“Tell me.” Cymone asked. “Why are you still pursuing Artemisia?”

“To prevent a war.” I kept my gaze on the setting sun ahead.

“Alright.” She said sarcastically. “But I doubt that that’s your only motive.”

The four of us traveled in a four point formation; me and Cymone at the front, and Illias and Atemu at the back. My friend had sobered up a little bit after drinking loads of water and vomiting a couple times, but was still a bit droopy as he rode his horse. A chain of mesas rose to our left, while nothing but desert and the occasional cacti laid to our right.

“Selfless causes only get you so far.” Our new travel companion spoke up again. “You’re driven. This is personal.”

I remained silent.

“Who’d she kill?” She turned her head to look at me, her eyes barely visible underneath her hood. 

“My mother.”

“I know what it’s like to lose a mother.” She paused a moment to see if I’d respond. “I was eight when she was taken from me. My dad went missing on the same day.”

“Why are you telling me this?” My tone was more bitter than I had intended it to be.

  “I know you want revenge.” She continued. “Who wouldn’t? But take it from someone who got theirs: it’s not worth it.”

“I’m sorry about your parents. Truly.” I sighed. “But you don’t know anything about what I think is ‘worth it’ or not.” 

  “Perhaps I don’t.” She smacked her lips together. “But you will feel worse once Artemisia is dead. Once your desire for vengeance is sated, you’ll have no one left to be angry at but yourself.”

“Then so be it.”

“No.” She pulled her hood back to make it clear that she was glaring at me. “I’m aware of Isadora’s plan. If you put that in jeopardy for the sake of revenge, I will stop you and bring her back to the high priestess myself. The spirit of the blood moon cannot be reincarnated into some random person while we’re this close to the actual event.”

“Don’t worry.” I mumbled. “I’ve had the chance to kill her a few times already. It won’t happen.”

“I am just warning you.” She combed a strand of her white hair out of her eyes. “Don’t have any second thoughts now.”

“Your hair…” I squinted. “It’s the same color as that of the elven guardians of the blood moon. So are your eyes.”

“That’s because I used to be a part of their organization.” She gritted her teeth. “After I became an orphan they took me in. Apparently my mother was one of them.”

“You little‒” My eyes widened as I reached back to draw my spears, only to remember that they were crushed under the fallen temple of Ra. 

“Relax.” She sighed. “I said ‘used to be.’ Sheesh.”

“You’re making it very difficult to trust you.”

“Everything alright up there?” Atemu called from behind us.

“Peachy.” Cymone glanced back at her and smiled, then turned back to me. “How do you think I’m tracking them?”

I shrugged.

“Artemisia, being the host of the blood moon, resonates a power visible to all those who can wield the deity’s magic.” She pulled down the collar of her cloak to reveal dark red scale armor. “A.K.A., the elven guardians of the blood moon.”

“So what?” I rubbed my forehead. “You just see a wispy red trail of mist or something?”

“Or something.” She smirked. 

I shook my head, then resumed looking ahead at the sunset when I saw the tiny silhouette of a horse appear in the glow. “Do you see that?”

She nodded. “That’s him.”

“They’re in sight!” I called back to Atemu and Illias. “Let’s pick up our pace!”

The four of us kicked our horses’ abdomens and all the steeds burst into a gallop.

____________________________________________________________________________

“Damien!” I shouted as we closed the distance. “It’s over!”

The dwarf glanced back, whipped his reins, and his camel sprung into its full stride.

“Hmph.” Illias’ horse started gaining on me. “He swapped mounts to try and shake us. It’s too bad he didn’t account for us getting the help of some mysterious woman with unknown magical abilities.”

“Naturally.” Atemu rolled her eyes.

A metallic whooshing sound began nearing us as a spinning dagger came into sight. It was heading straight at Cymone, but she was too focused on Damien.

“Watch out!” I blurted out as I snapped my hand in front of her, catching the dagger. The tip had stopped right in front of her nose.

“Thanks.” She smirked. “I owe ya one.”

My corruptive magic had activated without my knowing and melted the weapon in my hand, first the hilt which I had made direct contact with, and then the blade. Its remnants dripped onto the sand and steamed up.

“A second dagger should be incoming short‒” I slipped my head to the right just in time as another one of the dwarf’s weapons flew right past me.

“There’s a dune coming up.” Atemu pointed ahead. Damien had just reached the base of the sand hill as she spoke, and started climbing.

“That’s gonna give him more distance from us.” Cymone groaned. “We shoulda brought camels.”

We rode as fast as we could, whipping the reins and kicking our horses’ stomachs. The wind pushed back against us, rushing past our ears but also cooling us off from the heat.

“I can’t believe I trusted him.” Illias shook his fists at the sky. “I fell for his façade.”

“We all did.” I glanced at him. “But I think his loyalties were always with Themistocles.”

Damien finished ascending the dune, and as soon as he went out of sight on his descent, a vast volley of arrows shot up from behind the sand hill.

“Oh my godssssss.” Illias slurred. “Can we stop getting shot at already? My head hurts.”

The arrows finished their climb into the air, hovered for a fast moment, then curved down at us.

“Atemu?” I glanced at her.

“No need for a light barrier.” Cymone cracked her knuckles, placed her hands on her horse’s neck, and shot up to squat on its back. As the volley neared us, she leapt from her steed towards the oncoming projectiles and brought her hands together in a thundering clap. A visible, hazy-red shockwave burst forth, which spanned the length of the entire volley, and went right through it. The arrows continued on their trajectory for a few seconds before turning into blood midair. The fluids fell to the ground as the arrows would’ve, landing just in front of us as our horses trampled over the muddied sand.

“Incoming!” Cymone tumble-rolled next to me as she came back down, thrust herself forward by pushing up with her feet, and landed back on her horse. She smirked at me. “Now we’re even.”

“You could say that.” I scoffed.

Atemu rolled her eyes. “I guess that was pretty cool.”

We reached the dune Damien had just ascended and climbed it ourselves, and as we reached the top, found the people who had shot at us. Three Athenian phalanxes ‒ discernible by the insignia of Athena’s owl on their shields ‒ waited for us on the other side. The hoplites wore the typical helmet, cuirass, skirt and greaves of a Greek soldier, but the row of archers behind them only wore blue and white linen.

“Eleleu!” The Athenians roared in unison as they raised their spear-wielding fists to the sky.

“Leave me to my mission.” Damien stood at the head of the middle phalanx, with the unconscious body of Artemisia draped over the back of his camel. “And we will not engage you further.”

“Well.” Illias muttered. “This is awkward.”