As Vin followed behind the witch, he tried his best to stifle the growing pangs of frustration simmering beneath his controlled exterior. He was no stranger to uncertainty—missions had often required him to operate with minimal details, trusting only in his own reconnaissance and intelligence provided by the Assassinorum. But even then, the directive had always been clear: execute the target, eliminate the threat, serve the Emperor. There had always been structure, a hierarchy guiding his every action.

Now, there was nothing. He hadn't even had the opportunity to gather basic, mission critical information on the enemy or their capabilities. His… companions had seen to that, blundering into hostile territory like a herd of blind, lobotomized grox.

He had never questioned the actions of his superiors. A bullet does not care why it is fired, only that it meets its intended target. Yet even he could not help but ask why the Emperor deemed three, heretical adolescents as important strategic assets. The question echoed in his mind as Vin marched behind the psyker, try as he might to be rid of it, vexing the assassin even further.

Yet, even while he was lost in his thoughts, instinct took over. What little information he could gather from the short time she had spent in his mind was put to use, analyzed and taken apart by his transhuman mind. Her mental probe had been cold, insidious and subtle, which likely reflected how she was as a combatant. The assassin estimated intense, close range attacks would be the best option when fighting became inevitable. The barest threads of a plan began to shape in his mind, loose and imperfect, but better than nothing. If he could just get her alone…

"Come, there's a private audience chamber this way," the witch said, leading him down a staircase hewn from glacial ice, its surface glowing faintly with refracted white light filtering through the crystalline structure.

As they descended, small alcoves came into view, each housing sculptures carved from the same ice. Vin glanced at them with reluctant detachment, forcing himself to maintain a clinical perspective. The figures depicted nobles and creatures, likely of some importance to this "Greek" Pantheon.

"What are the subjects of these sculptures?" Vin asked.

He wasn't really interested. But occupying the woman's mind with thoughts other than betraying him was tactically preferable.

The woman tittered gently, "Ha, stories of my father's exploits. One may never be allowed to forget Lord Boreas' greatness. Especially in his own house."

The two of them came to a stop beneath a particularly detailed glacial etching. The etched mural depicted a naval engagement, the ships in it being swallowed by a cruel tempest.

"My father would take me down here often for my lessons. He made sure I knew the family history. Back in the Age of Heros, in Ancient Greece, the Athenians had been invaded by their southern neighbors, the Persians. He told me how those mortals prayed to father to aid them, and how he answered their prayers by sinking the grand fleet of Xerxes, the greatest navy of the time down to the depths."

"I see… what lesson was he trying to teach you?"

"The cost of defying him. Xerxes had denied my father his tribute, and reaped the cost for it. But that was back then, back when he was the savage wind of the North. Not what he has become now."

Interesting. Vin may have happened upon a brewing family struggle. He filed the thought away for potential exploitation.

They descended further. The light passing through the walls dimmed and the sculptures flanking their path changed, becoming more tortured. Smiling maidens turned into savage warriors, and snarling beasts. He readied himself for action. Finally, they reached the bottom of the stairs where sat a gate of frost. It was masterfully sculpted, its surface so smooth as to give the impression it had been sanded and smoothed over eons. Embossed on its center was a massive snoke flake whose colors shifted chromatically when viewed from different angles.

The witch flicked her hand, the scent of fresh cut ice following the movement. In response the gate opened revealing a room that Vin could only describe as a shrine. A raised pedestal, shaped similarly to a frozen fountain, dominated the room—an altar of glimmering ice. Intricate frost etchings coated the walls, seeming to writhe and shimmer like living things. A faint blue glow pulsed from the room's edges, casting distorted shadows that twisted with every movement they made. More immediately, he noted the only exit was the one he'd just left. His instincts screamed trap, but that was fine; a trap works both ways.

"This," the woman said softly, "is my shrine. A place I come to think."

"Your shrine?" he asked carefully, cloaking his revulsion at the very concept.

"Indeed. This is where I receive the offerings of those who worship me."

He glanced behind her and narrowed his eyes at the collection of objects on the altar: a cracked lyre, some freeze dried fruits, and a snow globe.

Evidently she was not a popular goddess.

But they were symbols of worship nonetheless, and that made her dangerous. Warp entities draw power from belief, and he would gain nothing by underestimating the so-called 'gods' of this planet. Fortunately, this one looked to be starving for worship.

"I must admit, " Khione began, fingers grazing the frozen offerings placed atop the altar "you are not what I expected to walk through my father's gates today. Three lost, scared demigods, yes, but you…" She looked over her shoulder, meeting his eyes, "You're a killer. I can see it, felt it for the little time I was in your mind."

Vin's eye twitched, but he said nothing. The witch had something she wanted to say, but insisted on beating around it.

The witch continued, "Which is why it interests me why you're here. After all, there is clearly little love lost between you and your companions out there. Why that boy, Jason looked ready to cut you in half in the lobby, and I doubt-"

"Is there a point to these observations, or did you bring me here just to reiterate facts we both already know."

That threw the psyker off. She was obviously not used to being interrupted.

Taking advantage of the silence, he pressed further. "You tell a pretty lie, but we both know that the prophecy you spoke of does not exist. So I ask this only once: why am I here?"

Technically he wasn't certain if the prophecy she spoke of did or didn't exist. However, he knew that from the mouth of the witch and heretic, spills only deception. Whether they twist the truth, or fabricate lies to accomplish their tasks makes no difference.

"I could ask the very same thing of you," she countered after a brief pause. "This is not your struggle. Why travel here? How did you get assigned to this quest?"

Of all the questions she could ask, why ask about his participation in this quest? What interest could she possibly have to relate to that? The only reason would be because it somehow affected her… or someone she knew.

"I chose to be a part of this quest."

The Emperor has chosen for him, therefore his choice was already made.

"Spare me that drivel, quest are traditionally only 3 people. This quest was supposed to be just—" She stopped herself. "Your fated path does not belong here. You are an anomaly."

"Mankind is the master of our own fate; we write our own paths."

"Truly? So you, of your own free-will, chose to ally yourself with your friends out there?"

"..."

"Exactly. You are not as free as you think you are. But I offer you a choice."

She moved a few steps closer to him, just out of his arm's length. From within the folds of her crystalline dress, she pulled out a glass jar with an innocent floating snowflake inside.

"Take this, and give me a drop of your blood."

Vin eyed the jar suspiciously, "Not really the most lucrative trade I've ever been offered. Besides, one drop is hardly much to drink if you're thirsty."

She scowled, "Oh please. I am no Lahmian blood whore. I do not need your blood to drink, simply to track. And once opened, this frost will slowly spread unstoppably across any surface. You will use it to slow down your friends from reaching their destination."

Vin raised his eyebrow, one of only a few expressions he had learned due his Lord Assassin's constant use of it during his trials to become a Vindicare.

"And why would I ever do that?"

"You strike me as a pragmatist. A demigod who joined this quest purely for the personal gain of it, not because you believe in either side, whatever those sides may be, are good or bad. I'll tell you now, the forces you will face on this quest are as ancient as they are cruel. Why risk it? For the gods' favor? Ha. Like they even notice the effort. But side with me… you simply slow your friends down enough, and you could be handsomely rewarded."

Vin crossed his arms. "What type of reward are we talking about?"

Khione smiled in a practiced, controlled motion, "Anything your heart could desire. Immortality. Gold. Fame. Me and my patron are generous when it comes to rewarding those who serve us well."

"Your patron. Do you mean your father?"

"Ha. That old fool? No, my patron is more powerful than anything my father could muster."

Patron… the venti at the Grand Canyon had said something similar. The assassin set his facial features in stone, not letting the slightest movement betray him. He was getting close to the crux of the quest. However, he couldn't give in that easily. A calculated dose of suspicion towards others tends to ease their suspicions of him.

"You make grand promises… but why should I believe you?" Vin asked. "You already stand ready to betray your father, what's stopping you from betraying me?"

"Betray!?" Khione warned, her voice unforgiving. "It was he who has betrayed me!" Heat began to spill into her voice, melting the carefully constructed facade over her emotions. "I've spent millenia playing the perfect daughter for him, and for millenia I've been forgotten. Even in Ancient Greece, hardly anyone ever gave praise to the Goddess of Snow. Apollo, that sunny prick, always made sure my domain never found purchase there. Now my realm shrinks everyday, snow and cold pushed back by the output of your factories, and my father doesn't even pretend to do anything about it." She looked at her altar, a disgusted scowl growing in spite of herself. "And every day, I get to look at my altar and see the pittance that a Goddess like me can scrap together under the shadow of her betters. So tell me… who betrayed who?"

"Is this story supposed to make me trust you more?"

"I don't care what it does for you. You know my motivations, and you can imagine the consequences if you refuse."

Silence gripped the chamber for several long moments. The tension was heavy, but neither side moved an inch as both waited to see who would blink first. Finally Vindicare sighed deeply.

"What would I have to do?"

A smile that Vin projected with the greatest probability of being an expression of victory bloomed on Khione's face. From beneath the folds of her dress, she pulled out a smooth glass orb. A crystalized shard of ice floated gently inside, as if magnetically suspended in the center of the orb.

"Take this bottle, spread it on that overgrown bronze bat, and you'll stop them without them even noticing."

"Very well… but before I accept, I must know who we are truly working for."

Her back stiffened, pupils dilating slightly, "I am not at liberty to discuss that. Complete your task, and you'll be brought into the fold."

He sighed internally. Like that would ever happen.

Not missing a beat, Vin said, "I accept," and reached out for the glass jar.

As he grabbed it with his right hand, he expected it to be cold, but it truly felt like just a regular glass jar. The only sign of anything special about it was the slight pulse of light the snowflake gave upon contact. A glint of satisfaction shone in the witch's eye as he held the bottled weapon.

Then he exhaled, and dropped the snow jar. Time seemed to slow down as his transhuman mind kicked into overdrive, seconds only passing with his permission. Before the effects of gravity could assert itself on the jar, his right hand shot out, catching Khione's in an iron grip. Before she could even try to pull away, he pulled himself forward, spinning around her and locking his arm around her neck. Fast as quicksilver he spat his concealed ring out into his hand, and transformed it into his bayonet knife.

SHTUNK!

The sound of a blade being burrowed into someone's back echoed in the small chamber. He felt a scream try to escape her lungs, but he smothered it with his other hand over her mouth. All before he caught the snow jar with the top of his foot, preventing it from potentially exploding.

"I accept your death," Vin whispered into her ear. "For I stomach no betrayal, and suffer no witchery"

As the blade sunk into her Vin recalled a certain lesson from the tutelage of the Lord Assassin he'd studied under.

'Hark, the greatest arrogance of the Hunter, believing themselves incapable of becoming the prey.'

Yet something was wrong, the bayonet was in too shallow for the force he had put into the blow. He pressed further, but it moved by the barest of margins. He kicked the jar to the side, grounded himself, and tried to press further, yet she would not cease! Incredibly he felt himself being moved around by her petite frame. He shifted his free arm around her throat, wrenching her up and placing a knee behind her to keep her off balance. She was light, but bucked with the force of a chained Leman Russ tank. It was like trying to hold a storm in his hands!

He cursed his rotten luck. This is what he got for blindly following those three juveniles. He swore by the primarchs that If he survived this, he'd give himself 100 lashes.

She pitched forward, knocking Vin into a wall. His head painfully smashed against the ice, cracking the once pristine substance. Still he kept his grip, withdrawing the blade from her neck. Liquid, the color of molten gold, dripped from the wound.

He ignored it, stabbing into her stomach. This strike penetrated a bit deeper, but still his strike felt as if he was trying to bore through rockcrete with his bayonet rather than flesh. His blade flashed three times more, the action like a pneumatic piston.

Just as he pulled back for another strike, her hands reached up to his neck. He ignored it, stabbing her twice more.

That was a mistake.

Pain seared through his forearm as frost grew across its surface, and Vin gasped at the suddenness of it. He let go of her, and the woman collapsed to the floor, screaming with what little breath she had in pain. Vin looked at his arm. It was shaking, pain coursing through the limb from subzero burns and frozen nerves. He tried to assert some measure of control over it, and it barely twitched in response.

"Witchery…" he cursed.

She looked at him, rage and pain boiling in her cold eyes. The psyker's hand raised, and Vin instinctively dodged. An explosion of ice issued out from her palms like a shaped shrapnel charge, Vin feeling its chill brush his face as he swerved low. He dashed for her.

Still on her hands and knees, the witch could do little as Vin's shin slammed into her. Ceramite reinforced bone met ribs in a brutal collision that sent the women sliding into the wall.

The impact stunned her and Vin saw his chance: her unguarded neck. Instincts took over, accelerating his body at inhuman speeds. His bayonet leapt from his hand, a hound ready to tear into supple flesh.

He felt the blade bite, but it wasn't the familiar contact of metal on flesh. A foot thick wall of ice now stood between them, and half of his blade was trapped inside. She had summoned it just in time, the tip of his knife mere centimeters from her throat.

He quickly wrenched it free, but the witch placed her hand upon the barrier of ice and a blast of frost shot forward.

With no time to dodge, all the Vindicare could do was watch his fate approach.

The cold enveloped him, embraced him as a lover, wrapping around his whole body save for his head. Ice built around his body in a matter of milliseconds, solidifying into a crystal prison at least a foot thick. He pulled, poured all of his gene-enhanced strength into his muscles, but he could not move. He was trapped.

Not that the witch could celebrate her triumph, as her body still writhed in pain on the floor. Helpless to do anything but watch, Vin saw more of the gold ichor escaping her, the wounds slowly but surely closing.

The woman groaned, pain coursing through every fiber in her being, "You… You dare—" a cry of exertion escaped her as she tried and failed to push herself up.

The Vindicare ignored her, trying in vain to break free from the ice.

Both of them struggled to escape their treacherous immobility, yet neither could move forward—each shackled by the actions of the other. He raged at how close he had been to defeating her, so terribly close. But, from the way the wounds around her were closing, he projected she'd recover the strength to stand in just a few, short minutes. For several moments, the only sound in the room was her labored breath and the occasional cries of pain. However, her anger gave the strength to get to her knees. Then, to her feet as she leaned against the wall he had backed her up to.

"How dare you! I will make you suffer!"

Vin pulled harder. He refused to let this be the end. To fail the God Emperor at the first hurdle!? He bared his teeth, straining his muscles to their limits. He felt a small shift in the ice, and fear flashed across the witch's face for the briefest moment.

Yet it was to no avail. He had no room to generate force, and bring the full force of his gene-forged body to bear. His muscles were built for dynamic explosive action, great for leaping across chasms or striking with enough precision to bring an ogryn down in one punch. However, he did not have the pure, isometric strength like a Space Marine might have to shift the prison of ice around him, and the witch quickly deduced that too.

"Struggle all you like," she growled, finally able to stand without aid. "No one is coming to save you."

She stalked forward like a feline predator, a spiked icicle growing out of her hand.

"I will maim you. I will freeze your fingers off one by one and let your flesh break off your bones." Her breathing became heavier, as the true scope of her vengeance became apparent. "I will render such PAIN and AGONY that in your final moments, YOU WILL WISH I WOULD HAVE KILLED YOU!

As she strode forward, her eyes gleamed with the manic expression of murder. She placed the icicle at his throat, only staying her hand for the promise of pain that she would extract from him later. He, in turn, fixed her with his most loathsome glare, his hate hidden no longer.

Then came voice. A chaotic blend of sounds, like a fierce wind whipping through a canyon, sharp and whistling with an almost metallic edge.

"Mistress, your father… my lady are you ok?"

Both Vin and Khione turned around. Standing there… or more accurately, floating there, was a Venti. Its few human features made it all the more horrid and disgusting, a storm cloud crudely cloaking itself as a man. Its face looked at Khione in what could be concern, but might have well been arousal for all Vin could tell.

The appearance of the storm spirit seemed to snap some decorum back into the witch.

"Ah, ahem… Yes, I am fine. What is it?" she snapped.

"Your father requests your presence in the throne room. Says it has to do with our… guests here."

"He started without me? That blasted incompetent!"

She looked back at Vin, murderous longing in her eyes. He had incurred a debt of suffering upon her very soul, one that she intended to pay back. However, the psyker's violence eventually gave way to her better judgement, and she gestured to the venti. She beckoned it forward, and the daemon obliged.

She snarled like a predator denied its killing blow, "Do not think even for a moment, that you can escape the torture coming your way…" Then she smiled, her teeth gleaming like daggers. "But before that… I'll leave you with this."

At her word, the Venti beside her began to… change. Its features became inflated, as if they were being filled with gas. Its height grew to match his, and its humanoid features became more defined, more familiar. Then with a sudden, terrible clarity, the Vinidicare realized they looked more familiar because they were his features.

"Oh yes," Khione whispered, seeing the realization blossom across his face. "This creature will take your place among your companions, a mirror image of yourself. Whatever pitiful little quest you were trying to achieve will die. He will do what you cannot, and your life will fade into such pitiful obscurity, that it will be impossible to tell if you had ever lived at all."

Vin yelled, "You little b—"

A blast of ice encased his face, cutting his words off.

Satisfied, Khione turned and began to leave the shrine. "Enjoy your prison, child of man. You'll soon miss it compared to the agonies I have in store for you."

With her final words, the witch walked off with her secret weapon in tow. Leaving the gene-forged assassin encased in his icey prison. Vin listened as her footsteps faded up the stairwell, her words reverberating in the cold air like a death sentence.

Yet he refused to accept it. At his hour of judgement, he would not allow himself to stand before the golden throne with words of failure on his lips. But there were no reinforcements he could call, no physical actions he could even perform. His mind whipped into a frenzy, calculating any avenues of escape he could pursue. He could tell from his overtaxed tendons, brute strength would not save him. The Vindicare would sooner tear the muscle fibres from his bones before escaping.

Maybe he could overheat his body? Raise his heart rate to an absurd BPM level and generate enough body heat to melt his restraints. From there, he could open enough space to leverage his strength to break the ice. It was possible… if he wanted to escape in the next 12 to 24 hours.

No! That damnable witch would likely be back within the hour if not sooner. His mind struggled even further, ideas and plans coalescing in his brain only to be discarded milliseconds later as their infeasibility became apparent. Each second was a little agony, a burning reminder of his failure.

The only assets he had were his body and brain, still functional despite the sub-zero temperature. Again, he had his augmentations to thank for that minor blessing. Implanted cyroprotectice glands produced compounds like glycerol, so agents like him could be cryogenically frozen until they were needed again. A small comfort, but at least it prevented ice crystals from forming and rupturing his blood cells—

Wait.

His blood.

His blood was the answer.

His salvation was now in sight. Slowly, deliberately, he bit down on the side of his cheek. As chemical blood flooded his mouth, his mind flashed back to the ice witch's words.

"... I can smell divinity on you. The scent of acid and steel… and something beneath even that…"

While she only sensed it from the use of her heretical powers, she was right about one thing. He, or rather his blood, was highly acidic. A byproduct of all the chemical compounds dissolved into his bloodstream.

As the blood leaked from the wound, he tasted the heavy metals mixed with the venomous sting of the acid. Vin spat it out and the ice imprisoning him began to hiss and melt. He smiled as his prison was eaten away inch by inch. In fact, the process was far faster than he thought it would be, the acid not only releasing heat during the reaction, but also catalyzing the ice by lowering its freezing point.

Still, every minute he spent here was one his enemies spent coming closer to victory. He sucked up the remaining oxygen in his body, pumping his heart as fast as he could manage while essentially being waterboarded by the melting ice. Blood began to gush out, and inch by miserable inch, Vin forced himself free. The bubble of water he melted soon became a head-sized ball, then a chest-sized cavity. Before it could grow any wider, the ice shattered with a final crack, and Vin dropped to the floor in a crouch, gasping as warmth slowly returned to his limbs. He wiped the blood from his mouth and looked up to the stairs.

Time to return the favor.


"All we ask for is guidance," Piper asked, careful to mind the mixture of confidence she did not feel and humbleness in her voice. "These storm spirits attacked us, and they're working for someone that doesn't have either of our best interests in mind. If we find them, then maybe we can find Hera."

The God of the North Wind, his beard crackling with frost, finally leaned back as she concluded her story. As he did, a small, detached part of her mind couldn't help but compare him to a less jolly santa with a white tuxedo and wings. She shook the thought away and internally sighed, both relief and nerves colliding inside her head.

Yes, she had finally explained their adventure up to now—the Grand Canyon, the storm spirits, and the prophecy to Boreas.

Yes, she and Jason had avoided being executed immediately, as Boreas' lord, Aeolus—master of the winds—apparently had a kill-on-sight grudge against demigods.

Yes, she and Jason had managed, after several minutes of emphatic negotiations, convinced him NOT to freeze them into ice statues.

Yet would that really be enough? Her experience talking to gods was a total of one, that being the god standing right in front of her. His response to them refusing to be turned into ice statues still chilled her bones.

"Are you sure?" he had asked, like a kid being denied his favorite toy. "The two of you would make great dining room ornaments. Oh, I can already imagine the conversation piece the two of you could be." His fingers had traced the frost-laden armrest of his throne, as if already envisioning them at the next Boreas family Thanksgiving.

She forced the thought out of her head. The god was still contemplating when the doors Piper and Jason had entered through opened, out stepping the ice girl and…

She wanted to say Vin. It looked like Vin, but some weird, sixth sense told her that something about him just seemed unusual. However, her attention quickly focused on the woman beside him. Her hair, whose once ethereal beauty could have been the envy of any, now looked flat and lifeless, with strands awkwardly tucked away as if to hide their disarray. Her skin seemed muted and lackluster, as though the very essence of her icy radiance had faded. What had happened to her?

"Khione!" Boreas boomed, oblivious to the signs Piper had noticed. "So good of you to join us. I was just welcoming our guests."

Khione bowed her head, "As is your right. Forgive me for being late father, I was busy inquiring about this Demigod's heritage." She gestured to Vin, who bowed before Boreas.

Again, Piper was struck with a growing sense of unease. Vin seemed like the last person to bow before anyone.

"He descended from no god that I know of, and has some quite unique powers-"

Boreas smiled as he said, "Nevermind that dear, we're talking about important things right now." turning back to Piper and Jason "I know of these storm spirits. I know where they are kept, and of the prisoner they took."

"You mean Coach Hedge?" Jason asked in shock. "He's alive?"

Boreas waved aside the question. "For now. But the one who controls these storm winds… It would be madness to oppose her. You would be better staying here as frozen statues."

"Hera's in trouble," Jason said, pressing the point. "In 12 days she's going to be—I don't know—consumed, destroyed, something. And a giant is going to rise. I saw it in my dreams."

"Yes," Boreas agreed. "Many horrible things are waking. Even my children do not tell me all the news they should." He glanced meaningfully at Khione. "The Great Stirring of monsters that began with Kronos—your father Zeus foolishly believed it would end when the Titans were defeated. But just as it was before, so it is now. The final battle is yet to come, and the one who will wake is more terrible than any Titan. Storm spirits—these are only beginning. The earth has many more horrors to yield up. When monsters no longer stay in Tartarus, and souls are no longer confined to Hades … Olympus has good reason to fear."

"Please, your majesty," Piper pleaded.

Boreas' icey eyes turned toward her, twin glaciers ready to grind her into dust. She was scared out of her mind, yet Jason noticed the quiet warmth she projected in that cold throne room. She looked worn, in day-old traveling clothes with choppy hair and no makeup. However, she stood firm, like a small hearth against a raging storm. "If you tell us where the storm spirits are, we can capture them and bring them to Aeolus. You'd look good in front of your boss, and we can undo some of the damage done last summer when Typhon was defeated and released all of those venti. We could even rescue Gleeson Hedge. Everyone wins."

Boreas smiled tiredly. "You make it sound so easy." He shook his head, his eyes closed as if not wanting to witness the fate he would sentence them to.

Jason felt a spike of ice shoot through his veins, He moved his hand to his pocket, grasping his gold coin. The minituarized weapon had teleported back there somehow, and he prepared himself for what he hoped wouldn't come to pass.

"But no, unfortunately I think that—"

He paused, his eyes suddenly locked onto Jason. "What is that on your forearm, demigod?"

Jason looked down at his arm as he realized his coat sleeve had gotten pushed up when he grabbed his coin, revealing the edge of his tattoo. Reluctantly, he showed Boreas his marks.

The god's eyes widened. Khione actually hissed and stepped away. Then Boreas did something unexpected. He laughed so loudly, an icicle cracked from the ceiling and crashed next to his throne. The god's form began to flicker. His beard disappeared. He grew taller and thinner, and his clothes changed into a Roman toga, lined with purple. His head was crowned with a frosty laurel wreath, and a gladius—a Roman sword like Jason's—hung at his side.

"Aquilon," Jason said, though where he got the god's Roman name from, he had no idea.

The god inclined his head. "You recognize me better in this form, yes? And yet you said you came from Camp Half-Blood?"

Jason shifted his feet. "Uh … yes, Your Majesty."

"And Hera sent you there…" The winter god's eyes were full of mirth. "I understand now. Oh, she plays a dangerous game. Bold, but dangerous! No wonder Olympus is closed. They must be trembling at the gamble she has taken."

"Jason," Piper said nervously, "why did Boreas change shape? The toga, the wreath. What's going on?"

"It's his Roman form," Jason said. "But what's going on—I don't know."

The god laughed. "No, I'm sure you don't. This should be very interesting to watch."

"Does that mean you'll let us go?" Piper asked.

"My dear," Boreas said, "there is no reason for me to kill you. If Hera's plan fails, which I think it will, you will tear each other apart. Aeolus will never have to worry about demigods again. You'll find your answer and the wind spirits you chase in Chicago"

At his words, Khione looked ready to cut him off, yet stopped herself before she could voice it. Instead she gave a smile that was a bit too wide, making Piper shiver in spite of herself.

"Okay, sure," Jason said. "So Chicago is where we'll find this lady who's controlling the winds? She's the one who's trapped Hera?"

"Ah." Boreas grinned. "Those are two different questions, son of Jupiter."

Jupiter, Jason noticed. Before, he called him the son of Zeus.

"The one who controls the winds," Boreas continued, "yes, you will find her in Chicago. But she is only a servant—a servant who is very likely to destroy you. If you succeed against her and take the winds, then you may go to Aeolus. Only he has knowledge of all the winds on the earth. All secrets come to his fortress eventually. If anyone can tell you where Hera is imprisoned, it is Aeolus. As for who you will meet when you finally find Hera's cage—truly, if I told you that, you would beg me to freeze you."

"Thank you for the offer your majesty, but we'll give it our best shot anyways," piper said without missing a beat.

The god chuckled in amusement. "Very well. Khione, escort these daredevils out of here. They won't be bothering us again."

Then he disappeared, his form fading into mist. Piper felt like wiping non-existent sweat off her face. Jason sighed heavily in obvious relief.

"Well that was… stressful" he whispered to Piper.

She giggled at the massive understatement, her nerves fried. He seemed to realize this too a second later as he grinned sheepishly and scratched the back of head. For a moment everything seemed right in the world. Then Khione and Vin came over to them.

Immediately their guard was up, both physically and verbally. However, Vin didn't say anything, barely inclining his head in acknowledgement of them. They stared awkwardly at each other for a moment, before they nodded their heads at him as well.

Frankly, it was the most pleasant interaction she'd had with the man yet.

Khione stated, "Your companion returned to you as promised."

A part of her whispered that something was wrong though she couldn't put her finger on what exactly. Jason seemed to struggle with the same problem, but with nothing to base their accusations on, they opted for silence.

Khione quickly guided them back to the central lobby. Not a word was said the entire time, Piper's and Jason's minds too full of questions to talk. Who would be waiting in Chicago? Who was really behind Hera's disappearance? And more immediately, what had Vin and Khione talked about? They arrived shortly, and Khione headed down the corridor that they had seen Calais take Leo.

"Your other companion, Leo, should be just past this room," she said, pushing open a door leading off from the hallway.

But instead of the dining hall that she had expected to be there, a thick wave of fog greeted her instead, billowing out from the entrance and swirling around her feet. The surprise of it caught the goddess off guard, her brow furrowing as an uncharacteristic flicker of confusion crossed her face. All of them tried to peer through the fog, a strange, instinct shape looming in the middle of the room.

"What the—" she started, only to cut herself off abruptly.

The fog was unsettling, but that wasn't what made her pause. As portions of fog rolled out of the room, the figure at its center gained more distinction. Inside, A golden, blood-spattered dismembered body sat on a dining table, each limb having been hacked off from its owner. But the limbs were not missing. Instead, they sat around the upright torso, purposely displayed like some sort of macabre art piece. Worse than even the horror of the gruesome scene, was the familiarity of the body in question…

"Zethes!" Khione screamed, instinctually rushing forward to her kin.

Piper stood aghast, the horror of the scene and her nerves anchoring her still. Jason immediately moved in front of her and drew his sword, battle instincts hitting him like a flash of lightning. Meanwhile, Vin rushed in, going right next to Zethes' and Khione's side.

Ichor bubbled at the Boread's lips as he was trying to say something.

"What is it brother," Khione questioned, seemingly more concerned with how this had happened, than the actual state of him.

"Be… beh…" Zethes moaned, a fit of coughs overtaking him. "Beh… behind you."

Khione whirled around just in time for the door behind her to close, both Jason and Piper stuck outside. Immediately, she began scanning the room, but she couldn't see anything through this damnable fog. She heard footsteps all around her, but they echoed in a pattern that made no sense, seeming to come out at first from the walls, then from the ceiling?

She lifted her arms out, preparing to condense the fog and freeze the room solid. "Whoever, is out there, know that your little charade ends—"

At her word, the hidden Vindicare assassin, who'd been dangling high above them from his sword, began to fall like a wrathful angel. The arched room was massive, suited to seat gods and other beings of enormous stature. It was this space that now served to amplify his momentum, every fraction of a second he spent in freefall compounding his kinetic energy, his 600 lb frame becoming a weapon in itself. The moment of impact arrived, and Vin's entire body acted as a fulcrum, all forces converging onto a single, merciless point—Khione's wrists.

Vin smiled as the gladius met flesh and bone, cleaving through both hands in an instant. A beautiful arc of ichor spilled out from the now stumps of her arms, the attack transcending the baser movements of combat to become a work of art for a few brief milliseconds. Then the moment was over, the assassin catching himself on his free hand and bounding away into the fog before the goddess could even register the loss of her limbs.

Vin counted 84 milliseconds before the witch began screaming, which gave him a good estimation of her reaction speed. Significantly better than a baseline human, but not enough to triumph over him.

"Did you forget about me?" Vin yelled into the fog, surprising even himself with the comment as he darted away.

It'd been a long day for him.

The witch's scream turned from that of pain into hellish fury, "YOU?! I WILL KILL YOU FOR THIS! GO YOU USELESS WIND SPIRIT, KILL HIM!"

Vin paused, not at the words themselves, but at the location tracking the sound provided. He smirked in spite of himself, feeling the familiar euphoria that he always felt at an impending kill, but quickly clamped down on it.

Instead he dashed to where he knew would be behind the witch. His leg whipped out with enough force to pitch a sentinel walker over, kicking the witch deep into the fog. As her scream sailed into the distance, he turned on the wind spirit who had been loudly gusting around its master.

It was strange looking at a copy of himself, or rather an approximation. He could see now, the blurred differences between him and the venti, like a pict-capture that had been copied too many times. Its nose was slightly bent whereas his was perfectly straight and its hair was a lighter shade. Most damningly though, was its eyes which were filled with an expression that the assassin had never known as a Vindicare.

Fear.

The wind spirit tried to fly upwards, its body already morphing into its more familiar storm cloud aspect. Vin did not let it, lunging forward and spearing its stomach. Unlike the witch, the venti before him was easy to stab and cut, ichor pouring out of it in profuse gushing waves. Reeling backwards, the storm spirit tried to mount a defense, its form condensing black and shooting out lightning. Vin evaded it as easily as a ball tossed by a child, already anticipating and spinning to the side like a lethal ballerina.

SHTUNK!

His blade buried deep into the armpit of the daemon. With great precision, Vin raked the weapon diagonally, cutting through what should be important tendons and ligaments straight to the things black heart. He hadn't needed to, the fell creature was dead as soon as his blade had lanced through the gap between its arm and torso. It disintegrated into powder, leaving behind a copy of the same rough torn up shirt of the he wore.

Suddenly, he heard a breath being sucked in by Khione. Not waiting to see what would happen, he threw himself to the floor as a gale storm force of ice blasted above him. Getting caught in that would be equivalent to taking a frag grenade to the face. Fortunately, she wasn't very accurate, but the level of frost she was throwing out into the room would quickly chill all of the fog into the room into nothing.

He needed to end this quickly. Taking a runner's stance, he blasted across the room rapidly closing in on the psyker. Yet she fired her ice blast like a heavy flamer, spraying it across the room indiscriminately. Running out of room, he veered to his right, rushing at the wall. Mentally preparing himself, he jumped onto the surface and began to run sideways, his feet gouging great chunks of ice out as he gained height and continued his advance.

Then he was clear of the ice spray and in range of the witch. The fog around her had disappeared, revealing how she was casting so much ice in spite of the lack of her hands. She was breathing out the frost from her mouth, issuing it as a dragon may flames. Seeing his chance he leapt, his blade pulled back for the coup de grace. Khione turned just in time to see the assassin plunge down on her, celestial bronze stabbing into her mouth.

It felt like trying to stab through rockcrete, but the Vindicare managed it, the blade puncturing the back of her throat and pinning her to the wall. She tried to free herself, but the blade pinned in place, cutting her mercilessly. Now truly weaponless, she could do nothing but watch in anger and in fear as the Vindicare stood up.

Turning around to face her, the Vindicare leaned in, his movement slow, deliberate—almost intimate in the suffocating proximity between them. The dim light of the chamber flickered across the cold, expressionless mask that was his face, the hollow depths of his gaze locking onto her like a predator dissecting its prey.

Khione instinctively tried to turn away, to wrench herself free from the unbearable intensity of his presence, but the razor-sharp edge of his blade lanced against her throat, making even the smallest movement impossible. Pinned to the wall like some crude effigy, limbs splayed and useless, she felt something foreign, something unbidden crawling into her chest. Dread. It crept up her spine like frost spreading across glass, seeping into the marrow of her bones in a way she had never known before. Then came his voice—a clipped, low whisper, barely more than breath yet sharper than any blade. It slid into her ears like a dagger pressing against exposed flesh

"You and your brother are difficult to kill. I tried for nearly fifteen minutes before I had to resort to hacking off his limbs. But make no mistake—if you pursue us, if I so much as suspect your shadow lingers in my wake, then I promise upon any oaths that hold value to your treacherous kind: I will kill you. I do not care how long it takes. I do not care if the stars burn out and this planet is swallowed by the void. If it takes years, decades, or eons, I will find a way."

His voice was devoid of anger, untouched by arrogance or bluster. It was not a threat—it was a statement of fact. The weight of his words pressed down on her, heavier than anything she had ever known, and in that moment she understood.

He would find a way to do it.

With his statement finished, Vin sighed and stepped back, rolling his shoulders and letting his muscles relax from the high-intensity exertions they had just gone through. Maybe she would heed his words, maybe she wouldn't. One could never understand the degenerate thoughts of the mutant and the heretic. However, he was certain the truth of his statement had made its impression, and without the ability to kill her, or bind her for any meaningful amount of time. It would have to do. Besides, her injuries would likely inhibit her for many hours or maybe even days.

Without further acknowledgement, he turned from the pinned psyker and opened the doors. Standing outside was Jason, golden sword drawn and pointed in a high guard at him. Just behind him, Piper held her dagger at the ready, her grip steady,

Vin stated, "We need to get going before anyone else arrives."

"What the hell happened in there?!" Jason interrupted. "Did you cutoff Zethes' fucking arms."

The assassin nodded, "Yes. Now we need to go—"

"You're a fucking monster." Jason shouted. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

Vin couldn't help but sigh. Of all of the stupid, illogical hills to die on, the boy psyker had chosen the biggest.

"Feel free to argue, but someone will eventually come around looking for them. You're lucky I chose a room far away and relatively soundproof from everything else."

Jason's grip tightened around his sword, knuckles whitening. "Lucky? That's what you call this?" His voice was sharp, heated. "How is butchering people and leaving a trail of bodies anything but lucky for us?"

Vin tilted his head slightly, as if contemplating the statement. "Because it means we're not dead. And unless you'd like to waste more time debating the ethics of luring an enemy combatant—who would have killed us had I not acted—I suggest you move." His voice was cold, matter-of-fact, clearly ready leave immediately.

Piper cut in, stepping up beside Jason. Her tone wasn't as furious, but there was steel in it. "We were just about to leave here. I know you despise them for whatever reason, but they weren't our enemies!"

Vin felt his restrained emotions bubble to the surface, and try as he might, he could hardly contain them. They needed to leave now!

"Yes they were!" he snapped, fire bubbling up from his gut in spite of his training. "They were always our enemies, and you were too stupid to see it. Why do you think she singled me out? Because she wanted to ELIMINATE me, and she nearly did no thanks to you. She tried to replace me with some wind daemon, so it could sabotage this mission. They were also eliminated. So not only did I save this quest from certain failure, I exposed an enemy that you would've left behind you!"

Vin was breathing hard, the frustrations of the day, breaking through in spite of himself. He was not made for such prolonged, team assignments. Shaking his head, he forced himself to calm down. Silence reigned in the aftermath of his outburst, thick and suffocating. Finally Piper straightened her back and spoke, careful to keep any Charmspeak out of her voice.

"If you can't see what's wrong with what you've done here, then that just shows that we can't trust you. I'm sorry Vin, but we can't let you come."

"What do you want? Another meaningless apology? This is war, the very essence of survival. I am just as necessary to this mission as you are, and if you want to leave me behind, then you might as well just give up right here and now."

"Then swear it," Jason interjected, every fiber of his being rebelling against himself as he spoke. "Swear on the River Styx that you will not betray us. That you will follow the quest with us, and not attack us while our guard is down."

"Very well? Ok I swear it—"

"No," the son of Zeus warned, his face lined with severity. "This is serious Vin. For us Demi-gods swearing on the River Styx is like swearing on our souls. Even the gods can't get away with breaking them. So if you lie, I promise it will not end well for you."

The teenage assassin glanced at Piper, trying to measure the truth of Jason's words. He got nothing from her face, though with his dismal facial expression recognition skills, that hardly meant much. Still, he could see no bluff in Jason's words, which meant he at the very least believed what he said.

The practice reminded him of swearing his soul by the Emperor, how much such a pact meant to others of the Imperial faith. Yet this pantheon meant nothing to him, so did it even matter? At that moment, he decided that it didn't matter if it was true or not. If he needed to damn his soul to accomplish his task, then so be it.

"So… If I agree to these terms, then we continue as normal until the quest is completed, yes?"

"Yes."

"Fine, I will swear on the… River Styx." Vin stated, "But I will make one amendment. The quest stated that there may be a traitor within our midst. If they are discovered then I cannot promise staying the killing blow."

"Kill? No way, we don't even know who or what the traitor is. Heck, it could be Khione right now for all we know."

"And if it isn't?"

Jason hesitated, glancing at Piper, who shifted uneasily. "Listen to what I'm saying," he countered, voice firm but not unshaken. "If there's actual proof—real proof—then we'll act. But execution isn't our first option."

Vin exhaled in disbelief. How rare was it to find sin of mercy among witches and heretics? What weakness! If Jason couldn't even compromise his morals to kill someone who would betray him, then Vin could only imagine the leverage he could wield if he found the right place to push. Still, that was a matter for the future. Right now, Jason's groxheadedness served only to grate on the Vindicare's already fraying tolerance.

"Then we are at an impasse," Vin finally said. "I will not be bound by an oath that forces me to hesitate when hesitation is fatal."

Jason set his jaw. "And I won't agree to a pact that lets you kill one of us on suspicion alone."

The quiet between them stretched for several, uncomfortable moment before Piper cleared her throat.

"Then let's compromise," she suggested, her voice carefully measured. "Vin, you don't strike unless there's undeniable proof. And Jason, if it comes to that, we don't let emotions stop us from doing what's necessary."

Vin studied her for a long moment, then nodded once. "Acceptable."

Jason exhaled sharply, but after a moment, he gave a reluctant nod. "Fine. Let's just get this over with."

"Very well, I Vin, son of mankind, swear by the River Styx to not betray you or your companions unless it is discovered that they have betrayed us. I swear by the River Styx to commit onto you no harm unless harmed myself, and for no violence to occur between us for the duration of this quest."

At his words, Jason slowly lowered his sword, letting the golden point fall away from where it had been aiming. Shoving past him, Jason entered the room, looking at his work in disgust.

"Well?" Jason ordered, not even looking back at him. "Move. Now."

Vin and Piper didn't need to be told twice. They moved through the chamber, Piper trying not to look at the butchery inside. A few years ago, she and her dad had driven by a slaughterhouse on the road and at the time, the stench had hit her like a freight train. It had been enough to turn her vegan for the rest of her life, but this was much closer than she had ever been to that slaughterhouse and she hurried quickly through the carnage.

Vin briefly glanced at the two disabled combatants, thankful that they were still incapacitated. With the amount of repeated, sustained trauma both of them had taken, they would probably need quite a while to heal, though Vin had no interest in testing their recovery time. Instead he took the gladius in the witch's throat and used it to sever her vocal cords and Achilles tendon. Letting her fall limp and voiceless to the floor, he strode over to Zethes and pulled out the bayonet he'd left in his lungs to prevent him from fully speaking. He doubted the precaution would be necessary, as he'd already ensured how silent and removed this dining hall was from everything else, but it never hurt to make certain.

Finally, as they approached the other door in the back, Vin walked over to a seemingly random corner of the dining hall in order to retrieve something. Bending down through the still lingering fog, the item revealed itself to Festus' suitcase form, the superheated suitcase still generating fog from all the melting ice around it.

"I honor you, oh spirit of bronze and steel." Vin quietly intoned. "Your internal fire allowed me to achieve a great victory this day."

The machine spirit said nothing, but it rumbled affirmatively in his hands. Hauling it behind Piper and Jason, the three traveled without saying a word, the silence only broken by Vin showing where Zethes had revealed Leo's holding room was.

Finally, they entered into what looked like a recreation room, though frozen like every other thing in this place. As they walked inside, they immediately locked eyes with Leo who was sitting stiffly on an icey bench, rubbing his hands together for warmth. Across from him, Calais leaned against the desk, his eyes counting every single falling particle within a tiny snowglobe on the table.

"Hey," Calais said, "You do not have sister with you—"

Vin was beyond tired of this family. Before the mutant could grate on his presence any further, he threw both weapons at the Boread, aiming to thread each weapon through his ribs and to puncture his lungs. They went just where he intended for them to fly, and he was thankful he wouldn't have to lose any more brain cells listening to this oaf.

"Whoa what the heck dude," Leo exclaimed as Calais collapsed on the floor. "Why'd you do—."

Vin stated, "Leave now, argue later."

That shut the jokester up real quick. Leo hesitated, but at the assassin's unyielding glare, he swallowed whatever protest he was about to make and refocused on the task at hand.

Vin passed Festus off to him, allowing the engineer to begin unfolding the dragon's compacted form while he turned his attention to the table where Calais had been leaning. His gaze immediately locked onto the rifle and bandoliers that had been stripped from him earlier. He had only found his sword left behind on the floor of the lobby and had feared his rifle lost.

Armed once more, he turned just in time to see Festus completing his full transformation. The bronze dragon stretched, its metal limbs shuddering as frost flaked off in small shards. Gears whined softly as servos engaged, the construct shaking itself loose from the cold-induced stiffness, eyes glowing with renewed energy. Leo was already climbing onto the saddle, his movements a little hurried, still rattled from Vin's casual brutality.

Piper, Jason, and Vin wasted no time in following suit, hoisting themselves onto the dragon's. Vin's hands settled into position as the dragon walked out into the frozen lobby one last time.

"Let us be rid of this damned place," Vin muttered, as Festus gave a deep, mechanical growl and launched into the air.


++ Status update… updated projected geolocation ++

- Acknowledged… geolocation? -

++ Projected geolocation… Quebec… || Translocation likely was accomplished via air || No land sensors or car plates were triggered ++

- Acknowledged… Reasoning? -

++ Reports of a low flying helicopter, plane or massive drone circling around the hotel, Fairmont Le Château Frontenac || Furthermore, the hotel is a known residence of the Boreads || Mist is is a likely factor ++

- Potential contamination within the Greek sphere acknowledged. -

++ Inquiry: Status of Warlock executive directive? ++

- Two teams are prepped || Allocating REDACTED asset || Priority… Absolute -


For the people who doubted I'd get this chapter out on time, I don't blame you considering how long it took for me to post last time... but suck it!

Anyways, glad to have this (which should've been one chapter) finished. I wasn't expecting for it to grow so long, but I kept wanting to make sure that everything flowed together properly. I would like to know if this level of detail is good, or if its toeing the line into becoming a little too wordy. I'm sure you'll guys will leave ur reviews for that.

I'll talk briefly about the power levels here because I know some people had complaints. Firstly, a Vindicare is not a front-line fighter and he has none of his usual tools. During his fight with Dylan, he was beating the brakes off of him until he got caught by a strike of lightning that he didn't know they could even do. However, apparently I'm shilling for the Percy Jackson universe cause I had my OC lose. In my opinion, Vindicares are the strongest assassins not because they have the best abilities or the greatest wargear, but because they are the greatest planners due to their single-minded nature. We see this in Assassinorum: Kingbreaker, where our first introduction to Wraithe (the Vindicare who leads a execution force to try to assassinate the king of a knight world) has him filling out paperwork and preparing what is essentially his college thesis on possible avenues for assassination. The assassinorum is also known as the "Office" of assassins for a reason. Other lore includes them waiting for years in a single position while waiting for a target to appear. As such, my interpretation of them is that they are powerful combatants and strong as individuals, but only truly excel when given time to properly plan their strategies. Feel free to make your own opinions based off of that.

Lastly, I don't know when the next chapter will come out. I am discovering that I tend to undershoot the amount of work a chapter needs, and even still I find myself going back to previously published chapters just to tweak certain phrases. I thought this chapter would be like 3k words and it ended up being 9k. Oh well, when its ready its ready. I'll give myself 6 months to try to get something out, but if its not ready I'll post a review detailing my progress. Feel free to msg me about anything relating to the story.

The Emperor Protects