Memorial

Athena

The fires of Olympus burned low that evening, not for a lack of flame, but because mourning dulled even divine light.

Two bodies lay at the center of the Council Hall.

Hermes, swift-footed trickster of the skies, messenger of the gods, now lies silent.

Apollo, the golden twin, god of music, prophecy, and sun, his radiance dulled beneath gold mourning cloth.

Their weapons rested at their sides. Daggers, bow, and lyre all silent now. Obsidian altars had been carved to hold their forms, surrounded by wreaths of myrrh and crushed cypress.

Athena stood between them, armor still scratched from battle, blood dried at her brow, and her hands resting against the hilt of her sword.

At the head of the chamber, Zeus sat high upon his throne, lightning flashing in his eyes, not full of sorrow, but something much colder.

When he finally stood, his voice rang across the chamber in judgment:

"Two gods are dead, our own brothers and children."

The Council was silent.

"They were not slain by mortal hands. They were not struck down by fate. No, Hermes and Apollo met their cruel end at the hands of one of our own."

He paused momentarily before throwing out his accusation:

"At the hands of Artemis."

Gasps and whispers rippled through the chamber like wind over fire. Hera said nothing. Poseidon raised an eyebrow. Dionysus let out a quiet chuckle, as though half-drunk already.

Athena's nails cut her clenched palms.

"That is a blatant lie," she said, the evenness in her voice a stark contrast to the turmoil in her mind.

Zeus looked down on her. "A lie? You were there, were you not? You witnessed them fall, deaths caused by following her rebellion. You saw who came to her aid, a clear sign of her treason."

"We have no way of knowing why he showed up there. The face she made showed she wasn't expecting him. Not to mention Hermes and Apollo chose to protect her. They knew what they were doing and made the choice willingly."

"And because of that choice, now they're dead."

Zeus's words dropped like a guillotine.

Athena straightened, refusing to flinch. "They died because Olympus turned on its own. They died because of your paranoia."

Zeus's voice thundered. "Because Artemis led them into rebellion, into hiding! Her actions brought chaos, and she did not hesitate to raise arms against her siblings. Against her family."

Athena stared back, her voice lower now.

"Your foolish blame pushed her to do so; you left her no other options, no way out."

Zeus stepped down from his throne, his massive aura filling the chamber. "Regardless, her actions led to the death of two gods, a crime for which she will be held accountable. That is my final decision."

Athena didn't answer.

Because she had no support. No story to protect Artemis that would stand against Zeus's carefully constructed narrative he seemed intent to push.

So she did the only thing she could do.

She walked to the altars.

Laid a hand on each of them.

"You died bravely. You died for something you believed was worth dying for. And I will never forget that."

Even if the rest of Olympus already has.

Silence filled the chamber for a short time.

Then, to the surprise of everyone, Hera rose.

Without a word, she descended the dais and lifted the golden veil covering Apollo's face. Her fingers lingered near his brow, brushing aside a lock of hair he'd always worn too long.

"My child," she whispered, barely audible.

The Queen of Olympus knelt and kissed his forehead. Her tears didn't fall, but her breath shook as she pulled the cloth back into place. She did the same for Hermes, neither her biological children, yet loved no less. Then she stood straight, regal once more.

Zeus nodded towards the altar.

Two priests stepped forward, faceless red robes pulled high to cover them, smoke rising from their feet. They held bowls of sacred oil and bundles of olive branches charred at the tips. They began the rites.

Oil was poured over each god's body, darkening their robes. The scent of thyme and crushed lavender filled the room. A soft chant began, low and rhythmic, like the beating of ancient war drums slowed to a funeral's crawl.

The flames were lit.

A white glow enveloped their bodies, divine fire. Only a little remained now that Hestia wasn't here to care for it.

Hermes's scarf fluttered once in the heat before it crumbled into ash.

Apollo's lyre snapped a string, the low note it released echoing across the chamber.

Athena turned her face away, just enough that the others wouldn't see her jaw tighten, tears spilling from her eyes. She had fought with them during the war, against them at the end, laughed and bled beside them. Apollo had once gifted her a scroll etched with riddles only they understood. Hermes had once stolen every book from her personal library, just to prove he could put them back before she noticed. And now-

Gone.

Bodies burned under a false decree.

Their names would be remembered. But not truthfully.

The Council chamber remained eerily still, the firelight casting long shadows on the marble floor. Only Poseidon leaned forward in his throne, watching her with eyes like storm-rippled oceans. Something unreadable in his gaze, like he could hear the thoughts in her head.

Dionysus looked bored.

Demeter was absent, left before the fire even started.

And Ares… Ares stood in the back, arms crossed, the faintest smirk on his face. A bruised welt still marked his chin where Requiem had struck him.

Athena's fists clenched again.

She never would have anticipated his arrival. Everything she knew about him showed he hated the gods. His skills were perfectly honed to slay them. When he appeared, he had forced both of the gods of war on the defensive.

And now the mortal had saved Artemis.

It complicated matters.

Zeus turned to face the Council once more, his voice filled with a fake sadness. "Let their ashes serve as a warning. To all who would betray Olympus. To all who would forget the order that binds our domain."

Athena stepped forward, countering his declaration with her own. "Let their ashes serve as a memory of courage, of love, of sacrifice. Not betrayal."

Several heads turned, and someone even gasped. Zeus narrowed his eyes, but said nothing.

Let them whisper.

Let them wonder if the goddess of wisdom had finally lost her mind; she didn't care anymore.

The flames roared higher, and as they consumed what remained of the bodies, Athena watched.

When the flames had finally died, nothing remained of Hermes or Apollo but ash and twisted metal. The twin urns—ornate and cold—were sealed by Hera herself and placed in the Hall of Remembrance beside the others who had fallen since the dawn of time.

Ares did not stay for that part.

Neither did Zeus.

Only Athena remained behind, watching the attendants sweep away the soot. She lingered until the last of the smoke faded, until even the warmth in the stone was gone. Then she turned and walked.

Down the polished steps of the hall of the gods.

Picking up speed as she made her way to her own home.

Each step rang louder than the last, falling faster as she went.

Until finally, out of breath, she stood before her own chambers, hand resting against the carved iron handle of her door. The sigil etched into it, owl wings bracketing a spear, seemed to stare back at her as if it were watching.

Judging her.

She stepped inside.

The chamber was still immaculate. Cold. Logical. Shelves of ancient scrolls and polished helms. A case of relics from past wars stood against the wall, each labeled and indexed, History kept neat and orderly as she liked it.

Athena removed her cloak and armor in silence, piece by piece. First, the bracers. Then the greaves. The breastplate, which clattered too loudly onto its stand. She caught her reflection in the mirrored edge of her shield.

There was a scratch on her temple, above her left eye. Marking her otherwise perfect face. Worse than the physical injuries, though, was the pain inside her heart.

Something had fractured within.

Her fingers drifted to a small trinket tucked behind a bookcase—an old charm Apollo had once made as a joke. A miniature sun on a chain of twine.

She'd never thrown it away.

Now it sat in her palm like a weight.

Athena closed her eyes.

"Betrayal," Zeus had said.

He had looked the Council in the eye and told them Artemis had turned on her brothers. Had struck them down in fury. Had betrayed Olympus for her pride. And the others… they had listened.

Not a single demand for proof.

Not a single question.

They accepted the lie because it was easy. Because Artemis had always walked the line between obedient and wild. Had always been the one to call the council fools when they made a mistake. Because none of them wanted to admit the truth: the gods weren't infallible. They could bleed, and right now they were at their weakest.

The mortals had won, and not just during the war.

Requiem had bested Ares and Athena both and walked away with Artemis in his arms.

She clenched the charm until it bit into her palm.

"Artemis didn't kill them," she said aloud to the empty room. "You know she didn't."

But no one would hear her here.

No one would believe her even if they could.

She had tried to defend Artemis in the chamber, had spoken truth against Zeus's decree… and yet the others sat quiet. They bowed their heads. Burned the bodies. Let the lie live.

A cold wind blew through the balcony window.

She turned toward it, gazing out into the world below.

Clouds moved like restless spirits over the mortal lands, veiling the stars.

Somewhere out there, Artemis was alive.

With a mortal who'd once fought her to a draw. The same man who now carried her through the ruins of Olympus's lies.

Athena's brow furrowed.

Perhaps it was time she stopped believing in the myth of Olympus, and while she was at it, maybe break her curse.