The morning sun spilled over the hills, painting the sky gold. For once, Dion felt… free. No villagers screaming "thief," no angry shopkeepers chasing him. Just laughter, the soft chatter of friends, and the sound of boots crunching along the dirt path that wound through the valley.
Selina walked beside him, her bow slung lazily across her shoulder. Her long auburn hair caught the sunlight, and every time she smiled, Dion felt his chest tighten just a little.
"So," she said, shooting him a teasing glance. "Tell me, Lord Hercules, what's it like being adored by every woman in the village?"
Dion smirked, running a hand through his messy hair. "Oh, you know… exhausting. I spend half my day turning down marriage proposals, the other half signing autographs."
Selina rolled her eyes. "Autographs don't exist here, genius."
"Exactly," Dion said. "That's why I invented them."
She snorted, trying not to laugh. It was the kind of laugh that made him forget all the bruises life had given him.
Behind them, a voice called out, "You two done flirting, or should I walk slower?"
It was Lykos — the newest addition to their small group. He was tall and sharp-eyed, with hair dark as midnight and a grin that looked like it knew too much. He'd joined them only a few days ago after Dion helped him fend off a group of raiders.
Lykos had introduced himself as a scholar of myth — someone who knew every story, every god, every curse ever written on stone or whispered by priests. But he also carried a sword and moved like he knew how to use it.
"Relax," Dion said, glancing back at him. "We're just enjoying the view."
Lykos smirked. "Yeah, I can see that. Especially the view walking next to you."
Selina flushed. "Oh, shut up."
The three of them laughed as they continued walking down the narrow trail that led deeper into the forest. Their goal was clear — to find the Oracle's Temple, a crumbling ruin said to hold records of divine movements. It was their only lead on Zeus's disappearance.
⸻
As the trees grew thicker, the air shifted — heavier, colder. Birds stopped singing.
Lykos slowed down, his expression tightening. "Something's off."
Before Dion could ask, the ground trembled. From the shadows, figures burst out — bandits, a dozen of them, blades glinting.
"Ambush!" Selina shouted, nocking an arrow and firing in one motion. The shot grazed a bandit's arm, sending him sprawling.
Dion drew his sword instinctively. The weapon hummed in his hand, almost eager for battle.
One of the attackers charged. Dion sidestepped, slamming his elbow into the man's ribs before striking with the hilt. Another swung an axe — Dion blocked, sparks flying as steel met steel.
"You picked the wrong day," he growled.
Beside him, Lykos fought with surprising precision — his movements controlled, graceful, almost practiced. He ducked low, sliced through a man's leg, and spun with quiet, deadly rhythm.
When the fight ended, the clearing was silent again — only the wind and the fallen leaves remained.
Selina wiped her brow. "You fight like you've done this before," she said to Lykos.
He shrugged. "Let's just say my past life wasn't all reading scrolls."
Dion looked at him curiously. "Past life?"
Lykos paused for a moment, eyes distant. "I used to be a temple guard. Before the wars. Before the gods went quiet."
The silence stretched. Dion noticed the flicker of something dark behind his eyes — regret, maybe loss.
"Come on," Lykos said softly. "The temple's not far."
⸻
They reached the ruins by dusk. The Oracle's Temple was ancient — pillars cracked, marble statues half-buried in ivy. The air was still, like the place had been holding its breath for centuries.
Selina ran her hand along a wall etched with fading symbols. "This must be it."
Lykos stepped forward, brushing away dust from an inscription. "It says here: When thunder falls silent, beware the shadow that wears his crown."
Dion frowned. "Thunder… Zeus."
"Exactly," Lykos murmured. "This isn't just about him being missing. Someone — or something — took his place."
Before they could say more, the torches flickered. A low hum filled the air. Dion's sword began to vibrate faintly, pulsing with light.
Then — a voice.
Deep. Cold. Familiar.
"Ah… so the fallen son walks again."
The air rippled. The sound came from everywhere — from the stone, from the air, from inside their skulls.
Selina froze. "Who's there?"
The voice chuckled — dark, mocking. "Don't you recognize me, Hercules? Or has death dulled your memory?"
Dion's heart pounded. That voice… that tone… he had heard it before, in the fading echoes of the myths.
"Zeus?" Dion whispered.
A slow, cruel laugh. "Zeus… yes. What remains of him."
Lykos's eyes widened. "No. It can't be—"
"It can," the voice said. "The king of gods now serves a greater will. The storm has fallen to shadow, and soon, the earth will follow."
The torches exploded into black flame. Dion stumbled back as the light warped, twisting into a dark, shifting face — eyes like molten gold, lips curled in amusement.
"Hercules," the voice said, "I killed you once. You were ashes beneath my feet. But seeing you crawl back? That's amusing. I'll enjoy ending you again."
And then — silence.
The fire died. The temple was still.
Dion stood there, his chest heaving, sweat trickling down his face. Selina's hand trembled near her bowstring. Lykos looked pale, his scholarly calm shattered.
"What… what was that?" Selina whispered.
Dion stared into the empty air where the dark face had been. His voice came out low, trembling.
"That wasn't Zeus," he said. "That was something inside him."
Lykos nodded slowly, fear and fascination mixing in his tone. "If Zeus has been possessed… then the heavens themselves are no longer safe."
Dion tightened his grip on his sword. "Then we're not just fighting beasts anymore."
He looked toward the horizon — the sky already dimming, thunderheads rolling in with unnatural speed.
"We're fighting the gods."