Hand in dark

Athena did not believe she was making a mistake. Of course, she knew that from the perspective of mortal morality, her action was wrong and even cruel. But such things did not concern the gods. For her, it was merely part of a long-term strategy, a clever move in a chess game played on the board of another's life. To sacrifice a pawn to save the king was an excellent idea. This fellow was far too distracting to her precious warrior of the mind, too diligently filling his head with foolish and counterproductive ideas. What did "meeting the world with open arms" even mean? And for a warrior to relax was the quickest path to the grave. Athena could not allow it! She had invested too much effort and time into her new project, having practically raised him from childhood (and enduring stupid, impulsive human offspring was no easy task for a rational goddess). But the result was good. Finally, she had the hero she needed — utterly unique, relying on intellect and cunning where others preferred mindless brute force. And, importantly, he was not related by blood to any of the major gods. So he would be Athena's champion, specifically, not just another son of Zeus or Poseidon. She was far too tired of remaining in the shadow of her elder relatives... Therefore, Athena could not allow some foolish mortal to ruin everything. And since reasoning with Odysseus had proven futile (evident from his furrowed brow and the stubborn glint in his eyes), the goddess would take matters into her own hands. Because her new project was very important to her, one might even say "dear to her heart." Athena draped herself in a cloak of invisibility and entered the Cyclops's cave, wrinkling her nose at the lingering smells of manure, rancid grease, and sour milk. She saw everything that transpired, how subtlety and cunning proved powerless against dull, brute force — but she never doubted her champion would prevail. And the gods, how pleased she was with the enemy that had presented itself. Poseidon would be furious! That brute, who always smelled of seaweed, harbored a strange, irrational attachment — uncommon among gods — to his non-divine children. He would be enraged, yet would never discover who had finished off his precious Polyphemus. And Athena would allow herself to cast understanding — too understanding! — glances his way. Nothing more, to avoid raising excessive suspicion, but it would be enough to provoke in her uncle an uncontrollable fury every time he laid eyes on her. And he would have no proof! Athena smiled with satisfaction, gliding forward through the cave's gloom. She had unfinished business. The Cyclops began to rage, the cave walls trembling with his roars. But for the goddess of strategy, who could slow time itself, everything unfolded so slowly and predictably that she effortlessly charted a path, slipping by mere inches from his blows, rather than taking a safe detour. This was her peculiar pleasure, a proof of intellect's triumph over mighty but stupid force. And there he was. The warrior with the red headband holding back a mass of unruly curls. He had fought well, despite his strange speeches about kindness and mercy. She almost felt a twinge of regret at killing him. But the decision was already made. Athena quickly surveyed the battlefield, calculating the speed and arc of the Cyclops's blows and the mortal's ability to evade them. She noted a suitable swing. She slipped into the shadows behind the young man... ...and simply reached out from the darkness, lightly touching Polites's shoulder. Distracting him for a fraction of a second. For the fraction of a second he needed to dodge the blow. The nauseating, wet crunch of bone and a desperate gasp "Captain..." made Athena flinch. A few drops of his blood splattered onto her cheek, burning and stirring something unpleasant, almost painful, within her. She wiped them away irritably and turned from Odysseus, frozen with shock on his face. Her task was complete. Now everything would be set right. Athena did not know she was making a mistake. And the greatest goddess of strategy could not begin to imagine the consequences for the entire world — and for herself — that would follow from her hand, extended from the darkness...