The eruption is so instantaneous I'm not sure it's real, for a moment.
But I don't stick around to double-check; grab the nearest hand of someone in my group out of pure protective instinct and run. It's Pan, his field eyes wide and panicked. I catch glimpse of Artemis and Apollo running with Hebe in tow, trying to get to the other side of the forest edge even as those rotted hounds the twins are so afraid of howl at them, giving chase.
And there's a scream ripping through the meadow, the sick crunch of bone as a lion the size of a small house splits that wild girl from Éxi– Eris– into pieces. I pull Pan forcefully along when he freezes in fear at the sight. "No," I say. "Keep running!"
More screams echo, more blood-curdling sounds of skin and muscle and bone tearing apart. There's the threat of rabid snarling behind Pan and I, even as we take faster flight. I glance over my shoulder, catching glimpse of a serpent with the legs of a bull, the teeth of a monster I couldn't even begin to identify.
Pan is crying, stumbling over his own feet and the natural limp in his step. "Come on," I urge him. "Hurry! Faster!"
"I can't," he whines, voice smaller and more timid than the rustle of a tree's leaf. "I can't!"
I realize the certainty in his words as the serpent creature snaps out at us in a menacing hiss. And for a split second, I think of leaving him behind, of saving myself. It's almost tempting, an easy thing. Just let go of his hand and shove him like a lamb to slaughter. Run off and live to see another moment.
No.
I am not a butcher, a thing without honor. If I am going to kill, it won't be innocents. Not for the reason of saving myself.
It's then I shove Pan forwards, skid my own feet to a stop. He doesn't wait for me to tell him to keep going; he simply runs and doesn't look back at me. I stare after him only a moment before he disappears into the trees, grab the chain of the scythe I have hooked into my pack, thankful the Gamesmakers gave the tributes at least a moment to gather their things before unleashing chaos upon us.
The serpent creature is only a few yards away now, eyes glistening red in the dawn as it realizes with glee it no longer has to chase its prey down. But if it thinks I'll give up without a fight, it's wrong. I didn't just blatantly ignore Prometheus' orders to leave Pan to his own devices and risk myself to save the boy only to die easy. Especially at the mouth of an ugly, slimy Capital mutt.
Swinging the chain of the scythe at my side, I let it do a few loops, a crisscross of momentum before swinging out, the serpent hissing as the scythe catches at its legs. I pull the chain back towards me, take the creature's hooved feet off in a spray of blood and tendom. It falls to the ground with a roar, and I don't chance anything as I swing the scythe out again, get it clean between its shining eyes.
It's as adrenaline from the kill settles that I hear the running, the shouts.
"Gods," I sigh, because of course, of course Ares would ruin my glory moment.
I catch enough sight of the blockade of Demigods being chased by a herd of ravenous cat-faced creatures to know I'm in trouble before hooking the scythe back over my shoulder and taking off at a full-out sprint.
The Demigods have seen me though, apparently. They follow after me, intent to kill even though they, the hunters, have become the hunted themselves. "Wait up Énteka!" Ares calls, and I curse my luck that he hasn't already been eaten. Of course the Fates would deny me such a gift. "I'd rather you be breakfast than me!"
"Go fuck yourself!" I scream back, an idiotically antagonizing thing to do but I've got so much adrenaline in me and have done an idiotic thing already by risking myself for Pan, that I figure why not add another strike to the list? If I'm going to go down, I'd like to do it with a bit of a flare.
I know, if anything, Plutus will welcome me into the afterlife with open arms for the remark; he'll probably even be laughing.
The running lasts for a bit after that, a steady chase. Soon I'm left gasping for air, a burn in my legs and lungs even as I tell myself to keep going, that if I stop I'm dead. I think of Ares pressing me into the cornucopia the night before, the smug edge of his voice. I think of the pure terror Hebe had when she explained that beast that chased her just a few days ago, the ones chasing me now. The look in my mother's eyes when she told me I could win. It's what keeps me running.
And when I finally come to a river a mile wide, a virtual stopping point, I don't hesitate. Not today, Plutus, I think as I take a deep breath and swan dive in. You're going to have to wait for me a little longer.
Years of swimming in the lakes back home take instinct. My pack serves as a floatation device even though the scythe tries to pull me down to the bottom of the water, and I kick my arms, my legs as the current rushes me downstream on a wild curve.
It's only when the Demigods come to the edge of the river and stop do I remember those fish women, the ones that ripped Chione apart. Too late now, a voice inside of my heads registers just as the Demigods all jump in the water after me, beasts roaring at the river's edge for the missed meal. But hey, at least you won't go alone.
The Demigods, it's obvious, aren't used to such strong-running water. They all seem to know how to swim, but their motions are clumsy. Even as Ares calls my name, threatens me, tries to chase, I quickly paddle myself away from him, swim with the current instead of against it like the others are doing. Water's funny that way– it's only the enemy if you fight it, but give it power and it's your best friend.
There's one Demigod girl that has seems to figure out the trick, swimming with the currents the same as I. But she doesn't come after me, not like I expect her to. She simply flies past, far, far downstream. I catch a flash of blonde hair and she's gone, a ghost of the sea while the rest of her group sputter and kick to stay afloat.
I snag the bank on the opposite side of the river, after a few minutes. Dig my fingers into the sand there and kick myself out of the water.
"You're dead, Enteka!" Ares calls after me as I stand on shaky legs, gasping for new breath. He can't get to me though, body tumbling downstream, threat empty. "I swear to the Gods, you're dead!"
Sneering, I flip him the bird.
He starts screaming then, tries to swim back towards me but the river has other ideas. Before long I can't even hear his tantrum anymore, he and the rest of the Demigods gone with the current. With a derisive snort, I hike my pack farther off my shoulders and trek away from the river's edge, soaking to the bone and entirely lost.
It's noon by the time I stop walking, no beasts on my tail, no other tributes either. The simulated sun is high in the fake sky, heat pouring in from everywhere. My clothes are completely dry now, thighs rubbing together with chafing sweat. I practically collapse in the middle of a foreign clearing, take my filled canteen out and drink until the dry is out of my mouth and I have a bit of saliva to naturally swallow with again.
I take off my boots that are still a bit damp and rub sore feet, find blisters on the heels and sigh. I have no idea where I am in this arena, not the slightest clue of which direction I ran or how far the river took me.
Every part of my body aches and it's now I realize that my group is completely split. I don't know if we're all even alive anymore. The last glimpse I caught of the twins and Hebe was grim, and who's to say that Pan got away from the madness after I sent him off? There could have been other monsters that found him besides that serpent I took out. Or maybe even another tribute tracked him down?
In all the panic I didn't listen for trumpets; I was too focused on staying alive. Now I regret it, know I'll sit in worry until the night.
Which I do, making small camp in a tree as the sun sets and nibbling on crab apples I found a few meters back.
It isn't long before the sky lights up, images flashing. One tribute, two tributes, three…four.
The last face that I see takes the air from my lungs. A sob trades place wtih the stolen breath, no tears to shed in shock, just a twisted knife to the chest.
Hebe's blue eyes stare out at me, her wild curls and bright smile. I clench my fists and bite my tongue until there's blood, there's pain to keep me grounded. Her image lasts just a few moments and it's gone, just like her.
Dead.
She's the last face to have appeared, everyone else safe. And while I may have saved Pan, I didn't save her, that little girl who'd never done anything wrong and just wanted to go back home to her brother. She was just fourteen, just a child. And she's dead.
I knock my head back into the tree trunk, tear teeth into my lip and close my eyes. Oh Artemis, I think to myself softly. What are you feeling now? Because while she still has Apollo, I know losing Hebe certainly must have broken her in some way. She'd been so mothering with the girl, so protective. And now to lose her?
And lose her to what? Another tribute, those hounds?
It doesn't even matter, I decide eventually. Because at whoever or whatever's hands, Hebe is still dead. She'll never go home, never grow up to be a doctor and fall in love and get married and have children of her own so they can be thrown into these stupid, cruel Games for slaughter.
All because the Capital wants control.
"Bastards," I whisper under my breath, the only thing I can do because I am at their mercy, left to fall asleep with a heavy heart.
I'm kneeling by a small pool of water, washing the dirt off of my hands and face, when it finds me.
It's been a day since the end of the Pantheon, a day since Hebe's death. I've been wondering the forest, eating fruit from trees, waiting for the sound of a trumpet that doesn't play. So far I have not run into any other tributes, any beasts that now haunt my nightmares, mouths dripping blood as red as pomegranates.
The entire time I've been left with just one canteen of water, forcing me to move for a new source to refill it. The pool called, iodine drops from my pack taking out any lingering rot as I drink my fill, pour handfuls of cold across my heated skin. I have my eyes closed, the rest of my senses attuned.
So of course I hear the twig snap, open my eyes anew to the source.
The giant fox stands at perch, as beautiful and impossibly large as I remember it. It's the colors of sunset, all-seeing gaze holding my own. With a twitch of its tail, a hint of challenge, it races off. And just like last time, I follow it. Don't even give the idea second thought, just run as fast as I can, as if the Demigods and their hunters are at my heels again.
Where the fox is leading me, I haven't the slightest idea. We weave and turn through the forest, branches whipping at my skin to leave cut. I ignore the pain, the renewed burn in my legs and lungs.
This time I am not going to lose sight of that fox– I refuse to.
And just as the hard edge in me settles, the determination to catch this creature, I run into what feels like a brick wall.
But this brick wall makes sound, a grunt as it falls to the ground with me. Instantly I recover and grab the scythe dangling from the side of my pack, roll into a crouch of defense just as the figure stands tall, weapon at the ready.
The eyes I meet are not the ones I expected though, namely because they're alone without their constant companion's set.
"Hades," I say, expression guarded.
He grips the hilt of his sword tighter, shoulders squared as a hint of a smile touches the corners of his scarred mouth. "Kore," he says, and it sounds like an offer I can't refuse.