Mark
Mark awoke with a slight ache in his right shoulder
He shifted slightly in the rocking chair beside the doorway, joints stiff from sleep and muscles sore from carrying a goddess across half the damn country. The chair creaked softly as he sat up straighter, blinking against the filtered light of early morning. It was quiet, just the soft crackle of the dying hearth and the rhythmic breathing of the woman in his bed.
He turned his head slowly.
Artemis hadn't moved.
She lay just as he had left her, blankets tucked carefully beneath her arms, her pale skin slightly flushed from the lingering fever, a damp cloth resting across her brow, sweat running down the side of her face. Her chest rose and fell, slow and even. It wasn't much, but it was enough to know she was still alive.
He stood, stretching out his tight shoulder, and walked over to her side. Gently, he replaced the cloth with a fresh one, dipped from the small basin he had left by her bedside overnight. He checked the bindings on her arm, relieved to see the swelling had gone down a bit. The wounds on her side still looked angry, but they were no longer seeping gold through the bandages.
She was stable for the time being.
Mark knelt beside the cot and adjusted the blanket around her shoulders. "You're a tough one," he muttered, almost to himself. "I'll give you that."
He paused for a moment, watching her face for the slightest twitch, a movement, anything that might mean she heard him.
Nothing.
He sighed, scratching the back of his head before standing. Walking to the door, he grabbed his coat. Along with a herb bundle he had prepared the night before.
He stepped out into the morning chill. The sun had just breached the distant peaks, spreading golden light over the dew-covered valley below. The path to the trapper's homestead wound through a narrow pass and stretched three valleys east. Usually a day's trip for most people.
Mark could make it in less than a third of the time when in a hurry.
He'd done it before.
Before stepping off the porch, he took one last look through the open door. Artemis still hadn't stirred.
"I'll be back before sunset," he said quietly, more to reassure himself than her.
Then he was off. Following a path he was all too familiar with. Each tree and turn held memories, from times when he was younger, His mom chasing him through the woods while his dad split firewood. Memories from a time long before the world had turned upside down. Now the woods were thick, alive with birds singing and the rustling of small creatures. Occasionally, Mark's hand would drift toward the hilt of his blade, more out of habit than anything else. It had been too quiet lately, no signs of any unwanted visitors. But he didn't trust peace. Peace was just a war that hadn't started yet.
By midday, he reached the top of a ridge overlooking a broad, sloping meadow, with a stream running down the middle. Nestled near the treeline was a small, gray, weather-beaten cabin. Smoke curled gently from the chimney.
Miu was safe.
He made his way down the slope and approached the door, rapping his knuckles lightly against the frame.
The door opened with a creak.
The man that stood on the other side looked older than the valley itself. Tall and wiry, head thick with white hair, his face was a roadmap of scars and creases, each line telling a story few would ever hear. He wore a worn-out brown fur coat and held a steaming cup in his hand.
"Took your damn time," the old trapper muttered in a deep, gravelly voice.
Mark smirked. "Good to see you too, Cassel."
"I saw the light yesterday," Cassel said. "Divine by the look of it. Almost burnt a hole in the sky. You have something to do with that?"
Mark hesitated for a moment before responding, "Wasn't me that caused the light, I only showed up for the aftermath. It was bad though Cassel, gods fighting each other, a few already dead. Athena and Ares were there poised for a kill on Artemis".
"It seems to me that it would have been best to just let them battle between themselves. Let them weaken each other," Cassel mused, lighting his pipe. "Though I'm guessing the outcome is slightly different from that".
"I made a move, used surprise to throw them off balance before escaping with Artemis. She's hurt pretty bad, so I'm concealing her at my cabin.
Cassel nodded once. "That's what I figured."
"You already knew?"
"Didn't need to know. I felt it," Cassel said, tapping out ash against the log. "This land remembers gods. Your girl's presence clung to the wind like blood on a blade. It's still there if you know how to look."
"She's not my girl."
Cassel raised a brow, then leaned forward, refilling his pipe. "She was your greatest rival."
Mark looked away.
"Back in the war," Cassel went on, voice quieter now, "you came to me bloody and broken after almost every major battle. The one name you always spoke with anything close to reverence was hers. Artemis. Never Zeus, not Ares, not Hades. Only her."
Mark said nothing.
"You said she was different. That she was the only one who fought with purpose. The way you described it always sounded like you couldn't get enough, and you kept leaping at a chance to fight, even when injured".
"Sounds like me." Mark lets out a small snort.
Cassel fixed him with a sharp look. "But now, this is different? You're walking her into your home. Bringing a god to the one place Miu is safe. I don't know what the game is, but it's a dangerous one."
"You think I don't see that?" Mark ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "She was abandoned and left to die. It's not like what happened with you and Hebe."
"Then what is it?" Cassel's voice didn't rise, but it cut all the same. "She was their hunter, Mark. She hunted our kind like wolves, the god with the second-highest fatality rate. And now she's lying in your home with half the realm hunting for her. Just harboring her makes you an enemy of both the gods and humans?"
Mark's jaw tightened. "She's not the enemy anymore."
"That what she said? While she was bleeding out in your arms?" He took a slow pull from his pipe, then exhaled with a sigh. "You're falling back into it. Into that desire to be a hero. It's gonna kill you."
Mark looked up sharply. "You think I don't know that?"
"I think you do know, and you're doing it anyway."
They sat in silence again. Cassel stared into the trees, pipe held loosely in calloused fingers.
"I saw the way you carried yourself the day I met you," he said finally. "Young pup with death in his eyes. You had a reason then. Nyx had trained you, pointed you at the sky like an arrow. But she's hardly around now. And you? You've been drifting."
"I was retired," Mark muttered.
"Until you saw her again."
Mark didn't reply.
"You're making enemies you can't fight, Mark. Zeus is going to send everything he's got after her—and you. You think just because you lived through the war once, you'll make it through again?"
Mark stared at the ground. "I won't leave her to fight this alone."
Cassel's brow furrowed. "Why?"
"Because no one else will help her."
"That's not a reason. That's a habit. The same damn habit that's kept you from sleeping, from resting. You're addicted to it. To being needed. You want a reason to keep fighting, so you found her again."
Mark stood, pacing. "This isn't like that. I know what I'm doing."
"No. You think you do. But let me tell you something, boy," Cassel said, rising slowly to his feet. "That girl in your bed? She's not just another wounded soldier. She's a symbol, and not a good one. A blade forged by Olympus turned against its own. She's already drawing attention. War and flames are bound to follow the likes of her.
He stepped close, pipe still smoldering between his fingers.
"And when the fire comes? It'll take you, her, and that little girl you've been raising like a daughter."
Mark swallowed. "So what, walk away, let her die?"
"I'll never tell you to abandon one in need," Cassel said, voice quieter. "But you don't burn down your home trying to save someone who might be holding a torch behind her back."
Mark stared at him, confused.
"I'm not saying she hasn't changed," Cassel added after a pause. "I'm saying you're not thinking clearly. You've always been a man who charges headfirst, cause at the end of the day, it was just you. But now? Now you've got things to lose if you fail."
Mark turned away, staring into the trees.
Cassel tapped his pipe on the stump, letting the ash fall.
"I let it be. Just this once. But only because you were the one bringing her back. If it had been anyone else, I'd have buried her deep in the woods before the sun was a speck on the horizon."
a silence stretched between them for what felt like eternity, slowly shattered by the door swinging open.
Miu came bounding out, arms raised. "Mark!"
He turned just in time to catch her as she jumped into him, legs wrapping around his waist.
"Careful there, kiddo, my side is a little sore," he chuckled, ruffling her hair.
"I almost missed you," she said, sticking her tongue out, then blinked. "You smell like blood."
"Good nose. That attitude must be all that time with Cassel."
The old man snorted. "Don't blame me for her sarcasm. That one's all you."
Mark set Miu down, kneeling to her level. "Ready to go home?"
"Is she okay?" Miu asked. "The girl you left for?"
Mark hesitated, then nodded. "Getting there."
Cassel crossed his arms, watching the two of them. "Take care of her, Mark. Both of them, if you must, but remember who relies on you at the end of the day."
"I will."
He crouched again, letting Miu climb up onto his shoulders.
"Onward, steed!" she yelled, and he gave a dramatic neigh before starting the trek back.
The sun was dipping toward the western ridges, painting the valley in hues of fire and gold.
Cassel stood at the edge of the clearing, pipe still smoldering, watching until they vanished into the trees.
Then he turned, muttering to himself.
"Fool boy. Gonna burn the whole damn world before he's done."
"It's why we must be here to guide him on the right path," a feminine voice came from Cassel's left, Nyx appearing beside him.
Cassel didn't flinch at her voice. He never did.
"Didn't hear you arrive," he muttered, tapping his pipe against the log.
"You never do," Nyx replied, stepping out of the shadows to stand beside him.
His eyes stayed on the trees where Mark had vanished. "You been here long?"
"Long enough," she said quietly.
Cassel exhaled smoke through his nose. "Then you know he's headed straight for trouble."
"I do."
He gave a low grunt. "I've buried too many friends to watch another walk the path the boy is starting on."
Nyx's gaze softened, her voice calm but certain. "We can't change what he does; all we can do is try to mediate the damage that is bound to follow. On that topic, I have a favor to ask between friends."
"What can I do for you?"
"I need you to look after someone for me, she's very weak right now, and this one might just have the answers you seek". Nyx headed into the cabin, letting Cassel stew on her request.