"So, how are we going to do this?" I asked Aphrodite as we entered Hephaestus' forge together.
The air changed as soon as we crossed the threshold. It was as if we had crossed an invisible border. The heat was overwhelming, vibrant, like a constant heartbeat in my chest. Countless colossal gears turned on the walls, streams of liquid lava flowed through bronze and gemstone conduits, and the incessant sound of hamr striking tal echoed in every corner. The entire forge seed like a living organism, roaring, breathing and pulsing.
"I told you," Aphrodite replied with a mischievous smile, as if the whole situation was a little ga to her, "I'm going to disappear for a while, while you help Hephaestus with his work."
I frowned, not taking my eyes off the hamr-wielding titan.
"You said he usually works alone..." I muttered, keeping my voice low so he wouldn't hear us.
"Yes, but if I tell him you want to help him to make a na for yourself among the gods, he'll let you. He may not look like it, but my husband is just a big softie on the inside," said Aphrodite, letting out a light giggle that rang like glass bells in the oppressive heat of the forge.
That she would say that about her own husband, a god who could literally forge weapons to destroy armies with a single blow of his hamr, made feel worse about what I was about to do. I pressed my lips together, and my face must have reflected my feelings, because Aphrodite tilted her head and looked at with a mixture of mockery and tenderness.
"Oooh, don't tell you're having second thoughts?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with amusent.
"No, not at all," I replied imdiately, although I felt my words sounded sowhat forced. "But that doesn't an I feel good about doing this, especially without knowing what you plan to do while you're gone, since you 'forgot' to ntion it." I said, emphasizing the quotation marks in the air with my fingers.
"All you need to know is that my husband can't find out. Besides, I don't know why you're so worried. If everything goes well, two gods will be indebted to you: my husband for helping him, and , the goddess of beauty and love herself." She said as she sensually adjusted her hair, but I ignored the gesture so as not to let myself be seduced.
I clenched my teeth and replied:
"I'm worried because Zeus, the king of Olympus himself, told everyone to keep an eye on . Don't you think Hephaestus will be suspicious if he sees arrive and imdiately want to help him?"
Aphrodite snorted, crossing her arms exaggeratedly, as if she were dealing with a stubborn child.
"Psst, you worry too much, kid," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "My husband can barely rember what he did last week. Do you think he'll rember sothing that was said months ago at one of the many etings that paranoid of Zeus organizes whenever he feels like it? Besides, he's too absorbed in his work to pay much attention to soone like you."
The carefree confidence in her voice didn't exactly reassure ... but I couldn't back down at this point.
I sighed.
"Yes, my lady." I said finally, resigning myself to her.
"Good boy."
After accepting the mission she proposed, Aphrodite waited until nightfall to put the plan into action. Although, in reality, plan was too generous a word. It was all based on improvisation and the ability to avoid arousing suspicion.
She would slip away. I would distract her husband. And no one must suspect a thing.
Easy, right?
Well, not really. She barely gave enough information to keep from running away: that I had to cover for her while she t soone in secret. She didn't say who or why. This alone gave a huge clue as to what Aphrodite was planning to do, and I didn't like it one bit.
'Damn, I should have studied Greek mythology better when I was on Earth,'I thought, struggling to rember the stories of the goddess in Greek mythology. But my mory was a black hole at that mont. 'Anyway, it's too late to back out now.'
As we approached the heart of the forge, the heat was so intense that my clothes stuck to my skin and every breath burned my throat slightly. In the middle of a field of anvils, hanging chains, and colossal furnaces, there he was: Hephaestus, the god of fire and forging.
An imposing figure, his broad back covered in scars and burns that made him look even more fearso. Every blow of his hamr made the air vibrate.
I stopped a few steps away, feeling small in comparison.
It was then that his golden eyes, shining like burning coals, turned toward .
"And who are you?" he growled, his voice booming like thunder inside the tal cavern.
I approached cautiously, bowing respectfully, sweat running down my forehead.
"My na is Akhon, great Hephaestus. I have co... to offer my help in your labors, if you will allow ," I said, struggling to sound confident.
Hephaestus looked up and down, like a blacksmith evaluating a piece of raw ore.
"I don't need apprentices. I work better alone," he growled, turning away.
Before I could reply, Aphrodite's seductive voice rang out like a mischievous echo in the background:
"Co on, dear! Give the boy a chance! He wants to make a na for himself among the gods, and you could help him get started."
The great blacksmith let out a low grunt, as if he had already lost this argunt countless tis.
"Tch. Fine. But don't touch anything I don't tell you to." He finally snapped.
I bowed again, grateful.
When I looked back at where Aphrodite had been standing, she was gone. She had vanished like smoke, leaving alone in the most dangerous forge on Olympus, facing one of the most fearso gods.
"Perfect. This is going to go well... I hope," I thought, as Hephaestus threw a monstrous hamr that almost knocked on my ass when I caught it.
The god didn't say another word. He simply pointed to a workbench littered with unfinished pieces and returned his attention to his own project, his back like a living wall before .
And so, the work began.
The first hour passed at a suffocating pace. Hephaestus barked out harsh, dry, blunt instructions. Sotis he corrected with abrupt gestures, grabbing my forearm to adjust my stance on the hamr handle or the angle of my wrist. His touch was firm and rough.
Between the scattered orders, I began to understand the flow of the forging better. Annealing, to soften the tal, making it more ductile. Grinding, to clean imperfections from the surface. Polishing, to bring out the inner shine that seed hidden under layers of soot. And finally, sharpening, precise and ticulous, as if each edge were an extension of the blacksmith's will.
The atmosphere was hellish. The air was heavy. The walls throbbed with contained heat. Every breath was a challenge. Every movent, an effort.
Hephaestus did not speak unless necessary. He worked relentlessly, like a tireless titan, his torso marked by open scars, his skin weathered and hardened like the iron he was shaping. Each blow of his hamr was dry and forceful, audible above the noise of the machinery.
I moved as best I could between colossal anvils, overflowing crucibles, and clanking chains. My muscles burned, my hands ached, but I didn't dare complain. It was like dancing on the edge of a volcano: one false step and disaster would be inevitable.
As the minutes turned into hours, I realized sothing curious: although he looked brutal and his voice sounded like stones crumbling, Hephaestus was not cruel. His corrections, though harsh, were not ant to humiliate . His instructions, though dry, were not without patience.
He was a strict teacher, but a fair one too.
And in the midst of it all, sothing began to change in his attitude. His grunts beca less frequent. His appraising glances less cold. It wasn't friendship or acceptance, more like tolerance, perhaps. My hypothesis was that Hephaestus recognized you when you did a good job.
"Good," I thought as I wiped the sweat from my forehead with my blackened forearm. "At least he doesn't seem to dislike ."
I continued to strike the red-hot steel on the anvil, keeping pace with Hephaestus. The sound of hamr blows filled the forge, mingling with the crackling of the flas and the dull hum of the bellows.
In an attempt to ease the tension a little, and also to keep his attention on rather than anything else, I decided to try to strike up a conversation.
"Mr. Hephaestus," I said between blows, trying to sound respectful but casual, "if it's not too much trouble... how long have you been perfecting this art?"
For a few seconds, there was no response. Only the sound of tal being shaped under the force of his hamr. I thought he might ignore completely. But finally, without stopping, he grunted:
"Since forever."
The dry, curt reply hung heavy in the air.
I didn't give up. I waited for him to finish another couple of blows before trying again.
"It must be... satisfying to see such powerful creations take shape under your hands."
This ti, Hephaestus looked up briefly. His eyes, as dark as unpolished iron, assessed for a mont before he replied:
"The work speaks. I do not."
He returned his focus to the piece in front of him, as if the conversation itself had been a waste of energy.
I took a deep breath, trying not to let myself be intimidated. I had to keep him busy, I had to keep his attention on , even if it was like this.
As we continued working, Hephaestus occasionally issued basic instructions, always in the sa monotonous, curt tone:
"Firmly."
"Hit here."
"Not so hard."
Not a word more, not a visible emotion. Just pure efficiency from a god who had devoted his eternity to the art of creation in the forge.
anwhile, I was sweating profusely, not from physical exertion, although every muscle in my body was burning, but from the heat inside the forge.
At one point, Hephaestus stopped what he was doing and walked over to a corner of the forge, where ingots of reddish tal lay, vibrating slightly, as if they were pulsing.
He motioned to with his chin.
"Bring them here. Carefully."
I obeyed without question, approaching the pieces. The re touch of them made feel as if a wild current of energy was running through my arms. They were divine materials. Dangerous. Volatile.
I carried one of the ingots to his workbench, trying not to stagger or show my nervousness. Hephaestus nodded slightly, a fraction of recognition, before resuming his infernal hamring.
"Good arm," he muttered without looking at .
Was that... a complint?
I didn't allow myself to smile. I just nodded silently and continued working as if my life depended on it. Because, in a way, it did.
Several more hours passed. Every second, every blow, every breath filled with heat and sweat, bringing closer and closer to finally ending this tornt of waiting for Aphrodite to finish whatever she was doing.
Speaking of her, I wondered where she was now or more importantly, what she was doing?
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