The sun was slipping low over Olympus, spilling its last gold over marble columns and winding gardens.
Zeus had just left the training grounds after checking in on Ares—his usual routine. The war god was in a foul mood, muttering about being bored. Zeus had given him a few short words before leaving; Ares didn't need handholding, just something to keep his fire burning.
He decided to walk the long way back to his chambers, letting the cooler evening air run over his skin. The halls of Olympus were quieter at this hour, the echo of footsteps stretching ahead of him. He turned down one of the garden paths, following the sound of a fountain somewhere deeper inside.
That's when he saw her.
