Chapter Two: The City Below
I sat on the edge of the rooftop, legs dangling over nothing.
The city stretched beneath me in rigid lines of steel and stone, reaching upward like it meant to challenge the sky itself. Mortals moved through it in endless streams, unaware of how close they lived to collapse. Nothing rested here. Everything pressed forward, as if stopping meant being erased.
I still didn't know what I was supposed to do next.
Zeus hadn't given instructions. No prophecy. No thunderous declaration. Just exile.
My Olympian robes stirred softly in the wind, white and gold catching the sunlight like they didn't belong to this world. I didn't bother hiding them. If Father wanted subtlety, he wouldn't have thrown me off a mountain.
That was when I saw her.
Down below, at the entrance of an alley, a group of men approached a lone figure. Their posture was wrong—loose, confident, careless. Predators who thought they'd found easy prey.
I stood.
One step forward and I would've been airborne, already calculating angles, already deciding how much force was acceptable on Earth.
Then she moved.
The first man reached for her wrist.
She broke his nose with her elbow.
The second barely had time to react before she swept his legs out from under him and slammed his head into the pavement. The third tried to grab her from behind—bad idea. She twisted, drove her heel into his knee, and sent him screaming to the ground.
It was fast. Clean. Brutal.
The remaining two didn't hesitate. They ran.
I blinked.
"…Huh."
I jumped down.
The landing was quiet—controlled. I straightened as she spun toward me, fists already raised.
"Damn," I said honestly. "You're kinda strong."
She lunged.
I shifted back just as her instincts screamed at her to stop. She leapt away instead, landing several feet back, eyes wide, chest rising fast.
"Olympian," she said.
I frowned. "What?"
Then I followed her gaze.
Down to my robes.
Gold-threaded. Divine. Very much not subtle.
"…Fuck," I muttered.
She stared at me like I'd just fallen out of the sky.
"Is that cosplay?" she demanded.
"No."
"Prove it."
I sighed and raised my hand.
Electricity crackled to life at my fingertips—soft, controlled, alive. Not a weapon. A warning.
Her eyes widened.
"Oh my God."
I let the lightning fade. "Your turn. Name?"
"Amelia," she said quickly. "Amelia Cross."
I stepped closer before I realized I was doing it.
Up close, it was worse. Her features were sharp in a way that felt familiar—like something sculpted rather than born. Her green eyes caught the light, glowing faintly, beautiful enough that it actually made me uncomfortable.
Too beautiful.
She had the look of a Greek goddess.
Better than Aphrodite, even—but that thought nearly made me choke. Saying it out loud would get me killed.
"I didn't know they made mortals so beautiful," I blurted.
She froze.
Then she blushed.
Which somehow made it worse.
I felt my face heat. "Wait—no—I didn't mean—"
She laughed.
Not mocking. Not awkward.
Just… amused.
"Wow," she said. "You're really bad at this."
"I'm excellent at many things," I replied stiffly. "Talking is apparently not one of them."
She tilted her head. "You wanna come back to my place?"
I blinked. "Your… place?"
"My home," she said. "You know. Where I live."
"Oh." I nodded once. "I see."
I paused.
"…Yes."
She smiled and turned toward the street.
"Try not to electrocute anyone on the way," she said.
I followed her into the city, the sky stretching endlessly above us, wondering for the first time if exile might not be the worst thing Zeus had ever done to me.