Atalanta stood frozen, one hand gripping the rope still looped loosely around Cyd's neck. Her eyes locked onto the scene in front of her like she was witnessing a myth come to life—which, to be fair, she kind of was.
Because Artemis—the actual, real-deal moon goddess—was hugging Cyd.
"Huh?" Atalanta said flatly, blinking hard like that might make the image change. It didn't.
Cyd, meanwhile, was sending her the international signal for please don't kill me. His face was pale—paler than usual—and his eyes said help, while the rest of him just kind of… vibrated in panic.
"Ah, Atalanta. It's been a while," Artemis said brightly, like this wasn't one of the weirdest situations imaginable.
The rope in Atalanta's hand dropped to the ground.
Cyd exhaled in relief.
And then Atalanta flipped him.
One second he was standing there, dazed and confused. The next, wham—he was eating dirt with a judo slam so fast he barely had time to regret his life choices.
"I—ow—okay!" Cyd groaned, crawling away from her like a guy trying to escape a particularly aggressive goose. "Let's all take a deep breath and—ow—remember we're friends?"
Atalanta was having none of it. She pointed at him like he'd just confessed to being a Minotaur in disguise.
"Lady Artemis, that man may be pale, but he's still a man!"
Artemis tilted her head, smiling dreamily. "I know. But he's also one of my followers."
Atalanta blinked. "He's what?"
Cyd raised a tentative hand from the ground. "I've been making regular sacrifices. You know, incense, offerings, heartfelt prayers…"
He trailed off as Artemis reached over and gently squished his cheeks together. "I'm very happy," she said, all sparkles and sunshine.
Cyd nodded rapidly. "Great! Me too! Let's keep this happiness going and maybe not kill me today?"
Atalanta's glare could've melted bronze.
"Idiot," she muttered.
"You two should get along," Artemis said, ruffling Atalanta's hair like she was a grumpy kitten.
Atalanta swatted her hand away. "If you say so…" Her voice said yes, but her eyes were drafting battle plans.
Cyd didn't wait to find out what "getting along" meant. He scrambled upright, grabbed the rope Atalanta had dropped, and practically threw himself onto his horse.
"White Horse, take me to the Caucasus Mountains. Now. Please."
The horse flicked its tail, sensing his panic like it was a dinner bell. It stepped forward, spread a massive pair of gleaming white wings, and looked at Cyd like, What? You thought I couldn't fly?
Cyd gaped. "You had wings this whole time?!"
The horse rolled its eyes. Even Artemis laughed softly behind him.
"Leaving so soon?" she called sweetly. "We barely got to talk."
Atalanta already had her bow out. "Want me to shoot him down?"
"No," Artemis replied with a smile, resting a hand on Atalanta's shoulder. "We'll meet again."
"I could at least wing him," Atalanta muttered, but Cyd was already gone—soaring upward on a blur of white feathers and panic.
Atalanta lowered her bow with a sigh, half tempted to fire anyway. "If it were you, Lady Artemis, you could've stopped him."
"Easily," Artemis said, petting her golden-antlered deer. "But it would've hurt him. Let's not."
Atalanta clenched her jaw. "Why do you even care about him?"
Artemis gave her a quiet, wistful smile. "Because… that child is the child of the moon."
Atalanta's eye twitched. She didn't say anything, but she was clearly thinking: I should've shot him in the head.
Far above the earth, Cyd clung to the white horse like a panicked koala going through an identity crisis.
The wind tore through his hair, his cloak flapped like a busted parachute, and his stomach was somewhere back near Artemis. His grip tightened with every altitude shift, and he tried not to think about how very mortal he was.
More importantly: Why did Atalanta look at him like he'd defiled a sacred grove?
He groaned, burying his face in the horse's mane. "I need a break from mythological women."
The horse snorted like that was the funniest thing it'd heard all day.
Meanwhile… On Olympus
The sky above the mortal world shimmered faintly, just enough to reflect a divine lounge scene that would've made any mortal theologian cry.
Zeus sat casually on the marble steps of his palace, wearing nothing but a gold chiton and a look of deep amusement. He twirled a miniature lightning bolt between his fingers like a bored teenager flipping a coin.
"The boy's heading to Prometheus," he said, almost conversationally.
Poseidon stood nearby, arms crossed and back leaned against a tall white pillar, his trident propped beside him. "You're sure that's smart? You locked Prometheus up for a reason, remember?"
Zeus shrugged. "He gave mortals hope, stirred rebellion, made them believe they could outthink the gods. I had to punish him."
"And now you're sending a mortal straight to him."
"He wasn't sent," Zeus said, rolling his eyes. "He found his way. And he prayed."
Poseidon smirked. "And you're answering prayers now?"
Zeus shot him a sideways glance. "He prayed properly. Didn't ask for power, glory, or revenge. Just wanted to survive. You don't ignore that kind of prayer."
Poseidon chuckled. "So you're letting my horse guide him now?"
"You sent it," Zeus pointed out.
"He earned it," Poseidon said simply. "Five years, barely asked for anything. I figured one favor wouldn't break Olympus."
Zeus leaned back, lightning bolt still flicking between his fingers. "You realize he's not going to give that horse back."
There was a pause. Then a third voice cut through the air, smooth and low.
"He'll return it."
Both gods turned as a shadow stepped from the palace's deeper halls. Cloak dragging behind him, eyes gleaming like obsidian in the dark.
Hades.
His tone was calm, but it carried the weight of finality.
Zeus laughed. "He offered you tribute, didn't he?"
Hades gave a small nod.
"Well, I'll bet you he doesn't give the horse back."
Poseidon raised an eyebrow. "What's the wager?"
"If you lose…" Zeus smirked, reclining with a lazy stretch, "…you help raise one of my kids."
Poseidon's expression froze. "…Which one?"
Zeus groaned dramatically, waving his hand. "Too many to count. Just grab a handful and see which one calls you 'Uncle Fish.'"
Hades, for once, chuckled under his breath.
The shadows wrapped around him again, and he vanished without another word.
Poseidon sighed. "Why do I feel like I've already lost this bet?"
Zeus leaned his head back, staring into the stars above.
"Because, dear brother… you probably have."