Quest of the Half Gods

Chapter 12: Απόλλων

Apollo could barely process what happened next as the New Gods swarmed around him attacking his peers. How did I not see this coming? He thought as he stood frozen in his own thoughts. Murmurs fought to make their way into his head but he fought them down, snapping himself out of his stupor. He looked up and found Prometheus looking down at him from the platform with what looked like the barest trace of impressed. 

He made a split-second decision and pushed through the crowd of spirits to the platform. He stood on the steps before Prometheus and raised his sword. "Don't do this Prometheus." He said, "We can figure this out. You've always acted with reason." Prometheus ignored his comment and chuckled, "I seem to have underestimated you." Apollo narrowed his eyes, "People often do." He paused for a moment before relenting, "I deserved it though." The titan looked him up and down, "Still, I did think that the death of Galatea would have been enough to break you. Such a shame what happened."

Apollo felt the blood leave his face. "How do you know what happened to her?" He asked, his voice trembling. Prometheus smirked, "I may have mentioned something to her that seemed to have forced her hand." He said, carefully emphasizing each word. Apollo threw his sword down and lunged at the titan, clutching his collar in his fist. "What did you say to her?" He yelled in his face. Prometheus laughed and dissolved into a dark mist, appearing further away on the platform. "Careful Apollo," He said, focusing his eyes on Apollo's discarded sword, dissolving it into nothing, "You forget how very mortal you are." Apollo clenched his fists and started forward before hearing a yelp from the crowd. "Oops," Prometheus called, "It sounds like you're needed." Apollo looked back at the titan and hissed, "I'll come back for you, and next time, I'll kill you." Prometheus raised an eyebrow, "I don't see how." 

Apollo slung his bow off of his back and drew an arrow, forcing his way through the crowd of lares. The spirits fought relentlessly, uninjured by the efforts of the demigods. Apollo gazed through the crowd trying to find any signs of his children to ensure their safety. His eyes widened as a spirit caught him from behind and wrapped its hands around his throat. Apollo struggled against his attacker's hands but couldn't break free. He felt the energy leaving his body as darkness crept along the sides of his vision. Suddenly, he dropped to the ground, the spirit behind him vanquished in a faint purple mist. 

Apollo coughed and stood to find Nico standing where his attacker had been, his stygian iron sword clutched in his hand. Apollo fumbled to ready his bow as he looked at Nico in shock. "How did you do that?" He asked. Nico shrugged, "Children of Hades have a different effect on the dead than others. Apollo wanted so badly to be able to celebrate this small victory, but there were only three children on Hades and one of them was dead. They wouldn't be able to fight them all. If they wanted to win, they'd have to kill their leader Prometheus, but they had no way of stripping his immortality. 

"Come on," Nico said, pulling Apollo through the crowd, "We need to find Will and the others." As Apollo started forward, he tripped and looked down to see the dead eyes of a demigod from the Roman Legion staring up at him. He gasped and staggered backward, horrified by the sight. He turned to Nico his eyes wide, "Are my children still alive?" He asked, dreading the answer. Nico shook his head, "I can't tell. There's so much death around us that I can't tell who's who." Apollo fought down the bile that rose in his throat as they continued on. 

Apollo couldn't distract himself from the fact any longer. As they searched for his children, Apollo and Nico saw ten more dead bodies in the fight, scattered across the ground. They were going to lose, no, they were losing. They wouldn't be able to defeat the New Gods. They'd all die having failed to save the one thing heroes always fought to protect. Prometheus would win and the world would be remade just as The Prophecy of the Half Gods had proclaimed many months ago. They'd failed to save the Olympians. They'd never found the "root." It had all been for nothing. 

Apollo stopped fighting. He could hear Nico calling his name, but it sounded like he was underwater. It was pointless to keep going. All that was left to do was give up, at least, that's what the voices wanted him to do. Maybe it was easier to let them have their way.