The ashes of Troy still clung to the wind, the city's once-mighty walls now reduced to smoldering ruins. The echoes of battle, of blood and death, hung thick in the air, a reminder of the gods' intervention and the inevitable path of fate. As the last remnants of the city crumbled to dust, one figure moved through the wreckage—Zia, my daughter, whose destiny was intricately tied to the fall of this ancient kingdom.
Zia had never been one for grand speeches or battles. She was like me—silent, observant, and burdened with an understanding that few mortals could grasp. While the gods squabbled over their power and petty grievances, Zia's journey was one of purpose. She had been part of Troy's destruction, just as fate had foretold. But now, her path led her away from the ruins of the past and into the vast, uncharted future that would one day be known as Rome.
I watched from afar, unseen, as she gathered what remained of her strength and courage. She was one of the few survivors, a living thread in a tapestry that was slowly being woven into something new. She had been destined to flee Troy, and as the gods had decreed, she would help lay the foundations for a new empire. But she didn't know how her role would play out. She only knew that the future she would create would be one built on the ashes of her past.
Zia walked toward the Italian peninsula, the promise of a new beginning pulling her forward like a beacon. She knew that, for all the tragedy she had witnessed, there was no turning back. In the distance, the land of Italy awaited—untouched by the gods, but not untouched by the future she was about to create.
**Meanwhile, above, the gods of Olympus were in disarray.**
"That city's *gone*, and the Trojans are all but wiped out," Ares spat, his eyes blazing with fury. "This wasn't *supposed* to happen. I told you—*I told you* this was the right war."
Apollo sat perched on a nearby cloud, one leg hanging lazily over the edge, his expression one of quiet amusement. "Oh, don't be so dramatic, Ares. It's just a city. The real question is, what happens now? Troy's dead. Its future is ashes. What about the *mortals*? And where's the fun in war if there's no one left to fight?"
Ares growled in frustration, but Athena, ever the strategist, interjected. "We've done enough, Ares. The war was always meant to end this way—Troy's fate was sealed long ago." Her sharp eyes flickered to the distant horizon, where the fires of the city still glowed. "What matters now is what *comes next*. This is what we've all been waiting for."
Zeus had remained silent, his face clouded in thought. His mind, usually sharp and decisive, seemed lost in some deeper calculation. As much as he ruled over the gods, he had no control over fate. He knew that, and it ate at him. This war, this destruction, it was all part of a plan he had not fully understood.
"It's not about Troy anymore," Zeus said at last, his voice heavy. "It's about the future. The mortals will rise from the ashes, and they will build something new. Something we will all have to reckon with."
Apollo raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what would that be?"
Zeus looked toward the distant shore where the Trojan survivors, led by Aeneas, were beginning their journey toward the land of Italy. "Rome," he said, almost as if the word itself tasted foreign on his tongue.
The gods fell into an uncomfortable silence. Ares scowled. Athena frowned, clearly already considering the possibilities. They knew what this meant—the rise of an empire that would eclipse them all. A city, founded by mortals, built by their will and ambition. A place where the gods would no longer have the same power, where the humans would rise to claim their own destiny.
But what of Zia? What of my daughter, the one whose path had been foretold to intersect with the founding of Rome? She was but a thread in the vast weave of fate, yet one that was destined to shape the future of the gods and mortals alike. I knew where she was going, knew what would happen when she arrived in Italy. She would meet those who would lay the foundation for Rome, the legendary twins Romulus and Remus, and she would help guide them toward their destiny, unknowingly shaping the future of the empire that would dominate the world.
As I followed her journey, the gods above me continued to bicker. The fallout from Troy's destruction weighed heavily on them. They had meddled too much. They had pushed the mortals toward war and destruction, and now they had to face the consequences. The gods were no longer the supreme rulers of the world. Rome would rise, and in its shadow, the gods would have to find their place.
**Aperia's presence, however, was the quiet undercurrent in this storm.**
I, Aperia, was not merely a spectator in this cosmic drama. As one of the Thirteen Olympians, I was a member of the Council of Olympus, and my role was far greater than even the gods could comprehend. I was not only the primordial of destiny but also the goddess of time, space, infinity, void, and endings. In my hands rested the delicate strands of fate—the very fabric of existence itself. As the keeper of endings, I knew that the fall of Troy was not an isolated event but part of a much larger and more inevitable story.
The gods, in their infinite power and pride, never fully understood the scope of what they were doing. They toyed with mortal lives, shaping them like clay, but they could never see the long-term consequences of their actions. They did not understand that the rise of Rome was just as inevitable as Troy's fall. It had always been written, just as I had always known. The mortals would survive. They would build something new, something *beyond* the reach of the gods. An empire that would last for millennia. And in that future, the gods would play a far smaller part than they ever imagined.
As I observed the gods, their squabbles and frustrations were nothing new to me. I had seen it all before—gods blinded by their egos, unwilling to accept the inevitable. Zeus may have been king of the gods, but he had no dominion over fate. Apollo could throw his fiery arrows, but he could not pierce the veil of time itself. Ares could rage and battle, but he could never outlast the passage of history. It was not their time to shape the future anymore.
And it was not their place to intervene in the birth of Rome.
**Zia reached the shores of Italy.**
She stood at the edge of the land, watching as the sun dipped below the horizon. She knew that her part in Troy's destruction was over. But her story, the story of Rome, had only just begun.
She had no idea of the importance of the city she was standing in front of. The land that would eventually give birth to the greatest empire the world would ever know. No, Zia was just a part of the chain, a single thread that would eventually tie everything together. But even as the gods above watched, unsure of what was to come, I knew one thing: The future was already set. And there was nothing they could do to stop it.
Zia stepped forward, and as her foot touched the earth, the thread of fate that had guided her from Troy to Rome tightened. The rise of an empire had begun. And whether the gods liked it or not, they would have to deal with the fallout of their actions.
Zeus, Apollo, and Ares, their eyes now focused on the land of Italy, realized the truth too late. The mortals had their own destiny now. The time of the gods was waning.
The world was changing, and there was nothing they could do to stop it.