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Apollo stared at Meg, wide-eyed.
“You’re saying I did that myself? That my reascension was my own doing? Meg, that’s impossible. I don’t have that kind of power. And even if I did, I wasn’t a god then. Hades, I was barely conscious.”
She only shrugged, completely ignoring the disbelief in his voice.
“That’s what I saw. I don’t know how it worked. Besides, you did take Nero’s immortality from him while you were mortal.”
“That’s not the same. He was a mortal who became a god through the worship of the Roman civilization. He was never meant to be immortal, and I stripped away what had only ever been borrowed.”
“Why is that different?” Meg asked, unimpressed. “You told me gods are created through belief, that belief changes you, shapes you, gives you your strength. What does it matter if Nero was born mortal? And what, are you telling me you could just do that to Dionysus, too? He was born mortal as well after all. Because he certainly didn’t act like you could.”
Apollo clenched his jaw. She had a point, and he hated it.
The truth was, he had no idea how he had managed to strip Nero. It had been raw, panicked instinct and most of it was still a blur.
It should not have been possible and had been a miracle that it worked. Still, he should have died trying instead of succeeding.
There was no such thing as a god of immortality, and even if there had been, it definitely wouldn’t have been him. He should not have had the power to do what he did.
The only one capable of tampering with another immortal’s essence was Zeus, king of Olympus, and even he had only managed to contain Apollo’s divinity when he cast him down.
Apollo was not naïve. He knew those sudden bursts of godly power he’d experienced as a mortal had not been intentional on his father’s part. They had simply been too deeply woven into him to suppress entirely.
If not even his father could truly take away divinity, there was no way he of all gods could.
All that to say: whatever Meg was implying was madness.
“Meg, no. Nero was a fluke, and my return was my father’s doing. I don’t have power over immortality.”
His tone left no room for argument. They had no time for hypotheticals, not when Meg’s life was at stake. Fulfilling Ananke’s demand was impossible, which meant they had to find another way.
Meg didn’t look convinced. She was staring at him, brows knotted in thought. Apollo was just about to ask what she was thinking when she suddenly shot to her feet and began pacing.
“Meg?” he asked carefully.
She ignored him, lost in her thoughts. Then, without warning, she spun back toward him, eyes sharp.
“What you just said… you’re not the god of immortality…” she began, trailing off as she continued to stare at him.
Apollo sighed, impatient.
“We don’t have time for this. I need to find a way to undo what Ananke did so you won’t—”
“Just listen. This matters. And five minutes won’t change anything. Apollo. Please.”
Something in her voice made him stop. He exhaled slowly and gestured for her to continue.
“You told me gods are created through belief,” she said.
“Yes. Mostly. Belief gives us strength, shapes us, changes us. We are dependent on it, but we can influence it as well. It is a balance.”
Meg’s eyes began to glow with the beginnings of a smile, one far too bright for how dire their situation was.
Apollo felt a flicker of dread.
“You said the belief of the Roman civilization made Nero a god.”
Apollo nodded cautiously.He still didn’t know where she was going with this, but the air had shifted, growing heavy and charged with possibility, like a storm gathering. Somehow this was important.
“Aren’t you,” Meg continued, “the god of Civilization? If a civilization has the power to make a god, shouldn’t you, of all beings, have some influence over that?”
Apollo’s stomach dropped.
“No— no, I…”
He took a steadying breath.
“Meg, it doesn’t work like that. I can’t make someone a god just because a civilization can. I can’t, I don’t have that power”
“But isn’t that what you did to Nero?” she countered. “You took what a civilization wrongfully gave him. You took his godhood. All while you were mortal yourself. And then you took your own back when it was wrongfully taken away in the first place”
It made sense, horribly, dangerously so.
But it couldn’t be true. He wasn’t that powerful. He couldn’t be.
…Could he?
He’d had to learn prophecy, his most powerfull domain. It hadn’t arrived fully formed when he gained the domain, he’d needed centuries of refinement.
Hades, he had learned new things about it just a few months ago during his time as Lester, and then again when they had met Ananke.
Could he really be certain he knew everything about the domain of Civilization?
The possibility chilled him.
Apollo shook his head, startled and unsettled. Then another thought crept in.
“Even if that were true,” he said quietly, “Nero was never meant to happen. He wasn’t supposed to become a god at all. His tie to reality was fragile. If I did take anything from him, it only worked because of that.”
Meg deflated slightly and sank down beside him.
“Oh…” she murmured. “I thought maybe… but I guess that would’ve been too easy, huh?”
,Apollo’s heart ached at the disappointment in her voice, and he longed to pull her into a hug.
But that wouldn’t help her, so he didn’t.
Instead, he poked her shoulder and forced cheerfulness into his tone.
“Don’t worry. We’ll find a way to fix you. Ananke was insane for suggesting what she did, but we’ll find another way—”
“There is no other way!”
Meg’s voice cracked sharp and desperate, and Apollo flinched despite himself, though she didn’t seem to notice.
She surged to her feet, anger sweeping through her like a storm, and began pacing again.
“Don’t you understand? I’m going to die. Ananke made sure of that. There is no way to undo what she did, no loophole, no trick. She is inevitability.”
Meg stopped briefly only to throw him a furious look before resuming her pacing.
“You can’t change anything, Apollo. I’m done for, and there is nothing you or I can do to stop it. Ananke made sure I could only survive if your father is cast from Olympus, but that is impossible. And I thought that maybe, maybe, there was at least a tiny chance for me. But no. I don’t get that. I don’t get to grow old. All because some primordial, self-important goddess decided—”
She cut herself off with a jagged laugh, one so dry and broken Apollo felt as if she had driven a dagger straight into his chest.
“Meg, I will find a way to undo what she did. I swear it on the Ri—”
Meg whirled around.
“Don’t you dare!” she shouted, loud enough to drown the oath forming on his tongue.
“Don’t you dare, Apollo. I’m a half-blood, a plaything for the gods. It was only a matter of time before someone decided my life was less important than some prophetic mission. But don’t you throw your own freedom away for me. You know how that ended last time.”
She scoffed and dropped heavily beside him again.
“You know why Ananke brought me? Not because of me. Not because I could help. But because of you. She knew you’d do anything to save me, so she used my life to motivate you.
Don’t you dare give her what she wants. She doesn’t deserve it.”
By the time she finished, she was crying, quietly at first, then with shaking breaths she tried to smother. Apollo wanted nothing more than to incinerate Ananke where she stood and erase this entire torment from existence.
The worst part was knowing Meg was right.
Ananke hadn’t cared about her at all. Meg had been a tool, had been leverage, nothing more.
And Apollo hated Ananke for it.
But hatred wasn’t power, it wouldn’t help them solve this. He couldn’t touch Ananke, Meg had been right about that too.
He couldn’t even touch Zeus whose arrogance and paranoia had started this disaster in the first place.
If Zeus had just allowed the prophecy to stand, Meg wouldn’t be dying now. She would be safe. This whole nightmare would never have happened.
But he hadn’t. He had blocked the future. He had broken reality to preserve his own reign.
He had—
A thought struck Apollo like a bolt of lightning.
But…no.
No, that couldn’t be.
Could it?
Meg had said his domain of Civilization granted him influence through belief.
Apollo had argued that such power only worked on someone whose tie to reality was already fragile.
Zeus was the king of Olympus.The tyrant of the gods.
Why would his connection be weak enough for Apollo to influence?
But…
Ananke had said Zeus was meant to fall centuries ago to a son he prevented from ever being born.
He had tried to rewrite the prophecy.
He had forcibly redirected fate itself.
But it hadn’t worked, not really. It had only delayed the inevitable. The prophecy still existed. It had simply shifted direction.
Shifted… to Apollo.
Zeus was not supposed to be where he currently stood in the order of things.
He had held onto his throne by forcibly bending fate, by blocking the flow of time.
He was, in a sense, out of alignment with reality.
Just like Nero had been.
And Apollo’s power had been enough to strip Nero.
Could it work on Zeus?
Especially with Ananke supporting the correction…She was unimaginably powerful.
Maybe, just maybe, not all hope was lost.
A jab to his ribs snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts.
Meg was staring at him. She looked exhausted, eyes swollen and red, but her voice was steady.
“Apollo? What is it? You’re glowing.”
Was he?
Oh.
He dimmed his light immediately and couldn’t stop the grin that broke across his face, the first real one since Aeithales had reformed around them.
“I think… I think I know how to do the impossible.”
Meg raised a skeptical eyebrow. Apollo explained, every step, every piece, every terrifying and beautiful leap of logic.
By the time he finished, there was a glimmer of hope in her eyes as well, faint but unmistakable.
“You’re sure that could work?” she whispered.
Apollo shrugged.
“It’s the best idea we have. Ananke was cruel, but she was also right, I’ll do anything in my power to save you. And if this is what it takes, then so be it.”
Meg drew a deep breath. Then, to his amazement, she smiled.
“Okay. What do we need to do?”
And Apollo laughed, breathless, terrified, hopeful.
“Well…”
*******
As it turned out, planning a revolution was hard.
Mostly because they couldn’t really plan much, not when their entire hope rested on an ability Apollo might possess, one that would hopefully work on Apollo’s father.
Not exactly promising odds.
But then, they were used to that.
Their quest against the Triumvirate and Python hadn’t seemed any more possible, and they’d still done it. This couldn’t possibly be harder.
(It absolutely could, but Apollo refused to think about that. They needed to succeed, Meg’s survival depended on it.)
“Okay,” Meg said, ticking points off on her fingers. “So we’re, what, going up to Olympus to find your father. Then we somehow keep him there long enough for you to do your thing without getting blasted into Hades. All while hoping no other gods decide to take a stroll and ruin everything.”
Apollo sighed and let his head fall into his hands.
“Basically? But that won’t work. First, he’ll vaporize you, and probably me too, the moment he realizes what we’re trying to do. And if he doesn’t, he’ll just teleport away. Or call the other Olympians. While most of them would probably stand by or even help, it would not be enought. Hera will definitely help my father, and probably Demeter too. And they are powerfull. If they join the fight, we’re done for.”
It was hopeless, wasn’t it?
Apollo groaned, and Meg jabbed a finger into his ribs. Hard.
“Come on. At least we have a semblance of a plan. We can figure something out!”
She had started drinking some sort of probably-toxic energy drink at some point, and if there wasn’t the very real chance of her dying within the next few days, Apollo would absolutely have confiscated it. As it stood, he understood the impulse, and let it slide.
She probably needed it too, he was pretty sure she had missed at least one night of sleep if not more.
“I know. We need to. It’s just…”
Meg nodded thoughtfully. After a moment thought, her eyes lit up.
“Can you take him to that place Ananke took us? He wouldn’t be able to call for help or teleport away, right? And Ananke probably wants us to succeed. That could help, she is powerfull even if she is a manipulative asshole.”
Apollo winced. It was a good idea. It would solve most of their major problems.
But…
“I don’t think I can do that. That realm was Ananke’s domain, not mine, though there are some overlaps. If I had a real connection to it, an anchor or something, maybe… but without that? I wouldn’t count on it. I could take him to Delos, maybe, that might help. If I tricked him…”
He trailed off. Delos was still technically part of the physical world. He could shield it, gain some advantage because it was sacred to him, but it wouldn’t be enough. Zeus would still be able to call for help, and he wouldn’t be truly contained.
Besides, he really didn’t like the idea of dragging Zeus to his birthplace. To his home.
Meg’s hesitant voice pulled him from his thoughts.
“Can’t you use me as an anchor? Ananke tied me to that… kind-of future, right? So she tied me to her domain.”
Apollo’s ichor ran cold.
“No.”
The word tore out of him.
“No, that’s far too dangerous. I’d have to connect my father to you first, and I’m not doing that.”
“But it would work?”
Of course it would work. That was the problem. But the risk was far to great. If he tied Meg to his father, it would not end well, he was sure.
Meg must have read the answer in his face, because she drew in a steadying breath and squared her shoulders with quiet determination.
“Apollo, if this doesn’t work, I’ll die. We need to do this the right way. If there’s risk involved, I’ll take it. It’s better than guaranteed death, anyways.”
Why did she always have to be right about the worst things?
Apollo sighed. She did have a point.
This would solve most if not all of their greater problems. It would trap Zeus, cut him off from help, weaken him, isolate him within the strong pull of prophecy.
And most importantly… it would keep their mortal friends and family safe from his fathers retribution should the process of taking his divinity would take time.
(Apollo did not think about what would happen to all those he had grown to love if he should fail. His children…)
“Okay,” he said eventually, voice low. “You’re right. I hate it. But you’re right. And it would give us a huge advantage if we can manage it.”
Meg beamed and punched him again.
“Of course I’m right. You should know better than to doubt me.”
She was practically vibrating with energy now, and Apollo began to seriously question the wisdom of letting a demigoddess with ADHD have an energy drink. He inhaled slowly.
“Okay. Here’s the plan. We surprise my father. I use your ties to Ananke’s realm and my domain of prophecy to transport us all there… hopefully. If that works, he’ll be trapped. Then, again hopefully, I can take his divinity. If that works, he’ll lose his throne and the blocked prophecy will finally be fulfilled. You’ll be tethered back to reality and we can forget this whole ordeal ever happened. Did I miss anything?”
Meg giggled, a sound that was only slightly alarming.
“Sounds about right. We only need about… three miracles for that to work? Or four?”
Another giggle.
“Is going against your evil father better or worse than going against my evil stepfather?”
Apollo sighed fondly.
“Let’s postpone that discussion until after we survive. It is not truly a contest after all. You should sleep before we do this, by the way.”
Meg shook her head so fast her glasses almost flew off.
“I’m good. Really. I have like three of these cans left. And didn’t you say we’re on a time limit?”
Apollo exhaled slowly.
“We are, but we still have time for you to sleep eight hours. Also, there’s a council meeting tomorrow. It’s a perfect opportunity to surprise my father. We shouldn’t act before that.”
She opened her mouth to protest, so he quickly added:
“And I’d like time to get familiar with… whatever I’ll be doing. I could use that time.”
Meg sighed, long and heavy, but nodded.
Then she yawned loudly enough that Apollo raised an eyebrow.
It was genuinely unsettling that she was still tired after consuming what was probably enough caffeine to kill a mortal.
For a moment, she looked very young.
Too young for all of this.
It shattered something in him, seeing her like that, small, exhausted, forced into a role she had never chosen. She deserved better than this. So much better. It was just not fair.
But life was rarely fair.
He forced a soft smile.
“Go to bed. You’ll need your strength for tomorrow.”
Meg yawned again.
“Okay. Goodnight, Apollo. And don’t worry, we’re going to get through this.”
“Yes,” he whispered, “we will, dear Meg.”
He dearly hoped so.