The Last Ballad of Olympus: The Waltz of the Vulture and Owl

The End of An Era

Sound waved through in the air—a commotion—an argument that rang her head in repetition.

The goddess of wisdom opened her eyes to realize why she suddenly passed out again. The revolting smell of blood tingled her nostrils, causing her to react unpleasantly.

"I—I can't!" She grumbled as she rose from her dazed position. But feet lost all of their vigor, and Athena again was pulled down to the ground, where she cleared her convoluted thoughts and crawled her way to the center of the ballroom.

The poor goddess had become what she always dreaded—a weakling little fool who could not help but feel sorrowful. Yet she managed to obscure the emotion and kept moving to the middle of the vast dancefloor.

At last, she was at the center, covered in unknown glittering specs and blood as she rolled on her back and stared blankly at the colorful frescos that adorned the high ceiling. Sadly, there were no great-built tactics formulating in her brain. Ironically, Athena lay there for almost a minute and softly sang a lullaby that promptly manifested through her lips.

"Roses bloom in beauty and in grace,

She sprouted from the soil of sincerity

And nourished from the water of charity.

A rose bloom,

May not be high and in glory,

But she blew away the gloom—

She wiped away the painful tears that

Dare to drown the blessed beauty."

Amidst the quietude that hovered upon the ballroom, Athena's voice rang like the dawn, resonating like a white spirit gliding over the gentle waves of the sea. The goddess remained in a solitary state, letting her tangled thoughts wander about the nonsensical world that appeared out of nowhere.

However, while on the verge of madness, something forced her to pick herself back and let go of her current gloominess. The goddess instinctively complied as she groggily rose and walked towards the throne area, where she faintly spotted a familiar object lying on the ground.

Her little steps reflected every drop of sand of the running hourglass. It was measured—a slow rhythm that gradually broke the synchronicity of the known melody.

Athena's eyes turned childlike. Silver orbs grew wide, glistening from the flooding tears as she reached down to the cloth on the floor. It was purple and beautifully decorated—it was Zeus's.

The god is dead.

The pantheon no longer existed.

She was shaking when she took the fabric. Then, in a sudden blue, Athena cried her eyes out as she tightly embraced the bloodied robes of the king. Blood and tears immediately painted her face as she sobbed and raged, knowing she was too late.

Athena was plaguing herself—pounding and screaming on the floor as she threw a wild fit of pique.

She could have saved everyone—but no, did fate show their favor on Ares. Her eyes bore the color of rage, and her face became white like a marble losing its color. There were voices inside her head that encouraged the madness to go berserk, but her heart and soul despised them and seemed to pull her back on the ground.

"I—I could have sa—save the—them!" Her wails reeked the pain that was mounting inside—blaming herself for the frightening event now happening around her.

***

"All hail to the new king!" Enyo smiled as she presented to Ares the heart of Olympus, which was now sadly broken into tiny pieces with its glow slowly fading.

Instead of a gleeful response, the god of war stared down at the broken gem and plastered a placid and stony disposition on his façade. A large pit sporadically formed on his throat once he accepted the gift. The taste of sourness lingered in his mouth once he heard the new title bestowed upon him.

"King—A king?" He deeply thought, clasping the sharp pieces until his hands bled. "Why was this—"

"The heart of Hellas has no place in our reign. Everyone's divinity is no more." Enyo sniggered.

"If only you could see the fear on everyone's faces when we attack." Eris pressed as she appeared from the darkness with a bloody sword in one hand. "They had their egos raised at first, but when they knew about the heart of Hellas crushed into pieces—their demeanors changed."

Ares simply nodded at her report—nothing new from his interaction with Enyo.

"Ares, you are now the king!" Eris announced joyfully.

Though curving a quaint smile, Ares was still in disbelief.

His plans finally had been fulfilled. All those long years of strains and desires were, at last, bore its fruits. Somehow, there was no satisfaction blooming inside of him. There was no rejoicing, no gloried praises—the god only stood on the same ground, knowing he would now rule over a dead land still ravaged by the apocalypse.

Ares looked at the two goddesses again and noticed something odd. "Where are Deimos and Phobos?"

Eris and Enyo had gone quiet. There was no answer. Their ecstatic faces turned placid, avoiding his solid gaze that seemed to spike through their psyche.

"What happened?" Ares questioned as his face remained emotionless.

"They all—Well—They all perished when Zeus called forth the large thunder," Eris informed while concealing her fear, not knowing whether he would explode.

"I am sorry, Ares," Enyo added. "But at least Enyalius is still alive." She smiled, hoping that the thick aura drifting above them would lessen.

His amber eyes intensely stared at them, only giving them an idle nod. "Enyalius is dead, Enyo." He announced as he faced the goddess of war. "I saw his lifeless body in the garden before it dissolved into small specs. My condolences to you as well."

Enyo suddenly congealed from what he told her. There was this pause, making her reflect. Her son was gone, and there was nothing between her and Ares. Enyo could only tighten her grip on her bloodied sword's hilt.

"De—dead?" She stammered, with one hand on her chest, as she felt her pounding pulse.

"Yes," Ares answered.

"Goodness me. What a tragedy it was." Eris sympathized, though her tone reverberated into more of a taunting. "Anyways, a misfortune must happen before pleasure. Remember, after a night is always the morning glory."

"Ho—how can that be? Ares, our son—I told him about the plan." Enyo stated, walking towards him with inevitable distress.

Ares raised a brow and stared down on the floor. He could not fathom her wondering and skepticism. One thing he could do was simply tell her, "Power comes with sacrifices. Everything had to catapult from something."

By that, Enyo could only draw her tears and, in pronto, withdrew her mourning.

"The whole of Olympus is in chaos, and the mortal plains are in disarray. I am now swimming with the rising thoughts of ruling over what."

"Ah, fear not, Ares, for there will be survivors. And once they plead on your temple, they will soon know who now ruled over them." Eris explained, feeding some satisfaction towards the god as he sighed and grinned at her.

"That was a pleasing note."

"Let us return to the throne room and crown you properly." The goddess of discord smiled back, hinting with a twinkling in her eyes.

The other two deities followed and left their secret lair with distinct willy-willy emotions.