Hephaestus the Mad God

In the darkness of Hephaestus's private quarters on Olympus, only the sound of his heavy breathing and some rather disturbing noises could be heard. He, the most skilled of the Gods, currently bound to a chair, felt pain with every movement as it shot through his wounded body. Blood, thick and dark, flowed down his arms, forming small pools at his feet. All the wounds, inflicted with precision, were the work of someone who knew his body better than anyone else – Aphrodite. The Goddess of Love, to whom he had given his heart, now looked at him with a smile full of contempt.

"Isn't it beautiful, Hephaestus?" – her voice was sweet like honey but filled with venom. She glanced at Ares, who bared his teeth in a wild grin.

"This... is just the beginning," – growled Ares, approaching her with insatiable lust.

(She betrayed me... How could she... Why?...) Hephaestus squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to look at what was about to happen, but he couldn't tear his gaze away. The fire burning in the hearth cast ominous shadows on the walls, but the real fire burned in his chest – at first, it was the flame of love, but now it began to transform into something darker.

"Look at us, Hephaestus" – commanded Aphrodite, her voice cold and authoritative. "Look at how the God of War takes what was never yours."

Their bodies intertwined in a passionate dance, and each of their movements was like a knife to Hephaestus's heart. Aphrodite sighed with pleasure, throwing him a quick glance full of triumph. (Why? Why are you doing this to me? I always loved you...)

"He suffers... do you feel it, my dear?" – Ares whispered, fixing his gaze on Hephaestus. "This is pleasure. True pleasure."

His despair was like an icy wave that first drowned him, then froze him. Every muffled sigh, every scream of pleasure was like a hammer striking his soul. He clenched his teeth, trying to stifle a groan of pain, but his heart bled. The lover who was everything to him was now his worst nightmare. (This can't be true... This is a dream I will wake up from...) But in his mind, love began to crack, giving way to a new, more powerful feeling – hatred.

"He deserved it. Remember, Ares, how he dared to possess me..." – said Aphrodite, brushing her lips against Ares's. Her eyes were cold, showing no trace of compassion.

This feeling crept into his thoughts, poisoning everything that had once been good. (I want you to suffer. I want to see your pain...) He began to dream of revenge, of the moment when their laughter would be replaced by screams of agony.

Finally, when Ares and Aphrodite collapsed onto each other, exhausted, satisfied, Zeus summoned them to the council. "We must go, my love" – whispered Aphrodite, impatiently putting on her robes.

They stood up, both smiling radiantly, paying no more attention to Hephaestus. They ignored his presence as if he were just a shadow, nothing more. They left the chamber, leaving him there, bound, bloodied, and filled with rage.

As the doors closed behind them with a dull thud, Hephaestus lifted his head. There was no love left in his eyes. There was only pure, unbridled hatred. (You will pay. I swear by everything I hold dear, you will pay. The world will burn with my revenge.)