"Die?" He mouthed the word, a frown shadowing his face. He was hurt. Hurt badly. He could feel that much. Every nerve and muscle in his chest felt like a thousand pinpricks and breathing was an agony. But . . . die?

The apple Bliss had given him . . . the apple from Hera's garden. The one that supposedly bestowed immortality to mortals. He hadn't really believed in it. In his immortality. But he hadn't gone out of his way to test the theory . . .

He couldn't lift his head to see the rest of him. Not without great effort. Surely . . . the wound hadn't been mortal. Had it?

"How bad?" he managed softly.