Chapter 24

Another day, another series of disappointments. I stepped out of the grand hall, rubbing my temples as I exhaled deeply. For days now, my siblings and I had sat through endless interviews, searching for someone worthy to take Zeus' place as the god of lightning, storms, and the sky. Yet, none had impressed us. Either they lacked the power, the temperament, or simply failed to convince us that they could wield the storm as my fallen brother once did.

I needed air. Olympus, for all its grandeur, could feel suffocating when trapped in political deliberations. So, I walked, letting my feet guide me through the streets of the divine city. The polished marble gleamed under the eternal sunlight, the golden temples stood tall and proud, and the divine aura of my kingdom thrummed beneath my steps. Yet, even here, power and pride bred cruelty.

A sharp cry echoed from a nearby alley, halting my steps. I turned my head, narrowing my eyes as I peered into the dimly lit corridor between two opulent buildings. Shadows shifted as bodies moved, and the unmistakable sounds of scuffling, grunting, and jeering filled the air.

I turned my gaze down the dimly lit alley, my sight effortlessly piercing through the shadows.

There, a group of four stood over a lone figure, their postures arrogant, cruel amusement radiating from them. The victim was a boy—mortal, which in itself was surprising. His clothing looked to be made of silk, yet it was filthy and tattered in places, and his body language was tense, guarded. He had clearly been on the receiving end of their torment for some time now.

The ones delivering the torment, however, were far from ordinary. Boreas, Zephyrus, Notus, and Eurus—young gods of the winds. The four of them have been friends since birth and were born a couple years back. From what I could see Boreas was the self-appointed leader, standing at the front, sneering down at the mortal boy.

"What's the matter, wind rat?" Boreas jeered, his icy-blue eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. "Lost control of those little gusts of yours?"

The mortal clenched his jaw, his fists tightening at his sides. "I didn't lose control," he muttered, voice edged with defiance. "I just—"

"Just what?" Zephyrus interrupted, stepping closer. He was the most casually cruel of the four, the one who acted as though this were merely a game. "Just thought you could play god? Just thought you could waltz up here and be one of us?"

Notus scoffed, folding his arms. "Pathetic," he said, shaking his head. "A mortal shouldn't even be here, let alone trying to claim some divine talent."

Eurus smirked, his violet-tinged eyes glinting. "Maybe he needs a lesson in humility. Maybe he needs to learn his place."

The air in the alley shifted, the subtle scent of storm-charged ozone filling my senses. This power was not coming for the four gods, no it was from the mortal. To think that a mortal would be born with the gift to control the winds. The wind curled around him instinctively, as if drawn to his very essence. It was weak, unrefined, but it was there.

And these four young fools felt threatened by it.

Boreas stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. "Maybe a few broken bones will remind you that you're nothing," he said, voice cold as the frost he commanded.

The mortal tensed but did not step back. "I don't want to fight you."

"Oh?" Boreas tilted his head mockingly. "That's funny. Because we want to murder you."

A gust of wind surged from Boreas' outstretched hand, slamming into Aeolus' chest and sending him stumbling back against the alley wall. He grunted in pain, but to his credit, he did not fall.

Zephyrus laughed. "Come on, little wind-rat. Show us what you've got."

"I-I told you that my name is-" he didn't finish as Boreas shook him hard. 

"Yeah, yeah. Aeolus. Do you know what that name means? King of winds, and I told you that the only king is going to be-ME!" Boreas grunted as he kicked him. 

Aeolus exhaled sharply, his eyes narrowing. He spread his hands, and for the briefest moment, the air around him trembled. A weak but noticeable gust stirred in response to his will.

Boreas' expression darkened. "Don't you dare," he growled. He struck out again, this time with more force. Aeolus barely dodged in time, the wind blast slamming into the stone wall behind him and sending debris scattering.

I watched in silence, my fingers flexing at my sides. This was a familiar sight. The strong lording over the weak. The entitled believing they had the right to trample those they deemed beneath them. It was a story as old as time. And yet, this boy—this mortal—held his ground.

That intrigued me.

I shifted my vision as I laid my eyes upon their souls, as I ignored the four young gods and looked at the light blue fire that burned where the Aeolus's heart was and mentally reached out and grasped it as the world seemed to freeze as I searched his memories until I found exactly what I was looking for. 

<------------------>

Aeolus had always felt the winds speak to him. Ever since he was a child, he could feel the invisible hands of the air playing with his hair, shifting at his command. He believed it was a gift from the gods, a sign of his destiny. When news spread that the Olympians were seeking someone worthy to take the domains of Zeus, he knew he had to try.

Gods he had run home, excited to tell his mother and yet she hesitated, watching her son's excitement with a mix of pride and fear.

"Aeolus," she said softly, her aged hands gently cupping his face. "You are mortal... this is quite a difficult path that you want to go. A mortal can not stand with the gods."

He met her gaze, determination burning in his youthful eyes. "But I was born with this power, Mother. What if it means something? What if this is my fate? I have to try something! "

She sighed but nodded, sensing there was no stopping him. She packed him food for the journey, pressing the bundle into his hands with a final plea. "Very well, I just urge that you be safe and return in one piece. You have my blessing and my love, pray that the Gods of Olympus see the wonderful young man you are and give you a chance."

Thanking his mother, he set off for Olympus. The journey was long, the roads winding through dense forests and jagged cliffs. He traveled by foot, using the winds to aid him when his strength faltered. Finally, after days of hardship, he reached the legendary peak. The sight stole his breath away. Towering marble pillars stretched into the heavens, golden palaces glimmered under the sunlight, and divine beings of all shapes and forms moved gracefully through the grand city.

At the entrance, guards clad in celestial armor halted him, their eyes narrowing as they noticed his mortal form. "What business does a mortal have on sacred ground?" one of them asked, voice like rolling thunder.

Aeolus bowed respectfully. "I have come to try my luck. I heard that Olympus is seeking to fill a throne?"

The guards exchanged wary glances. "Be careful," another warned. "Not all will take kindly to your presence here."

They stepped aside, allowing him passage. Aeolus walked through Olympus, eyes wide with awe as he took in the splendor around him. Gods and goddesses moved with an ethereal grace, their laughter like music, their power palpable. He was so caught up in his wonder that he didn't notice someone in his path until it was too late. He collided into a figure, stumbling backward.

"Watch it," came a cold voice.

Aeolus looked up to see a young man with sharp features and frost-blue eyes, his very presence radiating an icy chill. Three others stood behind him, each exuding an aura of command. The leader smirked, tilting his head as he studied Aeolus. "A mortal? In Olympus?"

Aeolus straightened, dusting himself off. "My apologies. I am Aeolus."

The frost-eyed god sneered. "Boreas." He gestured to the others. "Zephyrus, Notus, Eurus. And what exactly is a mortal doing here?"

Aeolus squared his shoulders. "I have come to offer myself as a candidate for the domains of Lord Zeus."

The air around them grew tense. Boreas' expression darkened. "You think a mere mortal could wield such power? That you could stand above us?"

Aeolus remained firm. "I was born with the ability to control the winds, perhaps it is a sign. I have to try my luck!"

The gods exchanged looks, then laughter erupted from them. "A mortal controlling the winds?" Zephyrus scoffed. "Ridiculous."

Boreas' smirk turned cruel. "Let's see this so-called power."

Before Aeolus could react, a blast of freezing wind struck him, sending him crashing into the alley wall. Pain shot through his body, but he gritted his teeth, pushing himself up. The winds around him stirred in response to his will, whipping through the alley with sudden force.

The laughter ceased. The gods started, stunned.

"Impossible," Boreas muttered.

Aeolus wiped blood from his lip, breathing heavily. "Believe me now?"

Boreas' shock turned into fury. "You dare challenge us?" He lunged, the others following. Aeolus braced himself, the winds answering his call as the fight began....

What was he kidding! This was no fight, this was brutally one-sided. Aeolus' control over the wind was nothing compared to the raw strength and refined power of the young gods. They toyed with him, each taking turns unleashing gusts that sent him crashing against the alley walls. Boreas was the worst, his frigid winds cutting like blades.

"You're nothing but a wind-rat," Boreas sneered as he slammed Aeolus into the ground with a powerful gust. The others laughed, echoing the new cruel nickname. "Did you really think you stood a chance?"

Aeolus coughed, tasting blood. The world spun as he was dragged deeper into the alley, where the shadows swallowed the light. His breaths came in ragged gasps. He knew he was going to die here. His dreams, his ambitions—worthless in the face of divine cruelty.... What could a mortal do when four gods decided that they hated them? 

Nothing at all, sadly. For hours he took the torment and for a split second he had thought that he was saved when he saw another god pass the alley, the tall god had stopped and turned to look down the alley before leaving... no! He had to have seen what was happening! Why didn't he stop to help him? Were all gods cruel!?

Desperation clawed at him, and in his weakest moment, he did the only thing left to him. He prayed.

"Please… someone… help me…"

He begged for so long and he was losing hope when a deep voice echoed in his mind, reverberating through his very bones.

Do you wish to be saved? Or do you wish to save yourself?

The words echoed in Aeolus' mind, carrying the weight of an unspoken promise. The wind around him had stilled, the alley now a silent battlefield of shattered stone and divine fury. His body ached, battered by the gods who had dismissed him as lesser, unworthy. Blood dripped from his split lips, staining the marble beneath him.

Aeolus hesitated, the weight of the question settling in his heart. Every muscle in his body screamed for relief, for an end to the suffering. He could feel the bruises forming, the raw sting of wounds torn open by their power. The old him, the mortal boy who had been told his dreams were foolish, might have begged for mercy. Might have prayed for salvation.

But he was not that boy anymore.

Through bloodied lips, he whispered, "I want the strength… to protect myself… and others like me."

Laughter rumbled through his mind—deep, knowing, and approving. It was neither cruel nor kind, merely ancient.

Very well. For ten minutes, I shall grant you the power to have your revenge.

A storm erupted inside Aeolus. His veins ignited with golden fire, the raw force of divine energy surging through his body like a dam bursting. His vision blurred as a searing heat coiled around his bones, twisting into something greater than he had ever imagined. He arched his back, a scream tearing from his throat as golden lightning crackled across his skin.

The air trembled. The wind howled, responding not just to his call but to his very will. It swirled around him in a vortex of untamed might, lifting him to his feet even as his body threatened to collapse under the sheer intensity of the transformation. His wounds sealed, the bruises fading as though they had never been. He was no longer a mortal standing before gods—he was something more.

The wind gods stumbled back, their eyes wide with shock.

"What—" Boreas began, but Aeolus was already moving.

In an instant, he was upon them.

Zephyrus barely had time to register the shift before a single strike sent him crashing into the marble wall, the stone splintering from the impact. Aeolus moved like a force of nature, faster than thought, his body an extension of the storm itself. Eurus tried to summon a wind barrier, but Aeolus shattered it with a wave of his hand, sending a crackling bolt of golden lightning into his chest. The god crumpled, smoke rising from his form.

Notus, the god of scorching gales, roared in defiance. He summoned a column of fire-hot wind, the air shimmering with heat as he sought to burn Aeolus where he stood. But Aeolus merely raised his hand, and the attack dissipated, the very air betraying its master. With a flick of his wrist, Notus was slammed to the ground, the winds chaining him in place.

Only Boreas remained.

The North Wind staggered back, disbelief and fury warring on his face. His icy eyes darted to his fallen brothers before snapping back to Aeolus. "This… this is impossible."

Aeolus loomed over him, his golden-lit gaze unwavering. The power still thrummed in his veins, urging him forward. The wind whispered of vengeance, of justice, of all the pain and humiliation he had suffered at their hands.

They would not have spared you, the voice in his mind murmured. Why show them mercy? Finish them. Take your revenge.

Aeolus clenched his fists, golden lightning crackling between his fingers. He thought of his mother, her soft warnings, the fear in her eyes when she had bid him farewell. He thought of how these gods had beaten him, their arrogance, their cruelty, their scorn. He could strike them down. He could take his place as a god.

And yet…

His heart steadied. His breath slowed.

With deliberate intent, Aeolus relaxed his hands. The winds around him still. The golden glow dimmed, the raw power withdrawing as if responding to his choice. He met Boreas' gaze—not with rage, but with certainty.

"Leave."

For a moment, there was silence. Then, Boreas' jaw tightened, his fists clenching as though he might protest. But when he looked into Aeolus' eyes, he flinched and without another word, the wind gods turned and fled.

Aeolus stood there, the storm within him fading. The presence in his mind hummed, as if in consideration. Then, with a final chuckle, it vanished.

The golden energy drained from Aeolus' body, leaving him trembling in the alley—alone.