The god who took dad was right here all alongside.

The conclusion sends a shock of worry by me as Apollo shouts, “Dad!” A mix of disbelief and worry rippled by him.

“I am Jove. Zeus, son of Cronus. Grandson of Uranus and I am going to take again what’s rightfully mine,” he growls. Electrical energy crackling by the air.

Ov is Zeus?

Zeus took my dad.

Ov took my dad.

Gulping down the bile in my throat, I wipe my sweaty palms on my costume. Anxiousness threatening to take over.

“Run Apollo!” I bellow. My voice is scratchy.

Apollo whirls his head over to me. A pointy snapping like movement, his again continues to be strung along with his prized bows and arrows. “Pandy?” he roars. His voice was frantic. Eyes huge. “Get out of right here!”

One other command, one other instruction that I am going to not be following.

… Or at the least not fast sufficient.

My eyes are on Apollo. Golden ichor flowing from just a few minor nicks of a blade.

My coronary heart swells. Grateful that he’s alive.

A flurry of motion catches the nook of my eye as Ov winds as much as strike. I do the one issues I can consider. “Apollo! Be careful!” I hurl my sword between them. Praying to Gaia that Ov’s blow received’t hit its mark.

The world slows as I can hardly breathe.

The blade spins, rotating like I hurled a ball as an alternative.

The hilt of my blade clatters in opposition to Ov’s blade. Its guard catches his blade in such a manner his weapon is pulled from his arms. Reaching behind him, he grasps a spear from his pouch. Apollo holds his blade excessive, poised and able to slit his dad’s throat.

The tip of Ov’s spear coated in a well-recognized silver liquid.

“Give up and I am going to assist you to dwell out the remainder of your days in Tartarus, barred from punishment out of respect for you,” grits Apollo.

Judging primarily based on what Chiron stated all that point in the past about quicksilver, this appears to be a much more potent selection than what was within the ambrosia.

Uncle isn’t taking part in round this go round.

“By no means,” he boldly replies, hurling his spear forcefully out from his hand.

Ready to dam, Apollo is able to knock the spear from his path.

As an alternative, Apollo turns, watching the lengthy sharp object swing huge.

Far too huge to have been geared toward Apollo.

Me.

He’s aiming for me.

I stared down on the silver tipped shaft coated in a waxy substance. My physique transfixed with worry. Frozen to my spot.

Drop!

Dodge!

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