Hephaestus had successfully bound the divine powers of Ares and Aphrodite. For the duration of their sentence, the two deities were forced to exist as mere beasts—the Wild Boar and the White Dove. It was a safe assumption that their coming days would be far from comfortable.
Having vented his long-simmering resentment, Hephaestus felt a rare lightness of spirit. He bid farewell to his mother and sister, returning to the revelry to find his newborn son, Eros, for some long-overdue father-son bonding.
Hebe remained in the Temple of Marriage with Hera. Both mother and daughter were lost in their own thoughts, drifting in a heavy silence.
The evolution of Hera's Marriage Godhead had been an unforeseen variable. Originally, Hebe had planned to seize the remaining seasonal essences to forge a complete Godhead of the Four Seasons. Her intent was to use the cyclic power of the seasons to nourish her own Reincarnation Godhead, and—more importantly—to have a backup plan. If Hera's Marriage Godhead were to shatter under the weight of Zeus's cursed infidelities, Hebe would have replaced it with the Seasons, ensuring Hera remained a Primary Deity with her glory intact.
But now, Hera's Godhead had fused with the Essence of Lust. The very nature of marriage had shifted. If Aphrodite could claim autonomy over her unions, then Hera, as the Sovereign of Marriage, certainly held that same right. Yet, Hebe was uncertain of Hera's true feelings regarding her bond with the King of Gods.
After a moment's hesitation, Hebe decided to broach the subject. One hundred-headed giants are hard to find, but two-legged male gods are everywhere, she thought wryly.
Deploying the power of the Cycle, she wove a barrier of divine energy around the hall, isolating their conversation from any prying Olympian ears.
"Mother," Hebe began softly. "Your Godhead has completed its metamorphosis. With the Absolute Autonomy of Marriage, you could be as free as Aphrodite. Has the King not caused you enough suffering over the eons? His betrayals will only escalate. If you do not sever the link now, your Godhead will eventually face another crisis. Why not..."
The fusion with the Lust essence had repaired much of the damage Zeus's adultery had inflicted. However, as long as the marriage contract remained active, every new infidelity would continue to leach away at Hera's foundation. The most logical path was for Hera to commune with the Laws, terminate the marriage, abandon the throne of the Queen, and exist solely as the Goddess of Marriage.
"Hebe, my daughter," Hera replied, her expression remarkably tranquil, as if she had expected this very suggestion. "I understand your concern. But... now is not the time."
Hera's eyes held a depth Hebe couldn't quite fathom. "Do not fret for me. I have my own designs for this matter."
"...Very well, Mother. Just know that I will stand behind you no matter what, just as you once stood for me."
Seeing Hera's resolve to stay the course, Hebe did not press further. However, she secretly reaffirmed her own vow: she would secure the remaining two seasonal essences as quickly as possible. If the worst happened, she would be ready to forcibly replace Hera's Godhead and kick Zeus out of the picture entirely.
"Thank you, my devoted daughter," Hera said, stroking Hebe's golden hair. Her regal face was filled with maternal warmth. "Your birth was the greatest gift the Laws ever bestowed upon me."
Departure from Olympus
The banquet upon Mount Olympus lasted for three full months before the inexhaustible gods finally began to tire of the indulgence.
The chaos was largely thanks to Eros. The lawless little god had spent the months buzzing through the crowds with his Golden Bow, loosing arrows that sparked "sweet" romances at every turn. The resulting entanglements were so disorganized that many predicted a sudden boom in the divine population of the mountain in the coming years.
The child-god even caused a major blunder.
Caught in the thrill of harvesting the gods' desire-energy, Eros lost all restraint. He failed to notice Hephaestus entering the hall to find him and loosed a Golden Arrow into the crowd. By a stroke of cosmic irony, the arrow struck the recently divorced Hephaestus, and the first person he laid eyes on was Athena.
This was Athena—she who had sworn the oath of eternal maidenhood upon the day of her birth!
Blinded by the irrational, manic passion of the Golden Arrow, Hephaestus actually marched up and declared his love for her in front of the entire pantheon. The gods were stunned; the scandal was enough to stop the music.
Athena herself was flushed with shame and fury at the insult to her dignity. She was prepared to strike him down, but her Wisdom Godhead allowed her to sense the anomaly. Hephaestus was stoic and somber; he was not a man prone to such reckless disrespect.
Detecting the magic of Eros upon him, the grey-eyed goddess snatched the flying Eros out of the air. She threatened to pluck every feather from his wings until he confessed the cure. Panicked at the thought of losing his plumage, Eros quickly fired a Lead Arrow at his father, neutralizing the passion and restoring Hephaestus's reason.
A restored Hephaestus turned a deep shade of crimson. He hoisted his "rebellious" son by the collar, stammered a frantic apology to Athena, and fled to the Temple of Fire, where he spent the rest of the evening "disciplining" the boy's backside.
The Graces stood outside the temple, listening to the muffled wails of Lord Eros, unsure if they should intervene or simply enjoy the peace.
The Sanctuary of Samos
When Hebe informed Zeus of her desire to establish a private Sanctuary upon the earth, the King did not object. Many gods held terrestrial estates; it was a common practice.
In truth, Zeus was distracted. He had recently noticed the beauty of Hebe's attendant gods, particularly Silimos. The Goddess of Hibernation's languid, indifferent gaze had stirred a certain "restlessness" in his heart. If she's on earth, he reasoned, I can visit her without Hebe's interference.
Eos, however, was distraught. Due to her duties as the Goddess of Dawn, she could not follow Hebe to the island, a fact that left her profoundly saddened.
Hebe led her attendants and a host of Nymphs to the mortal realm. The island Hera had gifted her was Samos, located in the northern Aegean Sea. Upon arrival, Hebe realized that Hera had given her much more than a mere scenic retreat.
The island was lush, its flora shimmering with a faint divine light. Heavy clusters of grapes, olives, and pomegranates hung from the branches. Below the forested peaks lay fertile plains of emerald grass, where flocks of sheep with Golden Fleece grazed in idyllic peace. To the east, the white sands of the beach met the sapphire waters of the Aegean.
A true paradise, Hebe thought. Hera's favor is indeed substantial.
"My Lady, this place is magnificent," Aurora, the Goddess of the Polar Lights, remarked. "Where shall we raise your temple?"
Hebe surveyed the landscape and pointed to a high plateau in the north. "There."
With a surge of Primary-level power, the mountains trembled. An exquisite, sprawling temple rose from the earth. Under Hebe's will, the structure was imbued with the attributes of Durability and Eternity; it would not fall to time or minor siege. Hebe didn't fuss over the interior; she preferred comfort over decadence, leaving the finer details to the Nymphs.
However, a Sanctuary required defenses.
Drawing upon Aurora's power, Hebe manifested a shimmering curtain of Polar Lights that descended from the heavens to shroud the entire island. Its dreamlike, mystical properties were designed to lead any intruder into a hopeless, circular maze.
Next, she tapped into her Winter and Summer Godheads. Using the power of the Cycle to harmonize the two, she carved runes of fire and ice into the very bedrock of Samos. She established two massive arrays: if an intruder bypassed the illusions, the Nymphs could trigger a localized storm of blizzards and infernos. The "double-edged" elemental fury would ensure any trespasser learned the cost of violating a goddess's sanctum.
"Silimos, the rest is in your hands," Hebe instructed. "If anything urgent arises, find me in the central hall."
"By your will, My Lady."
Hebe retired to the heart of her temple and proceeded to the rear gardens. The area was currently barren, but she finally had a place for the gift she received from the Mother of All.
Opening her palm, Hebe manifested the sapling of the Golden Apple Tree. She carefully planted it in the center of the garden, pouring a concentrated stream of Life energy into the soil.
The golden leaves vibrated, and the tree began to ravenously drain Hebe's power. It was an insatiable creature of the earth. As it drank, its branches stretched and unfolded, growing half a foot and budding with new, tiny sprouts.
Good heavens, Hebe thought, pulling back. It ate half my mana just for six inches? You'll have to work for the rest.
Realizing she couldn't force its growth instantly, she stopped the manual feeding and carved an array around the tree to help it absorb the ambient Primal Essence of the world. After a moment's thought, she withdrew the Golden Wheat-Staff—the artifact of Midas and Plenty—and drove it into the ground beside the sapling.
The tree seemed to "see" the staff and began to sway happily, tapping into the artifact's essence of harvest and gold.
"Don't get greedy," Hebe warned the small tree. "If you break my staff, I'll sell you to the highest bidder."
The sapling stiffened, its rate of absorption slowing noticeably. Its golden leaves rustled softly, almost apologetically.
Hebe nodded, satisfied. She stretched, intending to return to her chambers to meditate on the Laws of the Cycle. With the polarity of Summer and Winter now within her, her progress was accelerating.
But before she could cross the threshold, Chione, the silver-haired Goddess of Snow, drifted in on a cold breeze. Her voice was as clear as ice.
"My Lady, the bright-eyed Goddess Athena is at the edge of the barrier. She says she has heard of your new Sanctuary and has come to offer her congratulations."
Athena?
Hebe's mind sharpened. Athena never made a social call without a calculated purpose. This was not a simple visit.
"I understand, Chione. Have the Nymphs prepare fresh fruit. I shall greet the Goddess personally."
Athena... let us see what game you are playing today.