"What do you mean?" Artemis asked, her brow furrowed. "What do you see?"
Aphrodite's smile deepened as she gazed at a specific spot near the temple, her eyes gleaming with the certainty of someone who knew far more than she was revealing. Slowly, Apollo and Artemis followed her gaze, their curiosity piqued.
Atop the temple of Apollo, a solitary figure stood, outlined against the sky. His silhouette was sharp, cutting a striking image against the backdrop of the heavens. He gazed down upon the unfolding scene below, with an eerie silence. His cold, ice-blue eyes locked onto Agamemnon and Astynome.
"Who is that?" Apollo narrowed his gaze, his eyes scanning the lone figure on the temple's rooftop. His godly senses strained to uncover something—anything—remarkable about the young man standing silently above the chaos. And yet, to Apollo's confusion, there was nothing immediately extraordinary. No divine aura, no hidden power visible to his immortal eyes.
