A way of hiding a chamber that truly embodies Athena’s style.
As soon as he was through the wall, he shifted his attention toward the four gods who were surrounding the round table, which had various papers, pens, rectangular forms, and an open book scattered across it. Shadow saw the inscriptions on the old pages of the book, and as he examined them, he realized this was the book that contained the key to killing Zeus.
The possession of such a potent weapon is noteworthy, indeed.
“I need you all to form a circle and hold hands,” Athena instructed, as she looked at each god, ensuring they would comply.
Shadow watched as they arranged themselves in a circle around the table, noting the way Athena’s gaze was fixed upon the book.
The very same four deities I have been seeking. But what are you all doing now?
A faint line appeared between Athena’s brows as they drew together. Her lips tightened, the edges of her mouth were slightly quivering.
“Athena? Are you well?” Artemis spoke, her voice low as she subtly caressed the goddess’s hand with her thumb.
All three of the gods looked warily at her. She seemed to lack the strength to speak as her jaw locked, and her shoulders turned rigid.
Shadow recognized her expression. He could recognize the look of someone terrified of the impending future, but even more frightened of remaining silent.
As Athena spoke, her voice cracked with emotion, and she said, “I beg you to be careful. Once this vision is seen, the next steps will be evident, and the outcome will depend on the decisions we make together.”
Presenting a vision to them? Perhaps it is an indication of things to come, but certainly not favorable.
“Proceed,” Hades demanded, his voice gravelly as he lost patience with Athena.
As the time drew near, Shadow moved closer, wanting to know more about the event. In a gesture of devotion, Athena stroked each god’s hands and then began to utter the words of ancient incantations. It didn’t take long for the book to be overturned by the power of the wind that was howling from beneath the door.
So be it.
At that moment, Shadow had no concern about whether the gods might have become aware of him as he was focused only on observing the vision Athena was about to show them. He rushed toward them and allowed a small part of his void to come into contact with Eros’s shoulder, and in that instant, he was sent into the vision, accompanied by the four gods.
In a matter of seconds, his inner darkness was momentarily eclipsed, allowing light to pass through as the premonition displayed in front of his void.
The once magnificent and golden heights of Olympus, constructed entirely of marble, were now in a state of horrifying decay, consumed by an unsettling silence, with shadows stemming from every angle. There was no sun to caress the forgotten land of the gods—there was only a chillingdarkness that mixed with the ashes drifting through the heavy air.
The howling wind penetrated through the broken archways, almost as if it were searching for the once perfectly carved arches and garden that were no longer present. There were only whispers of lost prayers and the echo of a boisterous battle that finally met its end.
The majestic stairs that once led all creatures and gods to the Temple of Zeus ended in an empty, cavernous space with only the scent of dust and time remaining. Leaning against the unyielding horizon, the collapsed temple almost echoed with a wounded sound, a crying among the last pieces of marble of what was once the house of the almighty Zeus.
As muffled cries and unintelligible mumbles echoed through the area, the lifeless heaps of stone began to struggle, attempting to regain their former glory; they quivered with the fragile hope of being restored to their original state. The wintry air carried the weight of ruins, and the shattered remnants seemed to dream of the gods’ lost world—just like the women who began to weep with a devastating fury.
The embers of ashes seemed to seek out the sobs that echoed through the air. They finally splintered into a myriad of small pieces, settling on what they had been looking for.
The lifeless body of the one who was once the king of all gods, along with the broken goddess, whose tiny body was draped entirely over his cold flesh.
Zeus—and Hestia.
Her tears began to fall, rolling down her cheeks and landing on his naked, soulless body as she whispered, “My beloved.”
The ground beneath them seemed to weep along with her. It was clear that there was nothing left to be done. The end they all dreaded had come. Yet somewhere in the sadness thatpooled in Hestia’s gaze, her tears were tracing an invisible crack of something that seemed to be hope.
“I will be your savior. Our kingdom will be reclaimed, and our family will be restored,” she declared to him, her hand softly caressing his skin.
His powerful physique was etched with faint, dark veins that protruded from his skin, appearing like lightning scars. Her fingers gently moved through his white hair and then made their way down toward his eyes, as though she was trying to meticulously memorize every aspect of his face.
The suffocating quiet was interrupted when her enraged shrieks erupted, each one a weapon thrown at the oppressive stillness. Despite the sorrow she felt, the hope that resided within her body prevented her from fully experiencing the ache in her soul—she was still the goddess of family and peace. She was the final bearer of hope, but the world around her seemed to be slowly killing her faith in good.
“B-But how am I going to do it? There is nothing left. I shall be your salvation and the one who will rebuild our family, though how can I, given the devastation that surrounds us?” She continued, her tears joining in the middle of her chin. “Even if I found a way to resurrect you, I would bring you into a world of ruins. To nothingness.”
