The Goddess Andrea

Prologue

From the heights of Mount Olympus, where the gods stood majestic, Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty, gazed out, radiant and solitary. With indescribable grace, she approached the cliff where the waterfall cascaded in an incessant torrent.

Dressed only in a transparent veil, she defied convention, displaying her nakedness without fear or shame. Her long blonde hair framed a face that radiated a charm capable of drawing many gazes, not just from those who surrendered to her magnificence.

Born from the foam, she dreamed of freeing herself from the monotony that coiled around her sad and eternal life like a venomous snake. Her longing sighs vibrated deep within her being, like the strings of a forgotten harp, crying out for a melody to break the silence. In her vast solitude, her thoughts became an incessant swell, pounding her mind with questions impossible to ignore. What was the point of living forever if the days, although beautiful, became indistinguishable from one another?

Eternal life, at first glance, appears to be the greatest of divine gifts. It is a gift that promises the possibility of enjoying the world without the constant shadow of time passing, without the anguish of old age or the inevitability of death. For those who yearn for it, eternity seems like a refuge, an escape from human limitations. However, few reflect on the weight of living endlessly, trapped in an endless cycle of days and nights that, little by little, lose their meaning.

To live and live without the possibility of rest, without an end that gives purpose to actions, turns every moment, though initially new, into something inevitably monotonous. What was once exciting and fresh becomes a tedious routine, and experiences that once filled the soul with joy transform into mere echoes of an emotion that can no longer be reclaimed.

Eternity, instead of being a gift, becomes an invisible prison, where the soul languishes, trapped in the endless repetition of a meaningless existence.

On the other hand, mortality, though often feared, is the true essence of life. It is the knowledge of fragility, the possibility of losing everything in an instant, that gives value to every breath. Knowing that time is limited drives one to make the most of it, to find meaning in every small detail, and to find beauty even in the fleeting. It is finitude that gives the courage to chase dreams, even if one does not know if they will be achieved, and teaches the importance of cherishing relationships, knowing they may one day disappear.

Mortality reminds us that each sunrise is unique, that each gesture of love is irreplaceable, and that every tear shed has a purpose in the fabric of existence. It is finitude that forces us to live with intensity, to create memories that transcend time, and to accept the beauty of imperfection.

In contrast, eternity lacks that urgency, that spark of immediacy that makes each moment valuable.

After a moment of deep reflection, the goddess stood and turned her gaze toward the horizon, where the blazing Helios was hiding to leave the sky clear for cold Selena. Aphrodite, lost in a sea of guilt, surrendered to the magnificence of the full moon, whose glow stripped her vulnerable soul bare.

With tears like rivers, she bitterly acknowledged her failure as a mother for abandoning her children; her confession was a melancholic echo that slid through the stars. The cloak of her past was torn to pieces as she admitted her poor performance as a wife, alluding to the countless acts of infidelity she had committed.

Yet her words found no precise form; they only revealed her longing to recover the brightness in her eyes, a brightness that had faded into the vastness of past days.

As time flowed with every beat of her anguished heart, the divinity, disappointed, decided to return to the imposing palace with an expression of bewilderment and a gaze searching for answers. However, a strong wind from the east, like a whim of fate, blew through her hair, stopping her like a sigh suspended in the air.

Amidst the chaos, an intense tingling took hold of her nose. The strong gusts carried a tiny Drea flower into one of her nostrils, causing her to release a reddish substance in a dramatic sneeze.

Without warning, that strange mucus collided with the force of Heracles on the snowy plumage of an albino dove soaring through the Olympic skies at that decisive moment.

With a nasal explosion charged with magic and mucus, the past vanished entirely, opening a threshold to the unknown. At the same time, the future rose before her, clear and defiant, like a vast canvas yearning to be painted with new and striking colors.