Nathan stared at Aphrodite, waiting for her to say the na.
And she did, her smile now a radiant gleam of divine mischief.
"Pandora."
Nathan raised an eyebrow, the na lingering in the air like a forgotten tune.
"Pandora..." he murmured.
It stirred sothing in his mory. The na wasn’t unfamiliar—he had heard it back on Earth, wrapped in the folds of ancient myths and half-rembered stories from his school days. Sothing about a box... or perhaps a curse?
"She was the first woman ever created by the gods of Olympus," Aphrodite said, her voice carrying the weight of legend.
Khione, who had stood quietly until now, suddenly tensed. Her fingers gripped the edge of her robe, pulling the fabric closer to her chest as if it could shield her from the na just uttered. Her cool, aloof deanor cracked as she looked at Aphrodite with uncharacteristic urgency.
"Are you serious about this information, Aphrodite?" she asked sharply.
Nathan blinked. That reaction wasn’t like her. Just monts ago she had been frustrated, but composed. Now... now she looked worried.
"What’s wrong, Khione?" he asked, frowning. She seed concerned.
Khione hesitated for a breath before answering, her voice quieter than before. "That woman... I don’t believe anyone would offer her as a prize with good intentions."
Nathan’s brow furrowed further. "Why? What’s so dangerous about her?"
Aphrodite stepped forward, her smile faded, her tone shifting into sothing more serious—almost solemn.
"As I told you, Pandora was crafted by the Olympians—each god contributing a part of themselves to shape her. She was made to be perfect, flawless in body, mind, and spirit. But do you know who requested her creation? And more importantly... why?"
Nathan shook his head. He had vague notions of the myth, yes, but he wanted to hear the truth now—from a goddess who had lived through it.
Aphrodite nodded slightly, her expression unreadable. "Thousands of years ago, there was a banquet on Olympus. During that feast, Protheus—bold, defiant Protheus—chose to honor humanity above the gods. He gave them fire. He gave them hope. He made Zeus look like a fool before all of Olympus."
A bitter wind swept through the grove as the goddess paused.
"Zeus was enraged. But instead of punishing Protheus directly, he decided to punish the humans—the very ones Protheus favored. Back then, you see, mankind was composed only of n. So Zeus ordered the gods to create a woman. The perfect woman. A gift wrapped in beauty... hiding a curse."
"She was Pandora," Nathan said softly, eyes narrowing.
Aphrodite nodded. "She was given to Protheus’s brother, Epitheus—who, unlike his sibling, was impulsive and naïve. Despite Protheus’s warnings, he accepted her. Even though Pandora was gifted by all qualities she had already inherited weakness, defaults and forms of sufferings that could make anyone turn mad."
Khione’s eyes were downcast now, her voice distant. "She nearly destroyed humanity... by herself."
Nathan frowned. "And now... they want to reward her to the Roman Empire?" he asked, incredulous. "Did Zeus lose his mind after losing Hera? Does he want to wipe out humanity completely?"
But Aphrodite shook her head. "No. This isn’t about revenge. Not anymore. Pandora... has beco uncontrollable—even for the gods. She has power no mortal should wield and a sorrow that cannot be soothed. Zeus believes that if soone—soone worthy—can win her through combat, then perhaps she can be anchored. Perhaps she can find a reason to stay balanced."
"A reason...?" Nathan echoed.
"To live," Aphrodite finished.
A heavy silence settled over them.
"What about Epitheus?" Nathan asked, glancing between the two goddesses.
Khione spoke before Aphrodite could.
"He died," she said simply, her voice soft but sharp, like frost forming on glass.
Nathan turned to her, confused. "How?"
Khione’s gaze t his. "The mont he touched her, he died. Pandora didn’t understand her own sorrow. When Epitheus welcod her into his arms, she felt sothing... overwhelming. And in her grief—in her fear—she unleashed it all. She didn’t know how to control the anguish inside her. That was the day humanity tasted true suffering for the first ti."
Nathan stood still, absorbing the weight of the story. What kind of woman could bring gods to heel and n to ruin? And what did it an that she was being offered now... to a victor in a blood-soaked arena?
"If even a god like Epitheus couldn’t restrain Pandora," Nathan said slowly, confusion etching his features, "then how in the na of Olympus do they expect a re human to fare any better?"
His voice, although calm, carried the weight of disbelief and growing apprehension. He couldn’t comprehend how such a gamble was being taken—especially by beings as prideful and calculating as the gods.
"Exactly because they are human," Aphrodite said. "That’s the point. Pandora was created as the very essence of womanhood—fascinating, beautiful, curious, and tragically flawed. n, too, carry imperfections. And Epitheus..." she paused, shaking her head slowly, "he may have worn the title of a god, but he was weak in spirit. Enchanted by her devastating allure, by her charm that was both tender and terrifying, he surrendered everything. In the end, it was his ruin."
Nathan listened in silence as Aphrodite’s gaze turned distant, as though looking through ti itself.
"For millennia," she continued, "Pandora was sealed away, hidden in a stronghold crafted by Hephaestus himself, reinforced with every divine precaution Zeus could muster. She remained there, dormant... until recently. Sothing changed. She broke free." Her lips tightened. "And in doing so, she slaughtered several gods before Zeus himself was forced to intervene."
Nathan furrowed his brow, stunned. "Then why didn’t he kill her?"
"To kill Pandora..." Aphrodite’s voice lowered, almost to a whisper. "Would have been like slaying a daughter—or perhaps a reflection of ourselves. She holds within her the fragnts of all our gifts. Our powers are part of her. In a way, we made her what she is. That’s why we chose imprisonnt over execution. We thought we were sparing her. Sparing ourselves."
A tremble entered her voice as she added, "But that was our gravest error. Thousand years of isolation did not calm her. It twisted her. The malice within her, the curse she bears—it’s no longer sothing even gods can fully comprehend. Killing her now... could unleash consequences none of us can foresee. Her death might not be the end—it might be the beginning of sothing far worse."
Nathan’s lips parted slightly as the realization settled in. The gods weren’t just being cautious. They were afraid. Genuinely, deeply afraid.
So that was it. Zeus and the others were desperate. Desperate to be rid of Pandora... but unwilling to risk the cost of doing so themselves.
The room fell silent for a mont, and then a voice broke the stillness—soft but urgent.
"She’s extrely dangerous, Nathan. Promise ... promise you won’t go near her."
It was Khione.
Her hand reached out and gripped his arm tightly, her fingers cold from the wintry air that clung to her skin like a second layer. Nathan turned, startled—not by her touch, but by the expression on her face.
He had never seen her like this before.
Khione, who was always composed, aloof, and unreadable... now looked stricken with concern. Her icy blue eyes, usually as frigid as the ice she commanded, shimred with unease.
"I agree with her," Aphrodite said suddenly, stepping forward. The rare seriousness in her tone struck Nathan more deeply than any plea. "That’s why I ca to find you. Even with us by your side—even with Thana watching over you—it may not be enough."
Nathan blinked. "What do you an?"
"She has a curse, Nathan," Aphrodite said softly, "a curse that defies divine law. Not even Thana will be able to stop it. Don’t expect her to. Yes, she took part of your soul, but that doesn’t an she’ll intervene. If Pandora gets her grip on you—" she hesitated, "—it’ll be over. She’ll consu you. And once she does, she’ll destroy everyone close to you—your won, your children... all without rcy. Without hesitation and without even being conscious of it.
The words struck Nathan.
So this was the level of danger they were facing?
And Athena... Athena intended to bring that woman into Ro?
The very idea made his skin crawl.
"I understand," Nathan said finally, voice steadier than he felt. "I won’t go near her. I promise."
But that wasn’t enough for Khione.
"I want you to leave Ro," she said, her tone more pleading than commanding. She squeezed his arm tighter, as though her grip could anchor him to safety.
Nathan looked into her eyes. That sa chilling beauty, that distant coldness—now filled with raw, human concern. It stirred sothing in him.
"I’ll be fine," he said gently. "I’ll finish what I ca here to do, and I’ll leave as soon as I can."
But still, she didn’t let go.
And though she said nothing, Nathan could see it clearly in her eyes: sothing deeper, sothing primal, was gnawing at her instincts.
A dreadful premonition.
User Comments
0 comments from readers