Besieged by the Colchean Army, Pasiphae at their lead, Atlantis suffers the fury of an unnatural tempest. Jason, leading the Atlantean Army, rides to meet his enemy for their final battle. The Gods must have been with him for the Colchean Army is destroyed in lightning and thunder, left in smoldering ruins. Pasiphae flees for her life and Jason vows to destroy her. He thinks his destiny is determined but the Gods have other ideas.

Once again he could not bring himself to end her life. He stood amid the burning ruins of Pasiphae's camp, dead Colcheans scattering the bloodied earth, and stared down at Medea. Her chest rose and fell only barely. Even in the violet light of dawn he could see her skin was pale, her lips an unnatural shade of blue. In his hand, his sword hummed with unfulfilled potential. He moved it in the air across her defenseless body but knew he would not be able to lower the blade to her skin.

"You cannot kill her," a familiar voice commented from behind. Hercules came to stand beside Jason, the loathing evident on his face as he too stared down at the Colchean princess. "Despite everything she has done, you still cannot kill her."

Jason did not need to reply. Above him, the billowing clouds rumbled with dying thunder. The storm that had almost obliterated Atlantis was fading fast. As he reached his senses towards the woman at his feet, he knew it was because of her.

"She is fading with the storm," he commented.

Just as he could feel the power of the wind weaken against his skin and hear the strength of the thunder diminish, he could sense Medea's own power flickering deep within her body.

"Do you mean to tell me she caused this?" Hercules said, his tone equal admiration and disgust. "I know she is a powerful witch but…" he waved his hand at the city behind them. Her walls were crumbling, her buildings broken, her streets awash. For three days she had suffered the fiercest tempest in memory as hail, torrents and gales battered her.

Jason crouched down beside Medea, his eyes running over her features, familiar yet so foreign. He wished he could articulate what he felt when he looked at her.

"If she cast the storm," Pythagoras murmured, materializing out of the smoke. "Then it must have near exhausted her magic." He glanced at the witch with slightly more sympathy than Hercules.

"We leave her then," Hercules spat. "It would not be you that ended her, Jason."

Even as he said it, surely he knew Jason could not do such a thing. Without answering, Jason sheathed his sword and reached down. Hercules sighed as Jason stumbled to standing, Medea lifeless in his arms.

"We take her with us," he said simply. "It is for Ariadne to decide."

"That witch has nine lives," Hercules muttered darkly, but he followed his friend through the smoldering tents towards the city of Atlantis.

A/N: Thanks for reading. Everything is written for this story so there will be regular updates of this story.

Please consider leaving a review to let me know what you think or feel.

XxX Lu