Hebe did not linger upon Mount Caucasus. Before the Eagle could arrive to begin the day's agonizing sentence upon Prometheus, the Goddess returned to her Temple of Life.
Mount Olympus was relatively quiet. Below, upon the earth, the new humans were only just beginning to stir among the ruins of the old world. It was a time of rebuilding and vulnerability—and what better moment was there to harvest Faith?
To secure their share of devotion, the gods had descended in droves, manifesting miracles and bestowing blessings upon the mortals. Even Aphrodite, despite the divine child growing within her, refused to be left behind. Accompanied by the Graces, she had traveled to the mortal realm to cast a blessing of exquisite beauty upon the new race.
In the absence of Prometheus, Athena naturally assumed the role of leader and educator for this generation. Ambitious and hungry for Faith, the Goddess of Wisdom remained among the humans, teaching them the arts of agriculture, animal husbandry, and weaving. Under her guidance, city-states began to rise once more. Within a short time, Athena became the deity who commanded the most Faith from humanity, second only to Zeus himself.
Hebe did not join the fray. She had no intention of relying on Faith for her next ascension. Furthermore, this generation of humans was essentially "triple-distilled" in the eyes of the Laws; the amount of World Favor they could provide was pitifully small. She used this reprieve to rest within her sanctuary, delving into the mysteries of her newly mastered Godhead of Reincarnation.
The Godhead of Reincarnation now held dominion within Hebe's core. The Godheads of Life and Winter were relegated to secondary positions, constantly radiating divine power to feed the black-and-white orb. These two disparate energies were absorbed and transformed by the Cycle without friction. In the depths of this fusion, a tiny speck of grey—as small as a distant star in a vast galaxy—began to germinate. The day it reached completion would be the day Hebe fulfilled her ultimate ambition.
As the Cycle operated of its own accord, the golden-haired goddess opened her eyes. She spread her hands, and a ball of cold, silver radiance appeared—the phantom of the full moon flickering within its depths.
It was the one-third portion of Selene's Full Moon Essence she had snatched during the chaos.
Truthfully, Hebe cared little for the lunar mandate itself, but this essence happened to be saturated with Selene's concentrated hatred. That piqued her interest. The hatred of humanity toward the sun had birthed Phagos's Solar Eclipse Godhead; what, then, would the hatred of a fallen Moon Goddess toward her successor produce?
Hebe closed her eyes, submerging her consciousness into the essence. Now at the Peak of the Primary rank, her grasp of the Laws was on an entirely different level than before.
"Let the deepest love transform into the deepest hate. O curse born of a goddess's resentment—you shall act as the night shroud that veils the moon's glory and steals its sanctity. You shall represent the Moon's shadow. Terror, omens, and misfortune shall be your anthem!"
At her command, the invisible majesty of the Laws descended. The Full Moon Essence vibrated violently before birthing a singular, silver-grey Godhead. Hebe immediately struck it with a surge of power, masking its aura so it would not leak out.
Down on the earth, Artemis—who was currently busy spreading her influence—felt a sudden, inexplicable chill. A premonition of misfortune clouded her heart, though she could not trace its source. Frustrated, she suppressed the feeling and continued to move through the mountains, granting her protection to the mortal hunters.
Hebe inspected the newborn Godhead. It looked much like the Solar Eclipse Godhead: a grey expanse like the night sky, its borders shimmering with a cold, silver light, containing a flickering lunar projection. It was the perfect twin to the solar version: the Godhead of Lunar Eclipse.
The birth of this Godhead caused another ripple in the fabric of the Laws. As it was a new completion of the universal order, a black-shimmering artifact was bestowed.
Wait, another one? Hebe thought. How generous.
It was the Black Book of the Dead.
The moon was naturally linked to magic, sorcery, and the occult. As the "shadow" of the moon, the authority of the Lunar Eclipse shared these traits. The Black Book of the Dead allowed its master to summon necromantic creatures to fight—each possessing the strength of a demigod. Furthermore, these creatures possessed the instinctual talent to devour moonlight as nourishment. Wherever the moon shone, they would fight with inexhaustible vitality.
Not bad, Hebe mused. It feels a bit like one of the 'Great Calamities' from the legends.
She immediately transmitted the Godhead and the artifact to her half-body, Phagos.
Deep in the Underworld, a silver light flared around the winged deity. A book, black as ink and entwined with silver runes, appeared in his hand. A light smile touched Phagos's lips. With the Solar and Lunar Eclipses answering one another, he felt his foundation grow even sturdier.
As fate would have it, just as Hebe finished the transmission, a guest arrived at the Temple of Life.
Tall, athletic, and possessed of a peerless, handsome face, he radiated a soft glow that made the flowers of the temple bloom with renewed vigor. It was none other than Apollo.
The two former rivals faced one another once more. Hebe wore a faint, practiced smile. She signaled the nymphs to bring nectar and fruit, pouring a cup for the Sun God.
"Lord Apollo. You aren't among the mortals harvesting Faith? To what do I owe the honor of your visit to my sanctuary?"
Hebe knew exactly why he was there. In negotiations, however, the one who speaks first loses the initiative. She remained composed, taking a slow sip of her wine with an air of effortless grace.
"..."
Apollo fixed his deep eyes on the goddess. She was becoming more beautiful by the day. Unlike Aphrodite's beauty, which provoked lust and pity, Hebe's allure came from her aura of absolute confidence and composure. The third-tier goddess who once bowed her head in timidity was now a Primary Deity of such formidable strength that even he could not fully perceive her depth.
It was this power that allowed her to hold her head high before the assembly, radiating a light that was, in its own way, as blinding as the sun. For a moment, the handsome Sun God found himself dazed.
"My Lord?" Hebe tilted her head, watching the silent Apollo. What is he plotting? she wondered. After seeing Selene's fate, she was determined to remain wary of this "dark" Sun God.
"Ahem..." Apollo snapped back to reality. He let out an awkward cough—a transparent attempt to mask his fluster. A god of medicine coughing? It was a laughable slip.
"Lady Hebe, you likely know why I have come," Apollo said, his voice dropping into a serious, resonant tone. He straightened his posture. "Artemis needs the complete Moon Mandate to secure the final seat on the High Council. By 'coincidence,' you happened to capture a third of the Full Moon Essence that day. I have come to request that you surrender it. Name your price."
He had no choice. He wasn't certain he could win a fight against her, and even if he did, her mother and brothers would immediately retaliate. Even Hestia seemed to favor her now. Apollo had to swallow his pride and negotiate.
"Oh? The Full Moon Essence? I do have a portion here," Hebe said with a slight smile. She manifested the essence in her palm. The lunar radiance immediately triggered a sympathetic resonance with the Solar Godhead within Apollo's chest.
"...Pray, state your conditions," Apollo said, his eyes fixed on the prize. It was essential for his sister's future.
"I want the Oracle of Delphi," Hebe said, making a truly exorbitant demand.
"Impossible!"
It was a joke. The Delphic Oracle was inextricably linked to his faith in Light and Prophecy; it was his most vital asset outside of the Sun itself. He would never yield it.
"Lord Apollo seems to lack sincerity," Hebe remarked coolly.
She knew he wouldn't give it up. She had opened with an impossible price so that her subsequent demand would seem reasonable by comparison—a simple trick of negotiation.
"...Choose something else, Lady Hebe. As long as it is not an outrage, I will grant it," Apollo said, gritting his teeth. I thought she was beautiful a moment ago? I must be losing my mind. She is as insufferable as ever!
"Very well..." Hebe's purple eyes sparkled with amusement as she saw him take the bait. "Lord Apollo, you have recently condensed the Summer Origin, have you not? As the Master of the Seasons, I felt the lapse of the Goddess Dike's authority. If anyone in this world is suited to hold the Mandate of Summer, it is the master of the sun's heat. Give me the Summer Godhead, and the Full Moon Essence is yours."
The fall of the Horae (The Three Goddesses of the Seasons) was inevitable. Apollo governed the very source of heat, leaving the Goddess Dike with no ground to stand on. Demeter, as the Goddess of Harvest, naturally encroached on Autumn. And when Persephone, the Goddess of Spring and Seeds, was eventually born, Eunomia would lose her claim to Spring as well.
However, losing their seasonal roles was not necessarily a bad thing for them. They were the daughters of Zeus and Theis—natural personifications of Order, Justice, and Peace. With the "shadows" Zeus had released now infecting humanity, the need for Order and Peace would only grow. Stripped of their seasonal chains, the three sisters could fulfill their true purposes more effectively, perhaps even purging the stains left on their divinity by the Phaethon incident.
But that was their concern. Their father was unreliable, but their mother, Themis, would surely look after them.
"The Summer Origin?" Apollo felt his heart bleed. Summer represented the peak of vitality for all living things. He had only just condensed it. He was once again forced to realize that this goddess was his ultimate nemesis.
"Do you intend to gather all four seasons for yourself? Is being Sovereign of the Cycle not enough for you? Your appetite is truly boundless," the Sun God remarked, stunned by her ambition. How can one goddess be this competitive? He considered himself industrious, but compared to Hebe, he felt stagnant.
"That is my affair. Do we have a trade or not?" Hebe replied. She held the cards and saw no need for explanations. If he refused, there were plenty of other gods who would kill for a piece of the Moon.
"...Fine! Trade!" Apollo growled, his hand reaching into his chest. He withdrew a deep green Godhead, within which shimmered phantoms of flourishing life—the peak of the summer sun.
"Under the witness of the Laws, the bargain is struck."
Both deities swore the oath. Hebe handed over the Full Moon Essence and integrated the Summer Godhead into her own form.
Her internal Winter Godhead flared, drawing the Summer Godhead into its orbit. The two now stood at opposite poles, rotating slowly, separated by the translucent phantoms of Spring and Autumn. When those shadows were finally filled, they would merge into a single Godhead of the Four Seasons. Hebe would become the Mistress of the Seasons, governing the cycle of the years just as she governed the cycle of life.
The deal complete, Hebe smiled warmly at the grim-faced Apollo. "Pleasure doing business with you, my Lord. Remember to come to me first if you have any other treasures. Since you have what you came for, I won't keep you. I have other matters to attend to. Safe travels."
Used and discarded? What a heartless goddess, Apollo thought bitterly. He didn't linger; he stood and vanished from the Temple of Life.
Once Apollo was gone, Hebe stretched, intending to return to her couch to contemplate her new power.
Suddenly, her ears twitched. A faint sound of weeping drifted on the wind. Though it was nearly imperceptible, it could not escape the senses of a Peak Primary Deity. The crying carried a weight of terror, fury, and soul-deep resentment. It was a goddess.
Who?
Hebe's form blurred as she vanished from her hall, following the sound to the Temple of the Dawn.
She raised an eyebrow. Eos, the Dawn Goddess? Why was she weeping? Was it for her siblings, Helios and Selene? Though Eos had once been insolent, her recent efforts to maintain her dignity and her protective instincts for her family had earned Hebe a measure of respect.
Hebe stepped into the temple.
She stopped in her tracks. Her face went pale, then flushed with a terrifying, unprecedented fury.
The temple was a ruin. Stone pillars were shattered; golden jars and cups lay crushed upon the floor; sacred flowers were trampled into the muck. In a corner, curled into a desperate ball of agony, lay the Goddess Eos. Her robes were torn to shreds, and her divine form was covered in bruises and marks of violence.
Hebe understood instantly. Her purple eyes blazed with a cold, wintery lethality. She flashed to Eos's side, using her divine power to manifest a bolt of floral silk to shroud the goddess's broken form. The power of Life gently began to soothe her wounds.
Meeting Eos's hollow, terrified gaze, Hebe spoke in a voice as sharp as a glacier.
"Who did this? Tell me, Eos! Who dared to force themselves upon a goddess?"