The Shadow's Terror

Sweet as the ambrosia sap, tender as the rosebud that opened up to the world; his lips on her were gentle as the touch that he planted on her skin—that was how the kiss felt as it deepened.

Their act was forbidden—condemned by her promise of eternal virginity, knowing his caresses were too odd to be that comfortable. Truly abominable if Athena realized sooner.

But she did know, yet her soul refused to believe it.

With his embrace, the goddess softened as if she had not vowed before the throne of Olympus not to fall in love. An irony gratifying to some hidden desire buried beneath the depths of her core.

Mysterious as he was to her, Athena fell defeated as she permitted him to envelop her in his embrace—unveiling some growing fondness.

But for every glory that rose in haste, an abrupt end was inescapable.

Storm had suddenly welcomed itself amidst the quiet night. A fat nimbus hovered on the horizon and birthed a strong breeze and rain that could drown the whole area, ending the seven nights and days of celebration.

"Ah!" Athena screamed, screeching from the sudden manifestation of pain in her hand.

She pulled out from the kiss and checked her hand to see what happened—and what she saw horrified her. "No! Why?" She wailed upon seeing the blood seeping out from the healing wound sliced by Ares.

The goddess hastily stepped out from her bed, pushed away the dark figure, and ran towards her balcony, where a blast of wind slapped through as she opened the doors.

The scene was drastic, chaos! Aside from the storm that hit, fire also rampaged the whole area. There were screams from far and wide and not one soul in sight. Athena was petrified by what was happening. Smoke and ash obliterated the atmosphere, causing her silver eyes to fight the sting.

Her heartbeat rapidly beating like it was about to explode. She was in jeopardy and did not know what to do. When Athena moved to the parapet, she saw everything covered in fire and burbling water. Some hands reached out—charred hands that were desperate for salvation.

Her eyes became saucer; her head was spinning—confused and sick at the same time, and her skin had gotten pale, draining all the blood in her. Athena could not comprehend the disaster that was playing right before her. Her lungs violently expand, pounding on the walls of her chest, adding more pain and unwanted suffering for her spirit.

She could not take it anymore. Athena screamed more, crying like a poor little girl who had lost everything. The more she poured all her tears, the more the blood spewed out from her hand—staining her nightgown and skin as all the horrors blanketed her space.

"No! No!" As she ran back into the safe walls of her room, the mysterious stranger immediately caught her in his arms and soothed her.

"Shh—I am here." He whispered.

Athena did not cease in letting those bitter tears flow. The pain on her reopened wound panged more and more like a thorn stuck between the skin. She could not stop it—not even a single strength now remained inside her.

The goddess remained in the stranger's arms for seconds, drowning in guilt as the crackling of the fire outside echoed in her chamber. The light played on the walls that seemed to claw onto her. Strange figures then formed, dancing to the rhythm of an agonizing death.

And all of a sudden—

As her eyes traversed to the unknown guest's shadow, it morphed into a beast, remembering the wolf as its eyes glowed like the flames that knocked at the door of Olympus. The whole scenario was savage, which equaled the monstrosity in Tartarus.

Athena pushed him away, grabbed her sword, and pointed the tip at the dark figure as he suddenly convulsed on the floor.

"Who—who are you?" Athena demanded.

But the man twisted, turning his body in all direction that was impossible for the muscles to conduct. He moaned loudly—groaning in madness from vexation and anger. Athena could hear his flesh torn apart and blood splattering across the room. Once the burning furnace rekindled the reflecting light, she saw how the dark figure turned into her wolf friend—but not the kind and gentle friend she knew dearly by heart.

At that moment, he was a beast—a monster that unleashed his hidden interest to finish her.

"No! My dear, it is I, your friend!" She called as she dropped her weapon. "Please remember!"

To no avail, the wolf continued to growl and glare at her in pure distaste. His eyes were now brightly glowing—burning in a fierce rage of amber to crimson.

Slowly, one gradual step at a time, he intimidated her with his bearing. At first, Athena did not falter, only concerned with him as he lost control. Yet the more her wild friend got closer, the more her wounded hand stung—intensely agonizing that she shuddered to balance on her healthy feet.

Now closer to the parapet, the goddess realized she was losing her divine strength while trying to push the mad wolf away. But as she did it one more time—

The beast lunged at her and straight up pushed her to the inferno that was waiting for its next living being to devour. More hands were reaching out from the boiling waters and fire while Athena fell. Fire—a fire that reeked of sulfur and burning flesh started to come up to her as she shouted for aid.

But it was all too late.

"Athena… Athena!" Ares yelled as he bolted from his seat and forcefully shook her.

"Hands—hands! Fire!" Athena breathlessly wailed as she opened her teary eyes.

"What?" The god frowned in curiosity and concern. "What do you mean fire? There is no fire."

"Ares, there were hands! There was this figure who turned into a wolf and hands clawing at me! There were shadows—"

"Athena, calm down." Ares held both her hands, trying to ease her.

She was cold and trembling. Ares understood from her eyes the horror she might have dreamt. Athena never blinked, not a single flutter on those curly lashes.

"Athena." Ares calmly repeated. "Hush now, you are just dreaming. There is no fire, no wolf, and hands—look!"

The goddess turned her face to every four corners of the room. Nothing was indeed there: no fire, no clawing shadows, and not a wolf in sight. She also realized she was still on the same seat in Ares's secret lair but now wrapped in a red blanket.

"Di-did I fall asleep?" She asked, quite ashamed of her foolish ramblings.

The god of war nodded. "Yes. Yes, you did."

"I am sorry. Forgive me for the inexcusable behavior. I should not be lingering this long."

As she handed the blanket back to him, Ares studied her face sadly deprived of vigor. He knew not what she was dreaming but how she reacted—truly it might be alarming. "No need to fret. I think a daemon had taken over that wise head of yours. Are you alright?"

"Yes." She bluffed—contradicting her throbbing pulse and dilating pupils.

Despite decisively portraying that all is fine, Athena could still not comprehend what was happening in her head. Maybe, it was indeed a daemon that possessed her subconsciousness. But the nightmare was all too real. Even the kiss still burned her lips.

For the past few days, she felt violated because of the mysterious figure. The stranger was bold to do what he had done. If some mere chump did all those things, he would face the rage of the goddess that made Medusa reveal her true self, a smite that turned Arachne into an insect of the loom, and a punishment that blinded Teiresias. But by those caresses imprinted on her white skin, Athena wavered—cursing at herself for losing her wits.

"Would you like me to take you to your room?" Ares interrupted, somewhat concerned about the noticeable change in her demeanor.

"No—I am perfectly alright. Thank you for the talk and wine. I will retire now."

Once Athena closed the door behind her, Ares was coiled with curiosity—wondering about his guest's distress. Did she know about her deathly façade? Had she noticed all those beading sweat on her forehead, those cold touches when he held her? Ares believed she was pretending—but he said no more and chose to let Athena be.

"Stubborn." He muttered, returning to his last position.