Page 170 of A Touch of Chaos

Apollo.

“Please,” Persephone whispered.

Artemis scoffed and glanced back at Persephone. “You do not have to worry about my brother. No one is better than him, especially at single combat.”

But this was not about the best, or Ajax and Hermes would have won.

As the competitors began, Persephone’s stomach churned, though true to Artemis’s words, Apollo shone. Despite not having his magic, his strength was evident. Each thrust of his spear landed with precision, and the power behind it had his opponents sliding back on their feet. His skill was evident, honed over thousands of years, and the only one who rivaled him was Theseus, who fought with a grace she had not seen among anyone but the Olympians.

She was not surprised when they stood opposite each other for the final fight, but she had never been so afraid. The churning in her stomach grew violent, the feeling rising into her throat. She held her breath until the first jab was thrown by Apollo, striking Theseus’s shield. The second was made lower, a stab at his legs, but again, it glanced off his shield.

Persephone glanced at Artemis, who sat rigidly in her seat, hands fisted. As much as she believed in herbrother, this clearly made her anxious.

While Apollo fought fiercely, with skill and determination, Theseus fought with anger and hate. It fueled his strikes, and each one seemed to hit harder than the last until Apollo brought his shield down on Theseus’s spear.

It shattered beneath the blow.

Hope rose, and Persephone sat straighter.

Then Theseus drew a sword.

Apollo cast his spear aside and drew his own blade.

“Why would he do that?” Persephone asked, frustrated.

“The sword is a better choice for this fight,” said Hades.

She glanced at him, finding that he too had shifted forward in his seat, which did nothing to ease her worry. Nor did the ensuing battle, which was fought just as fiercely. Each clash of blade against blade, blade against shield, shield against shield, set Persephone more and more on edge.

“How can they be so equally matched?” Persephone asked.

“They aren’t,” Artemis snapped.

Persephone could not fault her for her frustration. She felt it too.

Her spirit rose when Apollo landed a blow to the front of Theseus’s leather armor but quickly fell when the demigod was able to trap Apollo’s arm, cutting him deeply.

“No,” Persephone breathed. She was almost out of her chair, held there only because she did not think she could stand, she shook so badly at the sight of Apollo’s blood spilling to the ground. He dropped his shield andtried to bring up his sword, but Theseus blocked the blow and brought his own blade down on Apollo’s helm.

His blade shattered.

But then Theseus gripped Apollo’s helm and dragged his head down, slamming his knee into his face. Apollo fell to his hands and knees, more blood dripping from his nose and mouth. Theseus shoved his foot into his side and pushed him onto his back.

Artemis rose to her feet.

“Don’t let him win, Apollo!” she shouted, but her words were lost over the roar of the crowd.

“He’s not moving,” Persephone said. “Why isn’t he moving?”

Then there was a flash of light as Theseus reached toward the sky, calling to Zeus’s lightning bolt. But something was happening. The clouds had parted, and there in the sky hung Zeus for all to see.

Silence descended, and Theseus’s gaze swept the crowd.

“Now look upon your gods,” he said. “And know they are mortal.”

Zeus’s lightning bolt flashed as Theseus brought it down on Apollo. Persephone screamed, and so did Artemis. They shot from their seats, racing to the god—their friend and brother—as his body convulsed beneath the current.

At the same time, there were several loud booms—like a hundred explosions had just gone off—and at first the ground trembled, but then it seemed to roll beneath them, shaking violently.

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