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Artemis spent the next seven years trying to find the girl she’d met at the Spring solstice. Under the close supervision of her father, the opportunity to find Zoë was difficult. Each night when she drug the moon across an ink black sky, the goddess watched and waited for a familiar face to greet her.
Zoë never showed.
The secret immortal was hidden from sight no matter how much Artemis yearned to find her. She tried all sorts of tracking methods, but it was as if Zoë had vanished into thin air. There was no hint of her presence in the village she’d once occupied. She didn’t exist in any of the neighboring towns either. To say it was a heartbreak would be an understatement.
At night, alone on Olympus, Artemis wondered what Zoë was up to. She wondered if the girl was safe. She wondered what her new life was like. Most of all, she wondered if she’d been forgotten after all? Was it really that easy to pretend she didn’t exist? The thought alone made her chest ache. She couldn’t bear the idea of existing only on Olympus, but according to her father it wasn’t time for the world to know her yet. He’d been saying that for three years now, and Artemis was tired of the secrecy.
“I know what you yearn for,” he remarked, watching his restless child angrily obliterate a target. Arrows had punctured the target so deep bits of arrow embedded themselves in the trunk of the tree behind it. “It’s common to grow attached to the first mortal you meet. You’ll grow out of it in time.”
“She’s different,” Artemis argued, pausing as she recalled the promise she’d made to Zoë when they departed. “She’s not one of them.”
“Well, she can’t be one of us. I’d have noticed if she were,” Zeus chuckled, tilting his head to the side. “What did you say her name was again?”
“I don’t know her name,” Artemis insisted, shoulders tense as she took aim yet again.
“Then she must not have been that important,” he decided, tucking his hands behind his back. “Once you let her go, the world will be ready for you.”
“I’m ready for the world now,” the young immortal protested. Lowering her bow, she turned to regard her father. He was tall, muscular, with broad shoulders and an ever changing beard of clouds. He was boastful like the men of the village. He wore his pride like a badge of honor. It disgusted Artemis. He disgusted Artemis.
“Your attachments will betray you. They always do. Trust me, I know. It’s best not to get mixed up in anyone down there behind a temporary infatuation. As for venturing off this mountain, my words are final. Until you let her go, you will remain here under my supervision. You can’t afford to give mortals the wrong impression. Favoritism will never suit you in the long run,” Zeus, frowned. His thick eyebrows drew together creating a continuous line of white upon his forehead.
“If mother were here she’d let me leave,” Artemis muttered, silver eyes alight with heat.
“Perhaps, but unfortunately for you, your mother isn’t here,” Zeus mused, tucking his hands behind his back once more. With a firm nod, he left Artemis alone with her anger. What he had yet to learn, was that Artemis’ anger seldom matched anyone else’s. It was a passive and ruthless type of anger that drove her into changing the course of history at any given moment.
That night she introduced herself to the world below. She came down in a pillar of silver light, causing local fires to burn a soft white hue. As her feet touched the worn paths of the village, the moon began to radiate an indomitable heat as stars ruptured in columns of light. Those who witnessed the descent looked on with wide eyes and awe stricken faces.
With a soft silver glow painting the surface of the village, Artemis made her way from house to house. Here, she cleared the ailments of hunting hounds, helped mothers deliver their children, and saw to it that the traps left nearby contained a plentiful bounty of meat.
A previously forgotten village felt as if their prayers had finally been answered. The villagers having prayed nightly for a god to reach down and show them compassion only to be ignored were thrown into a new age of immortal kindness. Even cattle bearing children were assisted by the young goddess.
Many asked who she was. Her answer was always the same.
“I am Artemis, Goddess of the moon, the hunt, childbirth, and patron of women. I am your servant. Your protector. Reach for me, and I will reach for you in turn.”
The goddess seemed earnest in her responses. As far as the villagers knew, gods were not honest. They were takers who demanded all they could. In turn they very seldom gave the villagers anything but a thought. They filled their people with false promises and expectations that deflated over time without fail. For once, the village felt certain that they were met by a godly being who meant what they said.
Sure, she was young, but it was the young immortal’s youth that disarmed them into trusting her. Children didn’t lie the way adults did. If she were to break a promise, surely she didn’t mean to do it. God or not, children were fallible.
This introduction didn’t go unnoticed by Zeus, and not unpunished. The king’s anger was so intense, so perverse, the storms that followed suit nearly drowned the village. Ravaging rains ripped apart thatched roofs and swept away cattle without discretion. It was a sordid experience for everyone involved.
Artemis protested to the treatment of innocent people. People who were now punished because of her defiance. A trade that hardly seemed fair as far as the goddess was concerned. Zeus didn’t care. The moral of the story being that actions had consequences. What Artemis struggled to understand was why the consequence included mortals. It occurred to her some time later, that consequences only pertained to the things you cared about. Since Artemis cared for the village, it was threatened with destruction. This alone would distress her, and in turn, punish her immortal heart. This was the result of her father’s will.
The experience was enough to jade her, but there was no time to waste. Apollo would have to make his appearance now too. His was far more extravagant than Artemis’. The sun blazed across the sky like a fiery comet, waters steamed in its wake, and the town was encapsulated in a golden hue so bright it made the thatched roofs catch fire. Apollo emerged from a simmering pool of heat, the nearby well bubbling over as he introduced himself to the mortal world.
With sweat beading thier brows, the mortals bowed and quivered in fear as the sound of roaring sun flares filled the expanse of space. It was an intimidating and boastful appearance. One that Artemis found too intrusive for the likes of the villagers. Sure, she had made a spectacle herself, but she walked amongst the mortal world with quiet steps and a low voice. She barely spoke above a hum and when she did it was only to be firm.
Apollo declared a feast in his honor. One that was prepared without much planning as the villagers scrambled to bestow upon him what little they had. With crops wilting in the oppressive heat, and Apollo’s radiant glow reflecting off of bronze coins and sizzling vases of water, the feast didn’t last. That night, Artemis gave the villagers a much needed reprieve. Under the cool aura of her moon, the crops straightened, the water cooled, and the roofs no longer blazed.
She found herself picking up the remnants of her brother’s mess side by side with the women of the village. Broken ceramics were given to the goddess and with a wave of the hand they were turned into mature bouquets of moonlace. A garden was planted in her honor with that very flower.
For many moons, Artemis journeyed to the mortal world, never leaving the confines of the village. She felt comfortable there and it was close enough to Olympus that Zeus could watch her from above.
It wasn’t until Hepheastus’ big dreams and impossible plans came to life, that Artemis was forced to leave the village behind. A giant metallic boar, encapsulated in bronze and imperial gold was making its way across the country side at rapid pace. It tore through settlements without discretion leaving damage in its wake. So large was the beast that when its mighty tusks struck a boulder, water sprang forth from the divide creating a river. The water swept away a plethora of crops and turned farmland into an unwelcome marsh.
Unable to clean up his own mistakes. Hepheastus had sought out aid elsewhere. Zeus decided that Artemis ought to clean up after the men of Olympus. After all, she was the huntress. She’d know how to track down a giant machine. Artemis wasn’t sure why Zeus thought inorganic life was compatible with the will and patterns of nature, but he did. In fact, Hephaestus’ creature made such little sense, Artemis struggled to keep track of its whereabouts.
At long last she managed to understand its movements, but by now valuable territory had been ruined, lives lost, and time wasted. The creature was destined for a town at the edge of Greece. A town whose borders met the ocean.
It was small and relatively lifeless. If Artemis failed at stopping the large metallic boar, the town would be wiped off the coast of Greece. Hepheastus’ ocean seeking monster didn’t seem to care what got in its way, only that it reached the ocean. Artemis had no idea why something made of strange circuitry would want to contact itself with water, but that may have simply been a malfunction in its wiring. A malfunction that threatened Artemis’ reputation.
Smoke and steam barreled from the creature’s nostrils as its hooves hammered against the ground. As the beast hurtled downhill at speeds far too fast for a monster that size, Artemis sprinted behind it. She was gaining ground, but not fast enough. She would need to cut the boar off and end its rampage soon or her entire pursuit would be fruitless. Gritting her teeth, she planted her feet firmly in the ground, ignoring the sting of uneven cobblestone and unsavory weeds. Heart hammering and lungs straining, the goddess managed to overtake the boar.
All around her people began to shrieked and cry out, diving for cover and cowering in fear. By now, Artemis and the boar had entered the town’s borders. Already, the beast had torn through a fishing market, sending odd scaly marine life into the air. Whining, huffing, and puffing, the boar continued unphased.
“Come on,” Artemis wheezed, lowering her head as she continued to maintain her lead on the boar. She needed more space. Just enough to turn on the monster. Letting out a sharp breath, the goddess hurdled a set of brine filled barrels, the boar slaughtering them shortly after, and turned. She didn’t have the room she wanted, but it was now or never.
Bracing herself, Artemis grasped the boar by its tusks. Her sweat covered hands slipped as the monster pushed on, a tusk plunging itself between her ribs. Instead of falling away, the goddess bit back her pain and grasped the boar’s other tusk. With a mighty twist, she managed to slam the metal creature into the ground. As she did so, the tusk removed itself from her side, golden ichor coating it.
Skidding to a halt, Artemis felt her back press hard against the wall of a fishing shack. Panting, the young immortal crawled to her feet. She was determined to end the creature’s existence, but the wound it’d inflicted had greatly weakened her. Bronze was deadly to gods, after all.
Swallowing tightly, Artemis collected herself unaware of the boar’s thrashing. It struggled to return to its feet, but with a sharp twist, the beast was upright once more. Steam rolled from its nostrils in small clouds, and for once it no longer cared about the ocean. It’d gotten a taste of ichor, and it wanted more.
“Duck!” Came an urgent voice. Bewildered and disoriented, the goddess turned towards the noise, vaguely aware of a spear hurtling in her direction. The blade scraped across her face, tearing open her right cheek before plunging itself into the heart of the boar. With a violent shudder, a rapid release of steam, and the groaning of gears, it fell sideways in one giant heap.
Blinking slowly, Artemis stared at the fallen monster before mapping the spear’s trajectory. She was met by a slightly taller, tanner, and older, Zoë.
“I told you to duck,” Zoë remarked, noticing the slight wobble to Artemis’ stance. Before the goddess could fall to her knees, the titaness grabbed her by the waist.
“I had it,” Artemis assured, deliriously patting Zoë’s arm.
“Sure you did,” Zoë sighed, shaking her head. “Come on, we need to get you out of here before anyone starts asking questions.”
“Hang on,” Artemis grunted, turning towards the metal corpse. With a wave of the hand followed shortly by a pained wince, the boar turned into sea foam. The locals would be none the wiser.
Together, the two made their way across the fishing town’s shoreline to a tiny run down shack. It was made of rotting wood on the outside, with splinters existing like a protective layer of quills. It leaned slightly to the left, and one section of the roof was completely missing. On the inside, the shack’s floor was rather new. The ground had been hollowed out and replaced with fresh wood. Surprisingly, the walls were patched up on the inside as well, and a rather comfortable looking bed lay tucked in the corner. It was made of furs and carefully woven plant stocks.
“I’m going to take a nap,” Artemis slurred, not waiting for an answer as she collapsed on the hodge podge mattress. The young goddess fell asleep within seconds.
The last thing she heard was an exasperated, “and now you’re bleeding all over my bed. Wonderful.”
As Artemis recovered from the extent of her injuries she was certain she felt someone smoothing down her hair or carefully wrapping up the wound on her side. At odd intervals she was certain someone was tracing the healing wound on her cheek. The touch was never harsh but uncertain and timid. These interactions only registered on a subconscious level, and when the young immortal finally came to, she was alone.
It was dark outside save the stars twinkling through the hole in the roof. Golden ichor stained the fur covered bed and a series of old bandages were left in the corner. Confusion clouded the goddess’ judgment as she struggled to her feet. Sleeping for so long had left her stiff and sore. Blinking rapidly, she touched her cheek to find the ridge of a scar. With a shaky breath, Artemis made her way outside expecting to find Zoë waiting in silence. What she found was an empty shoreline and undisturbed sand.
Frowning, Artemis made her way back inside looking for any indication that Zoë had plans of returning. She discovered nothing of the sort. Pain radiated in her chest that made her lungs ache. Had something happened? Was Zoë in trouble?
Making her way back outside, the goddess ventured through the village asking anyone she could if they’d seen Zoë. None of the townspeople had heard of anyone by that name. No matter how many questions Artemis asked, it was like Zoë didn’t exist.
It was then she realized what had happened. She’d been abandoned. The thought alone nearly brought tears to her eyes. Not because she was in any real amount of pain, but because she thought she’d had a friend.
With strained breathes, the goddess returned to the shack along the shore and retreated inside. She remained there for some time hoping that all of this was some big mistake. Surely Zoë had gone somewhere and was just running late. But when morning came and the girl hadn’t returned, Artemis was greeted by the warm presence of her brother.
He entered the small shack with a look of distaste. A soft golden glow fell around his shoulders, heating the small room and staving off the cold.
“We thought you’d died,” Apollo teased. “The townspeople told me you were here. You know you could have called for help if you were hurt.”
“I had help,” Artemis assured, letting Apollo pull her to her feet.
“Hmm,” Apollo mused, resting a hand on his sister’s side. A soothing heat pooled in his palm and any remnants of Artemis’ wound vanished. He tilted his head to the side, examining the rest of her before noticing the aggravated scar on Artemis’ cheek. He reached to touch the wound when Artemis caught him by the wrist.
“Don’t,” she insisted. “Tell Heoheastus that the next time he has a problem, he gets to fix it himself.”
“It’s awfully rude to expect that of a cripple,” Apollo chuckled, noticing the sternness in his sister’s face. “Sorry. You’re right. Uhm, anywho, how about we get you home?”
“Olympus isn’t home,” Artemis frowned, grudgingly following her brother to a gleaming chariot parked in the sand.
“The mortal world isn’t home either,” Apollo countered. “You’ll have to pick one over the other, Arty. You can’t have both and you can’t have neither. You need somewhere to belong. All Gods do.”
Artemis wanted to argue with her brother, but he was right. Bouncing back and forth between the mortal world and Olympus would only get her so far. The unfortunate truth in his words being that she didn’t fit in. That she never would. That she would have to suffer in the company of gods or mortals at some point. She’d never truly be happy but at least she had a choice.
“Apollo?” Artemis asked, moving to stand beside her brother in the back of his chariot. “Do you really think there’s something for me on Olympus?”
“I don’t see why not. You just have to meet the right people,” he encouraged, flashing a bright smile. “Lord knows I’ve never understood why you like being down here so much.”
“I had my reasons,” Artemis shrugged. “I suppose I don’t anymore.”
“That’s the spirit!” Apollo laughed, the chariot taking off down the beach leaving streaks of melted sand in its wake. “Daddy did say that Mortals tend to get boring after a while. What happened? Did they get tired of you instead?”
“Something like that,” Artemis nodded, aware of the deflated feeling in her chest. Despite the betrayal she felt, despite the abandonment, she found herself searching for Zoë as they flew across the shoreline and launched into the sky.
“The way I see it, if they abandon us, we abandon them. Keeps things fair,” Apollo explained. “Now all you have to do is give them the cold shoulder. You’re pretty good at that anyways.”
“Says who?” Artemis asked, momentarily distracted by her brother.
“Says everyone back home!” Apollo giggled. “It’s okay, I think it’s funny.”
“Right,” Artemis nodded. Perhaps her cold shoulder had worked a little too well. If Zoë was keen on avoiding her, maybe she should seek companionship on Olympus instead. It was the only other option. It wasn’t something Artemis wanted to do, but it appeared to be a necessity now more than anything.
As they became a streak of blazing light across the sky, Artemis decided that if she were to win anyone’s favor, it would be Hestia’s.