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The god who took dad was here all along.
The realization sends a shock of fear through me as Apollo shouts, “Dad!” A mixture of disbelief and fear rippled through him.
“I'm Jove. Zeus, son of Cronus. Grandson of Uranus and I'll take back what’s rightfully mine,” he growls. Electricity crackling through the air.
Ov is Zeus?
Zeus took my dad.
Ov took my dad.
Gulping down the bile in my throat, I wipe my sweaty hands on my dress. Anxiety threatening to take over.
“Run Apollo!” I bellow. My voice is scratchy.
Apollo whirls his head over to me. A sharp snapping like motion, his back is still strung with his prized bows and arrows. “Pandy?” he roars. His voice was frantic. Eyes wide. “Get out of here!”
Another command, another instruction that I'll not be following.
… Or at least not quick enough.
My eyes are on Apollo. Golden ichor flowing from a few minor nicks of a blade.
My heart swells. Thankful that he is alive.
A flurry of movement catches the corner of my eye as Ov winds up to strike. I do the only things I can think of. “Apollo! Watch out!” I hurl my sword between them. Praying to Gaia that Ov’s blow won’t hit its mark.
The world slows as I can hardly breathe.
The blade spins, rotating like I hurled a ball instead.
The hilt of my blade clatters against Ov’s blade. Its guard catches his blade in such a way his weapon is pulled from his arms. Reaching behind him, he grasps a spear from his pouch. Apollo holds his blade high, poised and ready to slit his dad’s throat.
The tip of Ov’s spear coated in a familiar silver liquid.
“Surrender and I'll allow you to live out the rest of your days in Tartarus, barred from punishment out of respect for you,” grits Apollo.
Judging based on what Chiron said all that time ago about quicksilver, this looks to be a far more potent variety than what was in the ambrosia.
Uncle isn’t playing around this go around.
“Never,” he boldly replies, hurling his spear forcefully out from his hand.
Prepared to block, Apollo is ready to knock the spear from his path.
Instead, Apollo turns, watching the long sharp object swing wide.
Far too wide to have been aimed at Apollo.
Me.
He’s aiming for me.
I stared down at the silver tipped shaft covered in a waxy substance. My body transfixed with fear. Frozen to my spot.
Drop!
Dodge!
