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The Last Ballad of Olympus: The Waltz of the Vulture and Owl

Olympus has fallen. The last ballad has been sung and all the gods were dead--but not quite though. Ares and Athena, two deities of completely opposite morals, are forced by their new fate to traverse together an unbeknownst life of mortality--facing adversities of power, pleasure, and a tomorrow of different morning glory.

MissRosas_Pandan · Fantasía
Sin suficientes valoraciones
63 Chs

Paralytic Hallucination

As the firefly grew in number, illuminating the whole sacred forest brighter than the torches that lit the festivities of the mortals below, Athena did not notice that she fell into a deep sleep after playing with the wolf and the forest creatures.

"Goodness! How long was I asleep?" She gasped, wondering if she dozed off for quite some time already.

The wolf sat beside her, looked her into her eyes, and then stared at the heaven where the full moon was big and glorious.

The sleepy goddess stared at the heavens, following what the wolf did. And once she saw how the stars uniformly aligned, she realized how late it was and immediately stood from her slumber position.

The wolf became worried, with eyes drooping down like a little puppy. All enthusiasm from a while ago vanished when Athena dressed in her silky robe. He knew that a happy moment with her would be over. So, to convince her to stay, the wolf pulled her dress and dragged her back to where she once was.

"Hey!" Athena yelped. "Come on now, no need to be this rough."

Her beastie friend cried, refusing for her to leave. The other little critters also wailed. They all agreed with the wolf's plan to not let her go. With a dreamer's determination, the animals encircled the amazed goddess like a flock of sheep moving clockwise on a shepherd's lawn. Trapped in the center were the wolf and their beloved deity looking into each other's eyes—one pleading and the other trying to compromise.

"Oh, you poor things." Athena pitifully pouted while gently stroking the beast's head. "We all had a great time, but I needed to return to Olympus now. I will be back as soon as I can." She then smiled at everyone who gave her a look filled with persistence.

The wolf did not hide his sorrows and began to cry as he rubbed his head to her neck, pleading for her to stay. But strong-willed as she was, Athena again reasoned with him as she honestly opened up about her sneaking out from Olympus and was supposed to have a few moments to explore the sacred garden, but not until she met everyone and realized how beautiful everything in the forest was.

With her persuasion, the forest creatures reluctantly obliged and broke the circle they made. Athena blew them a farewell kiss and walked from where she had entered.

Before going on separate ways, she saw the wolf unmoved from his position, seemingly still not believing in her promise. Understanding this disposition, the goddess approached him and whispered, "I promise to be back. Do not worry."

Athena kissed him on his forehead and finally left the sacred forest. If only they knew how painful it was for her to turn her back on them—but she had to.

With so much peace and serenity flowing in her veins, the goddess's silver eyes sparkled like the clear waters of the rivers that reflected the glowing moon from high above. Despite a sad farewell, her lips managed to curve a happy smile, grateful to know that she was now a close tie with those lovely little critters and the wolf. She pranced on her way back, singing to a song she had suddenly created. If one who knew her well could see her in that current temperament, they would be flabbergast to see how bubbly she had become—a different turn from her usually quiet and calculating demeanor.

The goddess continued her journey midway through with the overflowing goodness in her spirits. Her beautiful face radiated even more with her never-ending grin painted on her face.

But such happiness did not last any longer.

Feeling like two knives plunged into her, her breasts began to feel pain again. Athena stiffened at the suddenness of the affliction that rushed out of nowhere. She held on to both of her bosoms and gave a little cry, sensing every nerve halted in functioning.

"What is going on?" She wondered, struggling to say more words as her mouth was shaking.

The pain did not only stay at her bosoms as it traveled rapidly to her whole chest—completely devouring the goddess's vigor to continue her journey back to Olympus. It was unbearable and more agonizing than the wound she had received from wars. Defeated, Athena helplessly sprawled into the earth and tried to caress her chest until the pain faded.

Tears trickled down from her eyes like a jewel of a rare sort. Yet, it was no jewel of some ethereal joys—it was more of a drop of agony, an ordeal worth of sinners that was about to unfold seconds later.

The stars above seemed to be closing their performance as they let no more brilliance glow on that hour—perhaps sensing the goddess of wisdom's pain and sympathizing with her. The moon even lowered her halo as the heavens, though still in vibrant plum, were slowly becoming gloomy and ominous.

Athena croaked an agonizing moan while cradling one of her breasts to comfort it. Her whole body became soaked from the unceasing flow of her sweat. Her robes thinned from the dampness of her body, sheering through every feature of her porcelain skin. Her breaths became rigorous as if some kind of plague had manifested and latched onto her being.

Convulsing hands and deathly white, the goddess looked piteous in her state as she lay on the ground like a slain lamb. She then closed her eyes, thinking that this ordeal was some hallucination.

But then—

In a hazy vision: Athena saw her son, Erichthonius, sleeping in her arms. She could not believe how this could happen. Her thoughts then took her to the last dying moments of her child—in his royal chambers, telling her his farewells and warm endearment. Though maybe a dream, her heart sank together with her sanity.

The mere thought of remembering the past was aching enough, equaling the pain of a burn from Hestia's fire. And this pain had at last fully taken over her body. Barbaric and mysterious, her thoughts and spirits turned into a hysterical circus with a montage of visions of her son, her most prized and secret treasure, that was now long gone.

"My—my son!" In a gruff and struggling voice, Athena longingly called.

The agony continued, defeating the strong goddess until her strength evaporated away. Athena finally cried—a sob that was so rare that it echoed throughout the sacred forest, alarming the birds to sing along to the song of a mother in sorrow.

Back in Olympus—there in her private abode, her little owl named Nocturna heard her low waving cries as she awoke from her slumber. Tilting her head left and right, the goddess's owl focused her reach and detected that her mistress was somewhere down in the forest.

Quick as a flash, she spread her silver wings and flew out from the grand palace.