If someone had told you a few months ago that one of your parents was a god, and that you’d be invited up to Mount Olympus—now mysteriously located in the Empire State Building, of all places—you would’ve laughed, thinking they were either one, schizophrenic or two, hilarious.

But here you were, standing in front of what you could only describe as the mythical home of the gods, a place that defied everything you thought you knew about the world. Mount Olympus, with its towering marble columns and impossibly high ceilings, stretched upward like a vast, surreal palace, full of ancient grandeur mixed with modern splendor. The air itself felt heavy with history, and the faint hum of magic tingled in your veins as you took it all in.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps behind you. You turned quickly, eyes widening at the sight of the woman approaching. She had dark, sleek hair and an air of quiet authority that seemed to draw all attention to her. Despite her regal bearing, she looked relatively normal, at least by the standards of this otherworldly place—except for the subtle presence of power that seemed to radiate from her.

“Hello, Hero,” she greeted, her voice smooth, with a touch of something maternal, but underneath it was a sharpness that made you realize she wasn’t someone you wanted to cross. “I was the one who summoned you.” She paused, letting her gaze settle on you. “I am Hera. I assume you know who I am.”

There was no mistaking the quiet command in her words, nor the faint warning beneath the surface. You had a feeling this was just the beginning of something far bigger than you ever imagined.