"Are you sure she's not the Goddess of War instead of me?" Enyo chuckled out, her bored expression turning into one of amusement. "I can see why you favored her, Enyalius. I think her tongue alone is as sharp as that sword she carries."

"I fear we've never learned how sharp that sword she has is, Enyo," Ares added with his own booming laugh.

Vatra could barely contain the fire sparking beneath her skin, raging through her veins like a wildfire amongst dead thickets. Sweat sprung to her brow. "You mock me," she said through gritted teeth. "All of you gods are the same, looking down on everyone else."

"We're not mocking you," Enyo managed through a steadying breath. She had a hand to her chest and another one gripped her reins. "We simply marvel at your... tenacity."

Enyalius remained uneasily quiet. His smug expression was pressed in the confines of a gilded helmet adorned with images of Greek warriors and horses. Wars he probably claimed were fought with the men yelling praises of his name. As if any of them knew who he was.

Focusing on those images, Vatra tuned everything else out to a hum. She even ignored Spyro's silent warnings to calm down beside her.

This was the first time in years she'd been able to face them. Vatra had spent a lifetime training with the best swordsmen and best fighters a coin could hire. Fighters the gods would envy. She was ready to face them.

So why can't I face them? she thought, realizing amongst all the rage in her bones, she was frozen with fear.

Vatra still experienced pain with every death. She felt the life drain from her each time she faced the precipice of another restart. As the three gods before her mocked her over and over, Vatra started to doubt if she wanted to choke against the air being dragged from her lungs agonizing second by second.

"I think we've frightened her," Enyo said. She pouted her lips, exaggerating how plump they already were.

Another wave of anger rekindled Vatra's plan. Even if they cut her down, at least she would make her stand.

I have Spyro this time, too. She looked over to her companion before dismounting from her horse.

In her previous attempts to face the gods, Vatra had foolishly gone off without Spyro thinking he would only slow her down. She'd learned later he was quite an asset to have in a bind, as he had been particularly gifted for a eudaemon.

The soles of her boots crunched over wet sand. Low tide had dragged out the waves away from shells and rocks that sunk beneath her weight. She ignored the skittering crabs from her movements and withdrew her sword from its sheath. The metal scraping against leather sounded like music.

"You're persistent, I'll give you that," Ares said.

Ares reached his hand behind his back and pulled loose the spear that had been dauntingly peeking out over the thick furs of his robe. The metal reflected the sunlight like the sun itself was on the beach in front of them. He gripped the spear's wooden shaft, fingers hidden behind black leather, and swung a leg over his horse. With a graceful leap, Ares was on the sand.

The breath hitched in Vatra's lungs. She wanted to face Enyalius, not his father. Ares... the god with a reputation that she knew all too well. Vatra rubbed her side as if the wound that had ended her life many years ago still existed. The god before her had killed her then, why was she so surprised he'd insist on doing it once more?

"Still standing up for your pathetic son?" Vatra spat. "He should fight his own battles for once. My fight is with Enyalius, not you."

"Your fight will always be with me," Ares said, holding the spear out in front of him. The sharp point had ended countless lives, and not just Vatra's.

Staring into the tip of the spear was like looking into the souls of thousands of people. Their last screams, last breaths of life, pitched through Vatra's head as if to send her back up on her horse and running in the opposite direction. A scare tactic, and nothing more. She tightened her fist on the sword's hide-wrapped hilt, willing her quivering lip to stop.

A steeled gaze lifted from the spear to meet Ares' own unblinking stare. Vatra knew how darkened her eyes must have looked. The rage of her thick brows deepened into a point above her nose, nearly meeting together.

Ares shifted ever so slightly. A momentary drop in his squared, broad shoulders.

"You don't scare me anymore," Vatra said. Part of saying the statement aloud was to assure herself.

"I should," Ares stated. He side-stepped, still holding the spear out in front of him. He eyed Spyro behind Vatra, as if making sure he only had one person to worry about.

Vatra held a hand up behind her, reassuring Spyro to remain on his horse for the time being. "You should be the one with a little more fear this time. You're not facing the same opponent that you did all those years ago. I was weaker, then. Untrained."

"You could have been trained by the gods themselves, and you still wouldn't scare me," Ares said. He stopped just on the other side of Enyo, eyeing her over his shoulder.

Enyo grinned down at him, the two of them probably exchanging an equal expression of humor at what Vatra had said.

She didn't find her own words as humorous. "I know how to use this weapon better." Vatra twirled the sword, relishing in the sound it made as the blade sliced the salted air.

"Mortal weapons can't kill gods." Ares swung the spear out to his side, the shaft of the spear lining up against his back and along the side of his extended, opposite arm. "But I'll give you the chance to feel like you know what you're doing."

Vatra spared the continuation of another lecture. She was done talking.

I finally got him to the point of being too confident, Vatra thought smugly. I can't kill him, though. The other two will strike me down before I can even blink. I'll prove myself against him, and he'll have to let me fight Enyalius. Even the ones with bloodlust have some honor.

Lunging forward, Vatra used the distance between her and Ares to think of where to strike him. He had his arms open and every possible soft spot exposed, displayed like a deer to be gutted. The gilded armor he wore only covered his head and torso. Every other inch of him was covered in white and black fabric, which could be easily sliced.

Both hands gripped the hilt, methodically choosing the path of the blade so Ares could feel the breeze of the sword the entire length of the cut. She brought down the sword in nearly a straight line, tantalizingly close from his face all the way to the sand until she was kneeling on the beach. Her gaze never left Ares' closed, brown eyes until his eyelids snapped open.

A line of red bled through the white fabric of his tunic right above his hip, and all the way down the front of his left thigh until the fabric of his trousers met the leather tops of his boots.

The god's startled expression contorted into one of pain as he stumbled away from her. "You tricked me," Ares managed out, cradling his wounded leg like an injured animal.

Enyo dismounted hastily, rushing over to her husband with an incoherent flurry of words directed toward Vatra.

"I didn't trick you," Vatra muttered. She stood to her feet and dusted the sand off her knees. "I told you exactly what I was capable of. It's not my fault you're a cocky shit."

"You didn't have a godkiller weapon last time. Who gave that to you?" Ares continued. He eyed Vatra's sword as if the weapon was its own entity, and was going to leap out of Vatra's hand and kill him itself.

Vatra held the sword up in front of her and admired the weapon. It was simple and plain, appearing like it could have been forged in the fires of a blacksmith in a nameless village. The edges didn't even look sharp; inconspicuous to the unsuspecting god. The perfect godkiller.

"I did have this last time, I just didn't get to land a single blow. It was made for me," she said.

"Hephaestus wouldn't make weapons for someone who isn't a god," Enyo said, her arms wrapped around Ares. The blood from his wound transferred on to her white robes, but she didn't appear to care.

Shrugging, Vatra pointed to Enyalius. "Ask your son why Hephaestus forged a weapon for me. Let's start getting down to the bigger picture of why I'm always after him."

The two gods looked over slowly to Enyalius, as if they had forgotten he was still on his horse, watching.

Vatra was hopeful the two gods were taking interest in their son's treachery. They had never questioned her actions up until that point, nor even gave a second glance to Enyalius. But, for the first time, it appeared that perhaps she'd gained an audience from the both of them. A chance to have her story heard.

Enyalius sat upon his grey mare with a glare that could have cut Vatra in two. His nostrils flared; the muscles in his jaw visibly clenched.

"Why would Hephaestus forge this girl a weapon on your behalf?" Enyo questioned.

Waves crashed, and seabirds cried out overhead, but no answer came from the god.

"Answer us, Enyalius!" Ares roared. It was as if the ocean recoiled in fear, and a heavy silence passed through the group.

There was no reply. Instead, Enyalius hopped down from his grey mare. He pulled a bow and a single arrow from the quiver off his back in one, fluid motion.

All Vatra could do was watch the anger explode behind the taut string of the bow as the arrow was let loose toward her. No amount of training could match the speed of a god, let alone a war god full of rage and blood lust. Enyalius had targeted her the moment her blade cut Ares.

The arrow pierced her cleanly through the lung.

What an ass, Vatra managed a coherent thought before the pain overwhelmed her. She fell to the sand, choking against her own blood and wishing, at least, she would drown more quickly than the last time she had something pierce her lung.

All she felt was anger coursing with every pump of her heart. As the blood coughed from her lips, she pounded her fists in the sand and hoped that Ares and Enyo would follow through with the momentary anger they'd felt toward Enyalius.

Spyro, Vatra thought in panic.

As if her very mind summoned him, Spyro appeared beside her. A look unlike any other she had seen on his face before darkened his usually stoic expression. Kind, doey eyes were haunting. Murderous.

"He has betrayed you," Spyro said in a low voice. His hand was gently on her shoulder. "This was not an honorable fight."

"It's not the first time," Vatra managed out. She rolled her head and tried to see where the gods were.

"They are gone," Spyro said. "I do not think Ares or Enyo agreed with what he did to you. It is clear he is hiding something from them."

Vatra sighed, growing aware of how difficult it was to breathe with each passing second. "Next time, Spy, I'll kill him."

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A/N: Yay, a little backstory! There's going to be more chapters of these sprinkled through the book, little 'peeks' into the history until questions are answered and more story is revealed. I hope things weren't too confusing with names and lore, and that it was easy enough to follow. Again, feedback is always welcome! This is my first stab at mythology, to I'm excited to hear what people think. Feel free to drop a comment and vote!!