Chapter 26

Given the circumstances, anyone can commit an unthinkable evil. That's what Leon gathered from Irene's memory.

That was the only thing staying his blade as he stared at Marcus' sleeping form.

"I'll check on your mother," Percy said. He put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't kill him. Not yet."

Leon nodded. If he could take a break, see Irene's old memory, and fall asleep before even laying eyes on the bastard Roman, then he could restrain himself. Though, looking at Marcus only made him angrier by the second.

The immortal hero nodded back and left the room.

Thanas stepped forward. "Let me go first. I didn't see what happened. This man has no ties to me. Both of you will act irrationally if he provokes you."

Leon didn't like that the son of Hades was right, but he backed off. Xanthe followed suit with great hesitance. Thanas probably should've been more wary of her. She looked like she was ready to unleash an earthquake that would swallow them up. Had it not been for the fact that Irene had intervened on the battlefield, Xanthe surely would've killed the Roman. It looked like it took every fibre of her being to restrain herself.

Both of them watched as Thanas approached Marcus wielding a thick metal rod about as long as his arm.

Marcus' eyes twitched, and the man groaned as he opened his eyes. He blinked wearily as he tried to discern where he was.

"Welcome to the interrogation room," Thanas introduced, standing in front of him. He gestured to Leon and Xanthe. "I believe you three are acquainted?"

Marcus turned and squinted. He recognized them instantly and sneered. "You little ingrate shits!"

"Now, now." Thanas jabbed him in the chest with the metal rod. "Watch your language. You're not the one calling the shots here. Now, I'm sure your loyalty to Rome will make it difficult to extract any useful information out of you, but even if you don't crack, I'm sure Leon and Xanthe here would love to see you suffer."

Marcus growled. "You know nothing about the might of Rome. Even if a handful of us fall, all of your family and friends are doomed. Once the legion arrives, you stand no chance!"

"I'd beg to differ!" Xanthe snapped.

Thanas put up a hand to stop her and gave her a sharp look. "Easy, Xanthe."

"You miserable fools!" Marcus shifted in his binds, struggling to break free. "My lineage is one of Rome's most famous families! We were right there next to Caesar as he crossed the Rubicon! We were right there as he rose to power! We were right there to fight alongside his true heir, Octavian! Three measly Greek demigods will not stop me or my children. My life means nothing now that my children are of age!"

"Your family has quite the twisted history," Thanas remarked. "Three sons. Three daughters. Excess of either are killed as babies. Then, when the youngest son is of age, or when the oldest son turns thirty, they duel to the death, and the ultimate victor becomes the family heir. The daughters choose three women, once again to bear the children, but ultimately themselves are never to wed or have kids of their own. Unless, of course, the sons are rendered infertile or succumb to sickness. What was it? Five sons is the maximum?"

Leon and Xanthe glanced at each other. Did Irene tell him that?

"It has worked for generations," Marcus gloated. "Why stop now? I was the strongest of my brothers. I earned my place in history."

"Except now all your sons and daughters are dead," Thanas countered. "They died when we destroyed the Eleventh Legion. They died when we hunted them down as they tried to flee."

Marcus grinned evilly. "Not all of them. Florian still remains."

Leon immediately grabbed onto Xanthe's hand.

"What?" She looked floored. "He's alive?"

"He's my child!" Marcus exclaimed. "He wouldn't be stupid enough to stay there at that camp!" The Roman turned to Xanthe. "He's still alive. It turns out you never killed your half-brother! I bet it wore you down, ate at your conscience, each and every day you thought you killed someone you cherished."

Xanthe was shaking. "What do you mean he's alive?! Where is he?!"

"He knows who you are now, little girl. He knows you're a filthy Greek and that you destroyed his home, his friends, and his family. If I cannot do it, he will hunt you down and raise his sword against you, even if you can't. You are the reason your mother died. For being a Greek! For being a traitor!"

"No..." She looked speechless, her hands clenched tightly by her sides. "I..."

Thanas brought the metal rod down angrily on Marcus' knee. Marcus knowed in pain, wobbling the chair back and forth.

"You're all traitors!" Marcus spat, hissing in agony. "You think I'm the evil one, but you are the ones that hunted down and murdered my entire family. You are a band of hypocrites, blinded by your ignorance. Live in your bubble and enjoy it while you can. One day, we will come knocking and destroy everything you hold dear, just as you did to Aeneas and Troy!"

Leon imagined the multitude of ways he wanted to torture the man. He remembered the cruel punishments Percy had suffered, like with Dharma, and the inhumane treatment Irene had faced at the hands of those very Trojans. But he bit his tongue to control his anger. Percy would not be happy if he returned to a dead captive. Instead, he focused on Xanthe, knowing a million thoughts must have been racing through her mind. Even he had questions about Florian. Was he really still alive? Then why hadn't they found him in all their adventures?

Thanas smashed Marcus' other knee and growled, "It's not our fault that Paris decided to seduce and kidnap Helen. I'm sure the Trojans would've known that all the suitors had a pact to come to the winner's aid if anything happened to Helen."

"Venus awarded Paris with a prize!"

"That doesn't make it right!"

"The gods ultimately decided what is right and wrong!"

"So then the Greeks were justified when Athena, Hera and Poseidon supported them in their war against Troy?"

"Your swine gods are worthless! Jupiter is the king of the gods. He makes the final decisions. And he chose the side of our ancestors!"

"Only because Achilles asked him to," a voice said from the doorway. "Not because Zeus wanted to."

Irene strode into the room, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Who are you?" Marcus spat.

Irene smiled coldly. "The last surviving Trojan."

Marcus looked her up and down and scoffed. "Trojan, my arse. You're as Greek as they come."

"That's because when Troy still stood, we were only a few generations removed from Greek settlers," Irene continued. She shrugged and took the metal rod from Thanas' hands. "But Rome's lineage doesn't come from true Trojans. The true Trojans were scattered across the north and west. Ascanius, my little nephew, ended up leading the Trojans to Alba Longa while my brother stayed with the Latin tribe. Ultimately, the Romans descended from the Latins."

She paused and looked Marcus up and down.

"I must admit, though," she continued, "despite their differences, there is some shared history between Latins and the Greeks. But the Trojans of old were much closer to the Greeks than the Latins. It was generations of Latins and native Italic peoples that forged the Rome you know. Aeneas was just one piece of the puzzle."

Marcus stared at her, confused.

Leon shuddered as he was reminded of Irene's old memory. Aeneas may have been a hero to the Romans, but he wasn't without faults. The Greeks knew that well. Their greatest heroes had some of the greatest faults of all. In fact, aside from Perseus, the greater the hero, the greater the faults.

"Regardless, I'm not here to lecture you about your misconceptions," Irene sighed, "and I am obviously biased due to my difficult relationship with Aeneas. What I'm here for is information. You have spies in the emperor's court, powerful enough that their disappearance would be alarming. Justinian is being swayed to grant your wish. If you don't want to die, you'll inform us of your next steps. Otherwise..." She leaned down and gave him a cold snarl. "You can enjoy your trip to the Fields of Punishment."

Percy must not have trusted them to interrogate Marcus on their own. His hunch was right. Without Irene, Thanas probably would have snapped Marcus' limbs in anger. Even worse, Xanthe might've snapped and demanded to know about Florian. With how delusional Marcus was, Xanthe would never have gotten a straight answer, and she would have killed him. And Leon wouldn't stop her.

Marcus spat in Irene's face.

Xanthe tensed and took a step forward, but Irene simply held a hand up. She wiped it away and gave the Roman a hard look. "You lack the respect and discipline expected of a Roman. Are you sure you're not just a brute?"

"I don't respect lesser beings."

Xanthe growled, "She isn't lesser than you, you ugly shit face! She is the last living princess of Troy!"

Marcus just scoffed.

Irene didn't seem fazed. She must've been used to people not believing her. She simply stood and waited for a response from Marcus.

He didn't give her one.

"A pity..." Irene eyed Marcus' knees and began to speak in an old language that Leon could barely make out. "Your knees are the first to go. Your shins are next. Perhaps I'll rip your fingernails out next?"

Marcus' eyes suddenly widened. "You... How do you know that language? You—"

"I told you," she continued. "Rome is not Trojan. I represent the last pillar of Troy. Rome was built on the foundations of the corrupt and morally inept values held by the Trojan royal family of my generation. Only Hector, the hero of Troy, stood above the rest. Not even Aeneas could measure up to him."

Marcus looked like he wanted to argue, but he was at a loss for words.

"I do understand the mindset, though," Irene told him, speaking in contemporary Greek again. "Your empire descends from Aeneas, the last known famous Trojan to escape Troy before it fell. They are your kin, and you seek to protect your family. Everyone wants to protect their own kind. I also know it would take a miracle to convince both sides that they are, in fact, more similar than they are different. That, whether they are Greek or Roman, they are all children of Olympus. I'm not delusional enough to believe that some sort of peace will ever be achieved. Nor do I believe you will ever relent and betray your conviction. However, should you seek to eradicate the ones you believe are your enemy, I will not sit and watch."

Leon felt the uneasiness of Xanthe beside him. Thanas looked hesitant, as if he wasn't sure what to make of what Irene was saying. Sometimes he felt like she and Percy were out of their league. She wasn't making this interrogation about them and the campers. She was telling the Roman her true feelings. Her genuine nature was something that the Trio had come to appreciate, especially when Percy was always so cryptic with them — though that had changed in recent months. But it made them confused. How were they supposed to respond?

The Roman hesitated for a moment, but then decided against speaking out. He shook his head and scowled, staying silent.

"We are more similar than you think, Marcus," Irene continued.

She walked around to his rear and drew a dagger. She cut through his bonds and tossed her knife to his feet.

Leon took a step forward, ready to summon Koptos, but Irene held up her hand. He stopped in his tracks, staring at her incredulously. What was she thinking?

Marcus glanced over his shoulder and let out a bark of laughter. "You're going to let me free, knowing I will come back to destroy you?"

"I give you the choice," Irene replied. "Peace or war. You are a descendant of Mars. Choose wisely."

The Roman turned to the Trio, eyeing them with cold hatred. Staring into the Roman's eyes, Leon could see something he hadn't noticed before. It wasn't that Marcus wanted to teach the Greeks a lesson. It was the same look his aunt had given him after she realized who he truly was. Marcus didn't just hate Greeks because of his loyalty to Rome and the fallen Troy. He hated Greeks because he'd been raised to believe, and had intentionally sought to believe, that Greeks were less than human. That Greeks were less than Romans because they were savages. It wasn't a fight for survival. It was a fight to expunge what he thought was filth from the world.

But he didn't attack them. He scooped up the dagger and limped out of the room.

"No one will say anything to Percy about the reason why I let him free," Irene said firmly.

Xanthe turned to face her, barely holding in her anger. "Why did you let him free?"

"Because I'm cruel, vicious and self-serving," Irene replied. Her eyes flashed dangerously, just like they had on the night Troy burned to the ground. "So long as there is an imbalance between the Greeks and the Romans, Percy will never come to his senses. And there is no better way for us to lure the Romans into a trap than to spare the leaders who wish to see Greeks slaughtered wholescale rather than those who only wish subjugation."

"He's a monster that sees killing Greeks as sport!" Xanthe yelled.

"Exactly. He is the model Roman for our plan."

"But he'll end up killing more of us because he's not an idiot!"

Irene gave her a sympathetic look. "I understand the confusion and pain you must be going through. But you cannot allow your personal vendetta to come before the bigger picture."

"Why does Percy have to be the bigger picture? What does it matter if he's saved or not? Florian..." Xanthe's voice broke. "Florian is..."

Leon put an arm around her before she could scream and turn into a storm. She shook in rage and hurt, but she managed to hold it in, crossing one arm across her chest and resting her hand on his.

Irene sighed softly and turned to Thanas. "How go the preparations?"

Thanas pressed his lips together in a tight line. His forehead was creased with wrinkles; the stress must have been getting to him. "Not good. When we were on our way past Leon's village, several outposts we'd set up were found abandoned. The Romans don't have much of a presence down here, but they're persistent and annoying enough that we can hardly press forward. Combine that with Emperor Justinian's detached attitude toward Alex and Viviana, and things don't look bright. There are just too many Romans distracting us."

She nodded slowly. "Much of the blame falls on me for burdening you with two tasks at once."

"It's fine, I—"

"No. Do not pretend that it is fine." She turned to Leon. "Do you have the vials? It is time. The final stage has begun."

"Vials?" Thanas stared at Leon. "Of what?"

Leon glanced at Xanthe, who still looked emotionally drained. She produced the vials from her pouch, but handed them over to him, expecting him to explain the situation to Thanas. He didn't know why Irene had wanted them to keep it a secret from Thanas for so long, but seeing the way Thanas looked after a few months separated made it a little clearer. The war effort wasn't going well, and Thanas had to bear the brunt of it all. Leon and Xanthe were, to put it simply, just soldiers.

Leon explained it to him as best as he could. He told him about the day they went back to the camp to seek out the body of Xanthe's mother and how they'd run into the goddess Hecate there and the crossroads that she had shown them.

Thanas shook his head in disbelief. "But how could we—?"

The door swung open, and Percy stepped inside.

His eyes immediately went to the empty chair where Marcus had been sitting and then to Irene, who was watching him carefully. Percy seemed to consider his options for a moment before he shrugged.

"At least we'll have a reason to kill him for good when he returns," he said, as if he knew exactly what was going to happen. He frowned. "Though, I'd prefer it if you didn't do these things behind my back, Irene."

"You don't seem too angry," she noted.

Percy's expression changed. A look of relief appeared on his face and he smiled at Leon. "That's because I have good news. Your mother is awake and alert. She's a little shocked at the whole situation, but she's taken it well for someone who has wholeheartedly believed in Christ her whole life. And... she wants to see you, Leon."

Leon's ears perked up. He straightened his posture and took a step forward. "Then... lead the way."

Zoë woke up in a cold sweat. Another nightmare.

She didn't move, staring up from underneath her covers. She saw nothing but the dark canvas ceiling and the soft glow of the lamp's light to her left. It was raining outside, the soft pitter-patter around her tent filling her ears as if they were buckets.

If her eyes were working properly, it was still nighttime. Helene would be on watch.

Slowly, she pushed herself up into a sitting position and turned to face the lamp. It burned as brightly as it had when she'd fallen asleep. That was the power of Greek fire. But to her right was her own shadow, illuminated on the canvas, staring right back at her. A cold shiver ran up her spine as the memory of her nightmare returned.

Zoë raised a clawed hand above her chest and pushed away to ward off the evil spirits lurking about.

Getting to her feet, she rummaged through her belongings and gathered an extra set of clothing. She would take a quick plunge into the nearby creek and dry off. The rain sounded light anyway.

As expected, the sun had yet to rise. She shut off her lamp, bringing it with her, and snuck away from the campsite. She noticed Helene hidden in the shadows, silently watching the dim campfire burn as another uneventful night passed.

Zoë found the creek, lit the lamp, and stripped down.

As she slipped into the icy water, the nightmare started to reform once again in her mind.

She saw Orion with Irene, hunting down what looked to be stray Hunters. In her nightmare, it almost seemed like they were allies. She knew that couldn't be true. How could Irene ever cooperate with someone who represented the very man she loathed? The only way would be if Percy made her do it. But Irene didn't look like she cared much about shooting down the Hunters.

She'd used her charmspeak effortlessly, commanding the Hunters to make mistakes so that Orion had the perfect opportunity to shoot them down. Normally, the daughter of Aphrodite held back on those powers because she knew it could easily backfire on her. Using magic over and over again was tiring, and keeping people under her influence was even more so.

But, of all things, Percy was nowhere to be found.

Was she watching a future where Percy was killed? Would that turn Irene into the same kind of cold-blooded killer that Percy was?

Perhaps it was the Fates' way of balancing things out. In the end, Nemesis would reign supreme because too much of one thing would ultimately overpower all else.

Still, she couldn't get over seeing Orion. The last time she saw the giant was back during Nero's reign, when girls were starting to be kidnapped en masse from Rome. The giant knew that it would get Artemis' attention. The only task that had remained was drawing out the Hunters too far. And Orion was almost successful at doing so had it not been for Nero's fire.

Zoë stepped out of the creek and dried herself off, hiding under a tree to shield herself from the rain. Too many people had died because of the fire. Not because of the fire itself, but because of the persecution of Christians afterward.

It was debatable whether the fire was truly the cause of the persecutions, or if it was just an excuse for Nero to do Nero things, but she remembered the lines of arrested Romans being marched away for execution.

Zoë stared at her hands. She hadn't behaved much better than Percy over the years. How many young men had been killed for accidentally trespassing on Hunter encampments? Some of them were truly innocent, not knowing where they were, starving and looking for any human activity. Yet still she cut them down because that was her duty as the lieutenant.

Over the past three years, the Hunters had found dozens of informants all across the known world that were helping out Percy. She had also killed them all.

It was to stop Percy, though. It was to stop his rampage. He was more destructive than she could ever be because he involved himself in the mortal world, in politics and wars.

Despite the legitimate claim, she couldn't bring herself to raise a finger against Percy himself.

Sullenly, she walked back to the camp, once again shutting off her lamp.

As she approached, she saw Helene speaking to someone just at the edge of camp, both arguing in hushed voices.

"Phoebe, you can't do this yet!" Helene argued.

"We have to do something," Phoebe shot back. "If we don't, it'll never end. We'll continue this game of back and forth for eternity. Fill that power vacuum with people who won't immediately turn to greed and power and a lust for revenge."

"But you're essentially saying you want a huge number of Greeks to die!" Helene looked flabbergasted. "You want us to help hundreds of them to die so that we can make him go unhinged?"

"If we draw him out, we can encircle him and strike him from behind before he has a chance to escape."

"But Irene's plan is working! He hasn't done anything of any significance for the past couple of years!"

"He might be well-behaved now, but there's no guarantee that it will last forever. There's always a chance that he snaps and goes on a rampage. This is the closest either side has ever come to eradicating the other."

"I know! I know! Something none of us realized until recently is that he's managed to help whittle down both sides to not much more than a thousand in total when it used to be tens of thousands pitted against each other. But that doesn't excuse that insane idea!"

"If the gods won't strike him down, we have to." Phoebe sounded angry, but it didn't seem like it was entirely directed at Percy. Perhaps the couple years that he'd been staying around Constantinople had reassured her that he wasn't a complete lunatic. "The only things keeping him sane right now are the safety of the Greeks, and safety of the Trio, Irene and Zoë. If those people disappear, he won't stay down. If the gods wanted so desperately to get rid of him, they should have killed him, not exiled him!"

"So you want to control how he becomes unhinged?"

"That way we can control how to take him down."

Helene looked conflicted. "But, of all the Hunters other than Zoë, we should be the ones that understand Percy the best. Don't you remember the years before he was exiled? There was a time when we thought he would be someone akin to the next Hippolytus. If Irene can bring that back—"

"The gods broke him," Phoebe snapped. "The gods broke him, and it would take a miracle to fix him. We can't keep what has been broken no matter how much we want to."

Helene didn't say anything. She seemed to be at a loss for words.

"Are you with me or not?"

Helene stared at her feet. She was silent for a while, pondering and reflecting on everything that had happened so far. It wasn't like she had much of a choice.

"I'm with you."

Zoë pressed her lips together and turned around. She backtracked out of earshot and approached the campsite once again. This time, she didn't hide the fact that she was approaching, intentionally making enough noise that the two would notice her presence.

As two of them entered her line of sight, she saw two pairs of eyes staring straight at her, bows at the ready. They dropped their bows as they recognized her and stared in surprise. Zoë feigned surprise of her own, like she thought only Helene was supposed to be awake and alert.

"I thought Aikaterine was supposed to take over Helene's shift," Zoë said, directing her comment to Phoebe. She noticed Phoebe's guarded expression. The Hunter was still keeping secrets. "Are you replacing her?"

"How did you—?"

Helene was cut off by Phoebe.

"No, but I couldn't sleep." Phoebe glanced at Helene, as if warning her not to say anything about what they were just talking about. "I wanted to discuss matters with Helene. About our hunt for Percy's spy network. About how to proceed."

"Is this something you would have brought to my attention?" Zoë asked.

"Only if I received enough support," Phoebe replied. "And only if others thought my idea was worth bringing up."

Zoë nodded, trying her best to act dismissive. She wasn't a good actor, and she knew it, but she had to try her best for Phoebe's sake. She knew Phoebe didn't hate the side of Percy that had vanished after his exile. She knew Phoebe could remember the old days. Yet, in the end, that was probably what hurt so much. Because it was someone they knew and they used to care about that had devolved into someone so vicious.

In truth, it was none of their business. They had no right to have a say in matters like this that didn't involve them. This was a fight between Greeks and Romans. The pitiful, wasteful deaths that came along with it shouldn't have been of any concern to them as companions of Artemis.

It was because it was Percy.

It was always because of Percy.

Zoë glanced toward the camp. "We should start getting ready as the sun rises. We have a long journey to begin."

Phoebe and Helene gave her a confused look.

Three years, Irene had said. That's when he'll launch his plan. But I can't let him have it his way. Summer solstice in three years. Come to me. The end will begin.

"We're headed to Constantinople."

"Leon!"

His mother looked like she'd been staring out the window. But as soon as he entered the room, she whirled around and ran up to him.

"Mother..."

He didn't know what to say first. He wanted to apologize. He wanted to explain. He wanted to tell her that he really missed her. He wanted to tell her that he wished he had never left.

"Come." She beckoned him over and sat down on her bed. "Sit."

He sat down.

"Percy took care of me," she told him with a small smile. "He's kind."

Three years ago, he wouldn't have believed those words, but Percy had been a lot less cold in recent months.

"He also told me a little bit about... the war."

Leon pressed his lips together in a tight line.

"This war you speak of..." His mother hesitated, as if unsure whether to believe this was all real or not. "Why are you children fighting it? What about the adults?"

"Everyone is fighting," Leon replied. "Right down to the young ones."

"That's... cruel." She looked down at her hands. "Those barbaric men who stormed our home were the scariest soldiers I've ever seen in my life. The leader, that Marcus, even ordered his men to kill the young. They wanted to spare no one."

Leon looked away guiltily. "I'm sorry. If... if I hadn't been so careless, you never would have been targeted. Aunt Martina was right about that."

His mother patted his hands. "Don't be sorry, Leon. I know... I know you might not believe the story, but you know that Jesus faced opposition from the Romans. He, as a man born from Jewish roots, was disliked by those who followed the old Roman pantheon. To Christians, he willingly sacrificed himself for the sins of others. The ones who rise above others will always face opposition."

"I'm not a hero, Mother. I've killed people. I'm a murderer."

"We are all selfish," she insisted. "We all commit sins each and every single day. But we wash away our sins. Repent for the wrongs we've committed. And try to live each day better than the last. Some live clean and happy lives. Some willingly dirty their hands so that others can enjoy freedom. There isn't always a happy in-between. I understand that."

"Then how am I any better than what Aunt Martina calls a demon?"

His mother pursed her lips, looking like she wanted to argue. But she didn't open her mouth. She didn't have an argument. By her standards, he was the equivalent of scum. He was supposed to have no merit or worth in her eyes.

"Leon, did I ever tell you about your grandfather?"

He stared at her. "No. I've never heard you mention anything about my grandfather."

She glanced at Xanthe and Thanas, who were sitting quietly on the other bed. "He wasn't like me. Or Martina. Or Kyros. He came from Thessalonica. He was a young aspiring scholar when he lost everything to the Romans. He was forced to move out and ended up in our village. There, he met my mother... your grandmother. They fell in love and married and eventually had me. It wasn't until I was seven that I realized that, although my mother was Christian like her family, my father was not."

Leon straightened his posture. He'd never heard any stories about his grandparents before. As far as he knew, they both died before he was born.

"I couldn't understand, at first, why he was a non-believer. My mother eventually told me that it was supposed to be a secret. But that... that wasn't until after he died."

His mother paused for a moment, as if her emotions were about to overwhelm her. His mother must have been close to his grandfather. But how could that be when she wholeheartedly believed one way, and he believed another? No one else in the village was as forgiving.

"Martina and Kyros were young and impressionable. They didn't think much of your grandfather growing up, since much of his time was preoccupied with studying. They didn't find it interesting or intriguing. The more time they spent with the more radical families in the village, the more and more they began to believe that he was unfaithful and worthy of punishment. When I was thirteen, my two siblings eventually gathered enough evidence to reveal to the village of his true beliefs. As you know, much of the village vehemently opposes non-believers. At first, the moderate families tried to settle for exile. But, somehow, the village called for the death penalty. Watching... watching my father die in front of my eyes was the worst day of my life. He was stoned. They first aimed for his legs. When they fell, they then aimed for his torso. And then, when he had crumpled to the ground, halfway dead, they threw rocks at his head."

Leon's chest tightened in sorrow. The memory of Sophia being cut down by javelins popped back to the forefront of his mind.

"Until you fled that day from the Romans, that was the worst day of my life. Your grandmother passed away a few years after your grandfather from illness. Martina and Kyros always believed our father came from Hell to take her life. I... I may not have agreed with my father's beliefs, but that didn't mean he deserved death."

Leon found Thanas' eyes. They had executed quite a few Romans over the years. But they had never resorted to stoning.

Lethal poison. Blade to the heart. Blade to the throat.

All of those had been fair game. Something in Thanas' eyes told him that stoning could be even more barbaric, depending on where the rocks were thrown.

"I had some time to think," his mother continued. "About what you said. About how you killed Kyros."

He turned back to her with a solemn look.

"I... I must admit that you have committed a wrong. But I also believe that you would have never knowingly and willingly committed that crime. What you did was accidental when you discovered the unnatural power that resides within you. I believe that..."

He looked into her eyes and saw something he hadn't noticed before. Her mind was overwhelmed. She hadn't been ready to learn about the truth, and it was beginning to show. She was holding on for his sake.

He grabbed her hand and squeezed it gently. "Don't push yourself, Mother. I know this is too much for you."

She shook her head. "You... you endured years with me with your powers, with me forcing down my faith upon you when you are not compatible. I can... I can endure this much for you."

"Mother—"

"Please!" she pleaded.

He was taken aback. He hadn't seen that kind of intensity from her before.

"God has a funny way of doing things," his mother said, letting out a tired laugh. "I trust that He has a plan for you. Perhaps it was vengeance for what Kyros did to your grandfather. But, if that is true, what of Martina?"

At first, Leon wanted to dismiss her words for incoherent ramble, but as he thought about it a second time, he realized that all he needed to do was change a couple of words for it to make sense in his world.

The Fates have a funny way of doing things, he thought. They must have a plan for me.

The rationale was different, of course, but that thought didn't seem so outlandish.

Leon turned his gaze to Percy and Irene, who were standing by the doorway. Both of them looked half relieved and half concerned.

"Leon... promise me one thing."

He turned back to his mother.

She took a shaky breath. "Remember the ones who love you. If you must fight this war, don't drive the ones you love to death. If it must end... don't live as a heathen. Die as a hero. Promise me."

Leon held her gaze. She was on the verge of breaking down. But, for his sake, she was holding it together. After a moment, he nodded.

"I promise."