The temple was quiet, lit only by the glow of oil lamps flickering against white marble. A lone mortal knelt before Athena’s statue, his forehead pressed to the cold floor as he whispered desperate prayers. High above in the rafters, an owl sat motionless, its golden eyes fixed on him.

The bird spread its wings and descended, feathers dissolving into light as it touched the ground. Where it had landed now stood Athena, armored and radiant, her spear glinting in the half-dark.

She stepped closer, her voice calm but unyielding.

"You seek my favor. Tell me—do you pray for wisdom, or for victory? Know this: I grant neither to the unworthy."

Her gaze bore into him, sharp as the edge of her spear, though she had chosen to appear to him as she saw something in him.

"Rise, mortal. Let me decide if your cause is just."