Chapter Twelve: Torturers
Aion's POV
Standing still was the last thing on Aion's mind. Rescuing his daughter from the clutches of Ouranos? Yes; definitely. But walking back down the mountain to wait up for that daughter of Athena? Never on Lord Chaos's name.
Indeed, pushing that girl off of Everest was completely unexpected, even on his terms. She had pushed her boundaries into his territory. Of course she should have been expecting some sort of consequence. Aion had just gotten incensed. Annabeth had to have known not to push him, anyway. Somanytimeshe had told her he couldn't reveal that information. Yet she kept on asking.
The very idea of that spawn of Athena tagging along bewildered him ever since she followed his lead. Nevertheless, he went with it. She was approaching her own miserable death- something Aion considered worthy to watch. Along his travels up the mountain he had saved her multiple times. Why did he save her? She would fall to her imminent death sooner or later, no doubt. Each slip of her foot, each yelp of surprise- deep down inside himself- brought an excited feeling that made his heart race each second.
Aion wanted her to fall to her death: a slow, painful demise- he would make sure of it. After all she had done to him... Many decades ago... That Annabitchmore than deserved it.
Aion was glad to have finally gotten rid of Athena's spawn. She had massively slowed down his progress; he could be rescuing his daughter even now!
Instead, Aion was stuck climbing Everest. The lack of oxygen didn't faze him, nor did the gelid winds. Mere mortals' setbacks didn't- couldn't- bother him, his Lord Chaos had explained. Being part of Lord Chaos's outfit had its advantages.
Aion seized another sharp ledge, hauling himself up in one swift motion.
If it wasn't for that Annabitch, he would have his daughter back...
Holding onto the jagged layers of ice and snow, he pushed upward with his lower half.
If not for that Athena spawn, he wouldn't even be in this mess. Thinking about it, Aion would probably be back at Camp Half-Blood by now, his daughter saved...
Grounding his jaw he looked upward, ready to face a couple hundred more feet Everest could have spared without. Aion's eyes widened and a cold, unexpected gasp echoed through him.
Three simple yards of the mountain was the only thing keeping him from the summit- a golden, frosty hill. Aion knew he had to climb twenty-nine thousand thirty-five feet, but this was too quick for a distance that huge.
Ah, Everest works in strange ways, doesn't she?
That voice was not his, but it sure as hell sounded familiar. That harsh yet peaceful monotone signified only one individual who could manage a voice like that: Ouranos.
Of course it's me. Who did you think it was- my darling Gaea? Please.
"Shut up," Aion snarled, advancing up another foot.
Shut up? Ouranos asked, his words swimming around the atmosphere. You want me to 'shut up'?
Aion knew that anger would get him nowhere. Instead of doing the mortal's notion of screaming "Yes," punching the air, and falling down all twenty-nine thousand thirty-five feet to rest at the bottom of Everest, he stayed silent. He was well aware of Ouranos's telepathy, careful to keep his mind void of any thoughts or feelings the former Lord of the Sky could use against him.
Me!? Ouranos droned on, his alter-ego showing through his reposed demeanor. Former Lord of the Skies! Son and husband of Gaea herself! You will pay dearly for that insult, Commander!
The air around Aion danced with anger, but he still ignored Ouranos. If anything, it amused him to witness Ouranos getting mad over a comment as petty as 'shut up'.
Steeling his mirth, he climbed steadily up the rest of the distance with ease. One more haul...
Aion's head peaked over the final challenge Everest had to offer. With a final kick, his body too appeared and lastly his legs.
Ouranos chortled as Aion got to his feet. Think I'm vapid, do you? You want your daughter back badly- oh, so very badly... he mused. Willing to kill to the thousands. But are you determined, Commander Aion?
Ofcourse Aion was determined. As much as he would have denied it, Ouranos was right. Aion was willing to take the lives of thousands to get his daughter back... Maybe Ouranos knew what Aion was going through.
Oh, but I do, Commander, Ouranos promised. When I wasn't allowed to be with my beloved wife, I, too, was willing to get revenge on my son Kronos. You think I'm making this up? You're terribly mistaken.
Aion pulled out his silver knives. He didn't know what Ouranos was planning, but he didn't like any of it.
Please, Commander. Aion couldn't help but think there was a hidden smile somewhere in Ouranos's words. There is no need for violence here; you have my very word on that.
Aion's grip on his lethal weapons didn't slack, instead getting only harder. He resumed fighting position: one knife at his side, the other at his chest, ready to intercept any direct swings.
Never listen, do they? Ouranos muttered, sighing. Aion, I'm only here for a talk- Titan to Commander. If you don't heed to what I say, we're enemies the next time we cross paths. Now put your weapons down.
Ouranos had a point. He was the only connection to Artemis and Aion just wasn't going to throw it away that easily. Aion stuck his knives in the ground.
"Fine," he said. "I put the knives down. Where's Artemis?"
In a rush, are we? Fine.
The winds around Aion grew harsher and harsher as each quick moment passed. He was soon enclosed in a hurricane and lifted off the summit. An ebony coloring stuck to the edges of his vision, but he wasn't willing to lose consciousness; not just yet.
You wish to see your daughter? She's kept safe, you know. You can leave her with us... Safe for eternity... Safe, safe, safe.
Aion was losing his patience with this guy. "Where is she!?" he snapped.
The black clouds in his vision cleared and Aion was suddenly aware of every detail around him. A grand gate made entirely of, well, the sky stood in front of him. But it was what was behind the gate that really caught his attention.
A castle built of puffy white clouds towered over the gates. Windows dotted the spires scattered over the fortress, making the building look like the tops of pine trees against the silhouette of a moon's light.
Aion approached the gates, immediately opening them with a single touch.
"Greetings, Commander."
Aion surveyed his surroundings, not one person stood in the courtyard.
"You want your daughter back?"
Aion turned around, still nothing.
"You have to fight me first."
Aion turned around again, this time looking at the castle. No longer empty, dozens of archers stood at the battlements, arrows of fire notched and ready. At the keep were anemoi of all shapes and sizes, carrying weapons Aion had seen only several times in his entire life.
Pulling out his knives, Aion narrowed his eyes at his first target. "Bring it on."
Annabeth woke to darkness. Complete, evil darkness. Her head was groggy with sleep and her body chilled to the bone from the icy floor.
Clutching her head, she ran a hand through her blonde, tangled hair. "Where am I?" she asked, more to herself than to another.
Annabeth didn't think anybody would answer her question. Nevertheless, someone did. "You're in Ouranos's prison."
Annabeth blinked, furrowing her eyebrows at the statement. She was definitely awake now. "There's always a way out of prisons like this."
No later did her eyesight succumb to the darkness, allowing her to see almost clearly. The voice that had answered her belonged to the dark silhouette in the cell across from hers, only a walkway keeping them apart.
"Who are you?" she asked.
"Artemis," was the girl's immediate reply. "Artemis Jackson."
"I'm Anna-"
"I know," Artemis rudely interrupted her. "I was informed." She didn't say anything else in that situation, only getting up from the icy ground to grip the bars that imprisoned her. Able to almost see Artemis's face, Annabeth recognized only the bright smile on her determined face. A deep breath sounded from her then appeared a kick, bending the bar easily.
"You don't," she grunted with effort, kicking the other bar, "think I've tried escaping yet?"
Annabeth couldn't believe what she was hearing. "There has to be a way out," she repeated herself. Annabeth was always right; she had never been... Wrong before. "There's always a way out."
Right before Annabeth's eyes, Artemis had booted the bars into an opening that the assassin's daughter's graceful body slipped easily through.
Artemis came to grip the bars to Annabeth's cell. She wore a white-resembling tank top, drenched with sweat and grime, and cerulean capris. Annabeth backed away from the strange girl, her dark green aura melting off of her in iridescent waves. "You didn't think escaping was this easy, right?" she snarled. The girl reminded Annabeth of the assassin, Artemis's father; his animal-like ways.
They stood face to face, Artemis sizing Annabeth up. She balled her fists and frowned at the bars keeping her from attacking Annabeth. Annabeth backed steadily away from the girl; Artemis looked like she would explode any second at her. Step, step, step. Annabeth's foot hit something hard- the wall. She looked back at the assassin's daughter, ready to pounce at her.
Instead, a foreign gasp sounded from Artemis and she immediately backtracked to her cell. "N-no..." she whispered, hot tears illuminating her eyes, "please don't... I-I didn't mean to..." From her tone, she sounded scared, but from her hardened demeanor, Annabeth didn't think a girl like her could become frightened. Artemis bounded back to her cell, rolling herself into a tight ball in the farthest corner from the opening she had forced. Artemis now resembled a dark silhouette like before.
"Please..." her moan echoed through the darkness. "Have mercy!"
Annabeth drew to her cell's bars. She wished with all her heart she could have helped the young girl, but she was stuck in an equally harsh hell of her own. She was reluctant to ask, but she couldn't stand not knowing. "Artemis?"
Artemis's high-pitched screams filled the stuffy air. She was bawling now, something about Lord Chaos, but Annabeth couldn't be too sure. Artemis was cut off mid-yell with an invisible force slamming her into the wall and choking her.
Hot tears trailed down Annabeth's face as she witnessed Artemis getting tortured. Annabeth grasped the bars tightly, pulling them with all her might. Much to her wishes, they didn't budge a single millimeter. Annabeth tried ramming into them this time.
Artemis was losing consciousness, Annabeth could tell. Her screams of pain and despair faded away slowly to snivels of mercy as she was tossed like a rag doll around her cell, now stained in the crimson of her own blood. Annabeth's ears continued to ring with Artemis's screams even after the silence overtook the young girl.
Now no sound escaped Artemis, and she was released, her broken body dumped on the ground. A harsh wind blew at Annabeth but it was gone as quickly as it came. Annabeth gripped with her shaking fingers the bars to steady them.
"Artemis?" she tried again, her voice sounding weak and feeble.
At first nothing. Annabeth thought she had gone deaf, but no; she heard Artemis's broken voice just fine above the penetrating silence:
"They never leave," she echoed, coughing up what Annabeth was pretty sure was blood- and a lot of it. "We're their eternal prisoners as they are our torturers. And we can never escape."