EoM Bk 1: The Gift of Fire
Copyright© 2026 by Carlos Santiago
Chapter 8: The Cost of Choice
“I believe that is a poor decision.”
— Android 16 (voiced by J. M. ‘Remix’ Gotay). Dragon Ball Z Abridged, Episode 47: “Family Reunion”, produced by Team Four Star. Released on YouTube on May 12, 2015. Based on Dragon Ball Z created by Akira Toriyama. © 2015 Team Four Star. Original Dragon Ball franchise © Bird Studio / Shueisha / Toei Animation. All rights reserved.
The Fates had been circumspect, but of course they were. They would not lie to him. However, they had said something about choice, so perhaps, Zeus’ downfall was not undeniable.
Mysteries were not his gifts before consuming Metis. However, he worked out that a son would defeat him, and a child born of a goddess might also be the one to sit the throne or something. If they were separate beings, then maybe he might be in danger. The problem was what son of his would be selfless enough to try and best him all for the sake of a son by a goddess. He recalled once that they said something about a son of Hera.
In that thought, that would be like Hermes or Ares defeating him so that Hephaestus could sit the throne. Such a conclusion could never happen.
More often than not, the self interest of a god won out over their more magnanimous qualities. Beyond this, none of Zeus’ godly children could defeat him. They could not even so much as hurt him because they each gave a vow of obedience.
With that knowledge, he was about to realize that there was nothing to fear from his godly children, but more godly children born from a goddess would be a mistake.
That meant, surprisingly, the safest beings he could enjoy the company of without fear was humanity.
Zeus walked into the mortal lands with his disguise back on his person. He knew that if he revealed his godly form in its totality with his divine aura, the mortals would burn away.
Their destinies were still uncertain. The species as a whole was unfinished. In some regard, this provided a certain calming peace to him because an unfinished species could not harm him.
Finally, he found an unkempt orchard. The apple trees were bending under the burden of their own generosity. Multicolored fruit were ready for picking, and in his walking, Zeus found that he was not alone.
A woman stood among the trees. She was poorly dressed and had bare feet walking on the grassy ground. She was reaching up to pluck fruit. While she was practically a savage when compared to the gods of Olympus, yet he could see a practiced familiarity that was superior when he thought of the other, lesser humans he had witnessed in his search for answers.
That alone allowed him to think there was something more to see about these people.
She paused when she saw him. There were concerns flashing in her eyes, but she did not flee from him. She looked at him in confusion. There her head tilted slightly as she examined him.
“You are beautiful,” she blurted out.
Zeus halted. That should not be so. He was not in his godly visage. He appeared as an older mortal man. His tall, broad-shouldered, white and silver-haired physique was nowhere to be seen. He was clothed in plain animal furs and his powers did not radiate from his physical form. He was not ugly per se, but he was not the strong being that he knew himself to be.
“I am not,” Zeus said, shaking his head. “You are the beautiful one.”
She smiled at the compliment he paid her before setting the apples she collected in the crook of her arms onto the ground. She approached him to look upon his features with greater scrutiny.
This was a unique sensation for Zeus. There was curious interest in him built from the unknown rather than wondering about Zeus because he was the King of Mount Olympus.
That new feeling threw the ruler off guard. The young woman could never know the depth of how meaningful this all was to him. Nevertheless, Zeus smiled outwardly in a symbol of his approval.
“Are you alone?” she wondered.
She did not right her head when she asked the question, and the monarch wondered what she was seeing.
The question struck deeper than any prophecy. She represented no danger to him whatsoever. Therefore, there was no malicious intent in the asking.
For all of this, Zeus looked past her, to the trees and sky in the background. He was sure if he looked far enough in the direction, he might find Olympus. No one there would have asked him that question. A simple life unfolding without gods or subjects brought a certain joy to him.
Thoughts of Hera’s silence and anger towards him, of his whiny children who wanted his prestige and approval, of the sycophants who wanted power for the sake of it.
None of these qualities were within the woman who stood right in front of him.
And as he thought about how she was unique in her fitting of existence, he realized that he was one-of-a-kind in a similar manner but in a fundamental difference. He was all-powerful; she was not.
“Yes,” he said at last. “I think ... I am.”
“Do you want to be?” she asked kindly. “You should not suffer, Lonely Man.
The question caught him off guard.
She bent over and picked up an apple, offering the fruit to him without expectation.
Zeus blinked in confusion. He could not have imagined his breath of life would have led to this, but Zeus was starting to see what Prometheus was thinking when he designed the mortals, and more than that, he saw why the other gods were enamored by the beings.
Slowly, he accepted the produce from her. His fingers lightly brushed against hers. The smile she flashed upon him made him smile back at her.
Seeing her kindness for the soft meaningfulness that it was, Zeus wondered what the hell he was thinking by ever wanting to get rid of the species.
Aphrodite sat alone.
This was an unfamiliar sensation. She was the type of goddess who always had someone near her when she needed it. For that reason alone, isolation was the definition of a wrongful misstep of reality.
Her palace was never meant to be quiet because her very existence was about lively noise. Sex was meant to be loud, proud, and as long as possible. Love was meant to be shown at every turn. Laughter that lingered for far too long was also ideal for a more dignified Whispered promises of soft nothings were another alternative she might have accepted.
Unfortunately, in recent days, most of that had come and gone. She used to have a plethora of lovers, yet Ares’ infatuation with her had driven away most other suitors. The love goddess might not have judged him for this if he had not been off doing who knows what while leaving her with nothing.
She reclined upon a couch of rose-gold metal and soft cushions. She arranged her limbs in a practiced elegance out of habit rather than intent. Surely, if someone walked in, they would see her and find themselves overcome with lustful desires.
Even if no one appreciated her form, there were mirrors lined throughout the chamber to capture her from a slightly different angle. For some, it would be the curve of her throat; another, the fall of her hair would be the focus; a different view allowed one to appreciate the symmetry of her face; more fell upon the usual parts of desire, such as breasts, waists, legs, or ass.
She had never questioned those reflections before; after all, she was the paramount of beauty of Olympus.
Beautiful.
That is what she had always been and always would be.
However, with other suitors driven away and Ares gone, she found herself silently questioning herself.
Where the fuck was he?
The thought was small but growing in a maligning sort of way born of the pettiness that Aphrodite found herself a bit of a slave to.
He had been distracted by something or someone, and Aphrodite would not stand to be seen as lesser after everything she allowed.
Males wandered; one only needed to look at Zeus to know that. Most returned; again, much like Zeus.
She knew this was also true because often Aphrodite was the ‘other’ woman. She knew what it meant to be the object of desire.
But a great fear was mounting within her.
What if she was no longer good enough to be that object?
What did she have left if that was taken from her?
She rose and moved closer to one of the mirrors so that she could study herself in the smallest, most minute detail. For the first time in a long time, she was not a goddess of power and Olympian authority, but rather, she was a far more fragile little girl that could be broken when faced with the truth of rejection.
If beauty was her dominion, what did it mean when that very beauty was no longer able to keep its hold over others? If desire was her language, what did it mean when no one understood the dialect? The previous praise and prestige meant nothing if it could not be maintained.
If one such as Ares could move on from her without a single thought, did she matter? Was he wanting something quieter, more demure, more untouched, less desired?
For the first time since her birth from the sea-foam, Aphrodite felt the faint spasm of cynical uncertainty. The unsureness of the ground beneath her left her wondering what to do.
Somehow, examining her body did solve anything. She could only see the thousands of lovers she had had and how Ares could think less of her. Was she worth less because she enjoyed the attention of others? She had done so honestly. That is much more than most others.
She turned away from the mirror regardless if her fears were unanswered or not. The silence remained, but that meant nothing when she recalled all that she was, and how hollow she felt when all that she was known for was taken away from her.
Ares came to Hera’s throne room with the confidence of a prince who had never been told no in his life despite the fact that this was the one matron who denied him the most when it came to requests.
He returned his armor to his body, so that the leather and bronze might announce him to the Queen of Olympus. Her domain was that of rulership and matrimony. For him, this meant if he were to make an appeal, then he would do so from a position of strength, not supplication.
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