Olympus – Morning Winds and Marble Secrets
Hera stepped through the golden archway at the entrance of Olympus. The dawn light caught her robes, painting them with soft reds and deep purples as she walked forward with her head held high. Every step echoed with quiet authority. No one dared greet her. They simply bowed low as she passed, their eyes lowered to the polished marble floor.
The mission was done. Typhon's broken corpse lay rotting back in Tartarus. She had spoken with the ancient prison itself, and her words still tasted bitter on her tongue.
But none of that showed on her face. Her expression was smooth, calm, commanding. As she moved through the long halls of Olympus, she caught flickers of conversation among the lesser gods and nymphs standing near the columns, their whispers fluttering like moth wings.
"…Metis is always near him these days…"
"…the queen must be wise… Metis is wisdom itself…"
