The Epic of the Disc Chapter 82: Hope

Chapter 82: Hope

She stood before him, her eyes wandering like a child in a toy shop—drifting from one statue to the next, fingers brushing against the stone like even a goddess could be srized by their craft.

"Exquisite," she murmured, tracing the jaw of one. "Truly exquisite."

He stared at her. Looking at Hera was like staring at the sun through water—beautiful, distorted, and the longer you looked the more certain you beca that you were seeing sothing you weren’t supposed to. She was tall and slender, dressed in white that moved like it was alive. Her hair was long and muddy green. Her lips were purple. Her eyes couldn’t pick a color and had settled on both blue and green at the sa ti, which sohow worked. Her skin was a shade he had no word for—lighter than warm, darker than pale. No mortal palette could mix it.

She looked like what humans wished they could be.

’Attractive, yes. Terrifying, slightly.’

She finished her tour of the statues and ca to stand in the center, turning to face him with that smile still lingering.

"Where did you get such beautiful statues?" she asked, tilting her head like the answer mattered more than she was letting on.

Shiro shrugged. "The place ca like this."

A flick of his wrist. A second throne pushed itself out of the stone beside her—noticeably smaller than his. Not by much. But she didn’t seem to mind.

"Please, sit," he said. "It doesn’t feel right having a goddess stand."

Her fingers traced the armrest first—slow, deliberate. Then she lowered herself into it, one leg crossed over the other. Hands resting on her lap. Every movent elegant. Smooth.

"So," she said, smile sharpening at the edges, "what is it you want to talk about?"

"Few things, if you don’t mind."

He leaned forward.

"First—although they all share the blood of the gods," he paused, choosing his words carefully, "they’re kind of..."

"Weak," she finished, a silk-smooth smirk settling on her lips—like she understood exactly what he was doing. Trying to be polite. Trying not to bruise a god’s pride.

"Yeah," he said.

"It’s because they’ve only just been acknowledged by their godly parents. So they’re still beginners. Unrefined." She said it calmly, patiently, like a teacher who didn’t mind repeating the lesson. "But given ti, they’ll be molded into great fighters." Her gaze settled on Shiro—warr now. "The way you can generate lightning, for example—that’s a sign Zeus has acknowledged you as his blood. It’s a unique skill. No artifact can replicate it."

That he wasn’t sure how to feel about.

"Second question. Can you help

find soone?"

Her expression changed. The sharpness in her eyes dulled into sothing gentler. Almost maternal.

"Oh, child." She said it like it cost her sothing. "I’m sorry. I can’t help you find her."

His eyes fell to the ground.

"Oh." Soft. Full of a disappointnt he couldn’t hide.

Then his eyes snapped back to her.

"Wait—how did you know I was looking for a her?"

"Well," she said, smile returning just enough to be infuriating, "you did shout ’please be okay, Nora, I will find you’ loud enough for the heavens to hear."

His eyes dropped again. Face turned bright red.

’Great. The wrong person heard it.’

"But if she held even a bit of Olympian blood, I could have helped you." Her voice softened again. "I’m sorry."

He didn’t look up for a mont.

"What do you an?" Shiro asked, slightly confused.

"Well, take you for example." She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward like she was explaining sothing to the only blood of Zeus she actually liked. "No one knew you existed. Then one day, you simply appeared. I was able to sense the blood of Zeus running through you—that’s how I found you. And the two children with you."

Shiro thought for a mont, fingers tapping against the armrest in a slow, deliberate rhythm.

"As a god," he said carefully, "are you capable of creating your own island? One you control entirely—who enters, who leaves, what they see, what they feel?"

She smiled. The kind of smile that said she already knew where this was going.

"It would have to be a powerful god."

"Are you capable of it?"

"I am." She held his gaze. "But the three Olympians can do it far better than I ever could. Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades." She let the nas settle in the air like stones dropped into still water. "Among us, they are the strongest."

She paused, letting it sink in before continuing.

"If they wished it, you wouldn’t be able to fly or sail—you’ve already tasted that firsthand at sea." She smoothed a crease in her dress. "They could wipe civilizations off the map without breaking a sweat. But gods don’t interfere in mortal affairs. Not unless another god or Titan forces their hand." Her eyes locked onto Shiro, and she smiled. "Or unless they simply dislike you."

’Great. First Humbaba, and now the sea god.’

He sighed. "Thanks anyway, I guess."

She pushed herself up from the throne—gracefully, like even standing was a performance—and pointed at the ring on his hand.

"If you truly want to find her, try speaking with Aphrodite. She deals in matters of the heart. Love. Connection. If anyone can help you find soone you care about, it would be her."

Shiro’s eyes lit up. A smile broke across his face before he could stop it. "Where do I find her?"

She giggled softly—a sound that felt strange coming from soone who carried the weight of Olympus on her shoulders. "Ask one of her children. They can guide you to her."

’One of her children. So I need to find another demigod. Great. More people.’

Before he could ask anything else, she vanished—a flash of golden light bright enough to make him throw his arm over his eyes.

’Could’ve warned .’

He sat there, his mood shifting, like seeing the end of a tunnel for the first ti. A bit of hope igniting in a place he’d stopped looking for it..

’Aphrodite. Find one of her kids.’

Simple enough. Probably wouldn’t be. But still.

"Ahhhhh." He groaned, head tilting back, eyes closed. Then he sighed.

Then he rembered—the two shards the captain had given him before his unexpected death. He could still hear the man’s words, desperate: "Take good care of my greatest treasure."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the two shards. One red. One blue. Both were high rank—Divine rank, to be exact. But for sothing carrying that title, they felt weak. Hollow, almost. Like a crown with no king wearing it.

’Divine rank that doesn’t feel divine. That’s new.’

He held them closer, turning them over in the dim light. And then his eyes caught sothing.

Within both shards—buried deep, faint, easy to miss if you weren’t looking—lay a figure.

’Wait—what?’

The shards dissolved into streams of light—one red, one blue—and in front of him appeared two figures. Small. Children, maybe. Both wore long dresses, one red and one blue. The one in red had fiery red hair that flowed and swayed like a burning fla—alive, restless, never still. The one in blue had oceanic hair that moved gently, like water finding its way downstream. Calm where the other was chaos.

Their faces weren’t human. They were sothing else entirely—the kind of beauty people described in stories but could never quite capture in words. Divine in the truest sense. Not ant for mortal eyes.

They opened their eyes and t Shiro’s.

Milky white. Empty. Lifeless. The eyes of soone who had seen too much and gone through worse.

They stood there. Trembling.

He got to his feet and walked toward them. They trembled harder with every step he took—flinching before he even reached them, like kindness was just another word for the thing that ca before pain.

He placed his hands on their heads. Gently.

mories flooded into him.

Just as he thought. They weren’t just artifacts. They were weapons with souls—living things trapped inside divine steel, sothing he hadn’t seen or ever heard of before. And they had gone through hell.

Owner after owner. Battlefield after battlefield. Watching every wielder die, then being pried from dead fingers and passed to the next like spoils. Like trophies. Vultures picking them up, swinging them around without understanding, without care. And every failed wielder only hindered their growth.

’Well, that explains why they felt weak.’

They looked up at him.

Their milky white eyes shifted—slowly, like color bleeding back into a world that had forgotten it existed. One pair turned red. The other turned blue. Deep. Vivid. Alive.

They stopped trembling.

And when Shiro opened his eyes, he was holding two bracelets. Gold, with small red and blue shards embedded.

He looked at the twins. They slept so calmly—so completely at peace—that slipping the bracelets on felt like tucking them in a second ti. He clasped the red one around Selene’s wrist. The blue one around Aurora’s. Neither stirred. The bracelets shrank around their tiny arms—gently, like an embrace.

"I’ll make sure you all grow up together," he whispered.

He couldn’t bring himself to use those two as swords. At least this way they could grow alongside the twins. Get stronger together.

Besides—using children to draw blood just didn’t feel right.

’Even I have standards.’

He clutched his chest—where the connection humd faintly, warm and new.

"Even when I perish," he said quietly, "your job is to protect them. At all cost."

"As you wish, my king," Enkidu answered from the dark.