Artemis looked around: her anger had transported her into a fog of unknown substance. The last memory she had was that of a woman sprinting towards her death, and it was followed by nightmares proclaiming the very real fear she held in heart: admitting that her sibling may be a dangerous human. She had a lucid dream where her sister had lowered her from a canyon cliff, as she had found Artemis weeping and attempting to hide from their sister as she hunted Artemis. Desdemona had often hid in dreams as a stranger, or an old man with pale skin: knowing that both were frightening to Artemis and her agoraphobia. “She wishes I wasn’t part of our family!” Artemis knew this to be true, as Desdemona had once wasted their childhood hurting Artemis physically, after she had been half-heartedly reprimanded for harming her sexually. The woman was without recollection of the scolding, as she hated being different and she decided it was easier to craft a meticulous mask in lieu of bearing the scars of reality. Hera had pointed out the nature of her intentions in kissing Artemis without consent were “disgusting” and eventually Desdemona blacked out the lecture, as to portray a helpful and “pleasant” child with adult maturity freely.

Artemis felt Athena staring up at her, unsure as to why her youngest sibling would rather cope and face her paralyzing fear of heights...hiding from their own family. Her dreams taught her ugly phrases to sum up her fears: calling Desdemona a face-stealing, murderous, succubus. Athena grabbed Artemis by her waist, lowering her from the canyon that stood too far high-up for Artemis to look down without causing a physical reaction of fear. She hugged her in apology: realizing Artemis had broken away from reality to cope with post-traumatic stress caused by a strange woman terrorizing her for eternity. Artemis had wasted her life away, breaking her sanity down to be helpful to a world without hope: needing her short life to be worth something. Athena felt the weight of her sorrow flowing over into her dreams.

There was no need to say sorry, as they were two orphaned girls: Athena had always protected Artemis as much as she could, out of maternal instinct and the belief she had in her youngest sibling that charged so effortlessly and blindly into battle. She was a really good big sister, and Artemis wouldn’t trade her for the world. She knew the woman held herself in high-esteem, and Artemis thanked her for always holding her to some of the matching elevated expectations, to the ones she held for herself. Athena had awoken brevity in her soul, and Desdemona had spent her life attempting to riddle her heart with fear. Artemis was nothing like one woman with childish tendencies, and mirrored the other quite effortlessly. This trait was due to the fact Athena inspired the world with her physical talents in athletics, and Artemis existed in the world where she was allowed to say and display how it felt to be inspired, and compelled by the greatness she witnessed. Artemis was proud to be born to the same family as Athena, and it gave her immense joy to know that she’d always be able to hug the woman freely.

Artemis felt her hands fall heavy, as though blood fell from her fingertips: the merciless battle of completing a book had drained all that was left of her. She looked around her cold chamber, and stared at her shield with few contacts: the only two people she cared to speak to were absent from her life. Athena was offended that Artemis couldn’t agree with Desdemona’s many demands as to how to raise a teenage daughter: Artemis couldn’t agree with a woman that casually sentenced death as a logical form of discipline, and Desdemona had felt the threat of Artemis and “her logic” to be unworthy of their bond. She had left a void where her voice was unwanted, and her “lack of maturity” was stapled to her age in being the youngest of three siblings. Artemis could care less, as she had three other half-siblings that were excited to hear her opinion, and a life filled with unknown opportunities she had earned. Artemis had left Athena’s side knowing that she created more ugliness in the world by holding her close, as the woman could never leave Desedmonas side and it put her in danger by doing so. She left their tight-knit friendship knowing that Athena would always wonder as to her whereabouts: ready to catch her if she ever lost her grip, and fell from the canyon walls that began to rise higher and higher: portraying her ambitious to achieve greatness in her own right. She had only wanted to choice to make a name for herself, a family to call her own, and the chance to live freely.

It gave Artemis pride that Athena had caught her from falling, as Orion would always wander off or be intentionally absent: needing to fuck whatever nasty woman he thought would piss her off instead of assisting the wife he claimed to love. This was more than comforting for Artemis to know that she could scream her many fears downward at the woman, and she’d listen to them with ears ready to validate her expressions of woe and to wait for confirmation as to the rash beliefs that someone was hunting her. Artemis reminded Athena of her first time facing the woman alone and unarmed: “I wish you weren’t part of our family!”: these were the words Desdemona had cast at Artemis in a fit of childish rage, and Athena had heard the dangerous tone she dispelled at their youngest sibling. “What’s wrong with you!?” Athena had stepped as a wedge between the two, and turned her back away from Desdemona: placing her hands softly upon a confused girl as she wept silently. Artemis suffered from anxiety and post-traumatic stress before they had been reunited as children: she already knew such dangerous words were followed by violence. This series of events had caused Desdemona to attempt to smother Artemis, as she had an authentic way of asking why people they said awful things to her: Athena hadn’t any clue that people had hurt Artemis as an infant, but she understood that it wasn’t ok to say such things without warrant. Artemis recalled her jaw trembling, the world slipping away from her chest as it fell heavily: Athena asked her to sit down and gave her a few items to entertain her with familiarity while she explained to Desdemona that she was being mean. Desdemona didn’t take kindly to others telling her what was acceptable in her choice of behavior, and so she framed Athena for things in boredom: needing to be a criminal that could always be overlooked, and left to roam and terrorize freely.

Desdemona would have wasted the Jury’s time: yammering on mindless details, as to why Artemis was a waste of human space and unworthy of life itself...whereas, Artemis was taught by Athena to evaluate, listen, and to agree whenever people held fair-points...there was nothing wrong with being wrong on the occasion. They were two rational people, that said less than Desdemona by choice: realizing she believed that sucking up all the oxygen in the room meant she was more important than she actually was. Artemis was sure that they had heard plenty, as to how Artemis was sick with her struggles with substance abuse, and to that: Artemis told the Jury…”yeah. I’m an alcoholic.” It wasn’t a mystery, or even a trait worth exploiting: Artemis had found an error in her coding, evaluated it with scientific evidence to back her theory, and corrected the flaw with a precision that’d make those she respected proud. She single-handedly chose...to not dismantle her hard work, her entire career by holding a bottle to her head like a loaded weapon. Because, just like Athena: Artemis was an exceptional human. Artemis had made history by crafting artifacts that broke sound barriers, and Athena had Mach speed in her athletic abilities…so, where did that leave Desdemona in this story? It left her with only the soul mission to humiliate, belittle Artemis until she had enough biased agreements that Artemis needed to be eradicated at her hand. It was a “duty” she had taken on excitedly, and a banshee with an uncanny similarity to Samara Morgan had given her the “green-light” to fulfill the duty without remorse. Even in death, Artemis knew the two were two psychos cut from the same ugly and dirty cloth. Artemis tied the two banshees together, knowing the Jury would see through their unique abilities to exist as parasites that latched onto other women and their talents. Artemis was the star to Desdemona, and the willowy home-wrecker was the shadow to her cousin Jade: a woman that shined without effort. Both Artemis and Jade, were without choice in their genetics or family ties, just two women that enjoyed life and good company...each excited that the development of their own family would mean that they could further drive a wedge between their unpleasant families: with the option to create a better future freely.

Artemis looked around her ugly dream-like fog, lifting her weighted limbs one after another and stomping in a muddy terrain. “I thought some idiot promised to drain this?!” Artemis was trapped in a swamp filled with criminally muddy waters. A Mechanical Boar had forgotten his one promise to “restore Justice”, and he had left the Gods of Olympus in the marshlands: forgetting his one promise, that he had traded for the fated promise of fame. The man had abandoned his goals altogether, as he was distracted by a small white ball and his ample attempts in finding a way to rear his favorite daughter instead. Artemis shook her head in boredom: she hated all things lazy and without accountability. She forgot the trick to wading through mushy lands was to move slowly: taking each step with equal temperament and patience. Artemis looked around to find Athena, yelling her name and hoping for her safety. She knew her sister would always do the same for her, and it had given her gentle slumber as a child: knowing Desdemona couldn’t harm her without the risk of her psychopathy being discovered, as she had an innate hatred of being confused as to how to respond to tragedy. Artemis knew the idea of abandonment was not something Athena would ever expect from her, and so Desdemona latched onto the idea of forcing the two apart, and using it as an alibi as to why Athena could be responsible for crimes unspeakable: whenever she chose to execute and mutilate her corpse. She had no reason to develop a plan, she was unable to think ahead: unbeknown as to why her actions would cause outrage, sensationalism beyond all they had ever known: Desdemona lived in a distorted reality where she was allotted the right to slaughter citizens freely.

The reader asked themselves...what does that have to do with a Mechanical Boar? Artemis looked around her void of black and white: she shrugged and said, “everything.” The woman was as dangerous as the crazed Boar, casting her words as “jokes”: making light-hearted statements where they both ran the idea of incest by people publicly: secretly hoping that people would agree enough to make it normal and accepted. Artemis had suffered from post-traumatic stress after being smothered as a child, and it had caused her to wet her bed until the age of seven. Desdemona had seen that Artemis was a sparkling item the world wanted to get to know and cherish, and “it forced her” to forgo hygienic habits in jealousy: until she was given the nickname “poopy-butt”. The concept of shame was so far from her train of thought, that she’d rather tell a Jury....of the one time Athena was forced to pee in a cup as a last resort...during an extreme discipline method enforced by Hera, than to explain as to why she was known for having fecal matter left all over their bathroom and her underwear. It reminded Artemis of Burke, as Desdemona now pretended to be immaculate and suffering from obsessive compulsive disorder: despite the fact she was famously lazy. Such truths were seen in Desdemona’s clenched jaw, and her need to use unnecessary words to avoid answering yes or no questions. These were simple tricks of the trade Artemis left the Jury: knowing they’d be forced to reconvene long after a verdict had announced Athena guilty. She assumed it’d be somewhere like eleven months after the fact: that someone would bring forth her book, and that they had found her voice again. Artemis was the third-party to their trial, and fashionably late without apologetic tone: on brand with her past. Artemis wouldn’t come to trial without evidence, or without biases: she had heard all they had to say of a stranger they thought they had known their whole lives by assessing the one opinion of an unhinged woman they chose to blindly follow. Artemis had sat and waited, knowing Athena would prepare for battle properly: needing evidence to the contrary of the mainstream public opinion that would finally give her the right to speak the truth freely.

Artemis stood in limbo: staring at a calendar that seemed to change without reason. She felt her heart weight down with exhaustion, as she yawned and decided that the day seemed to reek with the smell of death. The citizens became bored of a Boar without a body of truth to walk him to a new term: few even risked their lives to yell that they were under threat. They ripped off their personal protective wear: screaming a million things they hated about their Nation, but somehow stood without a single cause. They asked that the world returned what was stolen from them, despite no property having been stolen, and the Boar laughed as he raised his wee hooves and conducted the madness: screeching and hawing...that he had won an election that was lost by a landslide. The citizens lost all moral ground: coughing on one another until they began to die at a rapid pace, the citizens thought their political beliefs made them impartial to the statistic that a citizen died every ten minutes that passed. They began to demand blood: erupting in violence and riots: the deranged citizens took pleasure in demolishing cities and blaming it on anyone with melanin, as they believed their privilege somehow made them above the law. This was something Artemis observed from afar: laughing that they chose to stand proudly, screaming in the faces of others as secessionist, rather than to hold a criminal to the same standards to the ones they held for their own children. The notion of preserving Democracy and its fragile systems was the furthest thing from their “hopes and dreams”.

Artemis looked up from her own slain body, she began laugh without restraint..."where are you going Betsy?!" She had seen the evil woman attempting to sneak out the back door, and she dragged the woman by her ugly bob to the courts of public opinion. The strange-looking woman had purposefully lowered the Barr, stealing away education from the citizens children and encouraging the "Brocks" of the Nation to rape as they pleased. Artemis shook her head..."how are you so awful in your privileged existence?" Artemis sat the frail woman upon a Turtle named Mitch, and watched as his aging knees buckled under the weight of her Aristocratic belief that she could be pardoned, or forgotten in inciting a coup. Their treasonous actions were nobody’s fault but their own, and Artemis was determined to trap them with a golden net that reminded them that a "less-educated woman of colour" had single-handedly dismantled their plans in destroying Democracy. Artemis wanted to be the face of their nightmares, as they had set the precedence to demolish freedom, and individualistically enabled a sycophant to the Cyclops: encouraging the entertainer to demolish Democracy...with only the hopes in reward to his efforts...to be "the right" to fuck his own daughter freely.

The world fell into a chaos, a darkness overshadowed the Judicial systems that countless soldiers had fought and died for. An aging Boar had committed high-treason: demanding his hogs with "superior" genomes throw insurrection over the ballots that had already been cast and counted. They climbed walls like angry ants and dung beetles, scrambling through windows and desecrating offices meant to uphold Justice. The citizens had been told to create their own form of freedom, and in doing so: they showed the world their true colors. Artemis sighed, watching as the idiots claimed their election had been stolen: they had decided to march to their deaths despite Artemis’s many warnings. They coughed on one another, annihilating their neighbors in arms, and eventually a few fell at the hand of their own stupidity. The world began to buzz and stir, asking one another how they could "take control" over a lawless land, and Artemis raised her hand again: reminding world leaders...that these fools had once disarmed her army intentionally, and they had claimed that their leaders held higher expectations than her Peoples. They had slaughtered the original inhabitants of the land, so that they could molest, murder, and hunt people of Colour freely.

Artemis rooted for her friends the Argonauts, war-hooping as their prime leader condemned the Boar for attempting to forgo the laws of foreign lands to use tax-payer funds acquiring a vacation following his defeat: playing a lazy sport and claiming himself to be essential. The woman smiled, and calmly reminded the world that he was neither special, or an exception to quarantined boarders meant to protect her own citizens. Artemis sighed in relief. Artemis took comedic joy in the notion that her homegirl had no problem constructing boundaries to cage the wild Boar to the land he had set aflame. "I know that ladyyy!" Artemis was proud of the company she kept, and she found solitude in knowing the world began to find new ways to cage the wild beast that attempted to flee the carnage he had brought upon the world. The world began to laugh, and Artemis felt sorrow fill her heart, as the citizens hadn’t the slightest clue as to what their "superior-minded" citizens had done to their reputation. Just like Artemis, they now held their backs hunched in shame: they were now the laughing-stock of the world. "Aren’t you tired of being laughed at?" Artemis had those around her laugh openly at her, and sometimes they avoid speaking to her, whenever she was hunched over a stick...Artemis knew ugliness existed in the world...because they had seen her to be inferior in her strength, as she was unable to stand and walk freely.

Artemis sniffled, she hated that all those that had laughed at her hunched spine were Indigenous Warriors: it made her ashamed of her own genome. Their apathy was the reason they had been colonized, and she hadn’t any argument, as to how to correct them from being shitty people. She worried Orion would see her hunched over, and that one day he’d join in on their "jokes"...it’d mean that he believed that had deserved all the times people had abused her as a child, it’d mean that he thought she had asked to be raped as an infant. His laughter was the only thing she feared in the entire world, and this fear had led her to flee his embrace. Artemis was nothing more than a walking corpse, a woman used up as an infant, and left along a dirty river to die. She’d spend the rest of her life trying to make a name for herself, daydreaming of two men and unable to admit which one had inspired her to write an entire book. Artemis was bound to the expectations of saving an entire race, and it had left her world to be cast in black and white...never able to love freely.

Artemis smiled at the notion of the two men being interrogated next to one another, and knowing that they were no better than two premenstral sisters bickering tirelessly. Each would blame the other, and attempt to speak louder than the other. One would seeth in a quiet rage, and the other would deploy reasonings and questions that made him appear to be more caring in his efforts to be helpful. Artemis hated both of them equally, and that fact in itself was dangerous for one of the men: his Indigenous Warrior genome had raised him to believe he was superior in his importance to her life, and Artemis was too tired to object his assumptions most days. The other man was just proud to be seen as formitable friend, the same way Artemis felt when she watched the female Argonaut leader: he admired her ability to denounce things that were irrational or unjust. Artemis had left his side forever, seeing that he would believe that "keeping her spirits high" would give her the strength to walk. Artemis was never going to enough for him, and he’d never be able to fulfill her demands in being the husband of her dreams.

Artemis looked at the Jury, wondering what more she could say: besides the fact that she was sorry for her late arrival as a witness. Just as she always did: Artemis was responsible for apologizing for whatever fucking mess Desdemona had manufactured, and left without a chance to rebuttal whatever they had decided as to her character. Artemis had waited: knowing the gangly idiot from the North would feel comfortable traveling to new territories, basking in the fame she acquired through Artemis having fallen to her knees. Artemis had crafted a beautiful triangle shaped cage to house her and two beasts, one as moronic as Dalia and her love of keeping her hands clean, and the other...as violent and perverse as Burke. She was without need to point them out, as the two women never knew when to shut the fuck up. Athena and Orion would gladly sit in their cells out of shame and embarrassment for all the times they had called Artemis paranoid or “crazy”, and wondering why she had agreed with them so effortlessly...now that her fate had seized her life. They wished to be out of harms way, and out of range of the two vile women and their unjustified rage. Artemis shrugged and pointed at the Jury: “nobody ever asks a brown woman with passion...about her thoughts and opinions”. Artemis had waited with a strategy that was ironclad, knowing that her words would only be sought out by the intellect, those that believed in the Justice System that kept the world turning. It would be this impressive feat of theorizing the pre-meditation of her own murder: it could bring the world together and create reform for the overlooked services provided towards mental health. Even in death: Artemis cared about the citizens, more than she cared about herself. If it meant her dying at the hand of two sloppy criminals: then the tides of fate would still fall in her favor, and that alone would mean that Artemis would achieve immortality by accomplishing her dreams.

The reader looked around at the citizens smashing windows and local property, and Artemis would nod yes...as that was exactly how she saw the ugly Siren that took pleasure in invading Artemis’s home. The woman was without boundaries, and claiming to be unique in her existence: whereas Artemis was the opposite...she drew up a book filled with her expected boundaries that could keep her family safe, and in doing so...Artemis proved that she was exceptional by way of intellectual property. She knew the fame of her book would bring the Siren out of hiding, as she felt entitled to all that Orion had: believing that he had made the wrong choice in his selection of wife, and taunting Artemis with words that “joked” as to how she was waiting to steal all that "truly belonged to her". This led Artemis to stash away funds, titles, and even an entire baby: all in hiding from her ugly claws of a contemptious stranger. Orion would find these things slowly as “his friend” egged him on to rummage through their belongings, and his sin in agreeable nature would finally get the worst of him. Not because of her words, but because he had met and pieced together the past of Artemis and her buried feelings towards a man she called the Viking. Orion would probably blame his insecurities on Artemis, despite many of “his friends” having known and even spoken to the Viking: each avoiding bringing up the topic out of fear of bringing on his dreadful silent anger. It wasn’t really anything of a mystery to any Jury, as to why Artemis hid away the coolness she had once found charming in the aging Viking: hoping that they could see why she hadn’t the right to speak openly, as to her past feelings towards the random with her moody husband freely.

Artemis implored the Jury to ask Desdemona straight-forward questions, as Artemis faced problems and opponents head-on, and without apology in her tone. Did desdemona know that murdering a citizen was against the law? She’d probably be reluctant in saying yes, by way of the word “sure” or something displayed with a condescending anger. “Did Desdemona know that murdering Tila was against the law?” Such precise questions would trap her, as she hadn’t any reason to call her a person...now that she no longer existed in “her world”. She’d probably use “yeah, but…” or begin to dispel into a fit of psychosis, stating that the Jury “didn’t know her” in the same capacity as she did...needing to squirm around the question as though her actions were the exception to the law. The second Siren, the frail woman that aged herself quickly by drinking poison would be unable to answer the same line of questions: bored that she couldn’t hide behind her ignorance of law differences that came from an invisible line. She’d try to charm the Jury, and talk about the past as though they had once been close, and to this weird act: Artemis shook her head no...anytime the woman mentioned her name. They were barely teammates for all of two years, and after that...Artemis openly called her dull and abrasive. Such words meant nothing to the woman, as she prided herself in remaining “uncomplicated”: focusing on aiming her spread-legs in ways that got her wherever she wanted to be in life. She had wasted her life attempting to prove to Orion that “she wasn’t like other girls”, and Artemis would continue building their family and her own legacy knowing the woman was tasteless beyond words. There was a reason men called the slender woman a fucking walking nightmare, and praised Artemis for her ability to be humble in her title as the “girl next door”, and her efforts in sustaining self-reliance to prove to her husband that she had the intentions to always work hard in becoming the “woman of his dreams’.

The Jury seemed unphased be her ability to know more than they did, and she pointed back to the Mechanical Boar she had set free: reminding them how she had every chance to slaughter him all over her pages, and instead she had waited for the idiot to decapitate himself. The man had taken a weapon and aimed it at his own foot willlingly, and then instead of seeking professional help: he put his own stupid hoof into his gaping mouth. Artemis threw her ruffled red dress with flare, as she stomped across the pages, as her love of art and dancing meant that she could cast inspiration no matter where they looked. “Fuck I love being right.” Artemis tossed her hair aside: she didn’t need to give the crazed emperor her thumbs up or thumbs down, as the world had gifted her with the option of changing her skin tone: the option of being seen was more than enough for her. Artemis was more than a few words or numbers, she was a piece of walking art: existing to inspire all of mankind freely.

Artemis looked back upon her many battles, filled with blood and doubt: she hadn’t any clue as to whether the King Minos had molested children that had slept in his bed, but she was always ready to be the first to admit that the man had made his own bed, and world judged him for lying in it. She pointed back at her journey: graveling upon the ground beneath the Viking, and needing him admit that she deserved to exist in his world. Artemis reflected upon the horrendous stories of her slain friends that were lost but never forgotten, and she assured the Jury: that she felt relief in seeing her friend Buckles again, as he had been her only true friend in this life. Artemis pointed back to the recent past, laughing at a man that was wildly upset for being compared to an illustrated bear without trousers and a red cropped top: the jokes had been so personal that he had thrown the world into discord, and then bought all the abandoned property left on forgeign soils. Artemis’s hometown divided by a dirty river was his first piece of underpriced real estate in view. The world would just have to sit back and watch as it all panned out before them, as if to say “well all be damned”. Artemis shrugged, wondering how many of her idiot teachers had passed her by...thinking their infinite wisdom had fallen of deaf ears because she chose to say nothing instead of saying useless words all the time. Artemis had grown up in a broken education system, where teachers wanted instant results to brag about: she had learned a long time ago that observing them as an adult made her the smartest person in the room. She would never claim or act as though she was “too cool for school”, she’d just sit quietly and judge as the adults at the helm attempted to squeeze their students dry of their enthusiasm for learning. They didn’t believe a majority of their brown students were worth their precious time, and it became easy to pin them as lazy and careless quite freely.

Artemis knew her words had value, just as she knew her life held meaning outside of her book of death. The kind trolls that claimed to take immense pride in having Read It...had used their thumbs of approval to meet her in a coliseum she had built from the ground up, and occasionally gifted her with their opinions. Artemis felt so much confusion whenever they said kind things like “thank you for writing these stories which remind readers how the world must improve”. Concerned, as to how many of her stories they had consumed, and abashed that they had heard her screaming for change in a world where the act was feared beyond words. Artemis had only wanted to rid her mind of the ugly memories that held her back from the success she deserved, and to believe that in doing so: maybe she could call herself an author someday. Artemis was often most afraid of what her readers felt, stepping into her gladiator suit of armour: feeling their frontal lobe dampen with the sickness that came from describing her rape in detail. Many didn’t want to believe someone as “happy” as her could fall victim to the violence of the world, but alas...the incident had left her without the same experience as all the other children around her. Artemis was never a child, just a scorned victim attempting to find level ground to step upon. She had spent her whole life attempting to disassemble her armour of victimhood, and by the time she dawned the armour of motherhood: the cycle would start all over again. Except this battle: she would be left to suffer alone, as Athena wasn’t there to drag her out of the darkness and protect her this time. Artemis and her endless love had been showcased for the world to judge, and they had repaid her by incriminating her favorite hero, as they dragged Athena through the mud and incarcerated her husband: needing to make sense of a violent crime. Believing a woman that never shut up, and completely ignoring the floozie that was left to travel across two territories as an escaped accessory to murder, surprisingly freely.

Artemis looked around her void: she had ran out of parchment at last. Her clues could be polished and refined fo sho...but, other than that: the Jury was free to think for themselves. Artemis believed in them without a doubt, the same way she believed in a man named Brad. A famous secretary that had told the Mechanical Boar “no.” :turning the beast into a man...slumping behind a small desk and trembling in the looming fear that he had lost his job. The Boar attempted to change Brad’s mind, and then he ultimately tried to impregnate Ryan with opinions that weren’t his own: he was met with the strongest court he had ever met, and Ryan too...found the power of telling a narcissist the word “no.” Artemis had laughed out loud, as she found such admiration in facts, and the power of wielding them without doubt or remorse. The Boar was cornered by words he had cast frivolously, and each party began to hold up mirrors in response to an emperor that hadn’t even the excuse of lead poisoning. They had finally heard her words of harrowing truthfulness, and decided that she wasn’t “nagging or exaggerating” in the slightest. A brown woman was the last to be taken seriously at a table assembled for conversations as to warfare and the health of its citizens, but alas...she was a lady: giddy with excitement that she had finally been given an invitation at all, and late in a fashion that was constantly overlooked or forgotten...simply because she had looks that could kill, and her smile was ruthless whenever she displayed it freely.

What came first? The encore, or the blood-bath? Did the book inspire her to write, or did writing inspire her book? Artemis looked at the Boar sitting behind a small desk, and she had nothing to say to him at all: she knew his future would be filled with empty words and false promises of grandeur. A few citizens would rather trade their sanity for a chance to feel important in his shrinking shadow. The Boar had somehow managed to divide the color red into two separate factions: quite the feat for such a lazy human...a pure form of entertainment to watch him drag citizens one at a time...pulling each away from reality itself. Artemis reminded the citizens of the last time they had faced such a tyrant: meaning that his blind confidants and enablers were now to be judged as harshly and set aflame for their acts in treason. The cleansing of tyrannical parties was a tradition as old as time itself. Artemis coughed, but not in a cough that meant she was sick with the plague: coughing to correct herself in the tone in which she said treason, and crossing it out emotionally, as to pronounce it in a modern fashion that they all could understand. The world would forever associate their land with corruption, weakness, and for their sin in enabling a Boar named: TRE45ON. Artemis lived in a world where symbols and hieroglyphs were placed in the past to remind her of tricks meant to elevate the people. They were blinded by their arguments as to what book was the most valuable, and proclaiming to why their child-molesting religious leaders didn’t need to pay taxes: Artemis was left to pick up the broken pieces of a crumbling society, and to craft a beautiful tapestry that resembled a panel of stained glass. It reflected stories of triumph and Genocide, it displayed love and hopelessness, but more than that...it gave value to their patriotic dreams.

Artemis needed her words to mean something outside of her daunting culture, she wanted for them to see her as a person...that just happened to be an Indigenous Warrior. She had loved so deeply...a man without care to her existence, and now all that was left of her was a legacy: a chance to prove why she had been born with the name Mightiest in Battle. They had called her “Sir”, even as a child: knowing Artemis would lead them into a battle that was assembling before their eyes. She had stood tall, mounted horses with ease and even let loose arrows with an impressive precision that left her own culture in awe. That was all before Artemis had stepped into a coliseum of wreaths and beasts, when they had thrown her away as an orphan: unworthy of their time. Artemis felt her dreams slip away: knowing that her time was just lingering outside of the grasps range of what she deserved. She’d always be the first to head into battle, the first to bare arms and clash a weapon aggressively upon her shield: Artemis loved sprinting towards her emanate death if it meant her life could mean something outside of her title as an orphan. Her lust for life was no different than her longing for death, as they went hand in hand. Artemis was forever half-way out the door: caring neither to stay, and eager to leave. She needed for the scales of Justice to hear her voice whimpering from beyond the grave, and to weigh her existence with fairness, so that those that had begun falling ill from the details of her passing would find solitude in Justice and however a Jury had served it. Artemis had been nothing but a pawn to capture the chemical changes and actions of two women, and she hoped to trap them with the mirrors of judgement in order to find peace. She had spent her entire marriage living in silent fear, and now a handful of citizens had the chance to hear her out, and to gain a proper perspective, as to why she believed that she had the right to live without induced paranoia to a premature and violent death. Artemis had only wanted to be loved: needing to forget her title as an orphan, an alcoholic, and a hunched-back, so that she could inspire her culture by her ability to be a loving mother, a caring wife, and a strict auntie freely.

Artemis sprinted down a white corridor: the locking of doors had meant her sister Athena had taken her lead...pressing the lock feature, and securing a prison of beasts in their cages. Their sky-boat was drifting into an orbit that would set them all ablaze, and Artemis had sacrificed herself to ensure that not a single beast was left unaccounted for. Desdemona had attempted to set them each free over time, asking that they slay Artemis in her sleep, and instead: the Titans began to take turns asking her questions as to their fate, and creating a world that they could control. The bounty on her head was useless to the false monetary value they loved beyond words. The woman was left alone, in the solitude of her own hysteria, as she decided to slay Artemis without any further plans as to what she’d do after the fact. Artemis didn’t have the chance to give up, she didn’t believe in no-win circumstances, and so she prepared a weapon far-greater than any steel or iron. Artemis felt her body ache in a casket of static, and knew the world would begin to cheer her name: kneeling to the injustice they had thrown over her dead body. Desdemona would be slain at the hand of precision and Artemis’s female intuition, and the battle of their sisterly bond would be broken, as the illusion Desdemona had cast over the citizens was broken in embarrased unison. Artemis had crafted herself a beautiful casket of static, a temple was resurrected in her honor: not for her triumph in life, but for her efforts in death. This alone would break Desdemona to her bare and uneducated core, and she’d be left stunned that Artemis had corrected her wickedness with little effort. Artemis was a Chief in her own right, as her name was Sir to some, and Tila to others. Each meaning she was royal in blood, and the mightiest in any battle she chose fight. Artemis had wasted away her life, crafting a tapestry to wield as a golden net over her foes. She had captured beasts and Heroes alike, as some had the courage to praise her, and few had the ignorance to denounce her existence. Artemis was left fleeing the ones she loved, and attempting to protect them from the woman she called Nemesis: a woman that believed the Justice System was malleable and open for interpretation. The woman was a black-hole in her ignorance, and Artemis knew that her mask of meticulous tiles: meant that she’d have to craft a hidden source of knowledge meant to protect her own name, her legacy, and to ensure that the wickedness that had seized her life: was never allowed to put the other citizens lives in jeopardy. Artemis stood frozen in anxiety of the lingering fear that a tired Jury would convict Athena, and, or Orion for her gruesome murder. Artemis protected them from the growing fear that the depleted Jury would inevitiably overlook and allow two dangerous humans, that both just happened to be born as women...to roam freely.

Next Chapter: *[ 0 ] Artemis and the Sphere of Destiny*