High above the world, beyond the clouds and the shifting currents of mortal time, stood Mount Olympus—radiant and eternal.
Its marbled halls shimmered under the celestial sun, kissed by golden winds that never stopped blowing.
Between the high pillars of its temples, divine laughter echoed.
Wine flowed in fountains, and songs of excess and celebration filled the air. But amidst the revelry of gods, there was one place of stillness.
A chamber of thought. A balcony of silence.
There, away from the others, Athena, the goddess of wisdom and war, stood alone.
Her silver robe billowed lightly in the mountain breeze, but her eyes—sharp, gleaming with restrained excitement and fascination—were fixed on the world below.
On the burning earth.
On the chaos of mortals.
On the war.
Her vision pierced the veil of clouds, descending past the skies to the world of men, where blades clashed and banners burned.
She saw the smoldering village.
She saw the bloodshed.
