The light of Olympus began to fade into golden hues, as if the sky itself were retreating to make way for a moment suspended between the divine and the uncertain. It was then that a humid breeze, improper for such heights, drifted through the palace gardens. The pure air became infused with a salty and ancient aroma, and from a curtain of water that appeared without warning, a figure emerged with ethereal elegance.
It was Thetis, the most illustrious of the Nereids. Her pearlescent mantle clung to her body as if it still belonged to the ocean, reflecting the light in soft glimmers. She walked with silent grace, her feet barely touching the marble, as if the sea still called to her. At the end of the path awaited Hera, upright and majestic, her arms crossed and her expression impenetrable. Her mere presence imposed absolute authority, as if time itself held no meaning before her.
"It has been a long time" said Hera with a serene voice, devoid of emotion.
Thetis bowed her head immediately in a respectful gesture, though her hands trembled, hidden within the folds of her mantle.
"My lady…" she murmured, with difficulty.
Hera observed her closely, without correcting her, but with a faint harshness in her gaze.
"You did not come just to greet me" she added, with a barely perceptible edge in her tone.
Thetis took a breath, gathering courage.
"I heard about the tournament… about the Heromachy" she said, barely raising her eyes.
The silence that followed was dense, laden with meaning. Hera did not respond, but her stillness demanded that she continue. Thetis stepped forward, as if each movement were an internal struggle.
"I know I have no right to ask anything of you" she continued, her voice beginning to break. "You raised me, you protected me… you gave me a place when I was no one. I could never demand anything from you."
Her eyes shone with an emotion unlike the serenity of the sea, more fragile, more human.
"But even so… I beg you. If there is any possibility… choose my son."
For an instant, something changed in Hera's face, an almost imperceptible crack in her mask of perfection.
"This would be the only chance to see him again" Thetis added, barely holding her voice together.
The world seemed to stop. The wind ceased, the fountains fell silent, and even the birds grew quiet, as if awaiting the answer.
"He died far from me" Thetis whispered, broken. "Without me being able to save him… without saying goodbye."
Her voice shattered completely.
"I only want to see him… even if just once more."
Hera remained silent for long seconds. In her gaze persisted the hardness of a queen, but also a distant echo of affection, the memory of the Nereid she had once sheltered.
However, when she spoke, her voice returned to being cold and unyielding.
"I have already chosen my champion.
The words fell firmly, closing off all hope."
Thetis lowered her head, as if she had expected that answer, though the pain was no less. Hera turned to leave, wrapped in her absolute dignity.
"Thank you for listening to me" Thetis murmured, empty.
Hera took a few steps… and stopped.
"The Olympians have decided to allow other gods to participate" she said without turning. "We need more combatants."
Thetis raised her gaze, confused.
"If you wish to see him… then do not ask it of me."
Hera slightly turned her head, revealing one of her golden eyes.
"Choose him yourself."
The silence changed, becoming fragile, filled with possibility. Thetis brought her hands to her chest, unable to respond immediately.
"Thank you… my lady" she finally whispered
But Hera was already walking away, as if she had never hesitated. When she was alone, Thetis broke into tears. Her tears, dense and luminous, turned into pearls as they touched the marble.
"Achilles…" she whispered, with pain and hope intertwined. "Wait a little longer."
________________________________________
The clash of metal against metal echoed throughout the divine forge.
Three colossi of bronze, the Talons, automatons created by Hephaestus. surrounded Ares with heavy steps that made the incandescent ground tremble. Each one wielded curved blades the size of a war chariot, their copper eyes burning with an artificial glow.
Ares wore no armor, no helmet, no weapon at all. Only his fists.
"Come on, piles of scrap!" he roared with a savage grin. "Show me something worthy!"
The first attacked with a downward slash.
Ares moved forward instead of back. The impact of his fist against the blade sent sparks bursting like a solar storm. The bronze dented. The Talon staggered.
The second rammed him from behind.
Without looking, Ares spun and unleashed an uppercut that struck beneath the metal chin. The automaton's skull deformed with an unnatural crack, lifting it off the ground before smashing it against a wall of molten obsidian.
The third grabbed him by the shoulders, trying to immobilize him with its mechanical strength.
The god's muscles tensed like cables of war.
"Is that all?"
With a roar, he broke free through sheer force, grabbed the automaton by the torso, and lifted it as if it weighed nothing. He slammed it against the ground once. Twice. Three times.
The divine metal gave way.
Ares drove his fist into the Talon's chest until it pierced through. The energy core exploded in a shower of light and burning fragments.
Silence.
Three bronze giants lay shattered around him.
The god of war exhaled, steam rising from his skin. Then he ran a hand through his blood-red hair, soaked in sweat, brushing it away from his face with a careless gesture.
"Ahh… that was better."
At the back of the forge, Hephaestus had not stopped working for even a second. His hammer fell with steady rhythm upon a still-incandescent spear, each strike precise, almost indifferent to the prior chaos.
Ares walked toward him, cracking his neck.
"So…" he said with barely contained excitement. "The Heromachy is finally going to begin. I've been waiting for this for centuries. Watching the strongest mortals tear each other apart… it's going to be glorious!"
Hephaestus grunted something unintelligible, without looking up.
"I suppose" said the smith without lifting his gaze from his work. "That you'll choose one of your girls."
"The Amazons" Ares replied with a proud smile. "Perfect warriors. Born for war."
Hephaestus snorted. Ares raised an eyebrow, surprised.
"Really? I'm surprised you're even going to participate." He leaned slightly toward him. "So… do you have someone in mind?"
"Yes"
A single word. Short. Sharp.
The war god's curiosity ignited instantly.
"Oh, really?" He grinned, baring his teets. "Someone I know?"
The hammer stopped falling. For the first time, Hephaestus looked up. He said nothing, he simply looked at him… and smiled. It was a small smile. Crooked. Satisfied.
Ares' enthusiasm froze.
His eyes narrowed. The savage grin returned, but this time it was different: darker, more intrigued.
"It can't be…"
He remembered the battlefield, the spear, the wound. The mortal who had achieved something almost unthinkable.