A Brothers Sacrifice

Artemis 

The temple had once been a place of pride for Artemis, A place people would gather to offer her prayers.

Tall columns carved from pristine marble, each etched with ancient symbols and constellations. Vines of silverleaf had once climbed the walls like offerings from the earth itself, and moonlight used to pour through the open roof at the center of the room, blessing those who knelt beneath it.

Now, the marble was cracked. The roof half-collapsed. The altar she had once received prayers from lay in pieces, buried beneath rubble and worn by time.

Artemis sat beside what remained of the once vibrant moon-pool, now murky and half-frozen. Her arm was wrapped in bandages, sticky with dried Ichor. Every heartbeat sent pain through her body, a constant reminder that she was no longer untouchable.

Across the temple floor, Apollo leaned against a pillar, his left side slick with golden blood that refused to clot. His armor was scorched black in a few places, his bow lay across his knees like a sword on a grave. He didn't speak. Just breathed, trying to control his pain.

Hestia knelt nearby, tending a small flame she had coaxed back to life from wet wood. Her hands trembled, not from fear, but from fatigue. She hadn't rested since they fled Olympus, the young goddess had used much of her divine power to shield them from Zeus's gaze.

Hermes paced the perimeter like a caged animal, one winged boot broken, the other stained with ash. A thin cut traced his jawline, scabbed over. He said nothing, but Artemis knew the look in his eyes.

It was the same one they'd all worn during the worst days of the war.

Desperation.

They had chosen her. Defended her. Fled with her. These gods were the ones brave enough to actually fight.

And now they were dying for it.

"You're all fools to come with me. I told you to go back," Artemis murmured.

"You did," Hermes replied without looking. "We're famously bad listeners."

Apollo exhaled a tired laugh. "And besides. I'm your brother. Where else should I go?"

She looked away.

The temple groaned as wind slid through its broken walls. Night had fallen, but the moon—her moon—remained hidden behind a veil of cloud and smoke. Even the sky mourned.

"They'll find us," Hestia said quietly, feeding another stick into the fire.

"I know," Artemis replied.

"We won't win."

"I know."

Hermes stopped pacing. "Then what's the plan?"

The problem is there was no plan, not anymore.

They had hoped the old ways would hide them. That the temple's ruins, once sacred, might shield them from the eyes of Olympus. But gods were not so easily blinded. And the ones hunting them were smarter and fiercer than she was.

The attack came just before sunrise.

The wall shattered, and Ares charged through the opening with Athena not far behind him. Apollo and Hermes rose to meet them. At the same time, Artemis pulled Hestia back to a safer distance.

Ares bellowed and lunged, spear raised in a savage arc. Apollo stepped forward to meet him, radiant and grim. And on the opposite side of the crumbling temple courtyard, Hermes blurred toward Athena, blades drawn.

Artemis took to the high ground—what remained of a collapsed balcony where moonlight had once touched the altar. Her fingers flew between bowstring and quiver, her breath steady despite the chaos below. Each arrow loosed was a silver flash, fast, precise, and devastating. Enough to kill any mortal foe.

However their enemy was divine.

Steel flashed in sparks, their footwork a blur on broken marble. Athena fought like a machine. Every move was measured, focused, and calculated. Hermes chose to counter with reckless speed, darting in and out of reach, blades scoring shallow nicks along her armor. Still, she didn't falter.

Artemis's arrows harried her from above, forcing her to split her focus. Still, Athena adapted quickly, deflecting one arrow with a shield raised in the nick of time, sidestepping another that would have clipped her throat.

Hermes grinned. "Losing your touch?"

Athena narrowed her eyes. "Still faster with your mouth than your feet."

She pivoted hard, catching his inner wrist with the flat of her blade. Hermes grunted, rolled, came up swinging—but her sword met his daggers with brutal force, sending one clattering across the courtyard.

Then she drove her knee into his ribs.

He gasped, crumpling backward, and she pressed the advantage.

At the center of the battlefield, sun and war collided.

Apollo's arrows screamed through the air, each strike burning like a miniature dawn. Ares responded with sweeping strikes that cracked stone and sent molten shrapnel flying. Their battle was less finesse and more brute force, as sunfire met pure rage, in shockwave after shockwave.

Apollo dodged a crushing spear thrust, flipped over the wreckage of a fallen column, and fired two arrows midair. One grazed Ares's arm. The other embedded in his shoulder, searing the flesh.

The god of war didn't flinch. He laughed.

"You burn bright, sun boy," Ares snarled, wrenching the arrow free. "Let's see how long you last."

Apollo grimaced. "Hopefully long enough."

Behind the fray, Hestia was faltering. Her flames had been used to keep the others safe, but now her hands trembled. Her breath came in short bursts, her light dimming.

Artemis turned sharply. "Hestia, fall back!"

"I can still—"

"No," Artemis said, voice cutting like an arrow. "You've done enough. Please."

The young goddess hesitated… then nodded, collapsing to her knees. With one final move, she sent a wave of warmth through the ground, giving Apollo a moment's reprieve. Then she disappeared into the shadows of the temple.

Artemis's eyes snapped forward.

She knocked another arrow.

And then everything began to fall apart.

Hermes tried to recover. One dagger left, breath ragged. He feinted left, but Athena saw through it. Her sword cut low, hooking under his guard. A final twist—

The blade pierced through his side.

His knees hit the stone with a dull crack.

Athena exhaled, steady. "You should have run."

Hermes looked up, grinning through blood. "I've always been too good at that."

Then he dropped.

Apollo roared in grief, channeling every last scrap of solar fire into one final arrow. It blasted toward Ares like a comet.

But it never landed.

Athena threw her shield, deflecting it at the last instant. Moving to intercept from behind.

Apollo turned, realizing too late—

Ares rushed him from the side.

But not with his spear.

With a memory.

A knife Apollo had once gifted him, a symbol of peace between the two, it was never meant to kill.

The blade slid into his back beneath the armor. A twisted mockery.

Apollo staggered.

And Ares whispered, "Cheap. But effective."

He collapsed beside Hermes, the light in him flickering like the last ember of day.

Artemis couldn't breathe.

Her fingers slackened around the next arrow. Her body screamed to move, but her legs refused.

Athena and Ares turned toward her.

Bloodied. Bruised.

But still standing.

Together.

They advanced slowly—gods born of order and chaos, wisdom and war. Their shadows stretched across the stone like jaws.

Artemis loosed her arrow.

It struck Ares in the chest, bouncing off his armor, leaving only a shallow dent. She fired another at Athena's legs; the goddess deflected it in a blur of silver steel.

Then they were upon her.

She pivoted back, heart pounding. The fight was hopeless—but she didn't care. She would not fall curled in fear. She would fall fighting, just like her brother, and just like their mother.

Athena struck first—an upward slash from her longsword. Artemis ducked, rolled across the broken marble, and sprang to her feet just in time to parry Ares's incoming spear thrust with the curve of her bow.

The force knocked her off balance.

She stumbled back, boots scraping against stone. The world blurred.

Ares roared, rushing her again. She sidestepped just in time, landing beside a fallen column, half-buried in rubble. Her foot caught on its edge.

She fell hard.

Pain shot through her hip and ribs, the wind knocked from her lungs.

She tried to scramble up, but Ares was already there.

His spear arced downward like a thunderbolt.

She raised her bow in both hands—instinct, desperation—

CRACK.

The bow shattered in two beneath the force of his strike, the last gift she had from Leto, destroyed in an instant.

Wood and starlight splintered across the courtyard.

Artemis rolled away, gasping, a shard cutting her leg. Athena closed in from the flank, sword raised. The huntress was unarmed, panting, and injured.

The two gods loomed over her like executioners.

"This shouldn't have ended like this," Athena said, almost softly.

Ares sneered. "Another divine kill for me."

He raised his weapon—

Then the wind shifted.

A blur crashed into the space between them, fast as a thunderclap, with a roar like a drunken bear. Steel met spear and sword in a clash that lit the air with sparks.

Ares stumbled back two steps.

Athena blocked just in time, her blade ringing against the stranger's.

A man stood between them.

Breathless, Tall, Cloaked in dust and full of vigor.

Mark.

A man who'd lived through the war that haunted even gods.

But he didn't look like a man now.

He looked like fury incarnate.

"YOU?" Ares spat.

Mark didn't answer. He moved.

He struck Ares with a brutal kick that sent the god reeling. Pivoted, blade flashing, and knocked Athena's next strike wide with pure force. She countered, and the two exchanged three blows—fast and clean. Neither could gain the upper hand.

"You still alive?" Mark muttered, glancing over his shoulder.

Artemis stared at him, stunned.

"Why are you here?" she whispered.

"Still trying to figure that one out myself," he said. "Let's just say someone said you needed my help."

Athena lunged.

He sidestepped, pushing the charging goddess away, turning to Artemis, calm amid the chaos. "Can you move?"

She tried.

Pain lanced up her leg. Her arms trembled. The broken halves of her bow lay far behind them.

"No."

"Then hold on."

He reached down—

—and swept her into his arms.

One arm beneath her knees, the other at her back.

Her breath hitched.

"You can't carry me while fighting these two."

Mark gave a tight grin. "Watch me."

Ares bellowed and gave chase, but Mark was already moving. He ducked past falling stone, kicked off a broken column, and vaulted up into a window. Athena threw her blade, missing him by an inch, and skimming a pillar instead.

From Artemis's arms, the temple faded behind them.

The gods watched from the ruin's edge, wind howling between cracked marble teeth. Neither was willing to give chase.

And in Mark's hold, Artemis let her head fall against his chest, heart pounding, body and soul weary and torn.