I am next in line. Panic surges through me like showers of acid rain. Ashmore, my older twin brother, lies twisted on the expensive marble floor of the Palace.

"Run!" I hear my adoptive Mother shriek. The urgency in her voice compells me to turn down the tapestry- lined hallway and run towards the Indoor Palace Gardens. Personally, I don't understand why my adoptive Mother told me to run. She is not, after all, my real mother, and my real father isn't human whatsoever - he's a god. Apollo: mighty sun god, healer of ailments, writer of poetry, pursuer of music...and my Father. Sounds like I'm going to be all-powerful or something, too, right?


My real mother - Iris, goddess of rainbows (spare me the comments, please) has long abandoned me for her color-branding products. Almost in mockery of me, a brightly coloured rainbow arcs across the pale blue sky. I hear glass shattering. Heavy footfalls, too. I run faster, blazing past the Palace's extravagent decor. The thumping noise of the assailents follows me. A burning ache develops in my lungs and legs. Slowly, it dawns on me that they will not give up until I am exterminated. Permanently. It is for that reason alone that I continue. Maybe they'll give up. My dress smacks against my knees, leaving tiny red welts on them. The crystalline diamonds hanging from the hem only attest to the frivolous means on which my "family" spends their wealth. Who is my adoptive family? My adopted Mother, the now deceased Queen Dhalia of the Greecian royalty line, consented to take over my care when I was only four. Apollo, every now and then, will manifest himself in mortal form as King here...but he has other things to do. Olympus is not a serene place in which to hold power. But I am not just any demigod - I am, well, I don't know exactly what I am. I suppose that it is a secret, but I have no idea why. Coherent thought begins slipping away as my lungs become to fatigued to take in more air. I stop my escape momentarily, my feet stinging. Suddenly, as I'm about to accept my murder by these mystery attackers, I'm swept up into someone's arms. I'm too tired to remember the face, or even glance at it. Adrenaline finally thins from my blood. A heaviness like lead shackles down on my ankles. My carrier runs with me in his (too muscular for a woman of any physique) arms, faster than I could have even run. Glimpsing the bay and the sparkling tuquoise water as we burst from the Palace, my vision blurs. Everything is covered in a stretchy gray film. My head drops into the crook of my carrier's elbow. My eyes close, and blackness swallows me.