Lore

“Stop this, Artemis!” Athena said. “The hunt is as much our enemy as the hunters. Together, we can end it—”

“Oh, you fool!” Artemis sneered. “You cannot even see the truth before you. The Agon cannot be won. It cannot be escaped. It is our own Tartarus.”

“I do not believe that,” Athena said, taking another step toward her sister. She held out an arm to keep Lore from following.

Lore bit back a sound of frustration, but understood—Artemis would only grow more agitated if she felt the situation had become three against one.

“Calm yourself, sister,” Athena continued. “Listen to what I am saying to you now. You are lost in your fury, let me lead you out once more. I understand—”

“You don’t!” Artemis shouted. “Or else you would have brought him to me! We were meant to kill them—all the imposters! All of them!”

Water streamed around Lore’s ankles, flowing down to, and over, the waterfall. But as Artemis shifted, Lore noticed that some of the runoff from the rain was disappearing into a nearby patch of leaves and mud. As she watched, a layer of dirt washed away, revealing the edge of a hole and the careful layer of thin branches that had been placed over it.

Lore gasped as a weight slammed into her from the side. A large Labrador was on her, then another—snarling and snapping at her.

“Stop—it—” she bit out, struggling against their frenzy. Hot spittle flew everywhere.

One sank its teeth into her forearm, and Lore let out a pained cry, throwing the animal off her, into the other dog. More and more were gathering around them. She rolled to her feet, gripping a large branch to ward off the dogs and keep them away from the others.

“Yes, you are right,” Athena said, keeping her eyes on her sister. She approached slowly, showing her empty hands as Artemis clutched her knife. “Sister, have you forgotten? Can you not see it, even now? The first light breaking from high above the clouds, the way it swept over the gardens and halls of our home, the purest of golds . . . the air sweet with incense and smoke . . . the hearth, ever-burning . . . the world below us, so green and vast with promise . . . our unconquerable father, the others . . .”

Lore was shocked at the emotion underlying the words, the well of deep-seated pain they revealed.

Artemis moaned, clawing at her face as she shook her head. The severity of her expression was shattering. Athena had pierced her armor.

But all at once, Artemis straightened, her eyes narrowing in pure hatred as she took in the sight of her sister.

“You,” she said. “You stole that from me.”

Artemis had momentarily turned her back on Castor, allowing him to approach from behind her. She spun, but he was faster, locking his arms around hers and pinning her.

One of the dogs tried to break free to attack Castor, but Lore pushed it back with the branch and craned her head, just for a moment, to see what was going on.

“No—no!” Artemis’s body twisted, and there was a sickening, wet pop as she dislocated her shoulder to free herself. Her mind was somewhere the pain couldn’t reach. Using her other hand, she plunged her knife into Castor’s upper thigh.

He fell back with a shout, grimacing as he removed it.

“I feel my brother’s power, but it is far-reaching, it is so far,” Artemis snarled, her eyes wide. Her heel had dropped at the edge of the trap as she’d backed toward the waterfall, and she narrowly regained her balance. “You feel different than the others—what are you?”

Lore looked back at the goddess’s question. What?

Castor came toward her slowly. Artemis was shaking her head, unable to tear her gaze away from him as she retreated toward the edge of the nearest outcrop over the pond. The waterfall rushed down beside her, drowning out some of her words.

“Did you see how he died?” Castor asked desperately. “Were you there? Do you know what happened?”

Thunder boomed over them. Artemis launched another barrage of attacks, slamming her fist into his stomach, his kidneys, wherever she could reach. Blood gushed from his leg, mixing with the rainwater.

Artemis shoved him back with a single kick. He used one arm to block her and the other to stab her own blade through her shoulder.

She shrieked in pain, clawing at Castor’s face. Artemis ripped the blade out of her shoulder and tackled him again. Castor knocked it out of her hand, sending the knife spinning through the air and into the pool below.

The ledge of the outcrop was at a slight angle and slanted down toward the pond. Artemis had gained the high ground, leaving Castor to fight for his footing as the wind and running water conspired to drag him over its edge.

“Don’t move,” Castor warned. “Please—he wouldn’t want you to—”

“If you speak his name I will tear the tongue from your head!” Artemis raged. She stalked toward him.

“Don’t come any closer!” Castor warned her.

“Stop!” Lore called. “Please!”

“Stay back, Lore!” he shouted over the rain. “The current is too strong—”

Artemis’s body heaved with breath after labored breath, her dislocated arm hanging useless at her side.

“It does not matter what you are,” Artemis told him. “It does not matter who you were, or what you might have been. For now, you are dead.”

“Artemis!” Athena called. “Do not destroy yourself over this mortal!”

Lore knew the look on the huntress’s face, the burning resolve behind it. Artemis had always been a creature of solitude, even as she had run with a small coterie of favored hunters and nymphs through the wilds of the world. Lore felt the ache of it then, and it echoed through her. The goddess was singular in her nature, shrouded in shadows and silence, but without her twin, she was truly alone. There was nothing left for her to lose now.

“There’s a monster in the river.” Her voice frayed as it built into a frenzy. “A killer of gods and mortals. It’ll devour all—even you, sister.”

“A monster?” Athena began. “Tell me—”

“Your death is fated, imposter,” Artemis told Castor. “My path is righteous.”

Castor threw another bright burst of power at her, then another, trying to move her toward the trail and away from the outcropping. Wind whipped at them from all sides, forcing Castor to kneel and use a hand to brace himself to keep from going over the edge.