Athena didn't utter a word as the chamber cleared.
She stayed put, long after Zeus had waved the issue away, long after Ares had departed, chuckling, and long after Apollo had lost interest and drifted off, seeking something more entertaining.
Olympus resumed its familiar clamor.
That was the problem.
It felt too… ordinary.
She waited until the voices had completely vanished, until the marble hall felt empty once more. Only then did she rise from her throne, her movements deliberate, unhurried.
"You're still mulling it over."
Athena halted.
Hera leaned against one of the columns, arms crossed, her expression as piercing as ever.
"I'm considering what wasn't said," Athena answered.
Hera snorted. "You always do."
"Yes," Athena replied, her tone even. "And I'm usually correct."
Hera scrutinised her for a moment. "Thyrios is a coward. Lesser gods always make a fuss, lie, and lose their heads. Nothing surprising about that."
Athena faced her. "He didn't lie."
Hera's frown deepened. "What?."
"He downplayed," Athena countered. "There's a big difference."
Hera waved her hand dissmisively. "Sparta doesn't matter. Zeus decreed it."
Athena's eyes darted to the vacant throne.
"Zeus isn't perfect," she murmured.
That earned her a sharp look.
"Watch yourself."
"The walls listen girl, even I won't be able to save you for what you just said if word ever got out"
Athena nodded slightly. "I always do."
Hera studied her for another moment before turning away. "You're chasing a dead end."
"Maybe," Athena said. "But a dead end only appears when you miss the right track"
Hera snorted and departed.
Athena walked to Thyrios's chambers. All lesser gods bowing their heads when they met her.
She found him laying on his bed, his divinity slowly knitting his wounds closed, though the process was uneven, painful. His once removed arm was slowly regrowing, though the sight was horrendous to look at.
He stiffened the moment he sensed her presence, struggling to rise.
"Don't," Athena said. "You'll tear something."
Thyrios froze, then relaxed slightly, breath shaky.
"…I did what was asked," he said quickly. "I reported—"
"I know what you reported," Athena interrupted.
She stepped closer, her eyes scanning him
"You used the last of your divinity to return," she said. "That wasn't necessary."
Thyrios swallowed. "I didn't want to arrive… late."
Athena nodded slowly. "And you claimed the disturbance was nothing."
"Yes."
She tilted her head. "Then why are your wounds shaped like restraint failure?"
Thyrios' eyes widened.
"I..."
"You don't need to explain," Athena said gently. "I'm not here to accuse you."
That confused him more than humilation would have.
"You're afraid," she continued.
She leaned closer.
"You're afraid that they will find out right?"
"Of your disgusting lie"
Thyrios' hands trembled as he gripped the bedsheet tight.
"Please" he whispered, tears threatning to spill from his eyes.
"Please.. spare my life"
Athena straightened and smiled, but to Thyrios that was the smile of a devil.
"Don't worry. When I'm in need of your assistance. I'll summon you myself"
"Till then be a good dog that you are"
She left the chambers with Thyrios trembling behind her.
She stood at the edge of Olympus
Athena closed her eyes as she reached out.
She extended her hand with practiced restraint rather than force or carelessness. She didn't play with fate. She wasn't yet at that level to do so. She gave it a light brushing, similar to testing water before entering.
The Loom answered.
Threads shimmered into existence.
Most were familiar.
Greek.
Structured.
Predictable.
Then her awareness passed over something that did not resist—but did not belong either.
Her brow furrowed.
"…That's wrong."
It wasn't a soul.
It wasn't a god.
It was a thing, to be specific an object.
Small.
Quiet.
And woven along rules that did not match the Greek pattern.
Athena narrowed her focus, tracing it downward. The farther she followed it, the clearer the sensation became.
Cold.
Old.
Runic.
Orderly in a different way.
Her eyes opened.
"…Asgard."
That alone was concerning.
The pantheons knew of one another. They always had. But knowledge did not mean permission. Boundaries were respected, realms kept separate, not out of courtesy but necessity.
No Asgardian would cross into Greek dominion openly.
Which meant this was an intrusion.
Someone had passed through unnoticed and who ever did wasn't noticed not even by Zeus himself.
Not even by her. It was the object left behind that gave them away, or was it? Whoever had done this was strong and smart enough to evade their eyes; they certainly weren't stupid enough to leave a trace behind.
Her mind raced to the Norse gods.
Was it that cunning idiot or was it the brute?
Athena followed the thread to its anchor.
A modest cottage at the edge of Sparta.
Inside
A boy.
She stilled.
No.
Not the boy.
She refined her perception, stripping away the obvious until the truth surfaced.
Around his neck.
A necklace.
Wooden.
Plain.
Deliberately unremarkable.
And unmistakably Norse.
Athena severed the connection at once, withdrawing her awareness.
"…So that's where it is," she murmured.
A god had entered Greek territory, where else would the necklace have originated from.
Albeit no authority had been challenged.
Something had simply been left behind—quietly, carefully.
As a contingency or something else, after all even gods could be killed although not easily.
Her fingers curled slightly at her side.
"That does not explain Thyrios," she said after a moment.
His defeat stood on its own. A mortal king, defying hierarchy through will alone. No foreign hand had tipped that balance.
Leonidas could defeat a lesser god. She knew he was strong, but not to that extent. Although Thyrios was one of the bottom-ranked deities even among the lesser god he was considered the one of the weakest if not the weakest, but still a god was still a god; while the others might not have cared, She couldn't take it.
Olympian dignity had been trampled upon.
Which made this worse.
Two separate problems in one day.
One loud enough to shake the sky.
One silent enough to slip past fate itself.
Athena lifted her gaze toward the distant horizon.
"I don't know which of you did this," she said softly, not addressing Olympus, but the unseen beyond. "But you were careful."
Careful enough not to be noticed.
Careful enough to avoid escalation.
Careful enough to wait.
That had never happened before.
She stood very still.
"How amusing" she said softly. Bloodlust glimering in her eyes
Footsteps approached behind her.
"It's very rare to see my pretentious all wise and all knowing sister emit such bloodlust"
She turned. Her expression one of annoyance
Apollo stood there, with his usual mocking face.
"You felt it too, didn't you?" he asked.
She looked him straight at his eyes
"It seems one of my brothers has started thinking with his brain rather than his balls"
Then nodded. "Yes."
"And?" he pressed.
"I don't know," Athena admitted. "But Thyrios failed because he was weak."
Apollo raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"And to a mortal, at that. It would have been better if it were a monster or some other creature, but a mortal? That is the greatest disgrace I can imagine. It makes me want to descend myself and wipe them all out and recreate them from scratch so they can finally learn their lesson. Those pitiful, disgusting, and shameless beings." Venom dripped from her voice
Apollo's smile faded slightly. "That's not reassuring now is it?."
"I wouldn't want you breaking some of my precious toys. I've been raising some since the past decades"
"No," Athena agreed. "It isn't."
Apollo sighed. "Zeus won't act."
"I know."
"And you won't defy him."
Athena met his gaze. "No."
Apollo relaxed. "Good."
"I don't want my precious sister to get taught a lesson by father" He said with a pained but fake expression in his face.
She added, quietly, "I will observe."
Apollo studied her, then smiled thinly. "Careful, sister. Curiosity has consequences."
"So does ignorance."
Apollo chuckled and turned away.
Athena remained, eyes fixed on the distant land below.
Sparta.
---
Far below, in a modest cottage, Axiomel paused mid‑step.
For no reason he could name, the back of his neck prickled.
Was it the necklace? His mother had just told him not to put it on, yet he had done so anyway.
He looked up.
For just a moment, he thought he saw something watching him from the sky.
Then it was gone.