The battlefield crackled with tension while the war continued.
Crimson clouds swirled above, broken temples collapsing below. Chasms of shattered marble yawned open across the sacred mountain. Craters blazed with the magic of fallen gods.
And in the center of it all, Artemis ran—her silver armor bloodstained and her bow drawn taut, while her expression was cold because of the war.
She moved like a streak of moonlight through smoke. Every breath she gave was focused. Every heartbeat sharpened to kill.
She had already felled a dozen of Nemesis's disciples, shadows, monsters and lesser gods.
Now, she hunted a new threat—one darting too quickly through the chaos, one she had only glimpsed briefly: a blur of speed, a glint of madness, a silhouette that didn't match any ally.
She didn't know it was Dionysus.
