Mountain of the Immortals

I would have expected my sleep to be restless since I was finally getting so close to exacting revenge on my father. Yet the night went by peacefully, and I woke up feeling completely rejuvenated shortly before sunrise. My favorite time of the day. I got into my upgraded gear and got out of the house to enjoy the clean air.

Songs had been written about how beautiful the sunsets were from the top of Mount Olympus. But bards were always the type that got completely drunk at night and slept all the way through sunrise. For me, that was when the colors of the sky really took on their magical hues and looked their best.

Artemis and Aphrodite woke up right after me and, having picked up Hephaestus, we all headed toward the portal, watching the sun slowly rise and show its magnificence above the clouds that partially shrouded the surrounding lands. Ares was already there waiting for us, armed to the teeth with the new equipment Hephaestus had crafted for him.

Within minutes, Aphrodite had summoned her magical oyster and we were entering it as the night-shift harbormaster looked at us in amazement. I went in first, and sat down on the comfortable couch I’d used so many times before, while the rest of them took their places around the large table, leaving the armchair free for Aphrodite.

Once the lid had closed and we were securely inside the vessel, Aphrodite leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes, and before we knew it, we were moving. The trip lasted no more than a couple of hours, during which we tried to conserve our energy so that we would be in our peak condition once we arrived.

When we finally reached the sea surrounding the base of Mount Orthys, Aphrodite took the oyster to the shore and opened it for us to disembark. The view of the mountain was something I hadn’t forgotten, but when I left I didn’t think I would ever see it again. At least not so soon.

The last time I’d seen the mountain towering over the sea was when I momentarily looked back to see if my enemies were following me. It was when I’d commandeered one of the ships and tried to escape the wrath of my father and his troops. This time, however, I was in no hurry at all. In fact, I would be the one doing the pursuing.

The mountainside had radically changed compared to that last time. The grand cliffs of the mountain were now covered in deep scars, and its formerly lush forests had been chopped down, leaving the land bare. This was the result of my father starting an all-out war with me, using all of the resources he had, just to make his move against me.

For all his efforts, however, he hadn’t managed to touch us. And looking now at the ugliness of the landscape, he clearly hadn’t even considered how his mountain would ever recover from such abuse. Perhaps, deep down, he knew that he was going to lose and didn't care. Or maybe he was so far gone in his paranoia that he really hadn't even thought about it.

A feeling of profound anger suddenly filled me. This wasn’t my mountain, nor were they my lands. I shouldn’t have cared about what happened here with the followers of my father. Yet I couldn't help but remember all of the good times I’d had here over the past thousands of years. Moments that had nothing to do with my father but were still important to me. As much as it didn't make logical sense, I cared for this mountain, for it was here that my journey started.

These were the hills where I’d played with my siblings when we were kids. This was the sea where Poseidon taught me how to swim. These were the fields where Demeter showed me how to care for the land and make sure it would take care of my followers too. And these were the forests where Hades taught me how to fight. All those memories were bound to this place, and it was now close to dying because of my father.

"This way," I said, and started moving with determination. "The steps up the mountain are this way."

It would take us another two hours of intense uphill hiking before we even reached the base of the nine hundred and ninety-nine steps, but a sudden sense of urgency pushed me forward. I wanted to confront him as soon as possible. And judging by the fact that my guildmates didn’t say anything in return, they wanted to get this over with as much as I did.

The ascent was devoid of any enemies and yet somehow, I wasn't surprised by that fact at all. After the havoc that must have ensued following the defeat of Cronus's armies on Mount Olympus, I doubted many would have stayed here. It was clear that I would be coming for him and that they would not be able to stop me.

Once we reached the base of the steps, however, I recognized someone I hadn’t seen for months. Leaning against the massive walls that framed the seemingly endless steps was the man who trained me and my siblings in the art of battle. Isoples, the six-armed battle master.

* * *

Name: Isoples

Race: Centaur

Class: Master of Weapons

Level: 58

* * *

The centaur stirred upon seeing us and stood up straight at eight feet tall. He was wearing heavy armor, which probably meant that he’d been positioned here to serve as a sentry for the path leading up to my father's palace. My father knew very well how much I respected the man, and I was sure that stationing him here was aimed at breaking my spirit rather than my body.