The training grounds of Olympus stretched wide, carved into the mountainside with polished stone floors and ringed by towering columns. The sky above was clear, the kind of blue that seemed endless, broken only by drifting clouds. A faint wind moved through, carrying the scent of iron from the racks of weapons that lined the edges.
Athena stood at the center, her spear balanced loosely in her right hand. Her stance was precise, every angle deliberate. Across from her, Ares rolled his shoulders, the edge of his grin sharp as he spun his blade in a slow circle.
"You're tense," Ares said, lowering his sword into a ready stance. "You always were when you thought too much."
Athena's eyes narrowed. "And you've always mistaken confidence for carelessness."
