As dusk settled over Olympus, the gods gathered in the great hall for an opulent banquet. The table groaned beneath platters of ambrosia and nectar, fruits glowing with celestial light, and delicacies unknown to mortal tongues. Apollo’s music soared, filling the air with harmony, as Artemis recounted tales of her hunts and Hermes spun stories of mortal mischief and clever escapes.
Laughter echoed through the marble halls as Ares boasted of his day’s victories, countered by Athena’s sharp wit and Aphrodite’s playful teasing. Even Hades, rarely present, appeared at the edge of the feast, his somber presence a reminder of the world beneath but met with respect and camaraderie from his siblings.
As the stars emerged and constellations wheeled above, the gods celebrated their shared immortality and the intricate web of relationships that bound them together. Toasts were raised to victories and defeats alike, to love and wisdom, to thunder and the sea.
When the revelry faded and the fires burned low, the gods retreated to their private sanctuaries. Zeus pondered the omens of the day, his dreams swirling with visions of storms and destiny. Hera, serene and calculating, planned subtle moves for the days ahead. Ares slept restlessly, his mind filled with the thunder of battle, while Athena composed poetry and devised new strategies.
Poseidon returned to the waves, the rhythm of the ocean lulling him to contemplation. Apollo gazed at the stars, weaving music from their silent paths, while Artemis wandered the moonlit forests, ever-watchful. Aphrodite slipped into dreams of love’s triumphs and heartbreaks, her heart both light and heavy with the burdens of desire. Hermes, ever restless, slipped into the mortal world for one last jest before dawn.
Thus passed a single day on Mount Olympus—a day of passion and power, rivalry and camaraderie, laughter and longing. The gods, in all their glory and imperfection, shaped not only the fate of mortals but the very fabric of existence. Their lives were a dance of endless possibility, their relationships as complex as the constellations above. And as the dawn approached once more, the cycle began anew, the gods poised to write another chapter in the endless story of the world.
“So, you see, the gods are still here. Writing new chapters every day, playing with the world and its people. Watching everything we do from above and ensuring that the right thing is done.”
The men stared at the old man and nodded. Whether they believed in the gods or not, the reality was that these people did. Especially those on the island.
“It was an absolute pleasure meeting you,” said Luke, standing to shake the old man’s hand. “Can we walk you home?”
“No, no,” he laughed. “I’m perfectly safe here. Besides, this is what I do. Wander the quiet streets at night and remember what it was once like.”
As the old man walked away, the men all stared at him, wondering if perhaps there weren’t more to this old man than they originally thought.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Knowing that they could do nothing during the light of day, the men on the island stayed hidden, although it almost seemed unnecessary. They’d only witnessed one pair of guards walking around and they didn’t seem interested in the villagers at all any longer.
Now was the time to get them off the island.
“The rain has let up and we’ve got boats coming to the eastern beach at 2300,” said Bodhi. “Get the villagers ready to go.”
Marguerite stared at the men, then looked out the window again.
“I’m not leaving,” she whispered.
“Marguerite, you will come back, you have my word,” said Frank. “We cannot leave you here. If everyone is gone and you’re still here, who do you think they’ll blame?”
She seemed to be thinking about that outcome and her face told them she knew it would not be a good end for her. Still. She didn’t want to leave her home.
“Marguerite, we promise that you will come back here and if they do anything at all to your home, we will rebuild it exactly as you wish. Please,” pleaded Bodhi, “we cannot leave you here.”
She nodded, standing to gather a few things for her small shoulder bag. The men assured her they wouldn’t be gone long, returning home within a week or less. No one understood how they could promise that but they took them at their word.
As darkness covered the island, they gathered small groups of villagers beneath the stealth blankets and walked them to the beaches where Luke and the others were waiting.
Each boat could hold a dozen people. When they reached the mainland, they would be staying at a waterfront hotel where they could see their island in the distance. They hoped it would make it less painful for them all.
“Do we have everyone?” asked Ben.
“No,” said Marguerite. “Diana. Where is Diana?”
Her husband was in Cam’s boat with their two children, and he panicked looking around.
“She was right behind me! She was walking slower because she hasn’t been feeling well.”
“No,” said Ben. “Shit.”
Ben turned, running up the hill, Frank behind him. Diana’s small home with her husband was empty, so they turned and began backtracking toward the beach. Frank gripped Ben’s arm, stopping him in his tracks.
“Do you hear that?” he asked. The soft sounds of someone moaning echoed toward them. As they followed, they spotted the brown sandal on Diana’s foot.
