“Good morning Kael,” Apollo grins like a long lost friend welcoming you to a barbecue. He has a handsome, cherubic face with a shock of blonde hair, giving him the appearance of a demigod. The effect is spoiled somewhat by the fact that he is at least half a foot shorter than everyone else in the cemetery.

He seems entirely too jovial for a man that has an Eater in his city. Maybe he doesn't know.

“What are you doing back here?” he continues, looking completely unfazed by the lack of response. “Old habits dying hard?”

Opal drops her bloody rag to the ground and responds with a Greek swear so ancient and bitter that even you aren’t entirely sure what it means. Apollo does though. The grin melts off his face as he lets out a harsh laugh.

“Opal,” he says in a slow hiss. “I can’t wait to empty you out.”

The men behind him shuffle uncomfortably, but don’t comment. They don’t do much of anything. There are three of them, but you have a hard time being afraid when they look like the sea breeze could knock them over. Their faces are completely expressionless and their clothes have gone weeks without washing or mending. Mobs usually inspire fear but you can’t imagine them doing much of anything.

Then you remember the man from the train and how tenaciously he fought. Looks can be deceiving.

Apollo catches sight of the case in your hands and goes completely still. “What is that?”

You shift the case behind your leg and out of sight, but it is too late. For the first time, Apollo really looks at you and you find the weight of his golden eyes heavy. He looks at the case then at Kael’s unfocused eyes then back again a few times.

“Oh Kael, have you finally succumbed?” he asks in honey tones, a wide grin breaking out on his face.

It takes a quarter second for Opal to cross the distance separating you and another quarter second for her to kick Apollo squarely in the stomach, throwing him rolling on the ground. She ducks the blind grab from one of the men and snaps out several punches. One of the men goes down and she tackles another.

Apollo growls from the ground, rolling to a knee and doing something odd with his hands. Emerald energy coalesces there burning as bright so bright it washes out the sun. He does something to it that changes the color tone slightly and the air takes on a charged feel, like lighting is about to strike.

He turns without warning and punches it into the gut of the only man left standing. The man doubles over in pain then rears back, eyes burning more and more green by the second, an expression of pure adulation clear on his face.

He runs toward Opal, crossing the distance in a few strides then leaping the remainder to send the both of them rolling.

Apollo ignores the fight and walks toward you and the case. His eyes have a glazed look in them, the kind that alcoholics get when they finally find the drunk that they were chasing. He walks slowly, savoring the moment.

You have absolutely no idea what is going on, but you stand in front of Kael. Running with her in her current state is not an option. It was all you could do to get her to shuffle before and you are entirely too old to carry her. You think desperately to the contents of the case, but you don’t know what half of the items do, let alone how they would get you out of a situation like this. Except the dagger, but the el-Arak is the nuclear option and you would think long and hard before pulling it out.

Opal has gotten to her feet and is fighting like a trained boxer, a terrifying visage with the blood still dripping from the claw marks on her cheek. She swings, but her opponent is too fast and too strong. He grabs her fist from the air and squeezes. She yelps and throws a kick at his head, but it is like kicking an oak. He sinks a fist into her stomach then tosses her to the ground like yesterday’s trash and runs at Kael.

You push Kael aside and take the brunt of the hit, tumbling away, case clutched in your hands like a lifeline. The man falls on top of you and fastens his hands on your throat, cutting off your oxygen. You claw desperately, but his grip is impossibly strong.

His face still has the same blissful smile, eyes still glowing with that verdant light as he chokes the life out of you.

Something whispers in your mind and you know exactly how to slip the hold and kill him in the same move, a nasty turn that puts his own force into his spine to snap his neck. You try the move halfway, removing the killing part, but his body falls on top of you, driving what little remains of the breath from your lungs.

Instead you push your hands into his chest, trying to leverage him off you. His chest feels cold where Apollo touched him, your newfound familiarity with the Wisdom Ley letting you know that this power is not quite right. It doesn’t steady you like it should. It does nothing to push out the darkness rapidly coloring the corners of your vision. It does nothing to fill your lungs with much needed oxygen.

Your vision begins to fail and you reach out desperately, grabbing the magic in him as you did the wall, forcing it into your body to replace the air.

An incredible force fills your chest as each one of your senses is dialed to eleven. Your eyes snap back into focus just in time to see the light drain out of your assailant. He leans off to the side then crashes to the ground like a rag-doll, no longer able to support himself. His eyes are as glassy as Kael’s.

You leap to your feet and look around wildly, all pain and exhaustion wiped away. Opal is off to the side, just regaining her feet, but still unsteady. The two men that came with Apollo are still in a heap where Opal left them, but are waking slowly. She must have hit much harder than the bartender with the bat to keep them out so long. Apollo himself strides toward Kael who has still not reacted to the war being fought on her behalf.

You drop the case and charge at Apollo, the energy burning through your body. He spins quickly, putting a hand to his heart then pulling it away lined with green fire. You ignore it and throw a fist at his face.

Even with the advantage of the magic coursing through your veins, you are too slow, an aging professor trying to attack a man in the pinnacle of youth. He ducks your swing with ease and swings a fiery fist at your kidneys.

The whispering in your mind is the only reason that you get an elbow down to block, but even then you are thrown backwards with the force of the blow, skin sizzling with the cold that only comes from the worst of burns.

You roll to your feet, ignoring the pain, the power in your guts giving you the reactions of an acrobat.

It is getting hotter somehow. The waves of energy that roll in your stomach are starting to make you nauseous. You feel a crushing need to get it out of you. Something is wrong. Something is so very wrong, but you cling to it. Without the power you are just an old man fighting a titan.

Opal takes advantage of Apollo’s distraction and throws Kael over her shoulder, running as fast as she can toward the entrance of the cemetery. Burdened as she is, she barely makes it fifty feet before Apollo notices. He touches his heart again with a grimace and the fire in his hand burns brighter, coalescing into a sphere of green energy.

You run at him, doubled over in pain, all the nerves in your body shorting out into pins and needles. He turns at you, his face disfigured in an inhuman snarl, no longer the child of the gods.

The power claws desperately at the inside of your skin, but you hold onto it. Riding the waves as a canoe in a hurricane.

Apollo looks at Opal where she has made it halfway to the exit and makes his choice. He growls in frustration then turns and releases the ball of energy straight at you. It flares so bright that your vision whites out.

You succeeded. Opal and Kael will get away. You reach into your chest and throw the magic away from you, pushing all of it out in one big rush. It resists at first, then the connection snaps like a rubber band and it goes spinning out in all directions.

Exhaustion crashes in, but it is mixed with relief. You are free of that terrible energy, even if it was the only thing keeping you on your feet. You fall to your knees and wait for the fireball to hit you.

But nothing happens.

You open your eyes. The world is dim as though you are wearing sunglasses, though the sun still beats down on the empty ruins.

The area around you is a circle of bare stone. What was once a small field of grass is now the bare paving stones on which the temple was built. All the grass has been pushed to the sides where it rolls and wrinkles like a careless carpet. The air tastes of ozone.

Apollo is in a heap fifty feet away, levering himself onto his hands and knees only with extreme effort. The other men are nowhere to be found.

You stand, shaking like a tree in a storm and retrieve your case, still in the same spot you left it, untouched by whatever moved a mountain of dirt. You force your exhausted legs toward the exit that Opal is just now crossing. She turns and hesitates when she sees you then keeps walking.

You catch up after a minute and slip an arm under Kael, shouldering half of the weight.

In silence, you head toward safety.