Chapter Nineteen: Strength

Zoё's POV

Zoё wasn't sure about anything anymore. Whose side was she on; Annabeth or Aion's? She knew about Aion's extreme dislike towards Annabeth. She knew about Aion's hate toward Olympus. Hell, she knew his general opinion on almost everything. She didn't ever expect him to feel some sympathy for a particular daughter of Athena. It was impossible.

Zoё shook her head. No, her husband exceeded the line of what was considered impossible each day. She would encourage him to pass it further- to kill Ouranos. She would.

"Zoё?" His concerned voice washed over her like a crashing wave. She smiled wearily at him in return, noticing he had fallen in step with her. "You okay? You zoned out for a minute."

Zoё nodded. "Yes, fine. And you?"

Aion looked behind them to see the trailing daughter of Athena. She was faintly limping, Zoё noted, and trying her best to keep up, but she didn't tell them to slow down. What was wrong with her and why didn't she question the situation, like most of her siblings would? Why wasn't she acting as a regular spawn of Athena? The girl made no plans- very strange for someone like her. She simply walked in a straight line, similar to the skeletons the children of Hades summoned from the ground. Was it the heal? Chaos's heals were quick to dull the pain but, or course, they didn't last forever. She needed to preserve her energy. Zoё wouldn't heal her again. Luke needed one, and Artemis.

Nevertheless, she called her name. "Annabeth Chase."

The daughter of Athena lifted her head to look at the female assassin. Zoё didn't need to ask her how she felt- her features spoke for her.

Annabeth's face screamed torture. Zoё hadn't realized how much she went through these last couple of days. She almost felt sorry for the demigod. But she chose to go, Zoё reminded herself. It was Annabeth's fault and hers alone. Her eyes were lifeless, lips blue with cold, and her skin an unhealthy pale. Zoё couldn't help but discern the similarity of their conditions- Aion and Annabeth's. Held captive in a dark room and tortured did that to a person.

"You're fine," Zoё whispered, and raised her voice. "Luke should be around here. I didn't see exactly where he was taken, but it should suffi-"

"Fun, fun, fun," came a voice, echoing until it faded away.

"-ce."

Zoё recognized it instantly as Ouranos's. "Oh, the irony. You thought you were safe? Beating me, the Lord of the Sky, in my domain?" He sneered. "Please."

Zoё looked around for Ouranos. She brought out her sword and stood in position, ready for any attack. She heard only laughter. "I wouldn't know how many times I've said that to your hubby-husband. We're all friends here, Zoё."

She didn't slacken her form. Why would she believe a guy like him?

"Yes, friends!" He repeated, anger weaving itself into his words. "Look, I've even found two of them. Friends help friends, you know!"

She heard him before she saw him. His footsteps gave away his location- behind her- but he didn't seem to care. Ouranos resembled someone who had just walked out of a river comprised of clear paint and gold. Zoё frowned in disgust once her eyes fell to his servants on either side of him. Each held a figure, dirty and broken: one male and the other female.

Zoё's breath caught and tears split from her eyes. She blinked out the waterfalls and focused on the humanoids. No, they were all too familiar. Luke and Artemis. Zoё wished she were bequeathed a much needed revenge on the former Lord of the Sky.

"You're welcome." He crossed his arms. "Santiago, Nefeli, let them go."

The wind spirits stood motionless. They reminded Zoё of statues. Ouranos smiled apologetically at his captives as he elbowed the spirit holding Artemis. "I said, let them go. You fools."

The unconscious Luke and Artemis were dropped to the ground with a single movement. Ouranos stepped forward and suddenly kicked Luke, a groan resounding from him in response. The Lord of the Sky shrugged in a nonchalant manner. "Anemoi," he sighed, glad to say the words, "can't do anything about them, now can you?"

Zoё's hands were balled into fists. "What did you do to them?"

He shrugged again. "The usual."

Fingernail imprints were left on her palms once she relaxed them. Ouranos continued: "Torturing, shackles, knives, swords, knives," he chortled. "Oh yes, a couple knives certainly did the trick. The usual that goes around here. Though I'm afraid you can't have my hostages."

Zoё examined his face- serious, he was serious about it. If he didn't kill them, Zoё had a chance. As miniscule as it was, she still had a chance. She could get them out alive; she had to.

"Let's make a deal," she said.

"I like deals."

"Battle. You and me. If I win, I take Luke and Artemis and we leave you alone forever. No wars, no treaties, nothing. It'll be like we never arrived."

Ouranos tapped his chin. "Helpful. And what do I get?"

"If you win, we will commit our allegiance to you and only you. Forget about Lord Chaos- we'll renounce our places in his army." Zoё hoped that Lord Chaos didn't really believe this. She would never leave the Creator of All's company. He was the one who recruited her from the sky, who gave her a new life, who even gave her a family. It was he who had given her purpose- protecting the innocents of the galaxy. She wasn't about to give all that up for a loser like Ouranos.

"Zoё," Aion slid his hand into hers. Without any doubt had he figured it out. "No- you can't."

Zoё stared sadly into the sea green eyes she had fallen in love with so long ago. Hell, she still loved them.

"Please, no..." He said.

"It's all we have." His eyes seemed to shatter at her words. "Look, I-I'm sorry."

Ouranos smirked, saying the one thing Zoё was already aware of: "You've a small chance at beating me, if any. Therefore I accept the deal. I'm sure you all will make wonderful warriors. You, girl, will be my beautiful fiancé, your daughter our daughter, your husband our third in command. And he-" Ouranos gestured to Luke with his foot. "-will make an excellent scout of the skies."

"Zoё," Aion said again, squeezing her hand. "Please, don't do this. If you don't win..." He didn't need to finish. Zoё knew what he would say. I would die. If you didn't win, you would be killed, and I too.

"I have to."

He didn't respond as she hoped he would. "No," he said at last. "You don't."

Zoё looked at him. She was almost afraid of what he would say.

"I'll fight him." He said it. He really did. She shook her head. "I know his weaknesses, Zoё. I've fought him before and-"

"Lost." She shook with the thought. "You lost."

Aion tilted Zoё's chin so she stared up into his eyes- his sad, sad eyes. A lost kind of sea green that ultimately sickened her. "Give me your strength," he told her. "I can do this."

She believed him. And it wasn't because he was family. It wasn't because she knew she would lose against Ouranos. It was because deep down inside, she knew he would beat him. Zoë followed his wish; she gave him her preserved energies. She did until crimson tinged her vision and she collapsed. But before she collapsed, she swayed. A warm hand caught her and laid her to rest on the ground. She was ninety-nine percent sure she was dead with all she did. Death would collect her any second now.

"Forget her, Ouranos," she heard her husband faintly say. "I'm fighting you instead."

Any second...

Yes. Now.

Aion couldn't imagine his immortal life any better if Zoё failed to win. The sheer horror of his daughter unconscious again and with newly made wounds was enough to snap him out of his mixed thoughts and focus on the task at hand. Zoë had offered Ouranos a deal and he accepted.

Aion didn't have a problem with deals. He did, on the other hand, have a problem with his wife dying because of it. He wasn't going to let it happen, not on his watch.

He had fought Ouranos before. He knew his weaknesses, his style of fighting. The wind spirits made him lose- he was overwhelmed. He should have known that one person, be it commander or mortal, couldn't take on those creatures in their own domain. Aion should have listened to Zoë. Why didn't he? Oh, yeah, because he was too stubborn to. That's why.

"Forget her, Ouranos," Aion said, his silver knives appearing in his hands. "I'm fighting you instead."

Ouranos smirked. He snapped his fingers and the hallways expanded to a dramatic size. They rounded off, making a wall around the two adversaries. Bleachers spouted from the ground once the walls ceased to move. Wind spirits were on the edge of their seats, screaming in their useless language comprised of noise and gestures. Aion recognized this building as an arena, a mortal's arena. It made him home-sick for his personal training arena and its infinite amount of weapons he had stocked there.

In front of him stood Ouranos, less gold resembling and holding a broadsword. He raised his arms as he acknowledged the spectators. "You ready to see the fight of your miserable lives?"

Cheering blared back in reply.

He smiled. "Bring him out!"

Him? Aion paused. He charged the distracted Ouranos and knocked the weapon out of his hands. "What happened to fighting me?"

"Don't you know how these things work?" Of course he did. The smile on Ouranos's face grew wider. "Prove yourself, Commander."

As if a mirage, his form disappeared. The broadsword, though, remained on the ground. Aion grounded his teeth. He never liked these types of fights. He preferred the simple tactic of slaughter and win. Why did he have to 'prove' himself? Half of these creatures must have known his name, the deeds he's done across the galaxies. The Seeker of Blood, some called him.

Seeker of Blood he would be. Across the arena appeared a silhouette, thin and lanky from where Aion stood- an easy takedown. The assassin didn't need to prove himself; he absolutely didn't. Aion ran to meet his adversary.

He couldn't get a hit in before he was thrown to the ground, forced to spit out the dirt from his mouth. Aion certainly had underestimated them, whoever they were. He couldn't discern their appearance- a helmet blocked the face and they wore a black cloak. He wouldn't let them gain the upper hand. Aion jumped from his back and was upright again. He swiped low at their ankles as they jumped away from his reach. They fell back but he was on their tail.

It didn't take long. His enemy mirrored him in power. They seemed to know what move Aion would use. They matched him right down to his stamina, blocking every hit no matter how hard or how fast he swung.

Armor, he realized. Aside from the known helmet, they had to be wearing armor. They had to be.

Aion suddenly knew what he had to do. He threw one knife at the head as he swept away their feet. His adversary fell to the ground. Aion pinned the figure down as he placed his remaining knife at their neck. The enemy didn't object. If anything, they remained still.

Aion dug the knife through their throat. "Who are you?" he growled.

A whisper.

Aion paused his knife. He raised an eyebrow. "What's Ouranos planning?"

There it was again, nevertheless louder: "Dad."

So familiar. So beautiful their voice. Aion's eyes moistened and he licked his lips just to be sure. "A-Artemis?"

Their head made a feeble attempt to nod. "Go ahead. Kill me."

He didn't know what he was doing. Aion tore the helmet from the figure. Same dark green eyes, same ebony hair. He looked at the knife sticking out from her throat. All feelings of revenge on Ouranos melted. It was just another day at Headquarters. Aion was telling his daughter of his most recent mission. "No," he whispered. He didn't believe it. "No."

"My Lord Ouranos would turn furious any second now if no blood is spilled. Please," she gestured to his knife, lodged in her throat, "do the honors."

He shook his head. His daughter. He was killing his daughter. No.

"My Lord Ouranos would never accept your decision... Please, do it now. It's easier that way."

"Down there!" His voice echoed. "No time for chit-chat! Let'sgo!"

Artemis gulped. "You've seen. My Lord Ouranos wouldn't take kindly to you."

Everything seemed to click together. Aion drew back from this stranger- she wasn't his daughter. She might have looked it, but she wasn't. She wasn't the same Artemis.

"Who are you?" He inquired. "Better yet, what are you? What have you done to the real Artemis?"

Artemis smiled crudely. "You like this form?" she croaked. "Reminds you of another, yes. Your daughter..."

Aion's hand rested on the knife's handle lodged in her neck. "What are you?"

"Immortal," she replied softly. The knife began to move across her neck and she had only time to scream out, "Santiago! L-lieutenant to Lord Ouranos."

His daughter's head disconnected from the rest of her body. That was all he needed to hear. Aion rose from the figure, collecting his knives. He turned to face an enraged Lord of the Sky up in the crowd. "Fight me, Ouranos."

The arena was silent, awaiting their master's answer. Ouranos's mouth was a thin line as he snapped his fingers, the ear-splitting noise echoing through the stadium before everything disappeared. The ground evaporated before him and Aion found himself falling through white. He tried to gain his bearings, but it proved difficult when one couldn't stand on solid ground. Focus, he reminded himself. Concentrate. This couldn't be real... Another illusion, more like.

The air was thrust from his lungs and he was only aware of pain. Wild, livid pain. Black and red were spotted in his vision, but he didn't care. The pain. So demanding, so forced. Hotter than any surface of any sun he could imagine. So cold. Colder than any planet he had stepped foot on. The pain was real- oh, so very real. Every second it killed him. Each moment within that he was reborn. Wasn't that what immortality was? Death, birth, death, birth.

Death. Heartbroken and destroyed, he died as Perseus Jackson, the hero of Olympus, son of Poseidon, god of the Sea. He died as the outsider of Camp Half-Blood. Death needed only swing his useless soul from his body and into the sea of eternal oblivion.

Birth. The Fates were kind. He was offered another chance at life, this time by the one and only Creator of All, Chaos. He was grateful for that. A family soon sprouted and he lived in peace. He dedicated his loyalty to his savior, Lord Chaos, until the end.

But, he wondered, wasn't this already the end? The beginning of an eternally long end?