ebony hair and shadows clinging to his under-eyes.

He seemed familiar—Noor was pretty sure she saw him at the battle near Zeus' Fist last summer. He was the only known son of Hades, greek god of the dead and the Underworld—Nico di Angelo.

"Nico?" Noor whispered in surprise. "Are you Iris-messaging me right now? Why?"

"No time," he cut her questions off. His eyes darted around nervously as if he was afraid of someone seeing or overhearing him. "Listen, do you know the location of Orpheus' entrance to the underworld?"

"No... but I could find it."

"Good." He pursed his lips. "I don't usually like asking for favours, but I'm gonna need some help from you if we're going to win this war."