"Did you see that, brother?" Artemis asked, her voice tinged with disbelief, her mind still reeling from what had just transpired. Her eyes, usually calm and unshakable, now reflected the shock that coursed through her.
"I saw it clearly," Apollo replied, his tone measured, but ev he couldn't hide the flicker of awe in his voice. His gaze remained fixed on the empty space where Nathan had stood mere momts ago, a spectacle of overwhelming might that defied ev their divine sses.
In contrast to her siblings, Aphrodite remained silt, though a faint, knowing smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She might not have voiced her thoughts, but inwardly, her heart brimmed with joy, amusemt ev. How she longed to witness the expressions on Hera's and Atha's faces right now.
The gods of wisdom and power, so accustomed to control and superiority, must have be seething in frustration as they watched Nathan's overwhelming display—one they never saw coming.
It was obvious that in the d, neither of them had be able to pinpoint Nathan's exact location. He had vanished, as if erased from existce itself.
"He's gone," Artemis muttered, frustration creeping into her voice as she scanned the city of Lyrnessus from their divine vantage point. Her ke huntress eyes searched desperately, but Nathan had disappeared.
"I've lost track of his presce as well," Apollo admitted, though his eyes held a gleam of curiosity rather than irritation.
For the briefest of momts, both Apollo and Artemis had let their atttion slip. Just a minute—less, ev—and that was all it took for Nathan to vanish completely from their sights. They could no longer sse him anywhere in Lyrnessus. A feat that ev gods would struggle to achieve.
Aphrodite suppressed a laugh, her thoughts swirling with satisfaction. "I should really thank Amaterasu for that," she mused to herself, recalling how the Sun Goddess had taught Nathan the secret art of erasing one's presce. But Nathan, like a prodigy, had mastered the technique in mere days—a week, at most. The boy was a monster in his own right.
His swift progression had only accelerated since he'd slaved Amaterasu, drawing from her divine ergy, and further bolstered by Khione's power, his strgth was growing at a terrifying pace.
Despite her inner glee, Aphrodite kept her expression neutral. Now wasn't the time to reveal her connection to Nathan, let alone her role in giving the Princess of Tebria the ability to summon a Hero. She had already gathered more emies than she cared for. Best to play the part of an oblivious observer for now.
"I didn't realize there was someone so powerful on our side," Aphrodite remarked casually, glancing at Apollo with a sly, satisfied smile. "Did you, dear Apollo?"
"No," Apollo replied, though his eyes narrowed as he turned his gaze on Aphrodite, suspicion flickering behind his sere façade. "But I feel like you know more than you're letting on, Aphrodite."
"What are you hiding?" Artemis added, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, eyes narrowing as she regarded the goddess of love. "We're all on the same side here, Aphrodite."
Aphrodite waved her hand dismissively, her laughter light and melodic, as though the idea were utterly ridiculous. "Oh, please. I don't know much more than you two," she lied smoothly, "but shouldn't we just be glad that he's on our side? We could use another strong warrior, especially with Hector as our only other trump card."
Apollo and Artemis exchanged glances, clearly not fully convinced, but neither could refute her logic. Nathan's strgth was undiable, and at the momt, they needed every advantage they could get in the war that loomed ahead.
"Perhaps," Apollo murmured, though his suspicions lingered.
"Perhaps a god taught him," a calm voice cut through the stillness.
The gathered deities turned toward the trance of the chamber. Atha strode in, her armor gleaming under the soft glow of Olympus's eternal light. Her expression was sharp. Walking beside her was Hera, the que of the gods, in an extremely bad mood.
"A god?" Ares scoffed, though there was a flicker of disbelief in his voice. "What god would teach a human celestial magic?"
But Atha's words rang with truth.
Khione—the Goddess of Ice—was the one who had bestowed Nathan with such knowledge. She had taught him the arcane secrets of celestial magic, magic that was typically reserved for the chos few, demigods and gods alike.
Of course, no one in Olympus truly understood the full extt of what was happing, save for one—Aphrodite. The goddess of love had long suspected the connection betwe Nathan and Khione, having caught glimpses of their strange and growing bond well before anyone else had ev considered it.
"I bet it's that bitch Aphrodite," Hera spat, her voice seething with anger as she reclined on her throne next to Zeus. Her eyes blazed with fury, her mind churning with suspicion. "That's why she seems so confidt, so smug."
It was highly possible, Hermes thought.
He smirked siltly. Aphrodite had always be more involved in the affairs of mortals than most of the gods realized. But what Hera didn't know—and what Hermes wasn't about to reveal—was that Aphrodite had be the one to orchestrate the summoning of the Hero of Darkness. She had helped pull the strings that brought Samael into the fold, though few could connect the dots.
Hermes chuckled inwardly. He was the only god aware that the mysterious figure known as Heiron was other than Samael—the Hero of Darkness himself. But keeping secrets was his specialty. He reveled in it. Besides, Hermes had no allegiance in this war. He was for no one, and everyone.
All that interested him was the spectacle, the tertainmt, and Nathan was providing plty of that.
In fact, if anyone in Olympus was truly thralled by the chaos unfolding, it was Hermes. His atttion was ev more captivated than Ares's, who lived for battle and bloodshed. But while Ares was driv by rage and the lust for combat, Hermes was fascinated by the game—the strategies, the twists, the unpredictable outcomes.
The Trojan War had become a divine chessboard, and Nathan was a piece no one had anticipated.
The gods had already chos sides, though. On one hand, the Greeks were amassing a fearsome force, with legds like Agamemnon, Achilles, and the cunning Odysseus, all bolstered by the might of the two most powerful goddesses in Olympus—Hera and Atha. Their side carried the strgth of Olympus itself, and on paper, they seemed unstoppable.
On the other hand, the Trojans were gathering their own heroes: Hector, Aeas, Aphrodite's son, favored by the gods; and Pthesilea, Amazonian que. They had the backing of Aphrodite, Apollo, and Artemis. And, of course, they had Samael, the Hero of Darkness.
Hermes smirk only grew.
What truly intrigued him, however, wasn't the battles betwe the expected champions—Achilles or Hector, Agamemnon or Odysseus. No, what captivated his atttion was Nathan. On the very first day of the Trojan War, the human had unknowingly become the focus of the gods' atttion, overshadowing ev the greatest warriors of legd.
Despite himself, Nathan had emerged as a ctral figure in this unfolding drama, drawing the eyes of both mortals and immortals alike.