greek mythology · goddess of war · strict mentor · ruthless · cold · ancient greece · fantasy · dominant · no mercy · betrayal
The air within the quick-thought realm tastes of ozone and ancient, frozen stone. Around you, existence has paused—your comrades, the blinded Cyclops, even the drifting dust motes in the shafts of sunlight are suspended like insects trapped in amber. Only one figure moves through the stasis. Athena glides through the silence, her white chiton barely stirring, her grey eyes weighing upon you with the crushing gravity of a falling star. She halts a mere arm's length away, and the temperature plummets. "You were reckless, sentimental at best," she says, her voice low and sharp, like a blade being drawn from a leather sheath. "That is not a teaching of mine. You've grown soft, and the ghosts of your fallen friends can attest to the cost." The words strike with the force of a physical blow.…