Zeus sat upon his throne, his gaze stern and unwavering, peering through the divine veil that allowed him to glimpse the mortal realm. He watched the ravaged state of Lyrnessus, smoldering and broken under the merciless hands of the Greeks, their victory casting a shadow over all they had conquered. Once, in his youth, such scenes of destruction and bloodshed would have ignited a thrill in his godly veins, stirring the wild joy of battle within him. But time had aged him, deepening his wisdom, and his heart now longed not for chaos, but for peace—a peace he had fostered carefully across the vast world he controlled. Yet that fragile calm had shattered, all because of a single woman.
Helen of Sparta—or Helen of Troy, as she was now called.
