Author's Note: Thanks to ChannySterling, caitlumms, Aelia Nightshade, MyPenIsSharperThanYourSword, ArmyNinja980 (), sonofposeidon1995, and dmur446 for their reviews. All of you made my day, a hundred times over. I apologize for the incredibly long wait – but I finally managed to pull this out. Enjoy!

Death of the Gods

Chapter III: Artemis

~Sa Rart~

In her time, the immortal goddess had fought thousands of battles, and led countless hunts to victory. She had battled against beasts that were thought to exist only in legends and nightmares, from the snow lions of Nepal to the trolls of Norway. She had narrowly escaped with her life – divine goddess though she was – on occasions such as the Anubites of Egypt and the yeti of the Himalayas. None had ever had an impression as large as the fortress looming before her.

She stood in the outermost edge of the garden of Hesperids, gazing up at the darkened citadel. Lightning swirled around it, a supernatural vortex born of a thousand years of pent-up fury and rage. For the first time in her reign as a goddess, Artemis felt the cold grip of fear deep within her. This was no ordinary enemy. This was the might of the Titans.

Quietly, like the huntress she was, the goddess stalked through the garden. Her cloak, draped around her slender form, shifted color and texture, almost imperceptibly, as she moved through the ancient garden, crowned in the glory of the sunset. The immense guardian of the apples, Ladon did not notice her, and, for their part, the five – no, four – Hesperids were seemingly absent. No eyes, even immortal ones, could see her now.

She arrived at the mountain and began to climb, terror slowly mounting in her core. Ordinarily, even she wouldn't dare enter the dark fortress on Mount Tamalipis, extenuating circumstances deemed it necessary. The three Elder Cyclopses – as well as a host of lesser ones – had been captured in one of Hephaestus's forges while the god himself was absent. Her orders were to free them, using whatever skills necessary, to make sure the Titans wouldn't have the chance to take advantage of their immense database of knowledge and skill.

Of course, if that failed, she was to take the most rapid and permanent course of action available to her, and make sure, once and for all, that the Titans would never reap the benefits of the Cyclopses' knowledge. But she found the idea of killing the Elder Cyclopses in cold blood distasteful.

When she finally reached the base of the fortress, the goddess didn't stop. She continued up the dark wall of Orithyses, clambering up the smooth stone wall, catlike in grace and skill. Over the years, she had learned one critical fact of stealth: the one direction nobody ever looks is up.

It wasn't long before she made it to the roof. She crouched there for a moment, sleek and agile as a panther. Her eyes scanned the wall. Then she leapt, landing on the roof of the next turret over. The sentry below looked around, but he didn't look up.

His mistake.

Artemis drew her bow, elegant swan fletching brushing gently against her cheek as she sighted and aimed. The arrow sprang forward, burying itself perfectly in the sentry's throat. He died instantly and silently, falling with hardly a sound – just as she had planned.

Now she leapt again, landing on another turret – this one with a window. She swung inside, cloak billowing behind her like a raven's wing, dark as the stone that surrounded her. The only creature in the room was a startled telekhine, who only had time to stare in shock before a blow from her fist sent him sprawling. She knelt over him and ruthlessly snapped his neck to the side. He vaporized, leaving no blood, no dust, and no trace.

The goddess pulled out two small knives and carefully pinned her cloak to her boots. What she was about to do was an untested method – but with her skills and her cloak's magic, she was fairly confident it would work. Reaching for the wall, Artemis clambered up the side again, fingers and toes finding the tiniest of handholds in the rock. Her cloak, held fast by the daggers, shifted color to match the ceiling.

It was kept dark in the fortress, wooden corridors and black stone wall only illuminated by flickering torches set into the wall. The darkness aided her now. Slowly and carefully, she climbed through the fortress, splayed spiderlike along the ceilings of the corridors, passing humans and monsters alike. Not one of them saw her.

To her delight, she made it all the way to the prison level. It was a room, hundreds of feet long, and filled to the brim with steel cages, each chained to one another. The cages were about five feet long, wide, and tall – far too small for anyone's comfort. In front of the cages, on the bottom floor, stood a squad of very bored Scythian dracanae, lounging around on the floor. Before they even noticed her, Artemis dropped off the ceiling, catlike, cloak billowing behind her, wrenching the knives free. She caught them as she fell, and hurled them towards the startled snake women. Two of them fell. Then, before the startled remainder of the squad could react, her bow was out and singing, and all eight remaining troops fell.

Artemis ran down the hallway, bow still out and at the ready. She passed row after row of empty steel cages, uncountable in number. They seemed to stare at her as she passed, and as she looked, Artemis saw a man in each one of them, desperate and forsaken. It could all easily come to pass. She was unable to suppress a slight shiver; the fact that the Titans even thought they neededso many cages was a little frightening. She redoubled her pace, searching furiously for any trace of the three Cyclopses

Then footsteps abruptly echoed down the stairs, rapid and numerous. She turned, sprinting for the other staircase – but footsteps from that side told her she could find no escape route there. She was cornered, and all she could do was wait, bow out, arrow nocked to the string.

Then, with a yell, a dozen demigods – mostly children of the minor gods – burst through the stairwell, huge shields poised in front of their bodies and faces. Behind them strode Atlas, looking smug, dressed for battle in burnished steel armor and an immense javelin slung across his back.

From the other staircase came a dozen mortal mercenaries. They held machine guns in their hands, poised, and from the golden glow her keen eyes picked up coming out of the gun barrels, they were loaded with celestial bronze.

Before they could so much as twitch, Artemis stuck. Her foot lashed out to strike one of the steel cages with incredible force, ripping it free of the ground and sending it flying through the air. It plowed through the startled mercenaries, knocking them off their feet.

Whoever had planned this ambush had planned well, Artemis realized. Her own celestial bronze weapons were useless against the mortals, and since their own weapons were celestial, she could not turn them against them. The unknown tactician had only forgotten one thing.

She was the immortal goddess Artemis, leader of the Hunt, guardian of the Wild. She did not need weapons to be deadly.

In two long strides she was amongst them. Before they could react, she kicked out, and a man's head snapped back, his neck broken. Seizing his gun, she smashed the ironclad base down upon another's head. He dropped like a stone.

When another man brought up his gun, she kicked low and hard, catching him in the man in the groin. As he doubled over, she smashed her knee into his face. The next seized her shoulder from behind; in reply, she smashed her head backwards, driving his nose up into his brain. The fifth lunged at her; her uppercut caught him in the chin, and, as his head snapped back, her corkscrew punch shattered his windpipe. As the sixth moved in, she leapt, bringing her heel smashing down atop his head in an axe kick, splitting his skull. With a back kick, she caught the next one unprepared, driving into the flesh of his stomach. He went down.

The next two lunged in synch; she grabbed their heads and smashed them together, hard; they dropped instantly. The remaining three hesitated. It was their fatal mistake. Mustering her strength, she grabbed the steel cage and smashed down with all of her might. The cage knocked them flat, and then the steel bars went clean through them, killing them instantly, although nowhere near as cleanly as the sentries upstairs.

The demigods had charged – but unlike the mercenaries, her weapons were fully functional against this opponent. She fired three shots, rapidly; to her surprise, the large shields neatly slid up and interlocked, creating a near-impenetrable shield-wall. Her arrows lodged in the thick wood.

Well. Time for another approach, then.

She jumped neatly over top the startled demigods; before they could turn their lances on her, she landed behind them. The lances and shields – perfect weapons against archers or fast-moving opponents – were completely useless, rendering their wielders incredible vulnerable. Her knives scythed out, cutting into their backs. It wasn't a fight as much as it was a slaughter.

"Foolish." Artemis looked at Atlas, still lounging on the stairwell, and put every last bit of contempt into her voice as she could. "It would take hundreds of them to take me on."

Atlas smirked. "They were never meant to. It was easy enough to use them as a simple means of keeping you occupied. The Lord Kronos has better things to do then sit around waiting for you to arrive." He started down the steps towards her, moving with the total confidence of the arrogant.

Her lips twitched in a smile, and the bow was up and singing again. Twelve shots – the remainder of her quiver – fired in six seconds, all aimed at different critical targets on his body. To her surprise, he whirled with contemptuous ease, dodging most and using the javelin to knock the others aside. She shrugged it off; she was more than a match for Atlas, even without arrows. On Orithyses, she had been drained and exhausted. Now, she was fresh and rested – fighting mortals as a warm up was far more to her taste than holding up the sky for weeks. She settled into a crouch, knives held expertly, one forward and low, the other high and back.

A whistling of air – that was her only warning. With incredible reflexes, she managed to twitch aside, and the scythe cut into the floor, leaving a deep gash. But while she was briefly distracted, the javelin of Atlas cut into the back of her thigh, releasing a spray of ichor. Feigning weakness, she sank to the ground. There was a chance they would just cut her down, but she knew Kronos and Atlas. They were arrogant, and liked to gloat before destroying their opponents.

"You were as predictable as you were easy to bear," Kronos told her, a sneer creeping up the side of the face he used. The scythe in his hand seemed to quiver, eager to reap her blood. "We knew of your arrogance, your pride that wouldn't allow you to stay away. Sooner or later, we knew you would try to rescue the Elder Cyclopses. It was simple to move them to the tower – the last place you would ever look."

Arrogant? They were the ones that were being arrogant, she thought with a fiery burst of anger. But a seed of doubt was sown. She recalled the countless jackalopes now roaming forlornly across the world, men who had simply beheld her Hunt. She remembered the helicopter – with its accompanying men – that she had transformed into the flock of ravens. She had looked down on them. They were men, after all. But even so, they were people. They had the right to live as thinking, (semi)intelligent beings. In her pride, she had not seen it. In her arrogance, she had not seen it.

Perhaps it was always that way, that the prideful were the last to realize the depths of their pride. Pride all too easily became arrogance, which clouded judgment, defied reason. And in her arrogance, she had failed to see it.

What else had her pride blinded her to?

Friendship. Caring. Compassion. She had not felt these things since the days of Orion, when she was still young. She had loved him, despite her vows of chastity. When she had been forced to kill him, something had broken inside of her. She had closed herself off to the world, leaving the Hunt for a time, wandering the wilderness alone. She walled herself off there, remaining separate, aloof. Standing atop mountains, it was easy to think oneself better than the antlike mortals her keen eyes beheld thousands of feet below.

Even to her brother, who had done so much for her, who had helped to save her from her capture atop Mount Tamalipis, she remained aloof. She treated him like trash, despite his jokes, his casual caring, his love and caring that came so easily. The only one she really had loved was herself. It was easy, all alone, to forget about the bonds that mattered so much. From that secluded state came loneliness, then came the gradually introverted thoughts. From that came pride, then came arrogance. She had fallen into a trap of her own doing, not the one that Atlas had set.

But now, thanks to Atlas, she was free of the veil of her pride. His arrogance mirrored her own, but she was through with that now. Even if her life was now counted in minutes, not years, it was time enough to change.

"Arrogance," she mused aloud, eyes closing for a moment. Her fatal flaw. She had searched for thousands of years for it, and, ironically, it was finally revealed to her as the shears neared her string.

"Sorry?" Atlas leaned over, cupping a hand around his ear condescendingly. "Didn't quite catch that."

Her eyes snapped open. "You are as predictable as you are easy to beat," she told him. He lunged, snarling in anger. She sprang, landing on his shoulders in a crouch. Instinctively, he straightened with a yell, and she leapt up. The immense strength of Atlas, coupled with her powerful legs, propelled her towards the ceiling hard. She smashed through the thick wood, catching on the floor of the next story up. Below her, Kronos roared in rage, and she yanked her legs up, feeling the wind hiss beneath her as the scythe swung, cutting through the air itself.

It was simple enough to move them to the top of the tower – the last place you would look. In his own arrogance, Kronos had betrayed to her his own plans. The downside to being a villain, she supposed, was that you could never show off your brilliance. His loss, her gain. She sprinted, ignoring the pain from the wound in her thigh. Whatever else happened, she would make sure the Elder Cyclopses made it out.

She passed demigods and mortals at top speed, who stared at her in shock. None attacked before she shot past them at top speed.

And then the floor behind her exploded. Artemis shielded her face as rubble flew everywhere. She heard a heavy thud as something landed behind her. Out of pure instinct, she ducked, and the scythe whirled over head. She lashed out with a foot, but it was like kicking a house for all the good it did. Kronos merely growled and lashed out again. She grabbed the scythe by the shaft and tried to twist it away from him, but he swung, and, for all her strength, she was tossed backwards like a rag doll, helpless against the might of the Lord of Titans.

"Die," Kronos rasped, striding towards her. Gone was his arrogance. He had seen what she could do. But as he swung, she rolled aside and ran for all she was worth.

She hit a set of stairs and transformed into a falcon, hurtling upwards. As she hit the hall again, she was a cheetah, sprinting at top speed. A half-blood stepped in the way, and she leapt clean over him.

Artemis shifted back into her normal form as she entered the tower, ready for anything, bow drawn.

"Lady Artemis?" The goddess glanced to the side. There was another steel cage, bolted to the ground. Inside were the three Cyclopses, hunched up in the tiny space. The first one was grasping the bars, eye filled with hope. "We didn't think you would come!" Wonder and amazement had entered his brutish face, making it light up.

Artemis ran over and slashed at the thick chain, but it held. "You must get out!" hissed. "Kronos –"

Footsteps. Atlas stood in the doorway, smiling. "Time's up." He strode forward, javelin at the ready.

For a moment, Artemis froze. But she knew what she had to do. Turning, she slashed, cutting through the iron chain in a single swipe. "Go, go, GO!" she yelled, panic clouding her voice. The Cyclopses didn't need telling twice. They ran, vaulting out the window, and, hopefully, away. She knew Apollo waited outside to take them away.

But as she turned back to Atlas, he stabbed, ramming the javelin up and through her ribcage. She fell to her knees, lifeblood gushing out of her. Atlas turned to leave after the Cyclopses. But Artemis's rapidly weakening fingers grasped a knife and hurtled it, catching him in the heel.

With a roar of anger, the javelin struck again, for the last time. It rammed through her collarbone, down into her heart. Atlas twisted it, hard, then released it, letting it stay embedded.

"You know," he said conversationally, leaning against the wall, "you could have escaped as soon as you got out of the basement. Out of curiosity, why did you choose to die instead?"

She closed her eyes as her life force ebbed away. "Some things," she whispered, "are worth dying for."