Chapter 6
Shadow
The light shone unhindered, unaware of the shadow sheltered at its core. Then as something consumed the light, the shadow arose to help fight it. And so, it destroyed the balance of the world.
To restore the equilibrium, the shadow had been captured, and the light had been ignited once again. The light then became aware of what it had been keeping inside and swore not to let it out ever again.
Until she, a mortal, came into their world.
And there he was—Shadow, lingering at a distance from the girl who unwittingly freed him. He was scrutinizing her, noticing how detached she seemed.
She engaged in a few small discussions that ended as quickly as they began. Then, she let her eyes wander over the table. She didn’t seem interested in any of the food lying in front of her eyes, yet the visible quivering of her body must’ve told her she had to at least taste something.
Three seconds, Shadow began.
Nine seconds.
Thirteen seconds.
He then got closer to her, noticing how her slightly trembling hand wandered over the bowl containing pomegranate seeds.
Twenty-two seconds, he continued, and the darkness overtook him even more the moment she put one seed into her mouth.
While she seemed to finally enjoy something since being brought to the gods’ world, Shadow remembered.
He observed her eyes flutter as the bright, tart sweetness of the fruit surprised her taste buds. Her aureate eye gleamed as the sensations flooded her body—just as a spark ignited inside amber’s golden glow.
Had that not sufficed, his attention moved to her softly chapped lips, glistening with the fruit’s juice. If he hadn’t been staring at her, he wouldn’t have observed the ghost of a smile that crept up on her face.
Just as she did whenever she ate pomegranate.
The dance between day and night had begun, and Shadow, unseen, swirled through the air, relishing his secret pleasure of being unobserved in Olympus.
He felt physical for just a second, a flicker of warmth in the vast emptiness, but he was aware he was far beyond that.
Otherwise, why would everyone be so afraid of him?
He cautiously navigated the chattering creatures on the Temple of Zeus’ stairs, and the creatures seemed to sense an additional presence nearby.
He hadn’t changed significantly despite having been held captive as he gave into the familiar game he was once addicted to—toying with wisely chosen, weak-minded creatures.
After he carefully analyzed everyone and read their racing thoughts, he chose his so-called victims with no doubts.
There was a young, beautiful nymph who carried a basket of various fragrance bottles while golden threads of hair rested over her narrow shoulders.
Shadow listened to her melodious voice narrating the story behind every plant and flower she used to make the perfumes, but he got intrigued when the old moirai, to whom she was trying to sell them, began to taunt her.
Innocent, yet perfect prey.
And then he hovered closer to the creatures, anticipating the outcome of what he was about to do.
“Hold your breath, my dear. By what means did you obtain this?” the old, solemn moirai asked the young nymph as Shadow remained still next to her.
He listened to them, almost feeling how the void within him churned on something close to excitement.
The old moirai can sense me.
“What are you talking about?” the nymph asked, trying to contain the fear that was stirring inside her.
Shadow knew all creatures were scared to be even mentioned in the same sentence with the sacred peony. They were aware of the consequences, but he wanted to observe them for longer.
“The fragrance you are wearing. It is made of pure peony extract. I can sense it! You’re going to get yourself killed for using the gods’ sacred flower. Do you know that?” the moirai continued, pinching the young nymph’s hand.
She started chewing on her lower lip, twiddling her fingers nervously. She raised her eyes to the older woman in front of her, and her nose scrunched as she sniffed the air. It was her eyes that betrayed she herself had sensed the smell.
“Close your mouth, old woman. I haven’t seen such flowers in decades. There is indeed a vague scent of peony in the air, but that is not me,” she snapped back with her venomous yet scared comment.
Cleverly insolent. Interesting.
The moirai’s piercing, all-seeing eyes scrutinized the young nymph and grabbed her by the long, white gown she was wearing. Her wrinkled nose made its way to her neck and inhaled the porcelain-like skin with deep, hollow breaths.
“I can smell it on you. You cannot lie to your elder,” she snarled at her.
If he would’ve been part of the living, he would’ve burst out laughing at the sight of their pathetic encounter.
Tedious creatures, indeed.
Yet, he understood they’d be clueless about the fact that it was him they were sensing in the humid air of Olympus.
He eventually went upstairs, leaving the creatures to their fight as he had other matters to attend to.
Shadow wanted to see them all—the gods who had held him captive during the past three centuries. Yet, they had still failed. They brought into their world the mortal who had the power to free him.
Were they perhaps expecting him?
He knew they weren’t.
He glided through the tall marble columns, ridged and meticulously carved by the most known architects of Olympus.
Zeus’s immense statue sat enthroned, a giant among the tiny figures that were displayed on either side of the hall.
With his thunderbolt in hand, its glow cast an ethereal light upon the majestic temple where Zeus resided.
Shadow couldn’t fathom why Zeus preferred to stay in the temple dedicated to his father, Cronus, when just at a distance from it, there was the Olympieion, his own temple.
But perhaps it was likely just another of his cunning plans.
A total bravado.
The entire building was ostentatious; redesigned by Zeus himself to impress the living creatures of Olympus and make his father’s temple truly his.
However, he also believed that ostentatious displays were necessary to signify the gods’ status, thereby establishing a clear social hierarchy for all beings in Elythra.
Zeus’s reign wasn’t only about control. He wanted everyone on Olympus to witness it—to see it above everything.
Pathetic.
His void analyzed all the glimmering paint on the wall as he emerged toward the room of Concord—the room where all the gods chose to set aside their feuds to discuss matters that concerned them and their world, among other things.
He entered, feeling the power of the gods as he floated. He ensured he was at a good distance, trying to avoid them smelling the peony fragrance that emanated from his nothingness. He chose a spot with a good view of everyone.
“The errors compiled this year are markedly unique. We are likely to witness something quite entertaining,” Athena pronounced, her tone enthusiastic.
With her long, braided hair delicately placed on her shoulders, she maintained her alluring posture. The dim light in the room shone above her light brown eyes as her lengthy lashes cast shadows on the skin of her cheeks.
“Entertaining?” Hera spoke as she waved her hand. “It is almost laughable that you find those pitiful creatures entertaining.”
Artemis’s voice cracked like a bowstring drawn taut. “Speaking of pitiful creatures, what is the status of your feast? Are you still seeking vulnerable individuals to worship you while remaining oblivious to the fact that no one genuinely likes you?”
Hera’s pursed mouth showed her growing irritation. Her olive cheeks flashed with a dark tint of red, and Artemis stretched her lips into a defying smirk.
The smiles they were giving each other were thin and brittle, more like weapons than the fake warmth they were trying to convey.
Artemis’s blue eyes flickered playfully as she leaned forward, her elbows on the edge of the table.
“Where are your words now, Hera? Has some lesser god stolen them?” She provoked the Goddess of Marriage, Women, and Fertility as Eros gently grabbed her by the hand and pulled her onto the back of the chair.
“I could effortlessly obliterate you if I desired, you insolent being,” Hera retorted, striving to remain seated and avoid physically assaulting the other goddess with her bare hands.
Artemis burst out in a mocking laughter. “We know that would be possible only if you would convince Zeus to do it since you lack powers. I’m baffled as to why we all accept you as a goddess since you’re clearly not.”
“HOW DARE YOU—”
Zeus’s eyes darted around the room, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he spat the words, each syllable sharp as broken glass. “Cease your mouth, woman.”
Hera’s mouth snapped shut at her husband’s demand, while Artemis struggled to suppress her chuckle. The goddess had always found amusement in her father’s mockery of her stepmother. Perhaps her sole fondness for Zeus stemmed from his talent for quieting Hera.
Zeus’s eyes only showed the stark, blinding white that even his wife feared. With rising anger, his eyes lacked pupils as they were filled instead with icy moonlight that showed no kindness or forgiveness to those around him.
Finally. Some well-deserved silence.
“Given that this performance is over, we shall now address more significant subjects,” Zeus declared, his fingers methodically drumming on the table.
“This year’s gambit will adhere to the same regulations as the previous one.
Although, these errors appear to be more engaging, but I shall not pronounce myself so rapidly. ”
“Indeed,” Athena answered, eyeing Zeus like an owl who had found its next victim. “Five individuals seem highly motivated to achieve victory in this. Such contestants have not been observed in the past few decades.”
He scoffed, looking at the gleaming thunderbolt engraved on his bracelet. “Please refresh my memory of their names.”
“Dra—”