The Forgotten Story.

Chapter 2

The dawn's light began to bathe the forest. The early morning gently awakened the daytime animals and drove away those of the night, or so it seemed.
On a branch, a crow with red eyes, alert, was drawn by a noise. Curious, it flew from one branch to another to find the source of the sound. Its strange gaze then spotted a fleeting movement to its left, and it decided to follow. First one, then two, then three. Shadows hurried, silhouettes merged into the bushes; the forest had been awake for a while for some.
A figure emerged from the vegetation; it was a rather frail-looking human. Despite his appearance, his movements were so fluid and quick that the crow had difficulty keeping up. Other men ran behind him; was he being chased? The particular human stopped and was quickly joined by others who, apparently, accompanied him.
The crow then landed on a branch and surveyed the surroundings. The group of men was in the center of the forest, amidst a circle formed by stone benches—an unmistakable place in the lush nature, yet cleverly concealed by it. Another group of men, concealed under their cloaks, was already present, along with bags placed behind them.
The first individual was well-hidden, with only a few strands of his brown hair escaping his hood. A brown bag lay at his feet, and with a brisk motion, he picked it up and threw it at the feet of the newcomers.

— As agreed. Now it's your turn.

The most frail one opened the bag and examined its contents. Appearing satisfied, he turned to his men and nodded. Two of his companions stepped forward. One threw a bag at the chief's feet, while the other tossed a small bag in the air that the chief effortlessly caught. He opened the coveted object, and the crow tried to watch from its branch but saw nothing. However, something emanated from this mysterious object—an exceptionally powerful aura.

— Perfect. The hidden stranger closed the bag and instructed one of his men to take the heaviest item. Everything is going as planned. The northern troops are also preparing. Are the ships ready on your end?
— Not yet, unfortunately.
— We must hurry; the hardest part is yet to come.

The crow squawked suddenly, losing a few feathers. A cat had appeared behind it, discreetly, and pounced on it, making it its prey.
Apollo abruptly opened his eyes. He struggled to sit up on his elbows, a surprised look on his face. He had been playing the lyre just minutes before, and now he found himself lying on his bed. It didn't take him long to realize that his prophetic power had manifested on its own.
He rose from the bed; a light breeze swept through the god's chamber, making him shiver, reminding him that he was shirtless. He hastily searched for his clothes and his bow, leaving the room as quickly as possible.
Something was amiss; he didn't like the premonition he felt deep within him. This vision, these men, and especially that mysterious box held by the human. It couldn't be taken lightly. A vision was never a trivial matter; if it appeared so abruptly, there was a good reason for it. Apollo needed to talk to someone about it.

— My son, what is happening?

The man with golden hair stopped abruptly, and his azure gaze landed on his father, the king of the gods: Zeus.

— You're in a hurry; that's not like you.

Apollo scrutinized his father, dressed in garments as white as swan feathers, fresh earth under his sandals, red marks on his neck—no doubt, he had once again frolicked with mortals. Poor Hera.

— I am in a hurry; I must visit Artemis.
— I see... The king of the gods approached his son and placed his right hand on his head. My son. If you need anything, I am here, you know that, don't you?
— Of course, father.

Zeus kissed his favorite son's forehead and let him go. He knew very well that Apollo was hiding something from him; after all, he was the king, the one who knew everything.
He watched him leave Olympus, proudly contemplating this perfect son, Apollo, whom he loved more than anything in the world. But his contemplation was interrupted by his wife's shrill cry calling him. He sighed; this signaled another impending argument.

*

Apollo had borrowed Helios' golden chariot and its four white horses to reach Artemis more quickly. He didn't know where she was hiding, but he especially hoped not to catch her in the middle of a hunting session. If, unfortunately, he disturbed her, his sister might kill him in rage.
After traversing multiple landscapes at the speed of the wind, Apollo arrived above a sacred forest, where his elder sister had established her dwelling. He caressed one of the horses and in a gentle tone, whispered that it could return to its master with its companions. He jumped from the golden chariot and landed effortlessly, with all his grace, on the ground without a single scratch. The horses departed, galloping through the dark night sky. Some leaves fell on his hair and shoulders; he removed them delicately and began walking lightly towards Artemis's abode. Only the sound of the wind passing through the branches accompanied his steps; the animals had likely hidden, fearing to take an arrow to the heart from the goddess.
After a long walk through the woods, he finally arrived at a small palace resembling a temple, with columns covered in ivy and flowers, not far from a river. Two guardians stood before the entrance, clad in animal skins, leather, and bronze, hair braided, faces painted, armed with spears in their hands. When they saw the god, they knelt before him, and the right guardian spoke.

— Mighty Apollo, welcome.
— Rise.

Upon the god's command, they stood.

— Your sister did not inform us of your visit.
— That's normal; she is unaware of my arrival. Is she here?
— Yes, she is in the river.
— Perfect.

The god climbed the few steps of white marble and entered the abode. The place was beautiful, suitable for humans to inhabit, but also for animals to enter freely, where plants and flowers climbed the walls for butterflies to land on, and the air carried an intoxicating fragrance.
This place held no secrets for him, and he quickly headed towards the baths, a place that opened directly to the river, where the women surrounding his sister liked to bathe. Once near the desired spot, he passed the entrance leading to the river, a magnificent setting where wild nature reigned supreme, where his sister's favorite animals, her golden-horned deer, rested most of the time. He found his twin sister in the water, engaging in one of her favorite activities: playing with the nymphs.
Apollo coughed to signal his presence, and Artemis, who was kissing one of her nymphs, turned towards the source of the noise and furrowed her brows.

— Little brother?
— Little sister?

Apollo enjoyed teasing his sister; after all, their destinies had bound them in a way more potent than any connection in this world. The huntress ordered him to turn around so that her companions could exit the water without being seen naked. The blonde complied with his sister's order and waited.

— I can well imagine Father's disfigured face discovering that his beloved little daughter is not as chaste as he thought.
— Can Father even for a second imagine that a woman can love another? Or engage in carnal pleasures? Apollo burst into laughter. What brings about this visit?

Apollo turned around and fixed his sister, who had draped a sheet around her body and was sitting at the base of a tree. Some scars on her muscular arms were still visible, probably from her numerous hunts. Everything about her betrayed her wild and untamed nature: her tousled short brown hair, her scar-marked muscular body.
He walked towards her and then, sitting on the ground, he locked his azure gaze into hers, of the same color.

— Something serious is about to happen.