The Gates of Tartarus | I ✓

19. All Hail Apollo, The British Sun King

Hey, don't judge the title. I literally have no idea what I was supposed to put. I literally have no time to write anymore. It's astounding I even finished the heck of a short chapter. Anyway, enjoy my people!

Edit: Wow this entire conversation was so cringe to write but I couldn't scrap all of it so here you go.

Also I just noticed that there is a REALLY weird transition halfway through this chapter that really borders on making no sense but whatever.

"So, past relationships?"

I blinked at that sudden change in topics.

We had been walking for hours now, and, having yet to run into any other monsters, turned to conversation. In the beginning, we had talked about the basics—favorite foods, favorite memories, family drama—normal things like that. Then it had turned more personal, though that question was a bit startling.

"Uh... not exactly. It was a weird thing. We never got the timing right. You?"

"Several," he muttered. I wondered why he asked when it was a sore subject for him. "You know about Cassandra. Then there was Hyacinthus, Daphne—you can see why I haven't exactly been eager to get into another one as of late."

"Oh," I said lamely, because what was I supposed to say to that?

It was silent for a minute.

"Pholus told me the truth," I said suddenly. "About chaos and divine magic. How it's not draining you like you said—it's tearing you apart."

Apollo's expression didn't change. "It wasn't his secret to tell."

"How much longer do you have?"

"I don't know."

"We'll get out."

"How do you know that?"

I wanted to protest, but there was nothing I could say. He was right—there was nothing I could do to prove it, and Apollo was far too smart for me to give him some half-cooked argument and expect it to work. Sometimes I wished he wasn't.

I also wished he wasn't being so stubborn, or at least decided to cooperate and go along with what I was saying. What did he have to lose from making both of us feel better anyway? Between the two of us, it was obvious who had a better shot at getting out—if even Apollo thought this journey hopeless, then was there even any point in attempting anymore? Why didn't I just lay on the ground and let the earth (or whatever Tartarus was) reclaim me?

"I wish Artemis was here," he muttered suddenly, half to himself. "She was always better at this stuff than me. I might know far more things but only in theory; she was always the one who went off on adventures instead of learning everything by book."

I didn't even know what to say to that, but thankfully, he didn't hold it against me. It was like he hadn't even realized he had spoken out loud.

"So what should we do?" I asked at last when the silence had stretched long before us into the darkness.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I can't sense any light anywhere—"

"What do you mean, light?"

He blinked, and then nodded. "Oh, right. Pholus suggested I try sensing divine light after we left the Garden, but... well, it's only until now that I realize the flaw. Tartarus is suffocatingly chaos, enough to mask any trace of any order magic that might linger beyond its gates, and even if it wasn't, anything I sense might just be the Garden again. I don't think he thought of that himself; I hadn't, at least, until after at least half a score of minutes."