“Did you find anything about him?” Athena asked, her tone sharp yet measured, her piercing blue eyes fixed on Hera.
The two goddesses stood in a secluded grove, far from prying eyes and ears, the air thick with tension. Sunlight filtered weakly through the dense canopy above, casting fragmented patterns of light and shadow around them. The weight of their conversation was evident, even in the silence that stretched between them.
The subject of their concern was Heiron.
“Yes,” Hera finally responded, her voice edged with a grim certainty. “He is the Lord Commander of Tenebria.” Her lips pressed into a thin line as she emphasized the title. “I am certain of it now.”
“The Hero of Darkness?” Athena’s eyes widened, her typically composed demeanor giving way to a rare flicker of shock.
The name carried weight, even among gods. The Hero of Darkness, Samael, was no ordinary figure. Stories of his summoning by the Kingdom of Tenebria had spread like wildfire, shrouded in mystery and controversy. Until now, none of them knew which god had granted Tenebria the knowledge—and the audacity—to summon such a Hero.
Athena’s mind raced as she pieced together what she knew. Samael had been pivotal in the battle against the Kingdom of Kastoria. Alone, he had faced the might of Kastoria’s Heroes, the champions chosen and blessed by none other than Amaterasu herself. Alone, he had defeated them, ending the conflict decisively and in Tenebria’s favor.
“Yes,” Hera confirmed, her voice laced with bitterness. “The one who humiliated Amaterasu’s Heroes.” Her hands clenched tightly at her sides, her teeth grinding in frustration.
Athena frowned, her expression thoughtful but troubled. “What is he doing here? This far from Tenebria?” She paused, her gaze narrowing. “This is an entirely different continent. Another world, even. This is Achaeenas—our domain. Only the Greek Gods rule here.”
Her voice betrayed her confusion and growing unease. The presence of Samael in their realm was not only unusual but deeply troubling.
Hera sighed, her frustration evident. “I don’t know. But I am certain of one thing—Aphrodite knows something.” Her tone dripped with disdain. “That little bitch probably had a hand in this. I wouldn’t be surprised if she were the one who brought him here.” Hera’s voice grew sharper, her anger simmering just beneath the surface. “For all we know, she might have been the one to summon him in the first place.”
Athena’s expression turned icy, her lips tightening as she considered Hera’s accusation. “Isn’t that a violation of our sacred laws?” she asked, her voice cold and cutting.
Hera laughed bitterly, a sound devoid of humor. “Since when has that bitch ever cared about rules?” she spat. “She thrives on chaos and manipulation. But it doesn’t matter. Zeus wouldn’t believe a word I say anymore.”
Athena’s eyes darkened. “Should I bring this to his attention?” she suggested, her voice firm. “If we expose Aphrodite, she’ll lose her influence. Without her protection, Samael will be vulnerable.”
Hera shook her head, her expression grim. “No. It’s not that simple.”
She gestured vaguely, frustration etched on her face. “Artemis and Ares are here, watching everything. And Apollo… I have no idea where that fool has wandered off to or what he’s doing.”
The mention of Apollo caused Athena’s brows to knit together. The Sun God abandoning his domain was no small matter. His absence from his city was unprecedented—unthinkable, even—unless it was for something directly tied to the Trojan War.
Hera’s lips pressed into a thin line as she continued, her voice tinged with unease. “If Apollo’s disappearance has anything to do with Troy, it could mean trouble for all of us. But until we know for sure, we can’t risk acting prematurely.”
“What do you propose, then?” Athena asked, her voice sharp yet restrained, as she tightened her grip on her gleaming lance. The faint hum of divine energy surrounded her, a testament to her readiness for whatever scheme Hera was about to unveil.
Hera smirked, her expression brimming with cold satisfaction as she produced a small vial from the folds of her flowing robes. The bottle was ornate, carved from crystalline glass, and filled with a shimmering pink liquid that seemed to glow faintly in the dim light.
Athena’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What is that?” she demanded, her tone tinged with both curiosity and unease.
Hera twirled the bottle delicately between her fingers, her smirk widening. “Something I procured from Ishtar,” she explained, her voice dripping with condescension. “A potent elixir, capable of making even a god succumb to feelings he thought long buried. It can reignite love, even in the heart of a husband who has grown cold—or unfaithful.” She paused, her eyes glinting with malice. “It will work perfectly on a king desperate for affection… like the great Zeus himself.”
Athena’s eyes widened in shock, her usually composed demeanor giving way to disbelief. “You’re planning to use it on Father? Hera, if he learns of this—”
Hera waved her hand dismissively, cutting Athena off. “By the time he learns of it, it will be far too late,” she said mockingly. Her voice carried the weight of years of bitterness and betrayal, an undercurrent of simmering rage beneath her calm exterior. “Zeus won’t interfere with us anymore. Not after this.”
The conviction in Hera’s voice was unsettling. For centuries, she had endured Zeus’s infidelity, his favoritism, and his betrayals. But now, it was clear—she had reached her breaking point.
“When he finally regains his senses, the Trojan War will be over,” Hera continued, her tone growing colder. “The Greeks will have their victory, and Troy will be reduced to ashes—a forgotten city wiped from the annals of history.”
Athena hesitated, a storm of conflicting emotions swirling within her. Deceiving Zeus was no small matter. He was the King of Olympus, the Father of the Gods. To trick him so blatantly… the consequences, should he discover their plot, could be catastrophic.
But Hera’s voice cut through her hesitation like a blade. “Stop worrying about Zeus,” she snapped, her tone harsh and unyielding. “He betrayed us first when he chose to aid Thetis and her pathetic schemes. This is nothing more than justice—a long-overdue vengeance.” She leaned closer, her piercing gaze locking onto Athena’s. “Or would you rather see Aphrodite win? Would you prefer to watch her bask in victory while we suffer humiliation?”
Athena gritted her teeth, her jaw tightening as Hera’s words struck a nerve. The thought of Aphrodite triumphing, of her arrogance and scheming overshadowing their own efforts, was intolerable. After a long moment of silence, Athena gave a curt nod. “Fine,” she said, her voice low but resolute.
“Good.” Hera straightened, satisfaction flickering across her face. “Then gather all the gods who stand with the Greeks. From tomorrow, Troy will burn. They will suffer a hell like no other.”
Without waiting for a response, Hera vanished in a swirl of golden light, leaving Athena alone in the grove.
°°°°°°
That night, atop the tranquil peaks of Olympus, Zeus sat beneath a towering cedar tree, its ancient branches stretching skyward as if seeking the heavens themselves. The King of the Gods leaned back against the rough bark, his expression weary and his thoughts troubled.
The throne hall, a place meant to symbolize unity and divine authority, had become a battleground of its own. Insults and vitriol filled the air as gods and goddesses quarreled over the Trojan War—those siding with the Greeks clashing against those who supported the Trojans. Zeus had barely managed to keep the disputes from boiling over into outright chaos, but at the cost of his own peace of mind.
He sighed, running a hand through his thick, silver-streaked hair. How he longed for the war to end, for the mortals to settle their fate without divine meddling. Yet now that the gods had been ordered not to intervene directly, the outcome seemed more uncertain than ever.
As Zeus sat lost in thought, an alluring scent wafted through the night air, rich and intoxicating. He stiffened, turning his gaze toward the source.
Emerging from the shadows was Hera, his wife and sister, her figure radiant under the moonlight. She wore an exquisite gown adorned with shimmering ornaments that reflected the soft glow of Olympus. Her cheeks and skin seemed to glisten faintly, a rosy hue that gave her an almost ethereal beauty.
Zeus felt an uncharacteristic tug in his chest, a stirring of desire he hadn’t experienced in ages—not since their earliest days together. He tore his gaze away, determined to maintain his composure.
“What are you doing here, Hera?” he asked, his voice calm but edged with caution.
Hera smiled, her steps unhurried as she moved closer. “I came to apologize, Zeus,” she said softly, seating herself beside him and leaning slightly against his shoulder. Her voice was smooth, tinged with an unfamiliar warmth. “For everything—my words, my whims, my… stubbornness.”
Zeus arched a brow, his expression guarded. “Don’t you think it’s too late for apologies?” he replied, his tone firm. “You and Athena set this war in motion, and now it’s spiraled into a level of violence we haven’t seen in centuries.”
Hera’s lips tightened for a fleeting moment, her initial instinct to retort—blaming Aphrodite for all of it—barely restrained. Instead, she forced herself to smile, her eyes softening.
“You’re right,” she said, her voice laced with humility that felt foreign, even to her. “It is my fault.”
Zeus turned his head slightly, his surprise evident. Hera? Meek? Apologizing? It was so unlike her that he found himself studying her more closely.
Hera met his gaze, her expression a perfect blend of remorse and sincerity. “But is it so wrong for me to want the Greeks to win?” she continued, her tone almost pleading. “You know as well as I do that they worship us far more faithfully than the Trojans. Their devotion strengthens us.”
Zeus sighed, his blue eyes darkening as he looked toward the horizon. “I know,” he admitted, his voice steady. “But the Trojans are still believers. They honor us in their own way, and I won’t abandon them simply to favor the Greeks. To do so would make me no better than the petty squabbles we’ve seen among the others.”
Hera’s jaw clenched, her nails digging into the fabric of her gown as her patience frayed. She had hoped—however briefly—that her charms and sweet words might sway him, sparing her from having to enact her plan. But Zeus remained as resolute as ever, his sense of justice unshakable.
Forcing a serene smile to mask her frustration, Hera leaned a little closer, resting her hand lightly on Zeus’s arm. “You’re as unwavering as ever, my dear husband,” she said softly, her voice dripping with honeyed affection. “It’s one of the things I admire most about you.”
“Peace and cohesion among us are vital, Hera,” Zeus said, his voice heavy with conviction. “Not just for Olympus but for the pantheon as a whole. Even the gods of other realms look to us. Yet, there are greater threats looming—threats that even we should fear.”
His brows furrowed, a rare flicker of worry darkening his otherwise commanding visage. Whatever he was referring to seemed to weigh heavily on his mind, a danger so profound that even the King of the Gods appeared uneasy.
Hera wanted to laugh.
Greater threats?
What could possibly threaten them?
To her, the idea of a force powerful enough to endanger the gods of Olympus was absurd. She dismissed his concern with a wave of her hand. If there was such a danger, surely they would have conquered it by now.
This, it seemed, was the end of their discussion. Zeus would not bend, and Hera had no interest in indulging his mysterious premonitions any further.
Suddenly, she stepped closer, her hand brushing against his arm. Before Zeus could question her intentions, Hera pressed against him, forcing him to the ground.
“Hera?” Zeus’s eyes widened, startled by the unexpected aggression.
Before he could rise, her lips captured his in a fierce kiss.
The intoxicating power of Ishtar’s potion surged through him like fire and honey, clouding his mind and stirring emotions long dormant. A sharp snap echoed in his thoughts, as if something deep within him had fractured, and a wave of unrelenting desire crashed over him.
But Zeus was no ordinary god—he was the King of Olympus, a force unmatched in willpower. Despite the potion’s potency, he resisted, his mind battling against the unnatural pull.
“Hera…” he growled, his voice strained.
Yet Hera knew her husband all too well. She had anticipated his resistance, even against the finest brew Ishtar could craft. A glimmer of cunning flashed in her eyes as she turned her gaze skyward.
“Hypnos,” she called softly.
From above, a figure emerged, floating lazily on the air currents. Hypnos, the god of sleep, descended with a lethargic grace.
He raised a hand, and an invisible force washed over Zeus. Sleep, irresistible even to the mightiest of gods, began to drag him under. The potion had weakened him just enough to make Hypnos’s power unstoppable.
“No… don’t… Hera…” Zeus muttered, his words slurred as his eyelids grew impossibly heavy. With a final effort, he reached out toward her, but his strength failed, and his hand fell limp.
Hera gently lowered her husband’s slumbering form to the ground, brushing a strand of white hair from his face. Then she straightened, her smile twisting into one of cold triumph.
“Sleep well, my love,” she murmured.
She turned away, her gaze fixed on the horizon, where the fate of Troy would soon be decided.
“The downfall of the Trojans begins tomorrow.”