Medea stopped a few metres before the father-son duo. Her gaze lingered not on Lucas but on Steven, who stood calmly amidst the ruin, revolver loose in his hand. She tilted her head, studying him.
"You…" Her voice was low and curious, but in the silence of the clearing, everyone heard it loud and clear. "I would never have guessed you were a demigod. How did you manage to hide your scent from the monsters?"
Steven raised his revolver, and with a casual flick, the cylinder opened, allowing the spent casings to tumble to the ground as he reloaded the gun, one bullet at a time. His movements were elegant, his faint smile polite as he spoke.
"When I was young, I was filled with the longing to explore the world. So instead of heading to Camp Half-Blood, I followed my dreams and roamed the world." With a snap of his wrist, the cylinder closed, and the revolver was once more ready to kill. "During my travels, I met people, made a few friends; one such friend was a talented witch, you may now know her - Lamia."
Medea froze. Then, slowly, her eyes narrowed, recognition flaring in their depths. Lamia, the witch who had crafted the spell that allowed creatures to smell the blood of demigods, sought revenge against Hera. Indeed, only she could undo the spell and hide the scent of a demigod. Thinking this, her wariness toward this man grew. To convince someone like Lamia to undo her spell for him, there must be something special about this man, and special means dangerous, especially the unknown.
Medea placed her right hand on her cheek, lost in thought as she considered the danger of killing this mortal and offending Lamia; after all, her primary objective was the death of Lucas. She didn't mind offending Hecate by killing her son; having once served as her priestess, she knew Hecate's powers and thought processes, so Medea was confident in her survival. Lamia, however, was different. Her talent in magic surpassed hers, and her madness was all-consuming. If she drew her attention, Medea would always have to be careful with her future actions, especially since her backers wouldn't hesitate to throw her out to ensure their anonymity.
While Medea was lost in thought, her pupils suddenly constricted, and her magic, acting on instinct, released a pulse of wind, followed by a barrier to shield herself.
The winds scattered a fan of daggers that was flying toward Medea, some striking the ground, others embedding themselves in the monsters behind her.
A dracaena staggered, clutching at her chest where a blade jutted out. Black ichor gushed from her nose and eyes, even through her scales. Her eyes turned bloodshot as her face grew pale, and after coughing up some of the black ichor, she collapsed to the ground convulsing before stilling, turning to gold dust.
A cyclops, struck in the thigh, blinked in confusion at a sudden prick. Looking down, it saw the dagger piercing its flesh, and although it wasn't painful, the dagger annoyed it, almost like a mosquito bite. With a small, annoyed huff, the cyclops pinched the dagger, intending to pull it out, but when his fingers touched the handle, voices clouded the cyclops' mind, speaking words of madness into its head. The cyclops suddenly pulled the dagger from his thigh and jammed the knife into its eye, blinding itself.
A hellhound, struck in the shoulder by one of the daggers, stiffened, its flesh turning gray as it was slowly petrified, transforming into stone.
Medea's smile faltered. For the briefest flicker, her eyes darted to one dagger buried in the soil a pace from her dress hem. She imagined what would have happened if she hadn't been so fast in her reaction, if one of those daggers had hit her.
A cold shiver traced her spine.
She turned to Lucas. "You've changed since we last met," she said, voice sharp, trying to mask the unease. "You no longer fight with honor. Shameless. It's disgusting."
Lucas' grin was sly, almost boyish. "I'll take that as a compliment. Shame it didn't work, though."
"You think I would let my guard down around you?" Medea sneered, hiding the fact that she indeed did lower her guard. She may have been played when Lucas used her magic to fend off the monsters and Lycaon, but while this only raised her guard slightly, it didn't cause her to believe him to be a danger to her. Her thoughts on Lucas' abilities were still stuck when she met him at Circe's Spa and Resort. Now she did acknowledge the danger of Lucas, raising her guard.
Lucas shrugged, "Pity. His eyes gleamed. "Though I'm surprised you're still here. Any moment, my mother could walk through that treeline. I would have thought you would retreat by now."
At this, Medea laughed, a rich, mocking sound that rippled across the clearing, her confidence returning. "Your mother? Oh no, Lucas. She won't be coming."
...
Hecate faltered. Her eyes, glowing faintly violet, widened. She felt it; the wards she had set around Steven's home screamed in her mind, activating one by one. A monster had reached his house, and more than one.
She stopped, turning, but was blocked by a massive frame.
"What is it?" Kratos demanded.
Hecate's voice was tight. "I need to go; something important has happened."
She attempted to bypass him, but Kratos sidestepped, once again blocking her path.
His eyes, hard as stone, fixed on her with cold finality. "Everything else is irrelevant; Zeus has commanded your presence on Olympus."
Hecate's jaw clenched. "You don't understand. If I don't go now-"
"You may plead to Lord Zeus when you see him," Kratos interrupted. "Until then, you go where you are commanded."
Hecate's eyes blazed. She lifted her hand, tracing sigils in the air. Shadows folded around her, a spell, to slip past them and vanish into the night.
A blur of motion struck her. Bia crashed into her side like a thunderbolt, hurling her backwards, cutting off her spell, allowing the shadows to bleed back into the darkness.
Kratos advanced with measured steps, his fists curling as he stood before Hecate.
Hecate rose, eyes burning with fury. She understood now. They would not allow her to leave.
"Very well," she hissed. "If you will not move aside…"
Hecate swept her hand, casting a quick spell. Fire was released from her hand, turning into chains of fire that lanced outward, striking towards Kratos and his two siblings and giving her space to retreat and cast more magic, going all out in hopes of quickly ending this conflict so she could find out what was happening at the Thorne house, and why dread was starting to fill her.
She tore open the sky, lightning splitting from above. Blades of spectral bronze conjured themselves mid-air, launched toward her foes while a gale of storm winds slammed them from every direction.
Hecate displayed her mastery of magic, launching a variety of different attacks.
But Kratos met her storm head-on. His fists shattered her chains; his strikes, lacking technique, focused on raw power, shockwaves splitting stone. Bia tore through her magic with brute strength, similar to her brother. Zelus struck from the edges, always at her blind spot, forcing her to split her attention and easing the pressure on his siblings.
And though her spells battered them, though her fury was terrible, even without their greatest sibling, Nike, they could temporarily contest against Hecate and stall her, keeping her there.