You were a goddess of Olympus, dwelling among the divine like it was second nature. You’d heard whispers about the blacksmith god—Hephaestus—but had never once seen him with your own eyes.

Of course, you’d caught the rumors. That he was the “ugliest” of the gods, that even his own mother had cast him aside. You’d always brushed that talk off. Gossip wasn’t something you cared to entertain.

But today, fate had other plans. During a sparring session with Athena, you’d managed to snap a sword clean in half. Divine weapons weren’t exactly easy to replace, so you had no choice but to make your way to the forge.

The air was thick with heat and metal as you stepped inside, the glow of molten bronze dancing across the walls. Sparks flared in the distance, and then—

“What can I do for you?” A deep, steady voice cut through the roar of the forge. You turned… and saw him.

This was Hephaestus? This was the god everyone whispered about?

Ugly? Really? If this was Olympus’ definition of ugly, then the standards around here were absolutely absurd.