The great doors of the throne hall groaned as they swung open.
Ares strode out, fire still clinging faintly to his armor, each step striking hard against the marble. His face was carved in stone, no trace of his usual mocking grin. Only a deep frown. His hand gripped his spear so tightly the bronze creaked. The air around him shimmered faintly, heat rising from his fury like smoke from smoldering embers.
The courtyard outside the palace was alive with the quiet hum of Olympus. Statues lined the way, rivers of light cutting through the marble floors. The stars above shimmered clearer than any mortal sky. Yet the god of war saw none of it.
He was still hearing Zeus's voice.
Apologize. Hold back. Call him brother.
The words twisted inside him like barbs.
–––
He was halfway across the courtyard when two figures appeared ahead.
