Third Person P.O.V.

The rain drops pelted painfully at his bare back as he knelt by the front porch, his brows furrowed and head tilted so that his nose was pointed directly at the house. From a by-passer's point of view, sniffing the air like a dog would probably be more than a bit weird, but luckily for him the storm had chased everyone into their houses, including the rest of his pack. Something, or someone smelt familiar, but yet so different. His senses were tingling, and fear grew at the pit of his stomach as he walked up to the house.

"Dad? Hey, Dad! You home?" the boy called, poking his head through the half-opened door. Worry tinted his voice as he crept further into the house, his footsteps light despite his large, muscled form.

The corridor had been in better condition. The pictures on the counter had been swiped off, many of them lying under shards of broken glass and cracked picture frames. The vase of flowers that Sue had managed to coax Billy into displaying to bring out more colour into the house, was now on the floor. The flowers lay wilted on the new red carpet Emily had just placed there, soaked up with the water that spilled from the case. A red trail was dragged across the wooden floor and the familiar smell of copper lingered in the air. He paled and picked up his pace, stumbling and crashing into the kitchen.

The tinted smell became prominent as he entered the kitchen and the sight that greeted him nearly caused him to throw up. Blood was splattered all over the sink and the floor.

"Dad? Dad?!" He yelled, desperately. He blinked and blinked again as if it would erase what he had just seen. After a tense moment of silence a shrill scream sounded from the living room.

His feet took off like lightning without him even realising as he sprinted to the room. He knew that scream, and if it was who he thought it was, then he had to get there quick before she made a disappearing act like she always did. He needed to know what happened to her. He needed to know if it was Isabella Swan.


Bella's P.O.V.

"We were adding the last of the ingredients when your sister came in screaming frantically and clutching a purple knife." She laughed wholeheartedly at my look of disbelief and amusement. "Apollo had managed to subdue her, but the deed had already been done… she had thrown the knife. It hit me in the chest, but I don't know what happened after that because I was here." Hecate nodded at the floor near the door. "I've been here ever since. With only this lantern and these stupid pair of keys that don't even work!"

I was already too into my thoughts that I didn't hear her brief key and lantern outburst. "Why did Aphrodite do it? I thought you were close—she told me you were close." I just couldn't believe my sister would lie to me after all these years. I trusted her!

"Don't do that—blame her. Don't give me that look, I know you were thinking it, Isabella. It wasn't her fault."

"But she—"

"—had red eyes," Hecate finished for me.

I gaped at her. "Are you saying...?"

She nodded gravely at me, answering my unasked question. "Yes."

I shook my head furiously. No; this could not be happening.

That man, that thing, was punished and sentenced to the darkest, deepest pits of Tartarus centuries ago for the trouble he had caused us gods and some demigods even. Immortality could not simply be taken back once it's been given, I knew that; we all did; and when he broke the oath to cause no harm to a demigod without reason and to not attempt to end the life of another god or goddess, he was sent to Tartarus without a trial.

"It can't be him, can it?" I asked, though in reality my mind was screaming at me. There was no other explanation for my sister's wrong-doing. But the other part of my brain wouldn't process it, it wouldn't accept the fact that he could or could not be back. "Her eyes were red, you said. Couldn't it have been a potion? I heard from father she took potion brewing as a hobby one century," I tried to reason. "Or a prank- Apollo's renowned for that. There was that one time where he..."


Hecate's P.O.V.

I absently curled a wisp of the purple mist round my fingers, a ghost of a frown marring my almost-blank expression as I took in the young girl's ramblings. I often found that when mortals (because that's what the young girl still was in her current state of In Between) were not willing to accept something or misunderstood something, that they would come up with different scenarios that may or may not fit so that they could wrap their head's around it. It often explained why people would create different scenarios in their minds on how to save a character that had died in a book, or a TV series, or even a movie that they had become attached to.

Humans, I concluded, were strange beings with curious minds.

The fog had deepened in colour and had risen at least a foot since Isabella's arrival, and it was still rising. It was worrying, it hadn't done this before. It was currently sitting just above my waist and was a sickly, inky-black colour. The lamp I had been holding at her side could barely be seen as a smooth, green dot amongst the dark ink, and the only reassurance of it still being in my (now engulfed) hand, was the quiet jingle of metal the keys made when I shook the thing.

"...would play along too. Oh, and Ares," she paused in mid-sentence, "but it tended to get a bit too violent by then so mother usually called it off-"

"Isabella," I snapped. I decided to take control of the rambling teen, for I knew not how long the girl would keep on talking if she was not stopped. When she didn't stop her mumbling, I took her forcefully by the shoulders and shook her hard.

The girl's eyes widened and looked frantically around her as she took in her surroundings she had mentally drifted away from. The slightly dazed look in her eye dimmed and once she caught sight of me they lingered there. She apologised.

"No," I said, "don't be."

Purgatory had a way of messing with your senses the longer you stayed there. It turned people crazy and drove them so mad that every moment a piece of their Soul would try to escape, piece by piece to find the exit, until there was nothing left but a withered corpse with no Soul and a bitter heart. The only reason it hadn't turned me completely insane yet, I guess, was because I was Immortal. I could only die if the belief of the Greek Gods had died, and the western civilisation along with it.

"You are still in the state of In Between, Bella. Your mind will tend to drift the longer you stay here, as will your mortal Soul," I explained, my grip still tight on her shoulders and my eyes still locked on hers to ensure she would not drift off again. "Stay focused," I ordered sternly, like a mother berating her daughter, or a teacher teaching her students everything they needed to know before a test. "You have to find a way out to get me out, then we can start searching for a way to stop Him. Okay?"

She nodded once to show she had understood everything. "Get myself out, get you out, stop Him. Got it."

I let go of her before I had caused any accidental bruising to her shoulders and set off to work, cutting through the thick fog to get to the other side of the shack. There was a hidden hole where the carpet used to be about ten days ago when I still had enough energy and power to conjure furniture. The the carpet was long gone, and the floorboards dirty and rotten, the hidden hole was still intact and could still (and was still) being used.

The fog cut off most of my sight, but after a minute of struggling and pulling up the wrong floorboards, I had finally gotten the blasted thing to open. Inside was still intact and still fully functional as secret storage facility. I grinned when I saw the ancient looking box that followed me wherever I went in case of emergencies.

The box was a simple yet stylish, cherry-red mahogany that was carved from top to bottom with intricate, ancient-Greek text and illustrations to show ancient and dark magic. It glowed with warmth the second I made contact with it, and hummed in my presence.

It was finally time to open it.


I know, I know, I am a terrible person and I deserve every flame possible to be thrown at me in the reviews for how stupid and mean I was for leaving you guys with no updates for months. I know! It's been months! Five months and twenty-seven days to be exact... dear god... time does fly past...

AND I AM SOOOOOO SOOOO SORRRYYYYYY!

OKAY?

A lot has happened in my personal life in five months, and I just couldn't handle all that crap and write this at the same time and deal with school and my massive amounts of school work (because all my teachers hate me) at the same time, so yeah this had to be put on hold. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry life has been a real bitch lately, and I'm sorry I had a massive writers block, lost all my notes for this story, and am pretty sure that somewhere along the timeline of my life in these past five months I had some sort of emotional breakdown... But that doesn't matter. What matters is that I am updating and I know where this story is going now. So, you're welcome.

Also, I don't think I've thanked all of you enough. My email isn't exactly working right now on my phone because I always have to refresh it to work and that takes forever and stuff, so I didn't notice how many reviews and views, favourites and follows I've had for this story so for that I thank you all so much. I've read all of them before I typed this chapter up and it made my day and got my creative juices flowing. SO THANK YOU EVERYONE! YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST!

Yes, I'm aware that this author's note is probably as long as the whole story, so I'm gonna end it here with a huge smiley face :) and a massive THANK YOU! to all you who reviewed, favourit-ed and followed. Oh and to The Potato Lives, I honestly couldn't express how thankful I am for putting this in your community: Warriors, Tributes, Demigods, Souls, Avian Americans, and Vamps Oh My.

THANK YOU!

Like it? Hate it? Review! Flame if you so wish...

-Ebony'Wingz