Ares And Mia

Chapter 46

The first time I dreamt of killing a god shook me from my sleep.

My arms were trembling, my heart stabbing holes through my chest, sweat beading down my forehead and neck. I had felt it within my very soul, the way that I would kill them.

With my lightning and with my hands, I would catch Hephaestus off guard. A mere brush of my hand against his arm, and my lightning catching, catching, catching onto him—and he explodes into flames. I remember the screams, his screams, one's that echoed in my mind as he limbs flailed about, hoping to extinguish a fire borne from a human girl.

I was more terrified than surprised. I was glued to the spot, hyperventilating on the smoke, lungs burning like the day I sought him out, yet my eyes couldn't tear themselves away from him. I was only released when his struggling stopped and the ashes were blow away by a distant wind.

Nearly falling over in my haste, I grab the bottle of water on my nightstand, hoping to soothe the pain in my throat. I gulp down mouthfuls of water, blinking my eyes rapidly. A nightmare. Right before the day of reckoning.

My attention slides to the clock by my bed, exhaustion spreading though me. I've been asleep for less than ten minutes. Tomorrow—Tomorrow was the big day.

I rub my forehead, then my eyes. "Even if the war was over, we still have to deal with the Titans. And even after that..." I'm not sure if I can even guess what happens next. The gaps within answers were overwhelming and all we could do was wait to see what would happen. I lay back down, squeezing my eyes shut. The Styx river. Atlas holding up the sky. Rhea's string. The Fates. I drift into darkness.

- - -

Ares is there, ten minutes later, coaxing me to calmness as I desperately try to wipe the phantom-blood of Artemis off of me. My hands smear against nothing but sweat and tears that had escaped during the terror. I clutch at Ares's shirt, trembling. "I didn't mean to hurt her—She was there, I wasn't—I didn't—"

"It's okay, Mia. It's okay." No, no, it was not okay. It was anything but okay, I was so far from okay. She bleed out on top of me, her body infinitely heavy, like the weight of a hundred mountains, blood seeping down my skin. The air smells metallic.

He rubs circles along my back, pressing soft kisses to my hair. I didn't mean to. She wasn't the one I was aiming for. I tried to pick up the beautifully carved bow that slipped from her hands, but it splintered into a million pieces. Just like my heart as the light in her eyes died.

I fall asleep again.

Next comes Poseidon and I murder him with a sense of wickedness and silent acceptance. I plead with the silence in my head when Athena shows up next. Then, Aphrodite, who I can only weep next to. I falter as more and more Olympians fall victim to hands that are mine, yet in another's control.

Apollo's death shakes me to the core. He offers me a light-tipped smile and drops his sheath of arrows and bow onto the ground. His golden eyes don't betray any emotion as I plunge a dagger into his chest.

Over and over again.

- - -

"Sweetheart," I'm wheezing into Ares's neck, nails digging into his skin as I try to ground myself. Eleven Olympians dead. One left to go. It's been an hour and a half.

"I don't want to." I sob, tears spilling out of my eyes. "I can't. Not-not after Poseidon and the cave, I can't watch you—" My throat closes and I can already feel my consciousness give way. I fight it tooth and nail, but I can feel my grip on him loosen. I was losing the fight against my own mind. No. No no no no no no please—My eyes slide closed and I feel him pull me tighter against his chest.