ᴾʰᵒᵇᵒᵖʰᵒᵇⁱᵃ [ᴶᵃˢᵒⁿ ᴳʳᵃᶜᵉ]

x.

Aimilios's body, like a flower crushed by the first snow of winter, lay lifeless at Aza's feet, his glassy eyes staring off into the West, as if in his last moments he could feel the chaos brewing in Epirus. With her enemy like a silent audience, Aza allowed herself another moment to howl like a wounded animal, for once in too much pain to even hide it. She clutched at her left hand, whimpering as she examined the horrible gap that replaced her ring and middle finger; the sight was blurred by her tears, but she could feel that his gladius had struck down to her knuckle, leaving phantom pains of the fingers that lay on the marble before her. Her other two fingers seemed to have barely managed to hang on. She barely had to examine the wound before she could see a nauseating ivory – the pain was sharp and agonizing, like she was being sliced again and again.

Despite her pain, Aza's body still emitted a fiery glow as she staggered towards her backpack and shakily rummaged through, pulling out a small plastic bag of ambrosia squares. As drops of her blood dribbled off the clear bag, Aza felt silly for almost expecting her fingers to grow back. She nibbled on the small golden square, which tasted like Ms. la Rue's snickerdoodles - warm and inviting, with a sharp cinnamon aftertaste. The pain slowly began to numb, ebbing away as Aza pulled out a spare roll of bandages and wrapped her hand, staunching the rest of the blood.

She could practically hear her uncles calling her a baby as sniffled pathetically – she could feel streaks of dried blood painting her cheeks as she wiped tears from her eyes. Aza had never experienced such an intense pain, not even when the Titan Hyperion's blade nearly severed her spine, nor when Lycaon's claws raked down each inch of her skin.

Once the bandage, which already began to seep crimson, was secured, Aza stood and sheathed her sword. She did her best to hide her pain as she sauntered across the marble and retrieved her double-sided blade, placing the tip on the ground to steady herself. The danger was gone – she could feel it – and her adrenaline had begun to lea away, but Aza still flickered with fiery light, like she was in the center of a burning building.

Karisa, with dark hair bundled in an ancient updo, stared at the space over Aza's shoulder with glassy eyes; they were a similar, but more natural, shade as Aza's. Aza placed her fingertips on the woman's temples, and immediately her eyes brightened. Karisa blinked a few times and took a wary step backward, shaking ever-so-slightly.

The woman's voice was soft, and she tilted her head to examine the younger girl. Karisa spread her arm to the left, attracting Aza's attention to a staircase she hadn't seen before, leading into the depths of the earth. "I cannot stop you from taking the shield – I can only warn you: its power takes a great toll. Even I could not wield it for very long before I felt Thanatos's icy fingers creeping towards me."

Aza raised a brow, doing her best to conceal the way she chewed on the inside of her cheek. She tried her best to feign a blase attitude, both hoping and assuming that the woman was merely trying to scare her. Aza shrugged as nonchalantly as she could manage and glanced over her shoulder just to make sure the frizzy-haired goddess hadn't reappeared. A humorless smile spread across Aza's lips when she turned her attention back towards her sister, "I'll keep that in mind, but unfortunately I have no choice. Thanks for trying to kill me: it's been fun."

Aza disappeared down the stairs and spared no last glance for the first King of Sparta, whose name would disappear in the dusk and float astray once Aza took the last thing of importance. She wondered if Karisa was in Asphodel, or Elysium – maybe she managed to squirm her way out of the Fields of Punishment, if she was a tyrannical king, but something about that felt wrong to Aza. Wherever Karisa rested, the shield kept her in a land she didn't belong – and once Aza claimed it, her sister would return back to the land of the dead where she belonged.