© 2018 Lissette E. Manning
All Rights Reserved.

Artemis shuts off the taps. She grabs a small bottle, adding several drops of the milky nectar to the water. With a flick of her hand, she removes her clothes and slides into the bathtub.

Leaning back, the water camouflages her body. Her mind wanders. She thinks about her father and the rebellion she’s caused.

Tears seep out of the corners of her eyes, coursing down her cheeks and chin. They blend with the water in the bathtub.

A frustrated groan bursts from her lips. She detests the fact that she’s no longer a princess in her father’s eyes. The fault is hers, though she’d rather ignore that very fact.

She recalls the moment she decided to rebel. Her brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, her parents, and various gods and goddesses were gathered for a soirée at her father’s house.

An angered princess, she’d waltzed across the floor and strode out the door without a backward glance at what she’d left behind. Now, she had nothing.

She blinks and sniffles, rubbing the tip of her runny nose across the back of her hand. What is done, is done.

Waltzing herself out of any situation was no longer an option. Her only course of action now was to put on one of her many masks and destroy those who turned against her.

The thought of destroying Apollo tears her apart. Yet she can’t forget about the fact that he has created the Reapers, the very creatures sent to kill her.

“I’m so sorry, Brother, but this is war.”

Masking her emotions, Artemis sinks into the water. She floats beneath it, staring at the blurred ceiling above her.

She’s imagines a world where the Reapers don’t exist. A world she rules with an iron thumb.

The fuse within her has been lit. Determined, she rises from the water and steps out of the tub. As the seconds pass, the idea in her mind grows.

Artemis’ eyes gleam with determination. She nods and smiles.