A low wind crept through the valley of Alpheus, stirring pale dust into thin spirals that drifted between the hills. The sound was soft, like a whisper trying to warn someone.
Below the ridge, the chisel rang again. Sharp, bright, and steady.
*Ting
*Ting
*Ting
Each strike echoed off the marble, bouncing between scaffolds again and again. Dozens of sculptors gathered beneath the open sky.
High above them stood King Roderic, son of Dromeus, on a scaffold of smooth cedar planks. One hand shaded his eyes as he looked down at the nearly finished sanctuary. Eleven statues, great and towering, formed a circle around the sacred hill.
Athena watched with her calm, sharp eyes. Poseidon held his trident as if the sea still roared behind him. The others stood just as proud, carved with such skill that sunlight filled their robes and shadows clung to their brows.
All except the center.
There, the space waited empty, like a question the kingdom had not yet dared to answer. The statue of Zeus lay unfinished at the foot of the hill. No matter how the workers pulled at the ropes or pushed the levers, the stone block refused to rise, as if it had grown roots in the earth itself.
"It's a sign," murmured the high priest Aldric. He kept his eyes lowered, but fear tightened his jaw. "The Father of Heaven rejects this sanctuary. Something here is wrong."
King Roderic's voice was calm as he ordered. "Then the fault must be found."
A hush spread across the courtyard. Men shifted uneasily, rubbing thumb-worn amulets of Apollo, Artemis, and Hera. Some quietly cursed their luck. Everyone knew that the king was the one who was at fault, but no one dared to voice it aloud.
Then a soft voice carried across the stone.
"How could Zeus accept this place when his brother was forgotten, Father?" the voice said, making every head turn. A young woman stood at the edge of the scaffold lines, wearing a deep violet tunic fastened with gold. However, she didn't look neat. Road dust clung to her legs, and her boots were scuffed, probably from long travel.
"Princess Thea." Aldric frowned sharply. "You were ordered to remain with your tutor, Temir. Why have you disobeyed?"
King Roderic silenced him with a single raised hand. His gaze, cool and piercing, fell on his daughter. "Speak plainly."
"I am only the messenger, father," Thea said. "My master foresaw Father's humiliation and sent me with the solution."
Her words spread through the workers like ripples in still water—uncertain, suspicious, but impossible to ignore.
Roderic asked. "What is it?"
As Thea stepped forward, the crowd parted reluctantly. Her hands brushed the rough base of the Zeus statue as if feeling for a heartbeat inside the stone. Then she knelt and drew a small idol from her satchel.
Thea then placed it beside Poseidon's great stone feet, near the empty place where Zeus was meant to stand.
For a heartbeat, the world was silent.
Then she gestured for the servants to go ahead.
Then the ropes tightened, and this time the great statue of Zeus rose smoothly, almost lightly, as if its weight had been nothing but a stubborn illusion. It slid into its place with a thunderous sound
Gasps broke from the workers in awe and shock. The priests stared at the small idol as though it were a spark that could burn the whole kingdom down.
At first, Roderic wondered what kind of idol his daughter put that made this possible, but when he observed it closely, he saw a scepter in the hands of the idol.
"Thea," Roderic thundered, rising to his feet at once. His facial muscles twitched as his voice carried like rolling clouds. "You placed the one who dwells below in the sacred sanctum?"
Thea blinked. "The one who dwells below?"
"Yes," he growled. "He who killed your own grandfather."
Shock flickered across her face. "Huh?"
Whispers raced among the priests. Fear flickered in their eyes. None dared interrupt the king.
Roderic stepped down from the dais, each footfall echoing like a drum. When he stood before her, he raised a hand. She flinched, expecting a slap.
Instead, he said, "You followed your master's will. For that, your punishment will be light. You will gather one hundred thousand oak leaves—dry, whole, untouched by blade. On each one, using ink alone, you will write the name of Zeus."
A breath cut through the courtyard in stun. "Hundred thousand of them?"
Roderic turned to the sculptors. "As for you... I don't know who did it, but it is a fact that a craftsman has sculpted this idol. How dare your kin sculpt the idol of Hades when it is forbidden by me? How dare you challenge the King's orders?"
Taking a deep breath, he roared. "The craftsmen whose hands shaped the forbidden idol... You will take your tools and leave my lands."
A tremor of disbelief spread through the workers.
"Exile?" one whispered. "But to where?"
"To the wild places," Roderic said. "To the dark roads where demons walk. Build for them, if they will have you. You have no place under my roof."
Macar, the eldest, threw himself to his knees. His beard was stained with marble dust, his voice raw with desperation. "My king, show mercy! We carved only what the gods asked of us. Do not punish all for one mistake."
Roderic looked down at him with cold resolve. "This is not mercy or cruelty," he said. "It is a warning the world will not forget."
Thea, meanwhile, was stunned in her spot, "Hades?"