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**Third Person POV (Winter Solstice Meeting)**
The Winter Solstice meeting was in full swing, with the grand hall of Olympus bathed in golden light. Gods and goddesses sat on their celestial thrones, their conversations weaving around matters of divine importance—war, peace, balance, and chaos. At the edge of the gathering, Artemis sat quietly, her silver eyes focused on the hearth's flickering flames, her thoughts far from the council and deep in the heart of her forest.
Then, she felt it—a tug, faint but desperate. A prayer.
*"Milady, please come to camp. Orion is trying to rape Zoe."*
The words rang in her mind like a thunderclap, sending a cold surge through her veins. Instantly, her composure shattered. Rage, primal and fierce, surged up from the depths of her being. Artemis didn't hesitate. She rose to her feet, her expression twisted in fury. Without a second thought, she vanished in a flash of silver light, her absence cutting through the gathering.
Unseen, her departure was met with knowing glances. The male gods exchanged subtle smirks. Zeus, his expression calm but full of purpose, rose from his seat, his voice carrying the weight of finality.
"The council is dismissed," he announced, his words like an edict of doom.
The goddesses, their minds elsewhere, flashed out of the hall, unaware of the brewing storm. Only the male gods remained, the air thick with unspoken malice. Poseidon turned to the others, a cruel smile curling his lips.
"Are you ready for the plan?"
The gods around him exchanged dark glances, their eyes filled with something sinister. As one, they responded, "Yes."
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**Third Person POV (At the Hunters' Camp)**
Artemis appeared in her hunters' camp, her heart a drumbeat of fury. What she saw sent a wave of horror crashing over her. Orion, once one of her favored, now stood over Zoe, tying her helpless body to a tree. His hands fumbled with her clothing, a disgusting grin spreading across his face.
Artemis wasted no time. The bow materialized in her hand, sleek and deadly. She knocked an arrow, the shaft quivering as she aimed. Her mind was singular in purpose: Orion would die for this.
But just as her fingers were about to release the string, a blinding pain struck the back of her head. Her world spun violently, and before she could react, darkness swallowed her whole.
When she awoke, groggy and disoriented, Artemis immediately sensed something was wrong. Her hands, her legs—they were bound, wrapped tightly in unyielding chains. She struggled, her heart racing, but the chains bit into her skin, refusing to break under her strength.
Panic surged through her when she lifted her head. Surrounding her in a suffocating circle were the gods. Zeus, Poseidon, Hades—every major deity, all standing there. Not just Olympians, but gods from other realms, their faces a mixture of lust and cruelty. There was Odin with his single eye gleaming in the shadows, Ra with the sun's fire burning in his gaze, and Shiva with his many arms folded in eerie calm.
But worse than the divine audience, Artemis realized with dawning horror, was her own vulnerability. Her body was bare, stripped of her dignity and power. Her skin crawled as she understood their intentions.
She thrashed against her bonds, a desperate cry bubbling in her throat. But her strength had been drained, her divine power sealed. No amount of struggle would free her now.
One by one, the gods stepped forward, their hunger insatiable. They defiled her, each taking his turn, reducing the goddess of the hunt to nothing more than a victim of their twisted desires. Their seed, divine and mortal alike, filled her, each act a brutal reminder of her helplessness.
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**Nine Months Later**
Artemis stood alone on the cold peak of Mount Othrys, the winds whipping through her hair. In her arms, she held the child—*his* child. Born of violence, born of hatred, the boy was a symbol of everything she despised. And yet, as she looked down into his eyes, she knew he was her only weapon.
He was no ordinary child. Even as an infant, his power radiated from him, stronger than anything she had ever sensed. He was a force unlike any other—a being with the potential to surpass even the Primordials.
She named him Perseus.
As she whispered his name, her resolve hardened. This child, born from her deepest nightmare, would become her greatest weapon. She would raise him, mold him, and when the time was right, she would unleash him upon those who had wronged her.
The gods, titans, primordials, and even the divine from other pantheons—they would all pay for what they had done. One by one, they would fall, destroyed by the power they had sown into her son.
Artemis swore a vow beneath the shadow of the mountain.
She would have her revenge.
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