Artemis felt minor relief in observing an illuminated moon...reminiscing the short time spent battling a crucible of social forces alongside the Argonauts upon a lush lawn. The Argonauts: had generously provided her with organized conferences. They stood proudly behind her insidious life-excited to listen and announce the arrival of Artemis, surviving a trip to Hades and returning from the dead. They gave her crowds of men and women, and invited them to take part of her discomfiting journey: boasting of her occupation. Like most women in the world of science, Artemis was not used to being praised for her scientific work. More often than not, engineers were thrust into the spotlight, or given full recognition of a product, gifted with endless accolades: for their ability to craft things from a blueprint. Scientists were the theoretical wizards that moved ideas to parchment, lending math skills to the engineers for efficiency purposes, and double checking that their inventions held longevity. Such heavy lifting left scientist so preoccupied with the task on hand at each moment. It seemed unwise to rattle the foundations of fragile egos...just to point out the ostensibly unfair praise that kept scientists unappreciated, overlooked and left holding their dicks in their hands whilst standing in the darkness.

Artemis forgot the presumptuous profession entirely--without a badge or identifying shield. Life was simpler without wasting an astonishing amount of time in the past: fighting the diffidence alone. The locals of the land could care-less that she had gained success in a male-dominated field. Her work was considered extraneous, so she had no option but to remain chillin, content as a hidden anomaly or secret weapon of sorts. She felt aloof by the appraising reactions the Argonauts had gifted her, and frustrated to be traveling the world alone...unarmed, and without her favorite Indigenous Warrior at her side. Eventually his absence would be met with resentment and reluctance, because she found excuses to be lame and predictable and was substantially more productive without such romantic dissonance. Artemis was left campaigning the fatality of childhood trauma, representing only herself: true and vigilant. The sensation of honest bliss had mustered her smile to be backed by endless pride, whenever discussing the thankless battle in conquering strangers that had the audacity to doubt her self-worth. Artemis knew that the Argonauts would always be important allies on her perilous quest.

The moon often mocked Artemis: it lingered, taunting a stranger with a reflecting effigy of one’s loneliness. She stood in silences, isolated within the depths of true darkness. She lugged around the Golden Fleece from here to there, and waited until the moon returned each night-if only to judge her use of the day. She were talented within her capabilities to make the day stretch further-crafty in manipulating time to include tasks and endless errands. Artemis had promised the Argonauts: that she was prepared to risk her life in order to fulfill the prophecy of joining the night sky, taking up a coveted role in operating a false star that orbited the Earth. To this promise...the people of her own lands had often ridiculed her: questioning endlessly the might of which she wielded...since no Indigenous Warrior woman had participated in such a dangerous feat. Her own Tribe tended to demean her, by ignoring her and referring to her aspirations...as corroding daydreams. Artemis began to pity all those on her yard that stood with the audacity as to question her might: resting her etched smile with a sigh of relief within the moment they turned away. Artemis began depending on the rudimentary support of the Argonauts, and those who remained near the North Sea: holding them dear, glad they had found her at the most difficult portion of her quest.

Artemis managed to carry on through the day; casually crying in exhaustion quite frequently. Her mission began bearing scantling evidence of a handful of detours. The expanding list of obstacles...ranged in danger: the worst being her personal Endeavors in fighting a battle with oscillating depression. Artemis would take deep sighs, searching for a scintilla of reasoning towards her tireless enterprise in genetic disadvantage. It wouldn’t be until the discovery of her niece standing as a Challenger to the same necrosing disease that instilled a modicum of hubris that reassured Artemis was giving the world her all...by the marked skills of splashing a kind smile across her face. She recalled having once felt a moment of fleeting relief as a young adult, holding a small human with wild hair and a glimmer of mischief behind her eyes along the vast Columbia River. The relation she held with the bossy infant provided inspiration for allegory through a plethora of poems that eventually transformed into a book. Their friendship gifted Artemis with the realistic goal of providing the young woman with the Nation of Atlantis, a warm and cozy place that held a soupçon of what was expected of a loving home. She had only wanted to provide her life-long friend with the mere chance at normalcy in life, as reward for having held the key to Artemis’s heart in a peril-filled quest.

Artemis often yawned in defense of her own amourpropre, her witticism had meant that a Mechanical Boar set loose was underwhelming, and the hunt of such a beast was "below her pay-grade". A majority of citizens had monetary goals on their minds, but Artemis was more impressed with the offering of a solid nap. She’d cross her arms in bored delight: obstinate in the threatening edict imposed by a Mechanical Boar wandering around, destroying the land with his aimless path of depredation. The world began to buzz and stammer at every rapacious statement to the beast leading the free world, and Artemis dealt with glares as they came and went...she refused to argue, but often retorted by whispering a single question out of sheer confusion..."Mmmmhmmm, but why is he naked?". The citizens refused to hold the capacity to respond reasonably, and more often than not...the common pomposity displayed had expressed that they seemed more concerned by her smirk and epigrams....than to his terror-laced and naked quest.

The parental and axiomatic act of ignoring a childish "random" seemingly caused less havoc, than the hubris delivered by a Viking...that now yelled his intentions at everyone within range. She could never be weary of the surprise expressions to a man cursed with getting people to hustle. Dropping off envelopes and postcards from afar. Artemis was titillated by the sight of citizens abandoned to first hand deal with the spontaneity of his booming voice. Artemis intentionally avoided the Viking, and giggled to herself...knowing that she’d rather face ten Mechanical Boars...than to deal with an encroaching Viking and his volume control problems. Such chance encounters would be unhelpful and exhausting as a detour in her sobering quest.

Artemis remembering the old-phrase expressing: that hate and love are both equal sides of a pence, and she couldn’t fault the citizens for admiring a Mechanical Boar, if she too...succinctly displayed admiration for a coaching Viking--that casually glared at names of strangers, and tossed mail with impunity. He was recalcitrant to carry polite conversations without bellowing out his frustration to the impestuous occupation, and holding confidential council with the fluffy companions met upon his daily quest.

They had gotten along well because Artemis was unapologetic in her bold entry into just about any room or situation; decisive in her exit, and chagrined when given snacks and decent company. She was either too cool for the company of the Viking, or glaring at him for arriving into a decided argument too late. She was never, not excited to hold a conversation with the random guy in an unflattering set of linens. She understood his athletic aesthetics, but wasn’t understanding the vision...yeah know? Artemis wandered back into his sight. He knew better than to try and take bets on the vacillation of her mood, and chose to settle with grinning and bowing his head and lending hand in securing a knot. He often assumed her silence to be nefarious, with her occasional intentions to accidentally cause havoc, and most likely mocked her laughter on a spare Thursday. Her precarious Spartan upbringing, meant that she found his misfired advice to leave a corny taste of vicissitude in her mouth. She could offend him with the simple question "what are you doing?", sitting near a coliseum and watching a grey-haired man as he began slowly unraveling. Artemis often listened politely, but met his gaze with a mischievous smile. He didn’t appreciate Artemis boxing up all previous romantic encounters as gardening tools and female beasts, the love of both...but, on a boat. Or the need for new area codes. His pale privilege rendered him aged and irascible to the fact his entire generation was being left abandoned in the darkness.

Her boredom in existing usually resorted with the greying man choosing to engage in yelling competitions, in lieu of a calm arguments or reasonable conversations. Homie stays yellin. Artemis didn’t mind, often giggling with anxiety and clawing at ways to find caveat and ask the Viking about his volume control issues. She’d yell over him, and point out the equality in effort left them both yelling; despite their close proximity. One day awoke with a new curse in sorrow, and grew weary of his inability to answer the simplest of questions as to his expectations. They were nothing to each other. Just two people passing by forever. Artemis agreed, and left his side out of the acceptable fear that his confused toxicity would begin leaking into his professional life. He pretended to care, and she pretended to care less. Each were circling the other in imperil confusion as to how the other existed. Artemis knew what love wasn’t, and the facts gave her enough reasons to leave the Viking behind without proper goodbyes: holding her volition like a spear, and continuing on her way to seek a better life by traveling North on with her heartbroken and exhausting quest.

Artemis had first found out about the fettering curses of endless woe, cast upon and cultured by the hand of Hera. She was unsure if the sadness had been genetic or a product of an abusive childhood. The daydreams of walking into the ocean with the intentions to end her suffering were marked off as daydreams--gazes of joyous plight. Her admittance of being born to be invincible and easily broken, had lead Artemis to embrace stoicism. The nature of carving a path in the darkness and pushing a boulder up a mounting hill of shale and broken dreams. Its steepness was comedic, piled with the logical fallacy, perfected to a point. Above all, she had stood in lock-and-step to a narcissist loved one...all during the seventeen year sentence she had served as an orphan. The statistic circumstances mounted itself into a crowing peak, an obstacle locket-ed away behind a grin and eyes filled with a strange darkness.

Artemis found little promise, or even reward in the efforts of battling such a deadly curse. Whenever she held the boulder at its pinnacle of height, it’d teeter and weaver in balance, and instead of holding it up and risk being smooshed to death...she’d use the few moments of each dark winter to seek a glimpse of hope, glimmering deep within Hades. Artemis had wasted her childhood away, concealing years of fearful tears and anguish; accepting a life of diseased thoughts in suicide. Such were the tales of a fallen-Goddess, tempted to enjoy life and grapple with the crushing weight of reality: despite being given an unbeatable quest.

Artemis held endless pep and motivation...often bouncing on her toes and staring at the boulder settled at the base of a mountain, pretending the the test of will, were a game easily won. She’d sway weight between a firm stance and growl, "awww shit...here we go again." Such valor was only found with those that looked forward to competition and were dominated by pride. Artemis often pushed along her boulder with humor-laced stoicism: pretending it were at fair-odds, and not necessarily cemented by generations of oppression. Artemis did this feat without question, and watched as the boulder tumbled back through the depths of Hades. The boulder would challenge her laziness, as it rolled over her feet and caused. There were moments where she had to dodge,dip, dive, and dodge from its path--or risk being deaded. Artemis would return to the task of boulder-moving each day: armed with only an imagination and the honest belief that there’d be a promising light, eventually unburdening just a droplet of the hurt in her heart during the endless quest.

Artemis watched guiltily, as the careless boulder caused earthquakes directly above Hades--tumbling down the dark hill, and finally settling itself at the exact location where it had originally started. When the end of her seventeen-year sentence drew near, and Artemis was finally free to leave Hades...she hesitated in confusion. Over a decade of physical, sexual and emotional abuse had left her preoccupied to the option of existing in the world outside of that particular type of darkness.

Artemis had sprinted back to her boulder, asking for another year to her sentence...demanding help from her ancestors in achieving a diploma that could shield her with a title of a normal adolescent upbringing. She was admitted to a school surrounded by the graves of stolen children and broken tongues. Artemis was embraced by kind parts of the community, given a blanket and sparkling dress by two elders named Jackie and Erma: to honor her educational efforts in improving herself. They helped give her authority to cut communication with Hera, as the encounters left Artemis uncomfortable in inconvenient times during an important academic quest.

One day: near the end of the sentence...Artemis heard a small baby crying and whimpering; her heart ached at the sound. The coveted moments atop the mountain were now used to glare into pitch black cave, scanning the terrain frantically for the origins of where the sound. Her circadian rhythm had been misconstrued to accommodate the dark. A meaningless talent, linked to strokes of bad luck. She approached a nearing sound and began to clamor around on all fours fumbling gravel and slivers of fragile stone. Artemis was fearful that the sobbing baby had sounded near enough to be in potential danger of the etched path left from the faithful boulder. She cautiously continued to push the boulder again, singing soft melodies to entertain a child she couldn’t find, and stressed by the lack-of-evidence it even existed. Artemis began to question if the sound had been another ploy set by Hera: intended only to distract her from attempting a nonsensical quest.

Artemis hadn’t known that an elder sister Athena, had bore a daughter. A baby born with a heart on fire and similar curses of love-filled laughter. Artemis felt sorry for the infant girl as personality traits emerged. She held the baby at arms length, avoiding the deeply rooted anxiousness of how a cursed giggle could always manage to muster violent intent. Hera had heard the laughter...spewed by the drool-y infant, and cast the child into Hades with a shrug, assuming it were Artemis...giggling with delight "like a fool". It was here: where Artemis found the infant rolling around like a lumpy potato in the sharp gravel...somewhere in the distance. She leaned into the fact of taking to nobody whenever approaching such a darkened individual, and accepted that introversion was part of her niece’s own tedious quest.

She’d move slower in the task, frantic in shallow breaths as she yelled in a whisper; "woman!", while looking for a toddler. The silliness of such event left Artemis reserving enough extra wind as to accompany the baby with a sweet song and attempting to calm bellowing sobs unaccompanied by a non-maternal voice. Why would a baby be abandoned in the dark? Artemis piped wee songs: describing the skies and stars, and the baby began to express an interest. Artemis stood still: listening to the nothingness and holding the boulder over an injured shoulder, as she leaned into the weight. The halting of her song gave the baby permission to demand an encore with shrill cries. As long as the cries and laughs were distant: Artemis knew the baby was out of range of the danger zone. She was tormented and burdened to stand guard on high-alert: listening to the soft shuffling of gravel as a baby swayed. and caused the rubble to crunch and rearrange. She was amused by the toddler yammered to herself, chewing upon or tossing sharp rocks during the process of teething. Artemis continued singing to the baby, occasionally telling the toddler to put something down, or remove things from her mouth, and pushing along the meaningless boulder: secretly glad to have good company upon her futile quest.

One day the baby began to laugh and utter the letter “T”--demanding tunage. Artemis and she could tell the baby was bouncing up over a scoot, attempting to stand up. Forever a baby learning to walk and seek her out for help...which brought immense pride to a person without ally. Artemis went about her labor: moving the useless boulder up the shale hill--gladdened that the baby was quick to communicate and offer bouts of applause. She’d laugh out loud and hold conversations in a sweet tone..."you... have no idea what’s going on...you do not, and that’s ok." Knowing a baby was smiling and clapping in the distance, agreeing without a doubt. Artemis took great joy in this odd friendship: finally realizing that she had been very lonely in isolation, having been locked away from the world for over seventeen years. This baby was impartial to the presuppositions of living as a criminal, a child fostered by society...predestined to fail on a dangerous quest.

Artemis began to weep openly, staring into the darkness: searching for the baby...as she wandered aimlessly in and out of her life. Artemis became proud of the lil homie figuring out her limbs without assistance and shit. The thud of heavy steps of an aggravated and demanding baby reported the unapologetic whereabouts of a child seeking answers, or entertainment at the very least. Artemis held the boulder up, and dealt with her pebbled emotions, laughing and crying simultaneously at the sound of the light pitter-patter of a baby bouncing around and sputtering nonsense and spittle-filled sounds. Hera had heard Artemis crying joyfully in Hades, and became infuriated: hearing that the Warrior woman had restored a love-filled laughter once more. Hera threw a horrific fit: personally increasing the weight of the boulder and pressing into the self-doubt of Artemis’s core. She was indefinitely tied to the expectations of a child-abuser set out to dismantle the confidence Artemis had attained out of rage from her talons. The freedom of endurance had left Artemis free falling, left with only the option to be the hero in her own quest.

The trial of a simulation would circumspect such wickedness burrowed beneath the smile of Hera. Artemis knew. The vile woman was well-unaware that Artemis had gained strength from dispelling an endless sadness--telling a friend, Ryan that she had been born and left for dead, shameless in her own will to survive. He had buckled over, having seen her standing atop a mountain wailing a sound too sad for mortal ears. It was only then, that she found the strength to admit out loud the unmentionable fears in failure, and the pressures to manage and process the fatal personality traits given to her by such a tragic lifelong quest.

Ryan had often said reassuring things that confused her beyond laughter:" you’re going to do great", or "it’ll be ok" as he walked off. One day a child began pulling at her leg, and Artemis felt her knees buckle: the massive weight of the boulder was clamoring down upon her narrow shoulders. Ryan appeared at her side as he asked to finish her trial for one day, as though the sentence held promise to end the following day. Artemis would shake her head in disagreement, allowing tears to fall in order to accommodate a baby that needed to be held and protected by warm arms. She’d spent so much of her adolescence, comforting a fussy homie, and tucking her away into the darkness.

Artemis had told him of the boundaries pushed aside by a narcissistic parent, leaving her children unattended for a night--that somehow manifested into two. Any time--all the time. Nothing was enough to warrant a thank you. Such stressors would concratize, building up to attempt to explain such a trial that demanded Artemis to be the only one to place the boulder gently over a peak with delicate balancing act. It was pure torment in the act of being forced to witness a boulder thundering down the side of a mountain of regrets and useless expectations. He had always laughed at her diligent ambitions and regret in inability to "try harder". Artemis would be seen flying by, managing a mission lacking in instructions and equivocation of reward. Ryan was kind-hearted and patient, knowing a baby deserved to be loved no matter the sacrifices of those around them. Artemis placed any worries of the unknown future of a toddler with the memory of Ryan, chained to a boulder that required the presence of someone at all times. She’d make way to visit them both, a niece forever pushing away an auntie: and a best friend, forever youthful and unforgotten. Artemis would hold out on addressing her emotions, waiting until evening to stand stride in stride with the memories Ryan. She didn’t have to tell him about the boulder they pushed along in a race with the rising moon. Artemis knew better than to argue with Ryan, and so she often sat-back and allowed him to lead the way on their quest.

One day she awoke and felt a heavy change in the wind. Something was wrong. Beyond wrong, but she couldn’t quite place the sensation. Artemis had forgotten that Ryan was gone following a spell of Zues’s lightening striking down her withering spine. She felt the familiar smell of death, splash in wave over the poisoned land. The range of fear resulted in Artemis sprinting back to the base of her concave a narrow path, to a day where things had gone awry. There was nothing but desperation in the abyss of such a cold and blackened night. Her hands began to tremble and shake violently, as she stammered and attempted to stop the immense bleeding falling gently over many wounds. A cold substance lay slicked over her hands: Ryan was gone. The moon was rising, and she was left to conclude that he had attempted to push the boulder up by himself. Artemis’s dreams were interrupted by the fact that her life was a living nightmare, filled with unfixable traumas and an unexplainable darkness.

The curse of death that followed Artemis had meant nobody was safe, nobody could attempt to save her the sorrow that was destined to break her spirit. Artemis lay in a heap at his side, and apologized for the fact that she had to leave and finish the task he’d attempted alone. The tears began to consume her every thought, "he must have been so afraid", "why wasn’t I there to protect him?!". Artemis had foolishly allowed herself to believe that their friendship would outlive her sorrow, and instead it had swallowed her back into the darkness in a unpredictable single night. Every step began to be filled with resentment in being gifted with a friendship, and surviving as a victim to a non-familial homicide. Artemis reached the peak of the summit, swaying in a crazed mourning spell of disbelief--a mere moments away from casting herself from its ledges in despair. She was forced to step aside, holding her face in her hands, and letting the boulder trample downwards as it meandered the steepest regions of Hades. Artemis was perplexed by a sporadic change in path, but the feeling instantly subsided, as it was replaced with fear...the second she heard the baby wandering nearer. It appeared...the precious baby: relentlessly demanded her tunes for the day. Lil homie had decided to take the initiative, as to climb the sharp-edged terrain in pursuit of the songs. The baby girl was unaware of the hazards it imposed on Artemis and her dangerous quest.

Artemis was left battling the might of cramped legs and a mind racing through possibilities: the boulder had gained speed...rolling down the hill without a carved path to roll through or help indicate a path. She had been left with no option other than to sprint behind the rolling stone, running back and forth like a crazy lady and listening attentively for clues as to what side of the mountain a rouge baby would be crawling. She began to sing loudly, and out of tune, seeking a reply from the baby and its hums. The baby laughed at this game...snorting with laughter, as Artemis couldn’t help but laugh at how dire the entirety of the situation was. There was no victory in dying by way of a slip down a hillside, hidden away from the world in the unclaimed darkness.

The baby began to incite ruckus, and sounded as though it had lost balance enough to began rolling...as babies often do. The fanciful melody of Reconstituation began to ring and bounce from the walls. The child had drafted a charm and cast a request of Plaisir De France in her need for adventure and excitement. Artemis was now: blindly chasing the two rolling things at once, confused by the music that came from seemingly nowhere...as she attempted to hold sturdy footing and slump her weight downward upon the steepened hill. This experience alone...was definitely more thrilling than anything she’d done in the last seventeen years, and Artemis was hyper-focused from pulling the child into her arms before they found the corpse that lay half-buried at the bottom of the hill. She weaned to the left side, having realized the baby was nearer than she’d originally hoped...somehow in the direct proximity of the uncharted path of a falling boulder. Her choice would prove to be a wrong call. Artemis ran ahead and fell to all fours; wasting time...trying to feel the ground for the baby wandering in the abyss, and stumbling over the multitude of inveterate lies given by a narcissists and their particular brand of darkness.

There was nothing to stop the world from plowing over Artemis with a stupid rock, and even less of a chance at the random baby laying in the direct collision path of the oncoming boulder traffic. Artemis panicked, and sprinted ahead of the boulder again: frantically reaching around in the dark and clutching handfuls of loose rocks and stones. Her hands became the centere of focus, and the anxiety returned in spells of trembling wrists. The pressure to fix everything all at once was forever stored internally behind a firewall of mixed facial expressions. Artemis couldn’t fix the fate of her homicided friend and she sure-as-Hades wasn’t capable of preparing a youthful daughter-of-a-narcissist, for the shared fantasy of apologies lost or forgotten on life’s quest.

Artemis hid away her grief and anxiety for moments at a time: needing to hide away the pain that had almost allowed her to give up. Feeling her eyes swell with tears of relief to be out of range of Athena claiming a misinterpretation of words and gestures. Artemis began to stroll silently, wishing for only a witness to return sanity to her life, contextually a jury to the loneliness that threatened to swallow her alive. The lost baby finally took a hold of her hand with gentle tug: grasping with a soft pudgy little hand. The fiery baby began leading Artemis with small steps, a baby girl in search of her mom; suffering from her own form of displaced darkness.

Artemis was sickened with fear; all her sacrifices had been for nothing. She had given up sleep and study hours without remuneration and comfort for a boulderer relationship with a sibling. The the unapologetic disaster forever roared nearer and farther in stark and wavering patterns. They had both stood too close to whatever newly burrowed path the boulderer demanded, and fled to survive. She swooped up the baby in one swift move, tucking flailing limbs away beneath a scrawny arm, and protecting the crown while pressing forward. There was no invisible line in which to touch down: Artemis protected the softened head of the toddler, stabilizing her little neck from whipping around. There was a spell of fog, a memory where Artemis saw the baby’s freckles over a teenage face...being hit by her mother. There need to loved or seen as a person to Athena had left them both easily acclimated to violence, mistreatment, and victimized darkness.

Artemis began to weep blood, running far from the self hatred of missing Athena and her manipulating strategies. She recalculated and adjusted her expectations: throwing the baby to the side with a gentle toss...kneeling down to roll her along down a hill with a lil momentum--tossing her just far enough to avoid being crushed along a warpath of a boulder. Artemis stood up and leaned into the darkness: a baby strapped to her hip, and yelling wails declaring war. The bored baby was always the least bit concerned of any impending doom and would always appreciate the theatrics. The little lady took delight in being called a Beast, and began to giggle hysterically. She laughed at the sight of another person arguing with her mother. Dramatic and impatient were embedded in a personality carved by those already painting self-portraits. Artemis refused to engage in the phases of those wielding such temperamental darkness.

Artemis had a competitive edge, split from the identity crafted by Athena. The fake competition between two siblings. She had hedged the reliance of a false narrative crafted around one child. Artemis had stepped away from her life on a handful of events, the spectacles of crashing head on to a boulder. Artemis found small defeat in time away from Athena’s world the metaphor of such safety in numbers; to be shitty poem of all she’d Heard. The cracking in a marble floor, unveiling a separate type of woman, those that weaponized words and unreasonable reactions. She had wanted to preserve a path for a niece to wander upon, to cheer over raised glasses as Artemis chanted a kind greeting "so say we all", protected by the logical reasoning that protected her from being destroyed by a blameless sibling in their shared death-filled quest.

The boulder came barreling down upon Artemis: her spine crumbled under the weight of a thousand suns. The spineless stone had successfully rolled over the entirety of her body. She lay there...casually dying. A withering body tried to run away from the excrutiating pain...her petite body began seizing in and out of shock. Artemis felt deserving of this pain somehow: her circumstances having finally caught up to her, and rendering her unable to use legs, or spine and to add insult to the injury...Ryan was gone. Artemis accepted her painful death, taking deep breaths and beginning to hum to the baby for comfort, reminding nobody of a name and date of birth. The baby was unfazed by the morbid situation, and it began to crawl lazily over the sharp gravel once more. On a mission, as to accompany its new friend and nothing more. Artemis couldn’t technically die: classified as a Demi-god and numbered for reasons of appraisal. Artemis lay there suffering pains indescribable to man...sentenced to be tortured for eternity. Eventually she rolled to a side: wanting to clear away the tears cast while feeling sorry for herself and useless in helping a negelected baby. Artemis began laughing only to herself, as she marveled at the fact that she had come so close to achieving victory within the darkness.

Artemis felt the baby approach with caution, and mustered the strength to raise an arm out and ignoring the discomfort of a disc wilting with a touch: nothin outprized the holding of a sassy baby, as it crawled all over a playground made of mortals. The baby had wild and coarse hair, and familiarly owl-eyes that resembled her sister: Athena. Artemis was confused at first but, but began to love the baby girl as her own. The poor baby was the first-born daughter to a woman plauged by insecurity and dutiful darkness.

It wasn’t much of a surprise that such a fearless baby would only be born to Athena. This baby grew to assist Artemis, as she was cursed to remain lying on a hill: mending from the collision with the boulder and two strikes of lightening almost sending her to Hades door. The baby always presented sassy antics and demands: keeping them each light-hearted in spirit. Artemis decided to call her Mamma Bear, as the toddler grew rapidly and began to yell her responses...growling like a grumpy bear in need of sleep, and casting authority where she pleased; avoiding the obvious statement in suggestions of a nap. Artemis would soften her tone, and ask the baby what she required in an itemized fashion, and silly faces, until the whiney baby could no longer fight the sleepy darkness.

Artemis knew this time to live up to the hype of the horrendous curse...cast upon all of mankind: known only as the “terrible twos”. In the middle of forced bonding and chaos...they grew closer. Artemis laughed as the toddler began to talk and frequently mixed up her words with a patriotic confidence. The toddler would demand answer...saying in all sterness: “whos you going? Whos you doing?”, unaware of the differences of who, what, when, why and the wheres. Artemis held conversation with the bossy baby...as equals, and to avoid the judgemental stares of a homie that knew too much. Ornery was her middle name, after her mother. Both women had an ability to barge into any room promising an adventure. Artemis always made sure to keep her busy, and observed the predictable schedule of moving a boulder in certain seasons. They could always find ways to exist in peace, and Artemis respected her as a confidant suffering in silence. As time passed...Artemis gained enough strength, and mustered her self-esteem enough as to continue her sentence: finishing the task of moving the boulder up the hill in Hades in an unemotional darkness.

Artemis tethered the baby tightly against her back: despite any injury, and determined to prove Hera wrong. A bully that was bullied could easily forever be defined by those actions. Artemis began to resent her sister for perptuating violence and deminishing any advice or aid to that of obligatory freindships. All Artemis could do was place a grey veil over her head, as to grieve the loss of potential friend and accept accountability in enabling the mound to be well-beyond trekable heights. The steep excuses given to a woman with many children, a stolen childhood, and unpaved path that managed to converge at unpredictible times on joined, but never to be shared; quest.

One random day: Hades split open, and the sunlight bore down upon Artemis cling over the crownin hair of a tiredsome baby and giving her kisses over her forehead. The Earth greeted them with sunlight and warmth, having managed to succeed in finishing the sentence cast by Hera. Artemis was free to be out her grasps at last. As a reward for their glorious feat: Zeus drew both of their names in stars. Artemis requested that her name to be written smaller...than that of Mamma Bear. Artemis often had a hard time telling expressing in person moments of missing someone and so the lyrics of a unsung song...the rythmns of melodies unplayed. She had tried so hard to say the things she wished her elder sister could’ve said. Artemis felt that everyone hated her in the absence of Athena’s admiration, which was to be expectd when dealing with a vitrol form of personality-driven darkness.

Her niece had been the only other person that knew: how heavily it hurt deep within each breath...to live in each moment and to question the parameters of failure at the judgement of Athena. The finish line, remained far from reach; the promises forever empty and a hill of mounting expectations left in a cave isolated from the normal parts of the world. No one was coming to help, no one dared to square up an individual ready to fight, and the world continued to spin without apology. The boulder would still be a boulder tomorrow. The spells of agorphobia followed those brave enough set foot outside of the carved reality of someone like Athena. Artemis had known the baby was left orbiting and searching for the hellish warmth of the cave, and understood that the important exit from such an overwhelming life wasn’t as simple as seeking out the sunlight in the midst of the thankless darkness.

Artemis could never prepare a person for the lifelong games of dissimilar realities, and the worry resorted in an auntie preparing a path of escape from whatever bullshit came from Athena’s curse in crumbling temples. Artemis had knelt over, and secured the straps of fashionable raised heels. There along the furtherst incline of a shale mountain, she turned over a stone: a stone worth throwing, and felt the brims of a harsh carving saying only the cryptic note, Statements of Financial Condition. A true offense by an individual readying for his earned place as a crowned leader, the reoccuring story about an old man. Artemis stepped away from her niece: knowing that the unwiring would take plenty of time. She would always return to read to the baby, explaining the ring of fire that encapsulated every waking moment. The world was easier to decipher with a prized eagle-eye that automatically zoomed in on the bending and mechanical nature of those whose loyalty stood in the canonized darkness.

"I needed you to see for yourself Jasmin." were the only soft words left behind for a niece fleeing from the unchangable patterns of such a placated beast. Artemis had brought the cave of illusion down with the method of indifference and commitment to self-improvement. The two achillies heels of any true narcsissists. Artemis had set her weeping niece on a path outside of the range of the tireless boulder, and its dedicated need to crush everything. She taught the baby witting words, and art of holding authenticity behind unapologetic smiles and laughter. These dancing stars were forever known as Ursa Major and Ursa Minor: to all those who love the silly songs of the skies and the stars. They arose from the dark and found Athena in deep drunken sleep, as she lay blind and ill by the poison of Hera. Artemis dismissed her niece: knowing no child deserves to see their parent wallowing in hopelessness. Artemis and Mamma Bear set out on a new mission: seeking a cure that could break the spell of the selfish poison that veiled over Athena, and they set forth united on their undiscovered quest.

Next Chapter: *[ V ] Artemis and the Cyclops*