I, the slave boy, awaken with the most potent seed!!

The stillness of Limbo shattered in an instant.

Boom!

The ground trembled violently, throwing up a plume of dust and sending cracks spidering across the earth. Zafron and the women snapped their heads toward the sound, their hearts pounding.

"Is it them?" Calista asked, her hand instinctively going to her weapon.

Aurelia's eyes narrowed, scanning the swirling chaos ahead. "It has to be. They've come back for us."

Before Zafron could reply, a streak of red light tore through the air, its glow brighter than the sun in this dim realm.

Vroom!

The weapon—a massive, blazing spear—shot toward Zafron with impossible speed. He barely had time to process the danger before it slammed into him.

Pain exploded in his chest as the impact launched him off his feet. The force was so intense that he felt the wind knocked from his lungs, his body hurtling through the air like a ragdoll.

The world became a blur.

Zafron crashed into the temple with a deafening thud, the ancient structure groaning under the force of his landing. He slid across the cold stone floor, his vision swimming, before everything went black.

"Zafron!" Calista screamed, sprinting toward him.

Aurelia followed close behind, her movements swift and deliberate despite the panic written across her face.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

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But before they could reach him, a thunderous crack echoed behind them.

The figure that emerged from the smoke was unmistakable—a towering man clad in blood-red armor, his presence radiating pure power. His skin gleamed like polished bronze, and his eyes burned with the fury of a thousand battles. The god of war himself, Ares, had arrived.

Without hesitation, Ares raised a massive arm and swung it in their direction. A shockwave of energy rippled outward, sending both women flying backward like leaves in a storm. They hit the ground hard, groaning in pain as they tried to regain their bearings.

Ares ignored them. His attention was solely on Zafron.

Striding forward with purpose, he reached down and grabbed the unconscious mortal by his legs, lifting him effortlessly into the air like he weighed nothing.

The god of war cast one disdainful glance at the women before bending his knees and leaping skyward. Flames erupted around him, golden and fierce, propelling him higher and faster than seemed possible.

In seconds, he was gone, leaving only the faint shimmer of his fiery trail and the sound of his departure echoing in the stunned silence.

Aurelia and Calista scrambled to their feet, their faces pale and their breaths ragged.

"What...just happened?" Calista whispered, her voice trembling.

"Ares," Aurelia said grimly, her gaze fixed on the sky. "He's taken Zafron."

"And now what do we do?" Calista demanded, panic creeping into her tone.

Aurelia clenched her fists, determination hardening her expression. "We get him back. Whatever it takes."

The Great Hall of the Gods shimmered with an overwhelming aura of majesty and intimidation. Carved from the essence of the cosmos itself, the chamber was a blend of timeless elegance and raw power. Pillars of starlight spiraled endlessly upward, and the floor beneath glowed faintly, as though reflecting the infinite galaxies beyond. Around a massive circular table sat the gods, their forms radiating divinity, their eyes glowing with ancient wisdom—or, in this moment, judgment.

Aphrodite stood at the center, her wrists bound by chains forged from celestial fire. Despite her regal beauty, her face was pale, her usual confident demeanor replaced with an air of regret. Beside her, Eros, ever defiant, glanced nervously between her and the silent, imposing figure of Zeus seated at the head of the table.

"You've brought shame upon yourselves and this council," Hera hissed, her eyes narrowing at Aphrodite. "Do you think you can hide your crimes behind love and righteous intentions?"

Aphrodite's lips tightened, but she said nothing, her gaze fixed on the polished floor.

Eros opened his mouth to speak, but before he could utter a word, a streak of fire tore through the sky above Olympus. The council chamber darkened momentarily as the fiery glow pierced the heavens, its trajectory unmistakable.

Aphrodite's breath hitched. She closed her eyes, her shoulders sagging under the weight of regret. She didn't need to look. She knew what—or rather, who—was descending.

The streak grew brighter and brighter until it crashed into the ground outside the chamber with a deafening boom. The vibrations were so intense they rattled the gods' thrones. Ares entered moments later, his every step like thunder. Draped over his shoulder, like a sack of grain, was Zafron.

The mortal hung limp, unconscious, his clothes torn and singed. Ares strode to the center of the chamber and unceremoniously dropped Zafron onto the floor with a resounding thud.

"You wanted him, here he is," Ares growled, crossing his arms as he glared around the room.

The council erupted into murmurs.

"So, this is the mortal?"

"This is the one carrying the flame of vitality?"

"I expected someone... grander."

"Hardly impressive," another muttered.

The disdain in their voices was palpable, each word a dagger aimed at Zafron, who lay oblivious to the scrutiny.

Aphrodite's fists clenched, her nails digging into her palms as she forced herself to meet the sight of Zafron's battered form. Eros shifted uncomfortably, his usual cocky air diminished in the face of his peers' scorn.

"This is the great solution to your plight, Aphrodite?" Hera sneered. "This fragile creature?"

"Enough," Zeus's voice cut through the chatter like a blade. The room fell silent, all eyes turning to him. "There is no sense in judging a man who cannot even stand to face his judgment. Wake him."

A gesture from Zeus, and a golden light descended from above, enveloping Zafron's body. The warmth seeped into him, pulling him back to consciousness.

Zafron's eyelids fluttered open. His vision was a blur at first, the light of the hall dazzling and overwhelming. He groaned, pressing a hand to his throbbing head as he pushed himself into a sitting position.

'What in the hell just happened?'

Slowly, his vision sharpened. The first thing he noticed was the magnificence of the chamber, the sheer otherworldliness of it. Then, as his gaze traveled upward, he saw them—dozens of towering figures, their forms radiant and their gazes piercing.

'This... this isn't real. Is this heaven? Paradise?'

His breath hitched as his eyes landed on two familiar faces. Aphrodite and Eros stood apart from the rest, their expressions heavy with guilt.

'Okay... maybe not paradise.'

Before he could process further, a voice rang out, dripping with mockery. "Look at him, the mortal champion of the gods, with the eyes of a deer caught in a hunter's light."

Laughter rippled through the chamber, low and cruel.

Zafron staggered to his feet, his legs shaky but his pride intact. He glared at the source of the insult, a god whose smug grin could only belong to someone accustomed to superiority.

"What is going on here?" Zafron demanded, his voice hoarse but steady. "Where am I, and why in the hell have I been dragged into this?"

The gods exchanged looks, some amused, others disapproving.

"You're in the council of the gods," Zeus stated, his voice booming and final. "This is no place for mortals, yet here you stand. A rare honor."

Zafron's gaze darted to Aphrodite and Eros, then back to Zeus. 'The council of the gods? Great. Meetings with immortals apparently involve being kidnapped and thrown around like a sack of potatoes. Good to know.'

"An honor, huh?" he muttered under his breath, earning a sharp glance from Hera.

"Silence!" she snapped. "You will speak when spoken to."

"Charming," Zafron replied dryly, crossing his arms.

Zeus raised a hand, silencing Hera before she could retort. He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing at Zafron. "You are here because you carry something that does not belong to you. Something sacred. Something stolen."

Zafron blinked, his mind racing. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Aphrodite flinched at his words, but before she could speak, Eros spoke first, his voice steady despite the tension. "It's true, Father. The flame of vitality—it resides within him. We gave it to him."

'Flame of vitality? What the hell is that supposed to mean?'

His eyes darted to Aphrodite, whose head hung low, and then to Eros, whose usual confidence seemed like a thin mask.

'Whatever this is, it's bigger than me. And I'm right in the middle of it.'