Reigning On Earth Anthology by Ireland Lorelei

Author:Ireland Lorelei [Ireland Lorelei, Cassandra Joy, W.A. Ashes]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Warrioress Publishing
Published: 2023-06-29T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

Time in Olympus worked differently than the human realm. Day and night only occurred because the gods willed it to. Otherwise, time was basically nonexistent. They could operate both in and outside of time whenever they pleased, which was why Eros was slightly confused to notice he’d woken up so late. He should have automatically woken up when he wanted to, which was when the light was still young, but he woke up in the evening with a dry mouth and a deep tiredness nestled in his bones. What was this? Gods didn’t get tired. There was no reason he should have felt this way.

On top of the sleepiness, the house was too cold. He shivered as he stood. Hephaestus’s forge should be keeping the establishment well heated. Normally the marble floor would be comfortably warm beneath his feet, but he flinched when his bare toes met with chilled stone.

Thunder rumbled and, for a moment, the mount shook. He stumbled into the wall and gripped the engraved cherubs with all his might. A thin crack spread along the ceiling, causing him to gasp. Outside his home, through the glassless window of his room, he could hear the other Olympians freaking out. Zeus was yelling, his voice booming like the storms he commanded.

With a creased brow, Eros righted himself once the tremor stopped and rushed towards the forges. Earthquakes never happened on the mount, and he’d hate to think what one could mean for his stepfather’s forge, which was built into Mountain Olympus’s very core.

A staircase was built into the Aphrodite-Hephaestus house that led into the forges. It started out sleek with marble steps and gold trimming but gradually turned into rocks and clay. The intricate scones turned into candles set into crevices of the wall and the sturdy railing turned into a mounted pipe.

The sounds of clanging weren’t the symphony they usually were and even here, deep beneath the mount, the air was too cold.

“Hephaestus?” Eros called out, winding his way through the caverns of the forge. He knew the path by heart only because of pestering his stepfather when he was a child.

The center of the forge is a circular area with stalactites hanging from the ceiling. The cyclopes worked in their own separate part of the forges, while the center forge supplied the heat and power for its connected counterparts. Hephaestus was the only being who worked at the center forge. It was the first forge of Olympus, born with Hephaestus, and was maintained by the god’s presence.

Eros could hear the dissatisfied grunts of the cyclopes. They were muttering to each other, and the young god didn’t need to understand their native tongue to know it was about the emptiness he found in the center forge.

Hephaestus’s work bench was cluttered with projects. A scroll of orders was unwound on a stand by the bench, but the god of the forge was nowhere to be seen. Thick shadows flickered across the cavern from the dying embers in the forge.

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