Chapter Two

"Did you hear me? Anexius?" Atlia's pitiful whispers of fear cut through my momentary shock, yet all I could muster was a silent cold stare that I hoped would convey my feelings well enough.

Atlia didn't have a hand in Dexius's destruction, but that's just it; she did nothing. She fled and left him there to suffer. She did nothing, and when I had called for blood, she had hidden behind our siblings while Atlan attempted to calm me, telling me that what was done was done, that nothing could change what had happened, that Zelus had already taken Dexius's soul to Xandria where he was resting in peace, but I refused to believe it after what my siblings had told me they'd done to my Dexius.

That buried rage began to surface. The empty hole in my chest was filled with white hot anger, searing through my veins like molten lava, ears ringing with the screams of the Source from the day it had taken down the pantheon at my request, my sacrifice.

"Help you," I said, and I watched the muscles in Atlia's slender pretty body visibly tense as she sensed the underlying threat in my voice, "Help you as you helped my Dexius when our siblings held him down and beat him and violated him until he couldn't move, then threw him in the ocean as if he were trash?" Atlia's eyes widened and she took a nervous step back as I straightened to my full height that was well over hers.

"Anexius," She stammered, and there was something about the way she was speaking, the way her eyes darted around that told me she was feeling rushed for time, "Anexius, please, I had nothing to do with what happened to the Atlantean prince. I didn't know he was your lover- I wasn't even there when our siblings attacked him! I was helping my champion in battle! You can ask Lea, she was there as my backup!" I curled my lip. It was the same lame excuses my other siblings, the ones who pretended to be innocent anyway, had given to me. How they didn't know, they weren't there, they saw nothing, but there was a gleam in their eyes that betrayed their lies.

And while I didn't necessarily see that gleam in Atlia's eyes, I saw the red cloak of rage descend upon me and I drew so close to Atlia that she had to crane her neck up to stare at me, the blood draining from her face, hand trembling over the bloody wound in her side.

"Rot in the darkest depths of the Source, you self-righteous bitch." I sneered and she managed a squeak of fear as I stepped away from her and snatched my book up from the bench, moving to head inside.

"Anexius, no, please! Wait!" She ran and caught my elbow. Rage surged through me and I whirled around on her with a hiss, making her snatch back fearfully. The scent of her fear suffocated me and angered me further. It was real and harsh, frantic and borderline hysteric. It clawed at my inner goodness, a goodness that I had long thought dead, but I didn't dare let it rear its head now. I latched onto the anger and bared my fangs at her.

"Get out of here. If Atlan doesn't kill you, Apollo will for intruding on his grounds. Or, let's get creative, and say that Zeus happens to be making his rounds. I might actually warm up to the god if he were to wring your tiny neck and break your spine." I threatened. Atlia whimpered helplessly, clutching at her wound and stumbling as if my words honestly wounded her and a pang of guilt shocked me, so I quickly retreated into the temple, slamming the back door shut. I squeezed my eyes shut, and for a moment, a pulse of power made me wonder if Atlia had tried to follow me inside, but when I turned, Atlia was nowhere to be seen.

I frowned, moving back toward the door, opening it to step outside onto the stone steps that led onto the gravel path. I scanned the flowery gardens and the forest that lay beyond, but there was no sign of Atlia anywhere. I scowled, reaching out my powers to feel for her, but there was nothing.

She teleported, I told myself as I turned back inside. To be safe, I was going to avoid the garden until Apollo returned.

But the further I moved away from the garden, the further my gut twisted into an unbearable knot and my mood darkened. I ground my teeth together as I made my way toward the receiving room, hoping to at least sit on Apollo's throne until he arrived. He wasn't very fond of my presence there without him, but what he didn't know didn't harm him. I kept that in mind as I drifted into the receiving room, which was the only room in the temple heavily designed based on classic Doric themes with tall ribbed columns with statues of Apollo and his past lovers and small pools decorated the area. His throne was actually just a large red and gold chaise set on a dais with gold stands on either side to occupy his obsession with pizza and soda pops.

Speaking of, the room reeked of pizza and sweat. It smelled as if I'd just stumbled into the basement of a thirty-year-old man still living with his mother. At least, that's how I imagined it to be, according to Dorean's descriptions.

I found myself momentarily missing the poor imp. His bright bubbly personality was a rare relief from the normally dark dreary existence here. Even more surprisingly, even Apollo enjoyed the imp's company. The imp had the power to befriend just about everyone, an ability that I found endearing and sweet. Dorean was one of the few people who stirred my protective instincts, but I didn't complain. I would probably die for the imp if it came down to it, especially if I knew the imp's death would hurt Xenon, which it would.

I smiled faintly as I sat on the end of the chaise, stroking the cover of the book as I thought of Dorean and Xenon. It was a relationship I envied, and for a time, I felt an intense biting jealousy that encouraged me to lash out and hurt Xenon, but I had learned to cope.

Xenon deserved to be happy. He deserved to have someone like Dorean, someone sweet and nurturing to cater to my brother. Xenon could be such a baby sometimes, and I found it impossible to believe he was created before I was. He certainly didn't act like it. He'd always been a daydreamer, sweet and innocent and always tried to see the good in people. He was also rather clumsy and dorky, but it was adorable. I loved my brother more than anything in the world. It was why his name came into my mind during the deal with the Source, why I had to save him.

If anyone deserved to live, it was Xenon.

I sighed and slumped back down on the chaise, tilting my head to stare up at the heavily designed gold and marble ceiling depicting some of Apollo's greatest legends. The mortals saw Apollo as a strength, as powerful, and he was, but he was also fragile and delicate. Some days, I wondered if Apollo was simply going to shatter to pieces and never pick himself up again. I smiled faintly, closing my eyes.

"Your lover is a very pathetic creature, Hyacinth." I said, wondering if the ghost of the dead prince could hear me. I received no response, not that it surprised me. Sometimes, I swore I felt the air around me stir, felt someone brush past me, felt a warmth surrounding Apollo like a pair of lover's arms, but then it quickly faded.

The prince's spirit had never been allowed to move on. When Hyacinth had died, Thanatos had yet to come and take the prince's soul away to Hades. Apollo, frantic that he'd lose what he had left of the prince, had wept and used a huge portion of his powers to turn the prince into a flower, the flower known as the hyacinth. He'd locked the prince's soul into the garden and while we never saw the prince, something told me he was still lingering to keep an eye on his miserable lover.

Unfortunately, Apollo had made quite the mistake when Zeus discovered what he'd done. The hypocritical king god punished Apollo severely for his hiding the prince from Thanatos and Hades. According to Zeus, no human deserved to live on Olympus, and certainly not their soul. Apollo knew that and did it anyway, invoking the king's wrath. It was the cause of the scar that marred Apollo's beauty. And while the god chose to hide the scar from visitors, he dropped the spell whenever it was just us or himself.

Another Greek tragedy.

The air suddenly stirred around me, and I tensed for a moment, expecting it to be Atlia, or maybe even Hyacinth, but the stirring grew more fierce, more powerful. I frowned as I set the book aside and stood up quickly to avoid being spotted on a god's throne. I moved behind it just in time for the air to ripple across from the dais, and a column of pale blue smoke twirled into a cyclone before fading to reveal Apollo's twin sister, Artemis.

Artemis, unlike Apollo, was a bit more serious and emotionless, so her expression was mostly blank aside from the slight knitting of her dark brows to indicate her annoyance. Her thick auburn hair was pulled back into a braid that fell over her shoulder, and she wore a sedate knitted sweater and jeans.

"Is Apollo still out?" She demanded. No "hello", no "how are you", just "is Apollo still out". Of course, I was accustomed to being treated more like a doormat than a person, so I gave her a dull stare.

"Yes, my lady. He won't be back for another hour." I responded. Artemis's mouth twitched in obvious disgust. She wasn't a big fan of her brother. She seemed to recognize the weaknesses in him and it infuriated her to be related to someone who wasn't as "powerful" as she. However, she had yet to see Apollo when he flew into his rages, so maybe one day, she would wipe that smug look off her face.

"Then you come with me," She said, and to my sharpened glare she returned one of her own, "Don't look at me like that, slave. I wouldn't be doing this if it wasn't dire."

"And what could be so dire as to remove me from my master's home?"

"A body was found outside Zeus's temple. A body that I'm more than positive you will recognize." Artemis spoke in a low, menacing tone. I frowned, puzzled by that. However, Artemis didn't give me time to respond as she came forward, snatched my wrist and teleported us from Apollo's temple to the large open space that sat just before the steps of Zeus's temple. Either side was occupied by expensive flashy pavilions made for curious nymphs or faeries who visited the temple, surrounded by beautiful green ivy and purple flowers... Except one was now painted red with blood and the horrid stench of it stung my nostrils as we approached the crowd that had gathered there.

"You brought him here?" A gruff voice demanded. Artemis's stoic face cracked long enough for her features to pinch in disgust before it returned and we turned to see Ares approaching us. The Greek god of war and blood thirst, a powerful god that could probably take the throne if it so pleased him, but his guru ways tended to keep him docile and peaceful enough to not want trouble. Ares was tall and incredibly beautiful, the epitome of masculinity. His dark wavy hair was pulled back with a leather cord that fell down his broad, muscular back that was covered by his black biker jacket that creaked when he moved, matching the rest of his leather biker attire. An intimidating sight and it didn't help that he'd inherited Zeus's cold blue eyes, currently hidden behind a pair of black Ray Bans aviators.

"We need to identify the body." She said, putting her hands on her hips, not hardly afraid of Ares, despite the fact that he stood at least a whole foot taller than her. Ares looked like he'd just been approached by a small dog, merely cocking his head.

"We know who the body belongs to."

"No, we don't."

"Yeah, we do."

"I don't think I asked for your opinion, Ares," Artemis sneered, "Don't you have a dog farm to enjoy your creepy hobbies?" Ares hardly looked amused by that.

"Dog shelter, not that it's any of your business. Just know Apollo's going to cut you a new one when he finds out you took his prized slave." He pointed out. He didn't spare Artemis another glance, giving me a salute before he drifted off to join his brother, Dionysus, who stood near the pavilion looking grim-faced, not a normal expression for the god of wine and excess.

"Come on." Artemis ground out. I said nothing as I followed her, watching her part the ground with nothing more than her presence until we stood near the steps of the pavilion and my stomach dropped like a lead block. I felt the blood drain from my face, a cold chill prickling my skin with goose bumps at the sight inside the pavilion.

Blood was splattered across the white marble floor and the wooden posts and roof, chunks of meat scattered here and there, and stuck on a pike in the center of the pavilion was Atlia's head. Bile rose in my mouth before I could stop it and I pressed my hand over my mouth, but it was too late and Artemis squeaked, leaping out of the way as I vomited and almost hit the floor, but a pair of strong arms caught me before I could fall.

"You bitch!" For a second, I thought Apollo was talking to me, until I looked up past my hair to see Apollo glaring hot daggers at Artemis, who stuck her nose in the air.

"Well, at least now we know that he knows whoever it is." She responded defensively. Apollo was furious. I could feel the hot blood coursing through his veins, his irregular breathing and the way his eyes went from dark blue to red. For a second, I thought he was just going to drop me, or even hit me in front of everyone, but much to my dismay, Apollo grabbed me up in his arms and pulled me against his chest, his arms around me protectively to keep my face against his chest.

"Figure it out for yourselves! I told you to stay the fuck out of my temple, Arti!"

"Oh, please. Everyone knows your temple is as open as a whore house on a Saturday night."

"Fuck you!"

"I beg your pardon," Artemis said angrily, then gestured her hand at the grisly scene and I flinched away from it, "I was just trying to prove-"

"How much of a bitch you are," Ares inserted, approaching them with a cocky swagger and Dionysus followed right at his heels, giving me a friendly smile before he glanced at Artemis with a look of exasperation, "We already told you we knew who it was. You were doing this to be cruel." Artemis looked positively miffed. The other creatures that had come to investigate were now shrinking back to avoid the godly rage that was permeating the air thicker than the stench of blood.

My stomach churned and I screwed my eyes shut to avoid looking at the scene in the pavilion.

I shouldn't be feeling anything. Atlia was just as twisted and vile as the rest of our siblings. She left Dexius to die and she hid from our father when I confronted him about it. She had also taken a hand in Atlan's plan to destroy the Greeks and to hurt our brother, Xenon, and his friends. She was evil... And yet, I couldn't stop seeing her face the way it was so long ago, when we were so young. I couldn't blot out the images of her laughing as she swung around the trees outside our father's temple, still a mere child and trying to urge the rest of us to play hide and seek with her until the sky grew dark and our father would be forced to come out and gather us himself.

Back when things weren't evil, weren't cold, weren't deadly.

Atlia was my sister.

And she came to me for help not more than an hour ago...

The thought barely crossed my mind as a cold chill crept through me and I slid my eyes back open, ignoring the gods shouting around me as I managed to wedge myself out of Apollo's grip. He was so occupied with almost killing Artemis with only Ares and Dionysus there to stop him that he hadn't realized I'd broken away from him. I moved toward the pavilion, despite the nausea and agony creeping through me at the sight. I avoided her head's blank dead stare soaked in blood, scanning the ground, stooping to run my fingers through the blood.

Still warm.

Fucking gods, this couldn't have happened more than half an hour ago.

He's here! He's coming for me!

Atlan. He'd caught up to Atlia and did this. He'd done this to his own daughter, and a surge of white hot rage flooded my veins. I may not have agreed with Atlia, may have loathed what she'd done to me, to Dexius, to our people, to Xenon and the Greeks, but nothing warranted a father killing his own daughter, and even worse... He'd put her head on display.

That wasn't just a gruesome display of a creature having been hunted down and murdered. It wasn't just a trophy kill. In Atlantean culture, they believed the soul resided in the brain... in the head. Atlan had not only killed her, but harvested her soul. And the head on the pike was more than just a sick display of power...

He's warning you. I gritted my teeth together so hard that they damn near shattered. I took a step back from the sight, looking away and approaching the posts, leaning on one to catch my balance as I glared at the blood soaked floor, the blood that was still wet on my bare feet, soaking the ends of my pants, staining them pink.

He was playing with Atlia. He wasn't gunning for her, not really. He was using her death to try and coax me out of Olympus. Atlan wouldn't dare kill on Olympus. He'd sent someone else to do his dirty work, or at least, sent someone to drop off the corpse.

Xanius. It had to be his she-devil wife. No one else was more desperate to please him than her. A thirsty whore who wanted nothing more than to help him rule over the rest of the universe. Pity, because the bitch was going to get her just rewards eventually. What made her think Atlan would even contemplate the idea of letting her rule at his side? Maybe use her, like he used everyone else, but that was the extent of her use.

Xanius was a trickster god. Her ability to sneak around like a snake in tall grass was well known amongst the other trickster gods, a legend really. She could've easily snuck into Olympus and murdered Atlia, taking her soul back to Atlan, wherever he was hiding, waiting.

He was trying to lure me out.

Nice try, asshole.

Maybe I still did hold a bit of love for Atlia, but not enough to make me leave Olympus. Not that I could, not really. I could if Apollo gave me permission, and if he thought my life was in danger, he may just very well send me out of Olympus.

Shit.

"What the fuck is going on here?" A voice boomed. The air crackled hot with electrical power and the weather overhead even shuddered in response to the immense power being released. The clouds overhead darkened and rolled across the sun, making Apollo flinch and take a step back in retreat. Artemis stiffened and took her own step back. Ares gnashed his teeth together, his arms tightening as they folded over his chest and Dionysus just smiled awkwardly as they moved aside to let Zeus approach them.

The king god was no different from any other king god I'd met. Arrogant, cocky, dominant in every sense of the word, and terrifyingly powerful. Beautiful in the way evil was supposed to be, his thick blonde hair was slicked back from his face, and he wore a casual navy suit with a button up blue shirt that was unbuttoned near the top. He carried himself with royalty, and his power was enough to have all the gods within hearing range flinching.

"Who the hell is that?" Zeus demanded, glaring at the pavilion.

"An Atlantean whore," Artemis replied dryly, "I was trying to figure out who it was by asking Apollo's slave, but he's not looking very talkative."

"Because that's his sister, you selfish cunt," Apollo snarled, and I tensed, surprised Apollo knew that, and Artemis appeared baffled at being insulted, her expression screwing up in anger, "You already knew who it was!"

"Oh, please! I-"

"Shut up, both of you," Zeus snapped at them, and instantly they fell silent as Zeus rolled his eyes and approached the pavilion to study the mess, a frown darkening his expression before he turned to pin me with a cold stare, "Who is this?" An inner rebellious part of me wanted to spit in his face, but the curse the Source had given me prevented that inner part from lashing out, so I swallowed my saliva and looked at his feet.

"Her name is Atlia."

"And?"

"She's the Atlantean goddess of knowledge and strategy."

"And why is she here?"

"I don't know."

"Liar," Artemis accused angrily, and she quickly moved for the pavilion, and if it wasn't for Dionysus and Ares, Apollo would've been all over her, but they restrained him as Artemis approached us, glaring at me, "He knows who did this. He's got guilt written all over him." Zeus raised an eyebrow and gave me a once over, then looked at Artemis doubtfully.

"He's pretty, but I can't see him as a murderer, Arti."

"Maybe so," Artemis agreed hesitantly, "But something about this seems wrong. How could someone murder an Atlantean goddess and not rupture the Source? How could someone sneak in here and do this?" Zeus paused to consider that. He looked at me suspiciously for a moment, then came into the pavilion to walk around it, studying the display before he leaned on one of the posts.

"Atlanteans have this thing about heads," He muttered, then looked at me, "What is it? That the soul resides within or something like that?"

"Yes, sir." I responded quietly. Zeus's eyes glinted at that and he pushed off the post to stare at the head on the pike. I refused to look at it and Artemis glared me down for it. I could feel Apollo watching me, holding his breath as if he didn't trust me to be anywhere near Artemis and Zeus at the same time. However, I wasn't scared of either of them. They couldn't do anything to me that hadn't already been done, and I had nothing to lose.

"Hades said Atlan was on a rampage," Zeus said after a moment of tense silence, "He's running around killing off all his children. You're one of those children, aren't you?" I frowned.

"Yes, sir."

"And this was your sister then," Zeus muttered, thinking out loud as he approached the head on the spike again, and a chill crept through me to have him so close to my sister's corpse, "Looks like Atlan's found his next victims. My question is what the fuck made him think he could step foot on Greek soil and get away with it." Artemis frowned, glancing at me out the corner of her eye. I frowned at her and she looked back at her father, folding her arms over her chest.

"Maybe the slave let him in," She suggested and Zeus frowned, turning to face her and I tensed at her words, "According to the nymphs, the slave there was the reason the Atlanteans vanished off the face of the planet. Maybe he cut a deal with Atlan and they're working together to kill the others." I couldn't even find words to argue against that.

Working with Atlan?

Yes, about as likely as Zeus bending over backwards for me.

I waited to see if Zeus would bite Artemis's ridiculous theory. He seemed to consider it for a moment, turning to face me. He stared at me intently, taking a step closer so I was forced to stare directly at his chin instead of his eyes. It felt like he was drilling holes in me, calculating, gauging my reaction.

"Why did you get rid of the Atlanteans?" Not how, but why. It was a curious question to be asked, especially by Zeus, who normally couldn't care less about anyone else. I risked glancing up at him, waiting for him to smash my skull in for daring to make eye contact, but he didn't. If anything, he held my stare with one of his own. I couldn't read him, couldn't tell what he wanted to hear in my response, so I sided with honesty to avoid angering a god with as much power as Zeus.

"They tortured and killed my lover. So I imprisoned them in the bowels of the Source." I responded emptily. Zeus's eyes glowed at that, as if the prospect of imprisoning someone in the Source thrilled him, but it died when he realized the Source was finicky and would never make a deal with someone unless it appealed to them. Still, he seemed intrigued by my words and stroked the whiskers on his chin as he turned back to study the pike.

"The slave had nothing to do with it," Zeus said after a long moment, and Artemis's jaw flexed with irritation as she shot me a dirty look, then drew it back to Zeus to see him giving her a cold warning glare that made her swallow audibly and Zeus planted a hand on his hip, "It sounds like Atlan's getting nearer to the slave. He needs to be watched. If we can lure Atlan in, maybe we can find a new play thing for a while. Besides, I've always wanted to meet the man who nearly knocked Cronus off his throne before me... Ares!" Zeus's voice echoed in the pavilion and Ares made a noise of annoyance as he approached the steps of the pavilion.

"I'm literally six feet away from you. You don't need to yell." He said dryly. Zeus ignored him as he drew near me and his hand fell on my shoulder, a heavy weight that sent alarm bells off in my head.

"Contact Hades and tell him what happened here today, then tell him I want two of his best soldiers sent here to guard the slave." He informed. Ares frowned, as did Apollo and I. Artemis curled her lip, but made sure to stay out of Zeus's line of sight when she did so.

"Why me?" Ares asked. Zeus gave him a deadpan stare that would be comical in less bloody situation.

"Because you're his favorite," He replied, and Dionysus made a noise of protest as if he was distraught by the idea of Hades not favoring him of the Olympians, "Go now. And if he puts up a fuss, tell him I'd be more than happy to discuss it with him in person." My instincts reared back, sensing hostility behind his words. I had a feeling "discussing" with Zeus involved violence, and while I wasn't particularly fond of the god of the underworld, Hades was far more to my liking than any of his siblings.

Even more alarming was the idea that Zeus was doing this to lure Atlan in. Atlan was not stupid enough to think that he would have to enter Olympus to fetch me. No, Zeus sorely underestimated Atlan.

Atlan was going to lure me out of Olympus no matter what it took.

And Atlia's death was just the beginning...