Hello, guys! I'm back.

Wow, you say. It's been only, what, two days?

I know! But I've hit something of a writer's block, caused by having simultaneously too much and too little things to write about, so I'm posting now to motivate myself into writing. Hopefully. I like living life on the edge, you see.

The decision-making paradox is odd like that.

This chapter needs a bit of warning: aftermath of the slaughter of cute, fluffy animals, and some violence. Not enough to warrant an M, I think, but definitely a hard T.

Please enjoy and review! Some incentive: one bonus chapter per five reviews. I've written out the first four parts. Just make sure the reviews actually relates to the story and fill out the contact info form in my bio. That's...pretty much it.

Yeah. Have fun!

Shrine.

That was the impression that Artemis got as she examined the dead deer. It had expertly been beheaded, its head placed on a pike. A bunch of palm leaves and cuts of cypress lay at the base: her sacred animals and plants.

That wouldn't be a problem if it weren't for the fact that all the small animals in the area had been brutally murdered as well. Artemis frowned: the scene was disturbingly familiar to how she had found the dead body of Orion. Most others wouldn't dare blatantly infringe on her domain like this.

Yet somehow, the damage had seemed more...controlled. As if it hadn't been the work of someone who had lost their sanity to bloodlust, but more of someone who had been looking to construct a scene.

The scene was a calling card, Artemis realized. To her.

But who would try to get her attention in such a manner? More to the point, who had such a poor sense of self-preservation that they would attempt such a thing?

Apollo? But if he wanted to make amends, he wouldn't risk angering her further. And she seriously doubted he had the patience to get her attention in such a roundabout manner.

Not Apollo, then. Some deranged fan, perhaps? No, they wouldn't have cleaned up after themselves so nicely. Whoever did this made sure to leave no tracks.

So who would seek to gain her attention by creating a scene that explicitly alluded to her dear friend's-

Oh.

Oh no.

Oh nonononononono-

But she had spotted Orion's constellation acting strangely, and only Orion could hide his tracks from her, the hunting goddess, so well.

But how? As far as she knew, giants don't come back from the dead.

The stars, she realized.

When she made Orion into a constellation, she had separated a part of his essence from the rest of him. Perhaps that piece was big enough for the rest of him as an anchor.

She swore under her breath, uttering words that no twelve-year old should know. She had put Orion in the stars as a gesture of kindness. Of course that backfired on her.

Artemis summoned her bow, gripping it tight. She couldn't be sure of Orion's mental state. He wasn't the sanest of beings when he died, and she had no idea how Tartarus would have affected his psyche.

She would have to be on high alert from then on.

"My lady," Orion stood in front of her. He had gotten a new bow and set of arrows. Aside from that, he looked the same as she remembered him. His arms were raised in a gesture of peace.

And things were very, very wrong.

His smile was too bright, too brittle. Orion's eyes darted everywhere, as if seeing things that weren't there. Despite having his arms up, he was stiff, as if expecting an attacker.

"I apologize for taking so long in coming back," Orion continued. "But know that in all this time, I have never ceased to love you."

Love her?

Didn't she already make it clear to him that she didn't see him that way? She must have: it was one of those uncomfortable conversations that one wasn't liable to forget anytime soon. Orion had been disappointed, but he had come around eventually...hadn't he?

And why were all her instincts tingling in alarm?

"And the animals you slaughtered?" she asked, because she wasn't one to tolerate something like that-she only let it go the first time because the perpetrator was driven insane and was killed right after.

Orion seemed surprised, "I dedicated them to you, my lady. I apologize: I thought you would appreciate them."

"You thought I would...appreciate a clearing full of dead wild animals and my sacred animal's head on a pike?"

"And your sacred flowers. All dedicated to you," he added, as if it was supposed to make it better.

By the dog, he's lost it.

It felt like a fist had grabbed her gut and pulled. This wasn't the affable, somewhat awkward giant she had parted with. This Orion was cracked, jagged, twisted.

What had happened to him down there?

"Orion," she said quietly. She had been hoping that she wouldn't have to go through this again. "We weren't together. We never were."

Orion's expression went blank. For a long moment, he was silent.

"I see," he said at last. His voice was flat.

Artemis could tell that he really didn't see.

"That was a bit uncalled for, is it not? Playing with my emotions like that?"

"What?"

"I went through Tartarus for you, my lady. I've been trapped there for decades. I've had to lie, cheat, and kill just to have a chance to claw my way back up here, with just the thought of coming back to you to sustain me. And you mean to tell me that we were never together?"

"...Yes. That is what I said."

Orion giggled. It wasn't one of the happy, carefree ones she was used to hearing from her Hunters. It was the hysterical, insane kind of laugh from someone who's lost their last remnants of self-control.

Artemis's instincts screamed. She backed away, hands ready to summon her bows and arrows with a thought.

Orion managed to stop laughing. He looked between the spot she had been, at the spot she currently was, hands poised to summon her weapons, and something snapped.

He charged.

She did the natural thing: she summoned her bows and arrows and fired.

The arrow pierced him in the throat. He fell forward, the momentum pushing it in further.

He gurgled, somehow managing to lift his head up to look at her, eyes filling with hate.

Artemis felt cold. Dread rolled over her. The sense of foreboding came back, stronger than ever before.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. Orion just glared at her more, his wound already closing. His hands went to the arrow shaft, as if trying to pull it out. She resisted the urge to tell him to stop, that it would make the blood loss worse. It was becoming increasingly clear that Orion wasn't a friend anymore. Not even an ally.

She turned on her heel and left, guilt weighing her down. She left him alive, though: she was horribly sentimental about people whom she allowed to get close to her, and she had just shot her former friend in the throat. It was her way to assuage her own guilt.

In hindsight, it was a decision she would come to regret for the rest of the rest of her life.

According to numerous people, I write insanity pretty well. I don't know if that's a point for concern.

Why, yes. I have been trapped in quarantine with no one but my parents. Why do you ask?

So...that happened. This chapter was probably one of the darkest things I've written so far. The next chapter will be lighter. Probably. It mostly depends on the mood I'm in.

You'll just have to wait and find out, I guess.

Thanks for reading, guys. Remember to leave a review!