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BOOK I
In the nervous aftermath of Meg’s display of swordsmanship and subsequent claiming, I took the opportunity to slip quietly back to the Me cabin. I was exhausted. I was embarrassed. I needed the restroom. Mortal woes truly never ceased.
Just as the ring of cabins came into view through the dim torchlight, I felt a small hand grip my wrist. I yelped, still on edge from my first tempestuous day as the pathetic teen Lester, and whipped around, coming face-to-face with an equally pathetic mortal. The young boy only came up to my chest; his arms were skinny, and his face was adorably round, marred only by a permanent scowl to rival Kronos. He did always take after that side of the family.
“Ares,” I greeted tersely, yanking my arm out of his grip. I was not in the mood to participate in one of my brother’s famous macho contests to soothe his bruised ego. “I’m going to bed. I suggest you do the same.”
“Hold it,” he growled. “You’re not seriously going to sleep in your own cabin, are you?”
The threatening tone sounded a bit ridiculous coming from a boy no older than thirteen, but I recognised Zeus’ cruel sense of humour in the irony. He made me, the most beautiful Olympian, ugly. He made Ares—his biggest and oldest son—the frailest and youngest. Hysterical. I imagined he must be having a good laugh.
“I suppose you could chance your luck at the Empire State Building if you’re foolish enough. Though if you’d rather sleep in the woods, brother, don’t let me stop you.”
Ares’ scowl deepened.
“Malakas,” he hissed, “we’re still Olympians, we don’t bunk with children. Quit feeling sorry for yourself. Come on.”
He grabbed my wrist again and began dragging me towards the cabins. I limply followed along, waiting for his plan to reveal itself as we passed Cabin Eleven, then Cabin Nine.
The golden light of Cabin Seven—the Me cabin—illuminated the new form of my older/younger brother. I absently noticed the hem of his orange camp t-shirt was ripped to shreds. It was an old, nervous habit he’d picked up millennia ago, back when he’d been trapped in that infernal jar. It told of an anxiety that lay hidden beneath the surface, one I decided was not worth pointing out.
It was only after we passed Cabin Three that I realised where Ares was heading.
“No,” I said, wrenching my arm from his hand once again. “Absolutely not.”
Ares rolled his eyes.
“Coward. We’re still sons of Zeus. At least, I am. I deserve to sleep in the best cabin.” He gestured at Cabin One, the largest and grandest of the lot. The towering white marble should’ve been a glorious sight, a slice of home down here on Earth. But by flickering torchlight, the viscous carvings of monsters slain and battles won were cast under shadows too dark and deep. The cabin seemed to be giving us a cold warning: ENTER IF YOU DARE.
“Have you lost your sanity?” I whispered urgently, taking my brother by the shoulders and giving his small frame a shake. “Listen well. You have not been human before, but I have. This is different. It is worse than it was when I killed the elder cyclopes, worse than when I joined a rebellion!”
“So what? You just want to lie down and take it?”
“When it’s between that and making it worse, then I have no other choice!”
Ares still looked unconvinced. I wasn’t sure why I was so desperately trying to make him see reason, when reason was something he so thoroughly rejected. I should stop trying to save him and busy myself with something more important—like saving myself, for example.
I crossed my arms and huffed, uncomfortably aware that I must’ve looked more like a petulant boy than an affronted god.
“Fine,” I said, “Do what you want. I’m going back to my children in Seven.”
“Fine!”
“Fine!”
I watched as Ares stormed off towards Cabin One. His tiny frame seemed to get smaller and smaller as he approached the heavy golden doors, the frayed ends of his shirt swaying in the breeze.
Something tugged in my chest at the sight. Could it be… fear? Shame? A sparking sense of protectiveness for my kin? Impossible! Ares was only kin in the loosest of senses. But still, something irked me. Why had he tried to drag me into it? Surely, he could have marched straight to our father’s cabin and left me to my more ‘undignified’ sleeping arrangements.
I stood there on the green, contemplating my next move. Being conflicted was an odd feeling. Usually, I knew exactly what to do right away, and I was always correct—no need to check me on that, I promise. As my mind wandered back and forth, I didn’t notice my son Will Solace sidling up next to me.
“You should go.”
I jumped at the sudden voice, but he was kind enough to ignore my awkwardness and wait patiently as I gathered myself.
“Ares is a fool,” I said, trying to sound confident and dismissive. My voice cracked. “To tempt our father’s wrath again so soon is a death sentence.”
Will winced at my words, as if he was only realising the severity of our predicament. From his attitude thus far, I could tell he hadn’t entirely grasped why I had been so out of sorts—after all, being mortal was the norm for him, and being beneath the boot of all the gods was a constant he was used to. But now, as he glanced over to the tall, intimidating shadow of Cabin One, he seemed to understand that Zeus was so much bigger than even Ares and I. And we were already on his last nerve.
I suppose what finally convinced me to go was the heartbreaking look of pity that Will gave me. I could not bear to be looked upon with such sympathy without being able to reassure him or disagree with his new sentiment of Zeus.
To save myself the embarrassment of bursting into tears in front of my fifteen-year-old son, I took a breath, flashed him a smile and announced with all the confidence I could muster, “But no matter! I shall see you in the morning!”
“Uh— okay, but—”
I turned on my heel and marched the short distance to the cabin entrance, ignoring Will’s protests and the voice in my head that kept screaming BAD IDEA, BAD IDEA!
The solid gold doors closed behind me with a BANG. From somewhere above me, someone snorted a laugh.
“Wow. You’re pathetic.”
The boy form of my eldest brother was halfway up a statue of Zeus that stood in the centre of the room. He sneered down at me from his perch on the marble ripples of statue-Zeus’ himation, one hand gripping the statue’s shoulder for support, the other clutching a large bedsheet he was attempting to pull over Zeus’ head.
For a single, euphoric moment, I thought my spirit was being recalled to Olympus. Then I realised that was ridiculous, and it was probably just my breakfast rising into my throat.
“What are you doing?”
“You cracked in, what, thirty seconds? Your poor girlfriends. Now I know why you’ve never married.”
“Ares.”
“Relax.” Ares tugged the sheet over the statue and jumped down, then turned back to admire his sacrilegious handiwork. The glaring figure of Zeus Olympios now resembled a cheap Halloween ghost. “I’m not sleeping with that thing babysitting me. Creepy. ‘Sides, he won’t care.”
“And you’re willing to stake your life on that?”
Ares scoffed.
“Oh, c’mon. He’s not gonna kill us on the first day, not when there are so many other more gruesome ways we could die later. Nah, tonight’s our free pass to do whatever we want.”
I decided that was my cue to call it a night and keep my plausible deniability before Ares chose to egg Cabin Nine.
Zeus’ cabin was grand; there was no doubt about that. It was crafted from white marble with veins of gold, making it seem like the sun was shining through walls made of clouds. The ceiling held enchanted tiles that shifted and changed colour to resemble a moving, thundering sky. The left and right walls were lined with alcoves, each hosting a golden eagle perched on an ionic-style marble pedestal. Between each alcove was a set of bunk beds, set long-ways with pillows to the wall so that there was only a metre of walking space between the end of one bed and the end of another on the opposite side. It appeared to me like the beds had been a last-minute addition to the space, since one had to squeeze around the Zeus statue in the middle of the room to get to the beds behind him.
I made my way to a bottom bunk next to the door, just in case Ares’ ‘free pass’ theory was incorrect and I needed to run for my life. It had the added bonus of not being at eye level with the full-colour model of my furious father, instead hiding me safely behind rows of bunks. Yes, this would do.
My aching bones collapsed on the cheap mattress, and I barely managed to kick my shoes off before my eyes began to droop.
Exhaustion weighed down on my frail mortal body. My breaths got deeper, my head became heavier, and I was just on that blissful edge of sleep when the whole bunk rattled violently.
Creak, creak, creak, WHUMPF.
Ares threw himself down on the mattress above me, effectively jolting me out of my rest and making me seasick at the same time. Who knew such a skinny kid could weigh so much?
I stuck my head out to confront him and was swiftly faced with a bare, sweaty foot two inches from my nose. I batted it back onto the top mattress before I could pass out from the smell.
“Do you mind?”
Ares thought for a moment, yet that in itself was enough of an oxymoron that I should have guessed his answer.
“Nope.”
“There are twenty bunk beds in here. Pick a different one if you’re going to be a gloutos about it.”
Ares’ answer was to simply shimmy himself further into the mattress, rocking the whole bunk for a solid ten seconds before ending on a long, triumphant fart.
“Ah,” he sighed, “good stuff.”
I gagged and ducked out from under his unfortunate bed that he’d probably just burned a hole in.
“I hate you.”
“Pick a different bunk if you’re going to be a wuss about it, eh? The girl’s side is over there.”
I may have spoken some Ancient Greek curses that should have been far too inappropriate to utter in a sacred place of Zeus. I was relying pretty heavily on our semi-plausible ‘free pass’ theory. Ares only laughed as if he’d just come home after a good old-fashioned bloodbath and was ready to hit the hay.
“Sleep tight, Sunny.”
“Don’t call me Sunny,” I grumbled, but it was more out of principle than anything else. Ares was already snoring.
I made my way past the Zeus statue and found an undisturbed bunk on the far side of the cabin.
“One year,” I muttered to myself. “Just one measly year. Then everything will be back to normal.”
Even then, I did not fully believe it. But I had no idea just how wrong I was.
BOOK III
Ares was a pure-blooded son of Zeus, the only full and legitimate heir to the king. Hephaestus may have been Hera’s son, but no god in their right mind would give the throne to that lumbering oaf, even if he wanted it. Athena, favourite as she was, was not a daughter to both rulers of the Heavens. The ‘Queen Metis’ ship had long since sailed.
Ares was perfect by blood, his heritage flawless, and ever since he could talk, he had let every bastard child of Zeus know exactly what he thought of them. Artemis and Apollo had been the first of those bastards to make it to the Olympian throne room.
Artemis kept to herself. She and her little girl group ran around the woods, hunting monsters far away from Olympus. She had rarely gotten in his way, so he’d never spared much of a thought for her.
Apollo, on the other hand, turned heads wherever he went. At the start, he’d been so annoyingly bright and wide-eyed, running around the Heavens and Earth, spreading music and light and healing… ugh. At the time, Ares could barely believe he was the same little scamp that had killed the snake at Delphi. His apparent innocence had irked him, and one day, he decided to quash it.
He remembered dragging him along to a war zone. He’d made the golden boy watch as soldiers fell beyond his healing reach, taught him how to empower and curse warriors, and reminded him that mortals were only tools for the gods’ will. Before Apollo wiped out a battalion or brought a plague down on a sleeping encampment, he would always look up at him with those pleading eyes, asking for his dear older brother’s approval, like the brat couldn’t think for himself. Ares would nod, and Apollo would trust his judgment.
It had not been a labour of love, as Ares held no love for any reminder of his father’s faithlessness. But it had been necessary. Once his delusion of a perfect, carefree Olympus had been dashed, Apollo was ready to deal with Zeus and the rest of their brethren when his ‘grace period’ ended. If he’d immediately snapped under the pressure, Zeus would have found some way to fob the whole thing off for Ares to deal with.
After another few years, Apollo had come into his own. He sauntered around Olympus like he owned the place, collecting worshippers and godly domains like marbles. He and Ares only spoke when they argued, like when Ares had slept with Apollo’s girl (he had it on good authority that Cyrene had preferred warrior gods over poet gods) or when Apollo had stolen from his wardrobe (yes, his leather jackets and muscle shirts were cool, but that freeloader needed to buy his own clothes). So they were brothers, yes, but only by blood. It had been millennia since he’d last given two craps about anything Apollo got up to.
So, provided that he didn’t care about him—at all—he probably shouldn’t be so angry at his death.
He could barely hear the pounding of blood in his ears over the howl of the venti prison he was trapped in, where he floated helplessly above Caligula’s dais. Next to him, Jason Grace looked like he was meditating. His legs were crossed, his knuckles were white on his knees, and his eyes were squeezed closed. Like Ares, he valiantly ignored the spinning shrapnel in the vortex with him, though neither of them was achieving much by doing so.
On his other side, Meg McCaffrey’s bravado had failed. She hovered limply, her features slack with shock as she stared at the shivering body that lay sprawled on the floor. Medea and Caligula were tending to him, though Ares wasn’t sure whether they were healing him or simply starting their sun god soup ritual early.
The idiot had tried to kill himself. He had held the point of an arrow to his chest, and right before he drove it in, he’d looked Ares right in the eye and asked a silent question. It was the same request for permission as it had been thousands of years before. Ares had given the same nod of approval.
He hated it, but Apollo had been right. There was no way they could leave without some kind of sacrifice. Someone had needed to die to save the rest, and Apollo had been the only one free enough to act. He could already feel the venti’s winds slowing as the spirit pulled itself out of the distracted sorceress’s grip.
Then Jason thrust his arms out, and it all went to Hades.
BOOK V
I was bleeding. It wasn’t a surprise, considering how many times I’d been stabbed, scratched and bludgeoned in the last twenty-four hours. But it still hurt.
Ares had been at my side the whole time, yet he looked no worse for wear. In fact, he looked older. His jawline and cheekbones were sharper; his face was less babyish. His shoulders were wider, his arms more muscular, and he was suddenly my height (or rather, Lester’s height) when he had spent the last six months barely reaching my chest level. And was that a hint of stubble on his cheeks? It seemed impossible that a small boy would have grown so much in a couple of hours, but then again, he might not have been a boy anymore.
He almost looked like himself again, but not quite—he was in limbo, somewhere between being a god and a man. Most damningly, his irises glowed a hellish, fiery red. I wondered if he still had blood or if it had already been replaced with ichor.
I watched him say teary goodbyes to his sons Sherman and Ellis (just kidding. I’m fairly sure they just punched each other, which is a standard Ares-ian greeting) and waited for him to stomp over to me. I was standing by the stairs, preparing myself to descend into Python’s lair and regain my godhood once and for all.
“Right,” Ares grunted as he approached. “Python.”
I noticed his voice had gotten deeper, but didn’t want to point it out and risk him getting a big head. We had been getting along oddly well in the past few weeks, and it seemed a shame to burn all our progress right at the finish line.
“Python,” I agreed. “I had a vision earlier. I’m fairly certain I’ll find the cave of Delphi just down these stairs.”
“You mean we.”
I took a deep breath.
“No.”
“No?” Ares demanded, his heckles raising, “What do you mean no? Are you trying to fleece me, punk? You wanna zip up to Olympus like a hero and leave me stranded?” He accusingly pointed his spear shaft at me, which was all he could do since the point of the weapon had snapped off in some Gaul soldier during the battle. “You think that if only one of us can win, it’ll be you?”
I knew he was only saying such things to hurt me. But a part of me knew he was right. Ares was much more of a fighter than I was, and he'd only gotten thrown down with me to make an example. If only one of us was to resurface on Olympus, it would be him. Sure, he had plotted with Kronos and Luke against our father during the first war, just as I had done with Gaia and Octavius during the second, but he had little stake in the current landscape. Commodus had blamed me. Caligula wanted to supplant me. Nero had attacked the camp with a statue of me. Python was my mortal enemy. All of this was my fault. None of them had held much personal interest in my brother except to view him as another weakened god to barrel over in their overly-ornate chariots.
Ares had helped me get where I was, but this last song was a reprise of a four thousand, six-hundred-and-thirteen-year-old theme—one that Ares had not been present for. He simply needed to prove himself loyal to the Olympians, and it seemed he had accomplished that goal. I doubted our father would let me have such a powerful ally in my fight against Python.
“Brother. You have been a matchless warrior throughout all this, and much braver than I.”
This was a vast overestimation, but Ares huffed in agreement.
“Duh. I know.”
“Well, it looks like our father knows, too.” I gestured to one of the large, elaborate mirrors that lined the hallway. It was cracked and smattered with monster dust, but clear enough that Ares could see exactly what I was talking about. Within the short timespan of our conversation, he had begun to glow, growing brighter and brighter with each passing second. He was being called home. “We dont have much time left.”
For a moment, Ares didn’t react. He stared at his reflection, then wordlessly reached out to the wall and pulled off a chunk of concrete like it was made of play dough. He examined the rock for a moment before quickly closing his fist, causing dust and pebbles to fly violently in every direction. I flinched back to avoid the debris.
“Brother?”
Ares ignored my concern, instead grabbing another block of concrete from the wall and pushing it into my hands.
“Crush it.”
“Sorry—?”
“You heard me.”
I wanted to protest; I was running short on time as it was, but Ares’ glow had reached a level that hurt my eyes. I was afraid he might accidentally blast me if he got too riled up. I pressed both hands against the rock and willed it to break under my power. It stayed stubbornly whole.
“Come on, you’re not even trying!”
“I am.”
“You can’t fight Python if you can’t even crush a rock! If I can do it, you can too!”
Ah.
“I can’t, brother. I’m not a god. I’ll have to fight Python as I am.”
I felt strong hands grip my shoulders, like a brother. It felt painfully close to what Jason had done in his dorm room just hours before the hero’s tragic death.
“Then I’m coming with you.”
To his credit, the steely determination in Ares’ blood-red eyes didn’t even falter as a boom of thunder rattled the building. I shook my head. My prediction had been right. I hated it when that happened.
“There’s no sense getting you in more trouble. I’ll join you up there, okay?”
Ares definitely had more to say, but I’ll never know what it was. At that moment, his glow reached a critical mass and his grip evaporated from my shoulders. When I opened my eyes, he was gone.
I took a deep breath and forced a smile.
Then I marched downwards into certain death.