The temple loomed before them, its ancient stones whispering secrets long buried. Every step closer felt like a weight pressing down on Ikenna's chest. The golden glow from within the temple bathed the clearing in an otherworldly light, making the trio appear like shadows against a backdrop of destiny.
Maria took the lead, her sword still drawn, its blade gleaming with the faint traces of their last battle. Marcus trailed behind her, his hammer resting on his shoulder, eyes darting from shadow to shadow. Ikenna walked in the middle, his fingers twitching as residual energy from his lightning crackled faintly in the air around him.
"This is it," Maria said, her voice barely above a whisper as they stopped a few feet from the entrance. "Once we step inside, there's no telling what we'll face."
Marcus let out a deep breath. "We've already faced hellhounds, Shades, and a cursed river spirit. Whatever's in there can't be worse…right?"
Maria shot him a look. "Don't tempt the Fates."
Ikenna stared at the temple, his electric blue eyes reflecting the glow from within. His gut churned with a mix of anticipation and unease. The closer they got, the stronger the pull became, as if the temple itself was alive and calling out to him.
"Let's just get this over with," Ikenna said, stepping forward.
The air inside the temple was heavy, almost suffocating. The glow that had seemed warm from the outside was now blinding, forcing Ikenna to squint as he stepped through the crumbling archway. The room they entered was vast, the walls lined with ancient carvings depicting scenes of gods, monsters, and mortal heroes.
In the center of the chamber stood a raised dais, and atop it sat the Oracle's seat—a simple stone throne covered in vines that pulsed faintly with golden light. The air around it shimmered, distorting like heat waves rising from asphalt.
"It's empty," Marcus said, his voice echoing off the walls.
"No," Maria said, her grip tightening on her sword. "It's not."
The glow around the throne intensified, and a figure began to take shape. It was faint at first, like a mirage, but soon the image solidified into the form of a woman. She had an ageless beauty, her features sharp and commanding, her eyes glowing with the same golden light as the temple. She wore a tattered chiton that seemed to flow like water, and her hair moved as though caught in an unseen breeze.
"Ikenna Anderson," the Oracle said, her voice layered with echoes that sent shivers down his spine. "Son of Zeus. You have come seeking answers."
Ikenna swallowed hard, his throat dry. "Uh…yeah. I guess I have."
The Oracle's gaze shifted to Maria and Marcus. "Your companions have shown great courage in aiding you on your journey. Their fates are entwined with yours…for now."
Maria bristled. "What do you mean 'for now'?"
The Oracle ignored her, her attention returning to Ikenna. "You stand at the crossroads of destiny, child of storms. The path you choose will shape not only your future but the fate of Olympus itself."
"No pressure," Marcus muttered under his breath.
Ikenna took a step forward, his heart pounding. "What path? What are you talking about?"
The Oracle's eyes seemed to pierce through him, seeing more than just the boy standing before her. "Your father's blood runs strong in your veins, and with it comes power. But power alone is not enough to triumph in the trials ahead. You must decide who you truly are—whether you are a leader, a savior, or merely a pawn in the games of the gods."
Ikenna's jaw tightened. "I didn't ask for any of this. I didn't ask to be Zeus's kid."
"Few do," the Oracle replied. "And yet, it is your reality. Deny it, and you will fall. Embrace it, and you may yet rise."
The glow around the throne flared, and the chamber seemed to tremble. The Oracle's voice grew louder, more commanding.
"Beware the storm, Ikenna Anderson, for it will not wait. The tempest rages within and without, threatening to consume all in its path. To tame the storm, you must first face its source."
"Source?" Maria asked, her tone sharp. "What does that mean? Is it Zeus?"
The Oracle's expression softened, almost pitying. "The answers you seek lie where the gods dare not tread. A place of endless storms and ancient shadows. There, the truth of your heritage will be revealed, and with it, the choice you must make."
"Great," Ikenna said, his voice tinged with sarcasm. "An ominous prophecy and a vague location. That's just what I needed."
Marcus nudged him. "Don't antagonize the glowing lady."
The Oracle raised her hand, and the golden light enveloped Ikenna, sending a jolt of energy through his body. Images flashed through his mind—a massive storm raging over an endless sea, a mountain wreathed in lightning, and a figure standing in the shadows, their face obscured.
The vision faded, leaving Ikenna gasping for air.
"What was that?" he demanded.
"A glimpse of what lies ahead," the Oracle said. "Your journey will test you in ways you cannot yet imagine. Trust in your companions, for they will be your anchor in the storm. But beware…trust misplaced can be as deadly as any weapon."
The light around the Oracle began to fade, her form growing faint.
"Wait!" Ikenna called out. "What's the storm? What's the truth?"
The Oracle's voice echoed one final time as her image disappeared entirely. "The answers lie in the place of endless storms. Seek it, and you shall find your destiny."
The chamber fell silent, the golden glow fading until only faint traces remained.
"Well," Marcus said, breaking the silence. "That was…intense."
Maria sheathed her sword, her jaw tight. "A place of endless storms. That sounds like a deathtrap."
"Probably is," Ikenna muttered, rubbing his temples. "But it's the only lead we've got."
Maria turned to him, her expression serious. "Are you sure about this? We don't even know where this place is."
Ikenna met her gaze, his electric blue eyes blazing with determination. "I don't have a choice. If there's a chance to get answers—about my powers, about Zeus, about why this storm is following me—I have to take it."
Marcus sighed, shouldering his hammer. "Guess that means we're going storm-chasing."
Maria rolled her eyes but nodded. "Fine. But we're doing this smart. No rushing in blind."
Ikenna smiled faintly. "Wouldn't dream of it."
As they exited the temple, the weight in Ikenna's chest felt heavier than ever. The Oracle's words echoed in his mind, their meaning unclear but impossible to ignore.
The storm was coming, and Ikenna knew it wasn't just a metaphor.