"Irene," Azriel began cautiously, "why are you telling me all of this?"
Irene looked at him, her blue eyes filled with a mixture of emotions—trust, love, and something that resembled vulnerability. "Because you deserve to know the truth, Azriel. You've seen the world of mortals, and now, you're stepping into the realm of gods. You must understand the dangers that come with it."
Azriel nodded, though his thoughts were on the Torch of Light. "But wouldn't the gods be furious if they knew you were sharing this with a mortal?"
Irene sighed, stopping by a marble fountain that glimmered under the moonlight. The sound of gently flowing water was the only thing breaking the silence of the night. "Yes, they would be," she admitted. "But I'm tired of the lies, the secrecy. The gods have ruled for millennia, and they've grown arrogant. They see mortals as playthings, lesser beings. But I've seen your strength, Azriel. I've seen the purity of your heart. You're more than just a mortal, and the gods need to realize that."
Azriel swallowed hard, feeling the weight of her words. He could see the conviction in Irene's eyes, but it only made his heart ache more. The deeper their relationship grew, the more conflicted he felt. He wanted to protect her, to honor the trust she placed in him. But the thought of Elysian, fragile and dying, consumed him.
"Do you ever wonder what would happen if the Torch were to fall into the wrong hands?" Azriel asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Irene's expression darkened slightly. "It would be disastrous," she replied. "The Torch is the foundation of our power. If it were stolen, Olympus would crumble. The gods would be weakened, and chaos would reign. Mortals, gods, even the balance between worlds—it would all be in jeopardy."
Azriel's heart pounded in his chest as he considered the gravity of what he was contemplating. The risks were immense, but so were the stakes. He couldn't let Elysian die, not when there was a chance—no matter how slim—to save him.
"Irene," he said, his voice steady, "if you had the power to change everything, to break free from the gods' rule and create a world where mortals and gods could coexist peacefully, would you take it?"
Irene hesitated, her gaze turning inward as she considered his question. "I don't know," she admitted. "Change is frightening, and the gods are not easily swayed. But if it meant creating a better world, one where love could flourish without fear… maybe I would."
Azriel looked at her, seeing the goddess in a new light. She wasn't just a deity bound by the laws of Olympus—she was a woman with hopes, dreams, and a desire for something more. It made him love her even more, but it also strengthened his resolve.
"Would you stand by me, no matter what?" Azriel asked, taking her hands in his.
Irene looked into his hazel eyes, searching for the truth within them. "Always," she whispered. "I would stand by you, Azriel, through anything."
Azriel smiled, though it was tinged with sadness. "Then there's something I need to do," he said, his voice firm. "Something that might change everything."
Irene's eyes widened slightly in surprise, but she nodded. "Whatever it is, I trust you."
They stood there in silence, the weight of their conversation hanging heavily in the air. Azriel knew that what he was about to do would not only challenge the gods but could also destroy the world as they knew it. But for Elysian, for the love that had sustained him through the darkest of times, he was willing to take that risk.
As they walked back to Irene's chambers, hand in hand, Azriel's mind was already formulating a plan. He would need to be careful, to bide his time, and wait for the perfect moment. The Harvest Feast was approaching, a time when the gods would be distracted by their celebrations. It would be his only chance to steal the Torch of Light.
But first, he needed to learn more about the defenses surrounding the Torch, the spells that protected it, and the creatures that guarded it. For that, he would need Irene's help, though he couldn't let her know his true intentions. It would be the ultimate betrayal, and it tore at his soul to deceive her.
Yet as they reached Irene's chambers, Azriel knew he had made his decision. For Elysian, for the boy whose beauty surpassed even the gods, he would risk it all. As Irene kissed him goodnight and whispered her love for him, Azriel whispered back, though his heart was heavy with the knowledge of what he was about to do.
"I love you too, Irene," he said softly, but as he turned away, his thoughts were on Elysian, lying weak and vulnerable in the mortal world.
In the days that followed, Azriel began to subtly gather information. He paid close attention to Irene's stories, absorbing every detail about the Torch's location and the enchantments surrounding it. He spent hours studying the ancient texts in the libraries of Olympus, pretending to be fascinated by the history of the gods while secretly searching for weaknesses in their defenses.
The closer the Harvest Feast approached, the more tense Azriel became. He knew that his plan had to be flawless—any mistake could lead to his capture or worse, the wrath of the gods upon Irene. But he also knew that this was his only chance. If he failed, Elysian would die, and Azriel could never forgive himself.
Finally, the night of the Harvest Feast arrived. The gods gathered in the great hall, their laughter echoing through the marble corridors as they indulged in food and drink. Azriel, dressed in the finest robes that Irene had gifted him, mingled with the crowd, his eyes constantly darting to the grand doors that led to the inner sanctum of Mount Olympus—the chamber where the Torch of Light was kept.
Irene stayed by his side, her smile radiant as she introduced him to the other gods, though Azriel could sense her unease. She knew that something was different about tonight, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Azriel did his best to mask his anxiety, but the weight of what he was about to do pressed heavily on his shoulders.
As the night wore on and the gods became more intoxicated, Azriel saw his opportunity. He whispered to Irene that he needed some air and slipped away from the hall, his heart pounding as he made his way to the inner sanctum. The corridors were empty, the guards having been dismissed for the celebration, just as he had hoped.
When he reached the grand doors, he hesitated for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady himself. Then, with a final glance back at the distant sounds of laughter, he pushed the doors open and stepped into the chamber.
The room was bathed in a soft, golden light, emanating from the Torch of Light that stood at the center of the room. The artifact was breathtaking, a pillar of pure energy that pulsed with life. It was more beautiful than Azriel had imagined, and for a moment, he was mesmerized by its brilliance.
But he quickly shook off the awe and focused on his task. He knew the room was filled with traps and enchantments, designed to protect the Torch from any who would seek to steal it. He had studied them meticulously, memorizing the incantations and symbols that would allow him to bypass the defenses.
Carefully, Azriel began to chant the words he had learned, tracing the symbols in the air with his hands. The room responded, the magic shifting and bending to his will. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he concentrated, knowing that any mistake could be fatal.
After what felt like an eternity, the final barrier dissolved, leaving the Torch unprotected. Azriel approached it cautiously, his heart pounding with anticipation. He reached out, his fingers trembling as they closed around the Torch. The moment he touched it, a surge of power coursed through him, nearly knocking him off his feet. But he held on, knowing that this power was the key to saving Elysian.
With the Torch in his hands, Azriel turned and made his way out of the chamber, moving quickly through the corridors. But as he neared the exit, a cold dread settled in his stomach. The gods would soon realize the Torch was missing, and they would hunt him down without mercy.
He had to get back to the mortal world, to Elysian, before it was too late.
As he reached the grand hall, the sounds of the feast hit him like a wave, the laughter and music mocking the seriousness of his mission. He slipped past the doors, into the cool night air, and began his descent from Mount Olympus. His heart raced with every step, the weight of the Torch heavy in his arms.
But he was not alone.
Behind him, the sky darkened, and the air grew thick with the sound of wings. The gods had discovered the theft, and they were coming for him.
Azriel ran, faster than he ever had before, the landscape blurring around him as he descended the mountain. He could hear the roars of dragons in the distance, the gods unleashing their most fearsome creatures to retrieve the Torch and punish the thief.
His only hope was to reach the mortal world before they caught him, to use the Torch's power to save Elysian and escape before the gods could exact their vengeance.