She smelled soup.
Not the kind Olympus served, no exotic meat, no fancy spices, none of the over-the-top smells she had come to despise.
This was… earthy. It smelled like wild game and root vegetables. Human food.
The scent stirred something deep in her chest, but before her mind could make sense of it, she felt a small hand brush her wrist. A young female voice.
"I brought you some yummy soup."
She was too close.
Her instincts screamed for her to get away, to make some distance between the 2 of them.
Artemis's eyes snapped open, the flecks of silver flashing in the dim light. Her body moved before her mind was able to process what was happening. Her left hand clamped tight around the girl's wrist, just as the girl was bringing a spoon up to her mouth.
Miu let out a startled yelp at Artemis's action.
In the rapidness of the action, the bowl was knocked over, spilling warm soup across the floor.
"Mark!" the girl shouted, trying to pull her hand away.
Mark.
Her vision blurred the throbbing pain in her side and the bright light was becoming too much to bear, and then he was there. As imposing as the last time she had seen him, a small hunting knife in his hand.
"Artemis, let her go!"
She didn't, couldn't hear him. She didn't see the cabin, not the man, not the child. In her mind, all she saw was blood on marble.
Apollo's eyes as he fell.
Hermes crumpled beneath Athena's spear.
Her breath caught.
The girl slipped from her grasp, pulled back by strong arms, and the moment her fingers let go, the world tilted.
She was not in the temple.
But her body, her heart, thought she was.
She gasped once, and the spiral began.
The room twisted. The warmth of the hearth became the smoke of the ruin. The wooden ceiling warped into the high domes of the cathedral. She had failed to protect them.
"ap-lo"
The name stuck in her throat. Her chest tightened.
No.
Not again.
Her vision closed inward, tunneled to static. Her fingers dug into the wool blanket. Every nerve screamed that she was dying, that there was no way she could have made it out of there.
Just as she thought she was going insane, a voice cut through the haze.
"Artemis."
It wasn't loud or aggressive, but it did carry a firmness that felt like a lifeline in this ocean of madness.
"Breathe."
She tried to, wanted to, but the air wouldn't come. Her shoulders shook, her hands trembled. Cold sweat drenching her skin.
"Look at me."
The voice was closer now.
"Look."
Her eyes snapped open, and there he was, kneeling beside her cot. The man who had caused so many problems for Artemis, the man who had tried to kill her multiple times.
Mark.
"I need you to breathe. Just once," he said.
He wasn't asking, not really. His voice carried more like a command.
It was just what she needed at this moment. Somewhere in her fragmented thoughts, she clung to it. She dragged one breath into her lungs. It was shaky, barely any air at all.
But it came.
Mark nodded once. "Good. Now again."
Another, this one much deeper.
The room began to steady. The walls returned to wood. The fire stayed in its place; the liquid on the floor was soup, not blood.
The child, Miu, hovered by the hearth, eyes wide but safe.
Artemis closed her eyes. The tears that followed were silent, hot, full of shame.
"She's okay," Mark said quietly. "You didn't hurt her."
Artemis didn't answer. Her throat burned.
He stayed crouched beside her. Eyes a myriad of emotions, concern, hesitation, pity.
"You've been unconscious for three days," he said slowly. "You're safe now."
She swallowed hard. Her body ached from old wounds, new stitches along her left side, and bruises dark enough to make Nyx jealous. Her right arm was splinted. A bandage circled her ribs. She was dressed in a mortal tunic, too embarrassed to guess who had changed it for her, thick wool instead of the silk she was used to.
None of it made sense.
"I saw them die," she whispered.
Mark's jaw tensed, just slightly. "I didn't see it happen. Just the aftermath."
"Then it's true," she choked. "Apollo… Hermes…"
Mark said nothing.
Her breath shuddered out. "I wasn't strong enough."
"Don't do that, they chose to die for you, don't make their deaths a waste."
She flinched at his honesty.
Mark stood, but slowly. Every movement is deliberate. He kept one hand loosely near his belt, near a sheathed blade, but made no sudden motions.
"What happened?" she asked, voice hollow.
"You were surrounded. Apollo bought you a few seconds." A pause. "By the time I arrived, they were gone. With no other options, I got you out."
Artemis blinked. Her body remembered more than her mind — the weight of failure, the scent of smoke and blood, the sound of Ares' laughter. Her fingers curled into the blankets.
"You came for me?"
"Yes."
"…Why?"
Mark didn't answer for a long while, just as she thought he wasn't going to, he said. "Because someone asked me to when no one else would."
The room fell quiet.
Outside, wind rustled the pines. Inside, the fire crackled softly.
Then Artemis murmured, "Hestia."
Mark stiffened. "What?"
"She was there." Her voice was steadier now, but faint, like the words were being pulled from her soul. "She saved me… us. She burned through every ounce of power she had left, but I think she made it."
Mark frowned. "I didn't see her. No trace of her body either."
Artemis blinked. "Then… she might still be alive?"
"I don't know."
For a moment, a flicker of hope passed over Artemis's face. Then, just as quickly, it passed. "They'll come after her. If she made it out, she's on the run."
Mark stood, brushing his palms against his jeans. "That makes three of us then."
She looked up. "So you're not handing me over?"
"If I were," he said, walking toward the window and pulling open the curtains, "you'd be back in Olympus already."
She studied his back for a long moment. "Why did you help me?"
"I didn't do it for you, in fact, I didn't even know it was you," he said flatly. "Someone I owe a great deal more than you could even imagine asked me to rescue you."
His tone made it clear: this wasn't forgiveness. It was a favor. A debt. A dangerous risk.
And yet, he'd taken it.
She sat in silence while he walked to the door. Miu, still wide-eyed and quiet, looked up from the hearth as he approached.
"I'm taking her outside for a while," Mark said, nodding toward the door.
Artemis lowered her gaze again, unable to meet the girl's eyes.
The door shut behind them, leaving Artemis alone with the scent of soup and smoke.
She leaned back and let her eyes close for a moment, listening to the wind outside and the muffled laughter of Miu echoing faintly from outside the door.
The child was safe. She hadn't done any real harm to her.
But the ache in her chest wouldn't leave.
She saw Apollo's face every time she blinked.
Not his anger in the council room. Not his desperation in the battle with Ares. Just that stupid, infuriating smile of his, the one he wore when he was sure she'd be fine, even when he was already bleeding out.
Her hand curled into the blanket.
"I should have stopped them," she whispered. "I should have stayed behind with you…"
The fire popped gently in the hearth.
Artemis pulled the blanket tighter and said nothing more.