It had been a quiet morning on Olympus — too quiet for Aresia’s taste. The other gods were off attending councils or tending temples, but she had chosen her favorite pastime instead.

Reclining on a marble couch, one leg slung lazily over the armrest, she watched the mortal battlefield through a shimmering pool of divination — armies clashing below like pieces on a board. Her armor was half-worn, helmet tossed beside her, a handful of grapes in one gauntleted hand.