Of Dawn's Rising and Dusk's Demise

Artemis bolted through the sunbaked streets, her sandals slapping the pavement, the late-afternoon air thick with the scent of warm bread and diesel fumes.

She didn't see the banana peel on the road until it was too late.

Her foot skidded. Time slowed. The world tilted—then rushed back in a blur of motion.

Splat.

Artemis landed hard on the sidewalk, her legs sprawled in ungraceful angles, her breath knocked from her lungs. A dull ache pulsed through her tailbone.

She groaned. "Ugh. Again? What is it with me and fruit-based disasters?"

A shadow stretched over her. She blinked up into the sun, squinting against the glare. A boy stood there—her age or a little older. His expression was unreadable, his face half-cast in shadow, sharp lines and cool detachment.

Without a word, he offered his hand.

Embarrassed but grateful, Artemis took it. His grip was surprisingly warm, grounding. He pulled her to her feet with ease.

"Thanks," she muttered, brushing gravel from her elbow.

He was already turning away.

"Wait—seriously?" she called after him. "That's it? No 'Are you okay?' or 'Watch out for slapstick hazards'?"

He didn't even glance back.

Artemis scowled. "Rude much?"

Far beyond the reach of mortal skies, in the celestial realm of Heliopolis, sunlight poured like molten gold across gleaming marble. Towering pillars rose toward an endless sky.

In the inner sanctum, King Helios stood before Vaelor.

"The dark one cannot be slain," Helios said tightly. "It is rebirth incarnate, like its counterpart."

Vaelor touched his brow with a crooked finger. "Even immortality can wear a mask. The dark one hides within mortal flesh. And mortals... are fragile."

Helios's golden eyes narrowed. "Does this mean we have to kill a mortal?"

"Only one soul must fall to prevent millions more." Vaelor whispered.

Artemis stepped into Marie's store with a wince, still nursing the dull ache in her backside. The familiar scent of fresh produce and dried herbs wrapped around her like a comforting shawl. She made her way toward the vegetable crates, her eyes searching for celery.

Just as she reached the bin, someone brushed hard against her shoulder.

"Hey—!" she stumbled slightly, catching herself on the wooden edge of the counter.

The figure didn't stop. He strode past her with effortless disinterest, as if she were nothing more than a gust of wind.

Her eyes narrowed.

It was him.

The guy from the street. The one who'd helped her up earlier without saying a word, without even the courtesy of a glance. And now here he was, shoulder-checking her like she didn't exist.

"Oh no, not again," Artemis muttered under her breath. She stormed after him.

"You!" she called, voice sharp. "Do you always walk around like you own the place?"

The boy turned, slowly, as though deciding whether she was worth his time. His gaze was cool, impassive.

"I didn't see you," he said flatly.

"Well, I'm not exactly invisible, am I?" Artemis snapped. "A simple 'sorry' would've been civilized."

He tilted his head, almost bored. "If you're that fragile, you shouldn't stand in the middle of narrow aisles."