Page 117 of A Touch of Chaos

“Now you are just being an ass,” said Hermes.

“I have no wish to make the King of the Gods angry and no desire to lose my power,” Ares said.

“Even if it means hurting Aphrodite?” Persephone asked.

Ares was still, and she noticed his throat constrict as he swallowed.

“If you think I won’t tell her you refused, you’re wrong,” Persephone said. “She will hate you forever.”

Ares was quiet, and then he shifted his spear into his other hand.

“Who said you were going back?” Ares asked. Summoning his shield, he teleported.

Hades shifted, knocking Persephone to the ground as Ares appeared before them, stabbing his spear toward Hades’s face.

“Sephy!” Hermes raced toward her, pulling her away from the embroiled gods as she scrambled to her feet.

Hades summoned his bident, thrusting his weapon at Ares, who blocked the blow with his shield. The sound of the weapons meeting was like a lightning strike, and it seemed to rouse the dragon-like creature from its strange, open-eyed slumber. It growled and then rose, slithering higher up the tree, smoke rising from its nostrils and mouth.

Neither Hades nor Ares seemed to notice as they fought. It was hard to track them, they moved so fast, each stab more furious than the last, and while Persephone understood the source of Hades’s rage, she did not understand why Ares had chosen to fight them over aiding Aphrodite and her sister—the one goddess he was said to be closest to, the one who had shown him kindness in the face of the Olympians’ resentment.

Was he seeking the approval of his father? The esteem of other Olympians? Or had he merely been born like this, furious and bloodthirsty, always choosing battle over peace?

As the two fought, Persephone’s attention was drawn to the Golden Fleece and the dragon guarding it. Its eyes were fixed on Hades and Ares, its throat glowing brighter the longer the two struck at each other. It seemed to bebiding its time, and Persephone did not want to find out for what.

She summoned her magic, calling to the twisted limbs of the oak the dragon was cradled within. They lengthened and crawled, winding slowly around the slithering serpent until, all at once, the branches closed around it, coiling tight around its deadly mouth. Still it managed a muffled roar as it lurched violently beneath the bindings, its neck now bright white with fire.

Persephone looked at Hermes.

“Get the fleece!” she ordered just as Ares appeared before her, striking her with the face of his shield. The blow made her feel like her entire body had been snapped in two and sent her flying. When she hit the ground, she ceased to breathe, landing in the field, striking the golden spears left behind as she rolled. When she came to a stop, she inhaled violently, healing her broken body as she got to her feet, pain still lancing through her.

Ares came for her again, but this time, his blow was stopped by Hades with a shield that seemed to be made of shadow, only it was solid. The impact of Ares’s attack sent Hades sliding back a few feet. Their weapons clashed again, and Persephone’s vines shot from the ground, gripping Ares’s arms and his spear, but they snapped under his great strength.

“I got it, Sephy! Let’s go!” Hermes yelled.

Her head whipped to the side to see Hermes running with the fleece, and then Ares teleported. Hades and Persephone followed but Ares arrived faster, striking Hermes as he appeared and sending him flying across the island. Hades attacked from above with the intention of slamming his shield down on Ares, butthe god teleported behind Hades and drove his spear into his back. Another jerk, and it went through his chest.

Persephone screamed as Hades fell to his knees.

Ares shoved his foot against him, pulling out his spear as Hades hit the ground, following with a kick to the side that sent him onto his back, finishing with a final blow to his existing wound.

It had all happened so fast, Persephone had no time to act—to help her husband. Now she stood opposite them, watching as Ares released his spear, leaving Hades pinned to the ground. Then he turned and picked up Hades’s bident.

“There is nothing more victorious than taking up the weapon of the god you have defeated,” the God of War said, twisting the weapon in his hand.

Persephone’s heart raced, but so did her rage. Her gaze darted to Hades, whose head was turned toward her. His eyes usually held some kind of light—a hint of the life that burned within him—but it was gone.

Her gaze returned to Ares.

“You are despicable,” Persephone spat. The ground beneath her feet began to quake.

If Ares noticed, he did not seem to care. “This is war, little goddess,” he said. “Now, let’s see how you fight.”

Little goddess.

That name only made her more furious.

He took a few steps and then came toward her at a run, thrusting Hades’s bident at her only to drop it and his shield as a branch from his elm stabbed through his back and out of his chest.

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