The Tyrant's Tomb

spread across Tarquin’s skull and down his body, disintegrating him utterly.
His gold crown, the silver arrow, and Hazel’s sword all dropped to the floor.
I grinned at the newcomer. “Hey, Sis.”
Then I keeled over sideways.
The world turned fluffy, bleached of all color. Nothing hurt anymore.
I was dimly aware of Diana’s face hovering over me, Meg and Hazel
peering over the goddess’s shoulders.
“He’s almost gone,” Diana said.
Then I was gone. My mind slipped into a pool of cold, slimy darkness.
“Oh, no, you don’t.” My sister’s voice woke me rudely.
I’d been so comfortable, so nonexistent.
Life surged back into me—cold, sharp, and unfairly painful. Diana’s face
came into focus. She looked annoyed, which seemed on-brand for her.
As for me, I felt surprisingly good. The pain in my gut was gone. My
muscles didn’t burn. I could breathe without difficulty. I must have slept for
decades.
“H-how long was I out?” I croaked.
“Roughly three seconds,” she said. “Now, get up, drama queen.”
She helped me to my feet. I felt a bit unsteady, but I was delighted to find
that my legs had any strength at all. My skin was no longer gray. The lines of
infection were gone. The Arrow of Dodona was still in my hand, though he
had gone silent, perhaps in awe of the goddess’s presence. Or perhaps he was
still trying to get the taste of “Sweet Caroline” out of his imaginary mouth.
Meg and Hazel stood nearby, bedraggled but unharmed. Friendly gray
wolves milled around them, bumping against their legs and sniffing their
shoes, which had obviously been to many interesting places over the course
of the day. Aristophanes regarded us all from his perch atop the bookshelf,
decided he didn’t care, then went back to cleaning himself.
I beamed at my sister. It was so good to see her disapproving I-can’tbelieve-you’re-my-brother
frown again. “I love you,” I said, my voice hoarse
with emotion.
She blinked, clearly unsure what to do with this information. “You really
have changed.”
“I missed you!”
“Y-yes, well. I’m here now. Even Dad couldn’t argue with a Sibylline
invocation from Temple Hill.”