This chapter was the hardest one to write yet, which is also probably part of why it ended up being the shortest one so far. I'm still not entirely satisfied with it, but I think it's as good as it's going to get. After this chapter, there probably won't be any more sections from Artemis' POV (except maybe one). Instead, I'll be incorporating some sections with Zoë's POV in the next chapter and other future chapters. There may also be some chapters with sections in Percy's POV in the future, but I haven't fully decided on that yet.

My current idea for this story is to separate it into two parts. As it stands, we're a little more than halfway through part 1. The next couple of chapters will focus on the journey to the cave and begin to set the stage for the second part of this story. I think the first chapter of part 2 will be chapter 8, but that could change.

Anyways, as always, leave a review and let me know what you think. I appreciate suggestions and constructive criticism.

Disclaimer: I don't own PJO.

Chapter 4: Reconciliation and Preparation

I have to say, it wasn't the ideal way I'd imagined meeting my mother for the first time.

I regained consciousness groggily, disoriented once again from the abrupt transition from Apollo's mind back into my own. I opened my eyes, squinting blearily.

And promptly fell off my bed, which did not feel very good on my poison-infected, stiff, sore limbs.

Apollo had been yanked from his chair and was currently pinned up against the wall next to the window by a twelve-year-old with her auburn-colored hair drawn up in a ponytail. It would have looked almost comical, had the twelve-year-old not had a silver hunting knife pressed to the sun god's throat and the collar of his flame-red tracksuit gripped tightly in her free left hand.

From my new vantage point on the floor and with a slight shock, I recognized that this was the same girl I had seen in the memory of Orion sneaking into the camp of the Hunters – this was the goddess Artemis. Under normal circumstances, I would have been thrilled to have the chance to meet my mother, but the look on her face was… frightening, to say the least.

Artemis' cheeks were flushed with rage, her silver eyes murderous. Her small frame shook with barely suppressed anger, like she was holding herself back from ripping Apollo apart with her bare hands.

By contrast, her brother was as contrite as I'd ever seen him. He hung limply in his twin's grasp, not wasting any energy resisting. I imagined that after a few millennia dealing with her, he probably knew that when she was this angry, there was no point in struggling.

Apollo attempted to sigh, but the position he was in and the knife at his windpipe made it rather difficult. "How much did you see?" he inquired, his tone resigned.

Artemis' eyes narrowed dangerously. "All of it," she growled in a low whisper. The knife blade twitched against Apollo's Adam's apple.

I thought my uncle might have lost his marbles, because he didn't appear at all worried. In fact, he seemed unnaturally calm and partially relieved, as if he knew this day would eventually come and was glad that he was finally getting it off his shoulders. "Then you are aware of the oath I swore," Apollo said evenly. "And you know that I couldn't have told you about him even if I wanted to."

"He is my son," she snarled. "I deserved to know!"

"You saw the memories!" Apollo exclaimed. "If I had told you about him, it would have been exactly what Kronos wanted!"

That finally seemed to get through to Artemis. Her eyes widened a tad, and she made a visible effort to control her anger. She slowly removed her hunting knife from her brother's jugular and released the scruff of his tracksuit.

Apollo took in a deep breath and rubbed his throat, slumping back down into his chair. Artemis shot him a slightly apologetic glance, but her anger didn't seem entirely abated.

I had made my way back up onto my bed by this point, and was watching their interaction while trying to make myself as small as possible. I had no intention of getting caught in the middle of a godly sibling fight.

But it didn't take long for Apollo to remember I was there. After all, I was the source of their argument. Indirectly, of course, but still… that didn't make me feel much better. At the moment, I was doing exactly what Kronos had hoped for – causing strife between the twins.

Apollo looked over at me from his chair, and I think he picked up on that thought. I glowered at him, something that was steadily becoming a bit of a habit. "Are you ever going to listen to me when I ask you not to do that?" I said.

"It depends," he answered, looking thoughtful. "Are you going to keep blaming yourself for something that isn't your fault?"

Oh.

The sound of our voices drew Artemis' attention. She slowly turned her head, and for the first time in my life, I looked into my mother's eyes.

It was slightly surreal. A multitude of emotions flooded through me: regret, wariness (of her current mood), but above all, comfort. As I looked into the bright silver orbs that perfectly mirrored mine, I felt safe… at peace.

Similar sentiments were reflected in Artemis' own eyes. I could see her hesitance, as well as the remnants of her anger. As she studied me, though, her gaze softened a bit, and I thought I detected a hint of affection buried there. It seemed like she didn't exactly know what to do with it; like she felt as if she wanted to try to care for me, but a few thousand years of man-hating habits was holding her back. Not to mention the fact that, as a goddess sworn to be an eternal maiden, I imagine finding out she had an immaculately conceived child was quite the shock.

I decided to make it easy for her. I was about to tell her that I understood her position and that she didn't need to feel obligated to like me, but I had only got as far as "Mother, I –" when she started to take a few tentative steps toward me. I faltered and broke off.

Apollo watched her like a hawk as she approached me. I found his concern for me somewhat touching but I didn't appreciate his lack of trust in his sister. I figured he was thinking back to Kronos' comment that she might "kill the child out of shame herself." I remembered the warmth I'd seen in Artemis' eyes when she looked at me. It was shrouded in uncertainty and hesitance borne out of inexperience, but it was certainly there. I wasn't unduly worried.

She finally stopped a foot in front of me. Her silver eyes had never left mine the whole time as she walked closer, and I found myself drawn into their depths. She reached out with her right hand and cupped my cheek with her palm. I closed my eyes and relaxed into her touch, raising my arm and covering her hand with my left. I let out a contented sigh.

"My son," Artemis whispered.

The comforting touch of my mother: this was what I had missed out on my whole fifteen years of life. Right then, I wanted nothing more than to spend my last week alive with Artemis, learning about her, getting to know her. Would that be too much to ask of a goddess?

When I opened my eyes, I was surprised to see my mother's glistening. I had just opened my mouth to voice my selfish suggestion when she wiped her eyes angrily and turned back to Apollo.

"He is dying," she said. It wasn't a question. Apollo nodded anyway. "Fifteen years after the fact, I discover that I have a son that you have hidden from me. And now that I have found him, I learn that his life is now measured in days. How can I possibly…" She couldn't continue.

Even though I had known her for all of five minutes, I hated to see my mother distraught. The image in front of me conflicted starkly with the mental picture I'd constructed of her as a cool, composed, relentless Hunter, the goddess of the moon. I couldn't stand seeing her so upset over me; I wasn't worth it.

Artemis' head turned to me sharply, and I knew with infuriating certainty that the mind-reading tendencies of her brother apparently ran in the family. She looked me dead in the eye and shook her head. "That is not true, Orion," she said firmly. "You are my son. That will always be enough for me."

I finally found my voice. "I'm… not whole," I said sadly. "Kronos saw to that when I was created, and Krios reinforced it. Why would you want to burden yourself with caring for me? My scars will never fade."

Artemis tilted her head. "Perhaps. But scars are just physical reminders of the challenges we have overcome… and that is nothing to be ashamed of. We all have our own shares of scars, even the moon. What do you think craters are? It doesn't make you any less human." She grasped my shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "You are strong, Orion. Stronger than you know. Not many could have survived what you have."

Her words made me feel a bit better, but she hadn't experienced what I'd been through – and what I was facing. If she knew the truth about how I felt, she wouldn't think I was so strong. I intended to keep it that way, so I returned to my usual carefree, sarcastic self.

"Maybe," I said. "But that won't matter in a week."

She must have picked up on my nonchalant tone. "Do you want to die?" Artemis asked with genuine curiosity.

I pondered the question seriously for a moment. I thought back to my time with Krios, and all the days I wished he would've just finished the job instead of healing me each night. "Not particularly. But I haven't been especially fond of living lately either. It wouldn't make a difference whether I wanted to or not; it's going to happen either way. I've decided to just accept that and try to be as upbeat as possible instead of fighting the inevitable."

My words appeared to bother Artemis. She shifted uneasily. I decided to come up with something else before I incidentally made her feel worse.

"Besides, I don't exactly have time to mope around feeling sorry for myself," I pointed out. "If you saw my father's memories, mother, then you know that he gave me a task."

"The gift in the cave," she recalled.

I nodded. "He wanted me to journey there to find whatever it was he left for me. Seeing as I have no idea where the cave is – other than the fact that it's at the edge of a desert – I should probably leave soon, because it could take me the whole last week of my life to find it."

"I can help you there." Apollo had been silently watching my interaction with my mother with a depressed look in his eyes, but now he entered the conversation, relieved that he could finally do something to help. "The cave has moved with the gods and is now here, in America. Can you think of any notable deserts in America?"

I could think of only one desert in America, notable or otherwise. "The southwest."

The sun god nodded. "The cave is in southern California. Unfortunately, I'm not allowed to tell you any more than that. Quests like these… Zeus doesn't appreciate us interfering too much. Demigods have to find their own way. But I think you'll appreciate the irony of its location when you learn it."

I groaned. "Of course, it would be all the way on the other side of the country." That wasn't even to mention the fact that I really didn't fancy a journey to the desert southwest in the middle of November. Most people don't realize that at night, the temperature in deserts can reach as far down as it can up.

"You do have one advantage, Orion," Artemis said. "The Hunters and I traveled on foot from Colorado to here in three days. We can bend distance as we travel through woodland. You are my son; the wild is as much in your blood as it is ours. Do you understand?"

Was she suggesting what I thought she was? I nodded slowly. "I think so. But –"

Just then, the golden door of Apollo's cabin burst open. A tall figure stepped through, an arrow nocked to her ready-held silver bow. The figure moved forward into the firelight, and I was able to make out the details of their appearance.

It was a girl, about sixteen or seventeen years old. She wore a plain silver jacket, silver leggings, and black military-style combat boots. Her dark-brown hair, tied in a ponytail like Artemis, was draped over her left shoulder, and I noticed a small silver circlet braided into it near her forehead. A hunting knife was sheathed at each hip. Her lithe form reminded me of a tiger: graceful, athletic, and dangerous. Her skin was an attractive coppery color, and I thought she was admittedly beautiful – in a natural, outdoorsy sort of way. But as I examined her countenance closer, the positive qualities ended there. Her nose was slightly upturned, as if she were in a perpetual state of disdain for everything around her. Her eyes were like obsidian – black and hard. Between her elegant features, the silver circlet in her hair, and the cold, proud look in her eyes, she could've passed for a Persian princess. When she noticed me, I thought I saw her expression soften slightly, a hint of pity entering her gaze, and I chafed.

I disliked her instantly. I didn't want anyone's pity, and I certainly didn't need it.

The girl, whom I assumed from her outfit and weaponry was one of my mother's Hunters, flicked her head back and forth between myself, Artemis, and Apollo. She seemed to be trying to gauge whether or not Artemis was in danger, and I nearly laughed out loud.

My mother sighed when she caught sight of the girl. "Zoë, I told you I would call for you if I needed you."

The girl, apparently named Zoë, hesitated. "I'm sorry, milady. I saw flashes of light and heard you shouting, and I assumed the worst."

Artemis gazed at her amusedly, but didn't reply.

I cleared my throat. "Can we get back to the topic at hand here?"

Zoë turned to look at me, and again I noticed the strange sympathy in her eyes. I had to make a conscious effort not to scowl. I settled for a moderately sour look instead.

"Speaking of that," Artemis mused, "Since you have come, perhaps you could be of assistance after all, my lieutenant." She was staring thoughtfully between Zoë and I, and it was making me nervous.

All of a sudden, I caught on to her idea. I shook my head vehemently. "No," I said. "Absolutely not. No way. This journey is for me and me alone."

"You cannot presume to cross the country on your own," Artemis argued. "Zoë is my most skilled and experienced Hunter. She can help you."

"Did you consider the fact that I might not want her help?" I exploded.

Zoë's obsidian eyes hardened. "Do not speak to Lady Artemis that way," she hissed, and stepped forward with her arm raised as if to strike me. I stood my ground and glared at her. Go on, do it, my stance said.

And she probably would have, had Artemis not placed her arm across her path, blocking her way. Zoë seemed shocked that her mistress would restrain her from "disciplining" someone for speaking disrespectfully to the goddess, especially when that someone was a male. Artemis fixed her with a stern look, and Zoë took a breath and backed away, settling for matching my glare. I smirked back at her. I wasn't usually this abrasive, but something about this girl just rubbed me the wrong way.

Artemis turned her disapproving frown onto me. "What?" I demanded. Artemis quirked an eyebrow and said nothing. I sheepishly scratched the back of my neck. "She started it," I muttered resentfully, aware of how petulant I sounded.

"And I'm finishing it," Artemis said sharply. In that moment, I thought she definitely looked the part of a mother scolding her child. "Perhaps you two might get along better if you were properly introduced." She gestured to Zoë. "This is Zoë Nightshade, lieutenant of my Hunt. Zoë, this…" She paused, and glanced to Apollo and then myself, as if asking if it was okay to proceed.

I shrugged. "It's as much your secret to tell as it is mine."

Artemis accepted my answer as permission to continue, which was how I intended it. She took a deep breath. "As I was saying, Zoë, this is Orion… my son."

The Hunter's head snapped around to stare incredulously at her mistress. Artemis held up her hands in a placating gesture. "It is not as you think," she said. "He is a demigod, and my son, but he… he was not conceived in a typical fashion. He was formed immaculately by the combination of my essence with that of a mortal."

Now Zoë just looked confused. "But, when we rescued him in the forest… you said you did not know who he was."

Artemis inclined her head. "At the time, I did not," she affirmed. "But due to… ah, extenuating circumstances" – here she glanced at Apollo, who flushed – "I have learned his identity. We were just discussing –"

This time I cut her off. "She doesn't need to know," I said. "She isn't coming." I glared pointedly at my mother.

"Orion, I know you feel you can be reckless because of your… condition… but I have not given up hope that there is some way to help you. I will not have you needlessly risk your life by traveling across the country alone!"

A lump formed in my throat. She hadn't given up on me? Even after everything, she still believed that she could find a way to save me. I didn't think much of the possibility, but I was touched that she cared so much – that someone cared. It started to dawn on me that maybe I was being selfish. She just wanted me to be safe. Would that be worth putting up with the prideful and aloof lieutenant of the Hunt for the last week of my life? I sighed inwardly. Probably not, but the least I could do was honor my mother's request. After all the trouble I had inadvertently caused – and was going to cause when I inevitably passed on from this world – I owed it to her.

Zoë was glancing between us in confusion. "His 'condition'?" she asked, frowning. "What do you mean?"

I was about to dismiss her with a curt, "Don't worry about it," but I caught Artemis' look. It very clearly said, If you stopped being so rude and gave her a chance, you might be surprised. So instead, I swallowed my words and ignored Zoë entirely, not trusting myself not to say anything offensive.

"She travels with me on one condition," I said, still looking at Artemis. "This is my quest, from my father, so I'm in charge. If Miss I-hate-males over here can't unbend her pride enough to let one lead her, she's not coming."

My mother looked at her lieutenant in a silent question.

Once more, Zoë regarded us balefully. Finally, she crossed her arms and sighed. "Fine," she said, gritting her teeth. Artemis nodded, satisfied.

"There you go," the goddess said. "Does that satisfy you?"

I had to bite back another retort that I could only be less satisfied if Hades himself had been the one to accompany me on the quest. I nodded grudgingly. "It'll do, Donkey, it'll do," I said, chuckling to myself.

Apollo gave me an approving nod while Artemis and Zoë frowned confusedly. I waved them off. "Don't worry about it. Apollo gets it." Which should be a red flag as far as pop culture references go, I thought dryly. "Anyways…" I strode over to where my hunting pack sat on the floor. I picked it up and slung it over my shoulder. When I looked back at the godly twins and the Hunter, Artemis and Zoë were still frowning at me, only now Apollo had joined them.

"What are you doing?" Apollo asked.

"I'm leaving," I said, like it should be obvious. Let's be honest – it should have been.

If possible, his frown deepened. "You can't leave now. It's nearly midnight."

I raised an eyebrow. "And your point is, uncle….? The night is my territory. You know… son of the moon goddess and all that?"

"My brother is right," Artemis interjected. "…thought you will likely never hear me say that again. I know you've had a rough past few days, Orion; you need a solid night of rest before you go. You'll need your energy for the trip."

I looked between them for a minute, hoping one of them would give ground. They didn't. I huffed and set my pack back down on the floor next to my bed. "Fine," I said. "Then if you don't mind…" I made a motion with my hands, like, Shoo so I can sleep.

The twins nodded and prepared to flash out, until Artemis seemed to remember that I was going to be leaving on a journey that would likely kill me. She froze, and before she could lose her nerve, she walked over and embraced me in an awkward hug.

Zoë watched wide-eyed. I doubted she had ever seen her mistress hug a male. I tentatively wrapped my arms around my mother's small frame and hugged her back. She leaned up to whisper in my ear, "I regret that I have not been able to spend time with you, my son. But I promise, if there is a way to fix this, I will find it."

I gave her a small, sad smile. "I don't doubt you will," I said. "And when you do, you know just where to find me."

She nodded and stepped away. "We will come to see you off tomorrow." She returned my smile, and then she and her brother began to glow. Zoë and I averted our eyes as the gods revealed their immortal forms and vanished in a flash of light.

When they were gone, Zoë turned to me with an unreadable expression. She looked around the one-room cabin, noticing the absence of any other beds. "I will sleep outside, in my tent," she decided. "I prefer sleeping under the stars anyway."

I accepted her words with a curt nod, and she walked to the door. As she opened it to walk out, I said, "I'll wake you at first light." She nodded once as well, then the door shut and I lost sight of her.

I sighed to myself. If I was going to have to deal with her for almost every waking hour for basically the rest of my life, I figured I might as well try to enjoy it. I resolved to pour on the sarcasm extra-hard tomorrow, and climbed into my bed. I laid my head down on the pillow and pulled the comforter up over my shoulders.

Soon, I drifted off to sleep. Naturally, I dreamed.

I found myself in an enormous hall the size of a baseball stadium. High above, the dark-blue ceiling glittered with constellations. In the center of the room, a hearth burned with a steady, comforting fire. Twelve thrones formed an inverted-U shape around the hearth. I gaped as I realized what I was seeing.

It was the Hall of the Gods: the throne room of Olympus.

Right now, only two of the thrones were occupied. At the vertex of the U, a man in a gray pinstripe suit sat atop a white marble throne. His face was stern, his eyes stormy grey. He had a grey-black beard that sparked with little lightning bolts.

Immediately to his left was a throne that looked like a deep-sea fishing chair. It was made of grey/green-streaked white marble, with a holster for a fishing pole built into the side that carried a green trident. On it sat a man in a Hawaiian shirt and Bermuda shorts. He had black hair and sea-green eyes.

Zeus and Poseidon, undoubtedly. I shivered. Even in a dream, I could feel the power radiating off the two gods in waves. Apollo always appeared and acted so normal, I often forgot he was a god (though don't let him know I said that). These were two of the Big Three, though, and I knew that I could never doubt their power.

Before Poseidon's throne knelt the same black-haired demigod I'd seen in my previous dream. Between the trident that had hovered over his head in the creek as the water healed his wounds and his current location in front of the sea god's throne, rather than Zeus', I figured Poseidon was the boy's father.

The boy looked decidedly worse for wear. His clothes were singed and riddled with holes. He looked like he'd been through a warzone, honestly. He carried a neon-yellow nylon backpack, and as I watched, he reached into the pack and pulled out a celestial bronze cylinder, about three feet long, capped on both ends. He laid it at Zeus' feet, and I watched as the sky god held out his hand and the cylinder flew into it. My dream-perspective was too far away to hear what was being said, so I directed myself in closer.

I listened as the boy wove an incredible tale, filled with fantastical claims that included fighting Medusa, falling out of the St. Louis Arch, and fighting Ares in single combat (this scrawny little twelve-year-old fought Ares? He was talking about the same war god, right?). Zeus and Poseidon paid close attention, and I was mildly surprised neither of them had blasted the boy to next week yet.

By the time the boy finished, the two gods looked thoughtful. The boy's voice became muddled for a moment, but I caught one word I never wanted to hear again: "Kronos." I sensed they were about to talk about something important, but my dream began to fade. For the first time, I actually wanted a dream to continue. I felt like I needed to hear whatever it was the boy had been about to say.

But then he abruptly turned around and opened his mouth, and when he spoke, Zoë Nightshade's voice came out: "Wake up!"

My vision was filled by something large and round, the color of copper, with two black dots halfway up. I blinked and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes.

Zoë's face swam into focus, hovering less than a foot from my own. "Holy Hades!" I jumped in shock.

Which, of course, due to our close proximity, resulted in our foreheads painfully bashing together with a resounding thump.

I fell back onto my pillow, clutching my temple. Zoë staggered backwards but, to her credit, remained upright.

I groaned. "Do you mind? I told you I would wake you at sunrise for us to leave."

"You did," she agreed, scowling at me and rubbing her now slightly red forehead. "And that was over an hour ago." I peered out the window. Sure enough, I was dismayed to see that the sun had indeed already made its way over the horizon.

I shifted and scratched the back of my neck awkwardly. "Um… sorry," I said. "I must have overslept." I didn't sound very sorry.

Zoë must have realized this fact. Her scowl deepened and she sniffed disdainfully before turning away. "The twins are waiting, and we need to leave… you have ten minutes." She tossed the words back over her shoulder as she walked to the door and went back outside to her tent.

I made a face at her retreating back – just another example of my world-class maturity – and tried to finish waking myself up. It took a few minutes: my brain was a bit discombobulated, though I suspected that had less to do with my dream and subsequent abrupt wake-up call and more to do with my unfortunate collision with a certain Hunter's bony brow.

Still groaning, I threw my covers off and hopped out of the bed. I was still dressed in the clothes I'd had on from my foray into the woods yesterday morning, and let me tell you, they smelled bad. Like, kill-all-the-plants-in-a-10-foot-radius bad. I tried not to gag as I tossed them into a laundry hamper. Things like that didn't usually bother me, but hey, even I have standards.

Fortunately, I had many copies of my traditional hunting outfit (what can I say? I'm a creature of a habit). I picked out a fresh pair of black leggings and a black tunic, taking a moment to admire the silver trim. Now that I knew the truth of my godly parentage, I understood my attraction to the color, and viewed the outfit with a newfound sense of appreciation and, yes, even pride.

Aware that it was unwise to keep two gods and an impatient Hunter waiting for much longer, I quickly stepped into the leggings and pulled the tunic over my head. I fastened my belt back at my waist, attaching my hunting knife in its sheath to my right hip. I looked around for a pair of shoes. The only thing I saw was a set of combat boots not unlike the ones worn by Zoë and the other Hunters. I didn't think they'd been there the night before, but I shrugged and laced them on.

I walked over to my bed and grabbed my hunting pack from its position propped against the bed frame. I rifled through it to make sure everything was there. Tent, check. Extra outfit, check. Spare knife, check. Emergency rations, check. Nectar and ambrosia, check. Mortal first-aid kit, check. I nodded in satisfaction. "Looks like we're good to go," I muttered to myself, and strode to the door.

Before I opened it, I took one last look around Apollo's cabin, the place where I'd lived the majority of life. I figured there wasn't much chance I'd ever see it again, so I tried to memorize the interior layout: my bed in the corner, the central fireplace, the kitchen area in another corner, the wardrobe. I sighed and gave a short salute. Then I turned, opened the door, and exited my childhood home for the last time.

Apollo, Artemis, and Zoë were waiting at the edge of the woods, deep in conversation. Apollo was dressed in his typical red tracksuit, though the red didn't seem quite as glaringly bright today. Artemis and Zoë wore the garments of the Hunters: a white shirt with a silver jacket, silver camouflage pants, and black combat boots. They went quiet and looked up as I approached. With a slight sense of amusement, I noticed the differing emotions in their eyes.

Apollo looked upset. I could see his regret that he couldn't do anything about my situation, and his sadness at parting with me, possibly for good. I knew he felt responsible for me, and he hated that he was so helpless to stop what was inevitable at this point. Helplessness was probably not a sentiment that gods experienced very often.

Artemis' eyes were the most difficult to read. She seemed to be making a concerted effort to mask her feelings from me, but, like her brother, I saw a hint of regret there as well. I thought I detected residual anger, probably at Apollo for not revealing my existence to her until now, and there was still that underlying current of affection that she seemed not to know what to do with, but was unable to deny.

Zoë's volcanic black orbs held the usual contempt and disdain I'd expected, but for some reason, it seemed forced, almost… fake. As much as Artemis was trying to mask her feelings, it seemed Zoë was attempting to do the same, though instead of keeping her expression blank, she was using her typical aloof visage to hide her true feelings. I couldn't be sure, but I reckoned I saw the same touch of pity and compassion in her gaze that I'd seen when she first laid eyes on me. I resisted the urge to scowl at her. Sooner or later, I was going to have to have a conversation with her about that. I didn't know why she seemed to pity me, but I knew for sure that, as I said before, I didn't want or need her pity.

The sun god was the first to speak. "Well, Orion…" he said glumly. "Looks like this is goodbye."

I nodded and gave him a small smile. "Farewell, not goodbye," I corrected, though my heart wasn't in it. I knew I wasn't likely to see him again. I tried to encourage him a bit. "And Apollo… don't beat yourself up. It isn't your fault. I know you feel bad about not being able to do anything, but I guess what I'm trying to say is, don't. I don't blame you, and you shouldn't blame you either. In fact, what I should be doing is thanking you." I stared into his eyes, liquid silver to sky blue. "Thank you, Apollo. You were the one who raised me. You protected me, taught me everything I know. I will forever be grateful for that."

Unbelievably, Apollo looked on the verge of tears now. But he controlled himself and nodded. "It was the least I could do." He sniffed. "You're a good kid, Orion."

I gave him a thumbs up, and moved down the line to face his sister.

My mother looked at me for a second before stepping forward and, for the second time in as many days, embracing me. I returned her hug a little less hesitantly this time.

When we separated, she studied my eyes, the silver discs that were nearly identical to hers. "There is so much I wish to say to you, my son," she said softly. "But I fear I will never have the time. As much as I dislike what my brother did, I understand that he could not break his oath. Zeus knows I have forgiven him for far worse things than hiding your existence. In any case, whatever happens, Orion, know this: I am proud of you. Love is a difficult emotion for me, but know that I do care for you. And I will continue to search for some way to save you."

I couldn't help it; my vision began to blur as my eyes watered. I blinked rapidly, trying to dispel the tears. I was not going to cry in front of Zoë Nightshade. With no small effort, I was able to get my rebellious eyes under control. I managed another weak smile. "Thank you, mother." I feared my voice would start breaking if I said any more.

Finally, I stood in front of the lieutenant of the Hunt. If anything, the pity in her eyes had gone up a notch after my little display with Artemis. At this point, though, I was in no mood to be hostile to her. I gave her a nod and gestured to the trees. "Shall we?"

Zoë stared inscrutably at me for a second longer before returning my nod. "Let us depart," she said, and together, the two of us bounded off into the woods.

I didn't look back. I wasn't sure I could keep it together if I did.

Artemis watched dejectedly as her son raced off into the woods side-by-side with her lieutenant.

Her son. The words sounded foreign in her thoughts – they simply weren't meant to go together. But now that it had inexplicably happened, she found herself quickly warming to the idea.

She hadn't known what to think at first. Obviously, she had been furious at her brother for keeping something as big as this a secret from her. He had spent much of the past night in her tent at her Hunters' camp, trying to convince her to forgive him. And eventually, like always, she did. After all, he couldn't have broken his oath. But just because she had forgiven him didn't mean her anger had entirely abated.

The idea of being a mother was completely alien to her. It was always somewhat ironic to her that the Greeks had worshipped her, an eternal maiden goddess, as the goddess of childbirth. Now that she actually had a child, even one that was created by the combination of a piece of her essence with a mortal's, she felt some hole begin to fill within her – a hole she never even knew existed.

Artemis heaved a sigh. But of course it couldn't be that simple. Just when she had found her son, she had learned that his life would soon end, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Or at least, that's what Apollo had said. If there was any possible way for her to save Orion, she intended to find it.

Speaking of Apollo, she noticed her twin had glanced over at her when he caught her sigh. He had a knowing look on his face. "It's hard, isn't it?" he asked quietly. "Wanting to do something, knowing that you should do it, but not being able to. All you can do is stand by and watch."

Artemis got the feeling he wasn't just talking about Orion's fate. "I already told you, brother," she said. "I forgive you for your deception. You did what you had to do. But that does not meant I do not wish I could have spent more time with my son."

"I know," Apollo said. He said nothing for a while. Then: "You… you might still be able to," he said slowly.

Artemis sharply turned her head to stare at him. "Explain."

The sun god took a deep breath. "When you didn't know of his existence, I knew there was no way he could survive. But now that you know… there may be a way to save him. You are the only one who can. But it is dangerous, and will require near-perfect timing. And there is no guarantee it will work. Even if it does, he might not be the same. Do you still wish to hear it?"

Artemis didn't even need to think about her answer. "Tell me."