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

Dear Little Maiden

Four days of the grand feast of the seven moons and seven suns had gone past like the currents of the water—undone, unceasing, and will never be the same water every second.

The remaining three days of the grand feast of the seven moons and seven suns were stupefaction, shrouded in eternal darkness.

And three more days, after the fall of Hellas—

Athena suffered under the hands of Enyo and Eris.

A pitiful little creature, a dainty flower, an innocent owlet still navigating the world—Athena was a soul in a woeful poem. Lost, out of touch, and numb to the very bones.

Her child-like essence was vanquished as the goddesses and audience continued to mock her. Even the mice that hid in little cracks had more liberty than her.

More scourging, more invectives—Athena's once beautiful and wise mind was now veiled in a black fabric. She could even feel her spirit chained with briars. And with every glow or a hint of hope brewing inside her, thorns stabbed right through her.

Her bare body, once sealed with a robe of ethereal dignity and glimmering under a sacred light, was now detailed with forlorn wounds that were forfeited with healing as promised by every rainbow that arched after a rain.

"I guess misery is my new friend." A little curve formed on her lips, accepting the verity that her mortal life would be a handful of uphill battles.

And on that third dusk, once Enyo and Eris were done tormenting her, Athena drifted back to her dreamlike state—all darkness, no sound, and devoid of all tangible things that provoked the senses.

But no sooner, a light shined through—

"Olympus!" Athena delightfully squealed after the glaring light settled in. "Home?" She then asked herself. It was too good to be true, knowing she was in a new place under Enyo and Eris's wing a while ago. Yet the scenery of Olympus—feeling it, touching every flower that swayed on the gentle breeze felt so real.

Silver-eyed maiden pinched herself—but she did not wake up.

Everything was real.

The rose she picked from the bush—it was real and not some imagination.

Athena immediately ran to her suite, gliding as she felt like her old divine self again. Her smile was radiating as a new breath of life flowed inside her.

"I—I am home!" She joyfully heralded as she entered her suite, seeing that everything was untouched by the recent destruction.

The bed, her table, the unfinished pots, and her loom were all left untarnished. Her abode remained how she left it.

Athena sang and danced, and her giggles echoed throughout the four corners of her haven. As she looked out through the window, the sky was clear, and the moon began her ascension. The stars also twinkled, welcoming her back to where she knew she always belonged.

Her heart felt the comforting bliss again, beating to the melody she knew too well that she could not find in any other.

The smell of myrrh and lavender lingered in the air, tingling her nose and brain for a leisurely rest. Like a bambi little girl, she bent down to the temptation and fell back to her downy bed—feeling every softness it offered.

"My soul felt ecstatic as if I had tasted the glistening rays of the golden afternoon. Oh, sweet night—take my heart and let not this refuge be lost forever!" Sweet words courteously expelled from her mouth like ripe apples falling from its mother tree.