Bruise-coloured mist swam sluggishly around my ankles. The raw smell of burning suffocated the air, and my lips pressed tight together. The pyres were cooled by now, and a thick, glittery dust coating the ground was all that remained of the victims. A dull 'pop' sounded behind me and I turned to look at the arrival, glad of a distraction from the ravaged battlefield. Unfortunately, the sibling standing there was perhaps the one I wanted least to see. He was wearing his customary form, a tall, bulky man, nondescript but for the scars running from temple to neck along his face. He had many names, but I preferred to call him Ares. His face showed horror and outright shock as he took in his surroundings.

"They lost?!" I was right, he was shocked. And unexpectedly, almost angry. My temper flared defensively as he glared accusingly at me.

"Of course they lost!" I sneered, perversely cruel. "This ridiculous alliance never stood a chance. The Volturi are too strong."

He looked bewildered. "They had ten times the numbers...ten times the strength..I don't - "

"If they'd had one hundred times the numbers it wouldn't have made a difference!" I was infuriated, not just by his misplaced blame but by his fool plan, and the grisly results scattered around the field. The choking scent of dead vampires was still heavy, even hours later, and it incensed me further. "The Volturi are too gifted. There was nothing your...revolutionaries, could have done against Jane or Alec. The Volturi only came in full strength to make a statement. If they had sent the witch twins alone it would have sufficed."

He curled his hands into fists, and the air around him shimmered like a heat haze. He was like a child, desperate to lash out but bereft of a target. I narrowed my eyes, discerning grief behind the red anger he had cloaked himself in, and was moved to pity despite everything. He had valued some of these vampires, looked at them as friends. That was the trouble with those creatures. They were a little more durable than humans, and more foolish Olympians would convince themselves the creatures were like us. Ares breathed out in a heavy sigh. "There was nothing I could have done."

My hands made fists now. Was he honestly going to acquit himself and throw a pity party after the destruction he has caused?

"You could have left well enough alone." I spat the words from gritted teeth. His head jerked up, and his eyes flamed crimson with anger. He took a step towards me, atoms of an ancient bronze xiphos gathering in his hand. I stood my ground, lifting an eyebrow as I waited for him to think better of this move. He had hardly hefted the sword when his arm fell back heavily to his side. He spoke softly, his tone uncharacteristically peaceable.

"It wasn't wrong. The Volturi needed to be stopped." He sounded like a tired, beaten old man.

"This," I swept an arm out at the carnage. "Was not the way to go about it."

He shook his head. "These stood a better chance than any had in millennia. Carlisle Cullen is - was inspirational. He was exactly the leader the vampires needed. So many flocked to him, believed in his vision." The calm in his eyes fractured into shards of pain. "He had so many talented on his own side...Benjamin was incredible, and Alice. I - "

"He had the wrong kinds of talents." I explained gently, feeling the urge to protect the younger brother I so rarely saw eye to eye with. "He had skilled offensives, but no way to protect his side against the Volturi's formidable collection."

Ares' brow furrowed slightly as he tried to trace the logic that was plain as day to me. "You're saying...he needed a shield? A shield who could...block other vampires' talents? Does such a thing exist?"

The wind changed, and for a moment the violet, diamond-flecked smoke swirled into our faces, then the chill air chased it across the field. "Almost." I answered. "It almost existed. The Cullens almost had it, too. A few chances just slid awry in the early 21st century, that's all." I darted a glance at him from my bright, knowing grey eyes. "Did you perhaps do something to offend Fortuna around then?"

I was surprised by his reaction. The vanquished surrenderer of moments ago was gone, his place taken by a shining young warrior on the cusp of battle, brilliant with fresh enthusiasm. "They would have won!" He...nearly exulted. I was taken aback, and disgusted. We were standing in what was essentially a graveyard of his own making. Hades' minions had only recently departed with the last of the souls. His joy was repugnant. He spun and grasped my shoulders, oblivious to my thoughts.

"Athene." He was urgent now, and persuasive, resplendent with the charisma of war. Flickers of WWII propaganda sprung to mind. "Athene, they could still win. You could do it."

"They have lost, brother." I laid a hand on his arm, intending to comfort, but he shook it off in his excitement.

"No. No, don't you see, it can be changed!" He gripped me tighter. "Speak with Chronos. I beg you. Athene, I rarely ask you for favours but please, do this."

My mind reeled. What he asked of me...I should not do it. It was against all the rules we set for ourselves. I steeled myself to refuse him and I made a mistake. My eyes roamed over the field, seeing the pyres grouped in pairs, vampires who had burned clinging to their mates, and settled on a solitary pyre apart from the rest. My resolve shattered and my decision shifted. I would try to change the past, and rewrite events already lived. But not for Ares and his war. Not even for the wise, gentle Carlisle Cullen. For the second time in my immortal life, I was going to dabble in the affairs of mortals for the sake of Elisabeth Masen's son.