MTL NOVEL Chapter 14: Chapter 14: The Departure of Light and Shadow
### Chapter 14: The Departure of Light and Shadow
The grand hall of Olympus buzzed with a restless energy, the echoes of Apollo's scathing prophecy still reverberating off the marble columns and storm-wrought ceiling. His giant form loomed over the assembly, his golden curls cascading like rivers of sunlight, framing a face of such divine beauty that it seemed to bend reality itself. His crystallized jewel-blue eyes burned with a quiet fury, his golden-blue toga clinging to his twelve-pack frame, the white gloves of Purity glowing faintly as he stared down Zeus. Beside him, Artemis sat with her silver hair pooling around her crescent throne, her sharp silver eyes glinting with a smug satisfaction, *Selene's Fang* resting at her side like a coiled predator.
Aphrodite's wrath simmered on her pearl-and-coral throne, her violet eyes blazing with humiliated fury, while Hephaestus stood awkwardly near the edge of the hall, his dark eyes narrowed in resignation, his hammer gripped tightly as if it could forge a way out of this mess. The other gods—Poseidon, Ares, Dionysus—watched with a mix of amusement and unease, their voices hushed but their gazes darting between the key players. Hera's emerald eyes gleamed with malicious delight, her peacock feathers rustling as she savored Zeus's faltering control. And Zeus himself, perched on his storm-forged throne, masked his paranoia with a hollow laugh, though his gray eyes sparked with a storm he couldn't quite suppress.
Apollo's voice cut through the tension, a final salvo of Sound and Justice that rang with the weight of his thirty-five domains. "Well, Father," he said, his tone sharp yet melodic, his golden curls swaying as he leaned forward, "since you don't seem to want to communicate on this marriage—since you won't even try to break it—I suppose there's nothing more we can do about it. But don't say I didn't warn you. Don't even pretend you'll not come to regret this. You'll wish you'd never bound her to Hephaestus—wish you'd listened when the ashes of your schemes choke the air. I've seen it, and I've spoken it. The rest is on you."
Zeus's smirk twitched, his massive hands cracking the throne's arms further, but he didn't reply. His paranoia surged—*He's defying me still, predicting my ruin, and he's right too often*—but he buried it beneath a thunderous facade. He rose, slamming a hand down, the resulting boom shaking the hall. "Council dismissed!" he roared, his voice a tempest of authority. "Olympus stands—go, all of you!"
The gods stirred, their thrones creaking as they prepared to depart, but Apollo and Artemis didn't linger. Apollo stood, his giant form casting a shadow of golden light across the marble, his twelve-pack rippling beneath his toga as he adjusted it with a flick of his gloved hand. His jewel-blue eyes met Artemis's silver ones, a silent agreement passing between them—twin gods, united in purpose, done with this farce. Without a word, he raised a hand, his domain of Travel igniting in a flare of Sun and Radiance. The air shimmered, and he vanished in a burst of sunshine, a streak of golden light that streaked out of the hall and pierced the storm clouds beyond.
Artemis followed an instant later, her silver hair whipping as she rose, her giant form radiating the cool ferocity of the Moon and Hunt. She gripped *Selene's Fang*, her silver eyes flashing with disdain as she cast a final glance at Aphrodite and Zeus. With a flicker of Exploration and Precision, she stepped into a silver streak, a crescent moon trailing behind her like a ghostly banner, and disappeared into the night beyond Olympus. They were the first to leave, their departure a bold statement—sun and moon, gold and silver, bowing to no one.
---
The hall fell into a stunned silence, the gods blinking at the empty thrones where the twins had sat moments before. Poseidon broke it with a gruff laugh, twirling his trident. "Well, they don't waste time, do they? Off in a flash—guess they're done with our nonsense."
Ares snorted, his fists clenching. "Cowards—running from a fight. I'd have stayed to knock some heads."
Athena's gray eyes narrowed, her voice cool as she stood. "Not cowards—strategists. They've made their point and left the mess to us. Apollo's prophecy lingers—he's rarely wrong."
Dionysus hiccupped, spilling wine as he stumbled to his feet. "Prophecy, shmophecy—let's drink to the drama! Aphrodite and Hephaestus—what a pair!"
Aphrodite shot him a venomous glare, her violet eyes smoldering as she rose, her honeyed gold hair whipping. "This isn't over," she hissed, her voice trembling with Love turned to wrath. "Apollo thinks he can judge me, reject me, and walk away? I'll make him pay—him and his smug sister."
Hephaestus grunted, limping toward the exit, his hammer slung over his shoulder. "Pay who you like, lady. I'm forging my own path—married or not, I'm not your keeper."
She whirled on him, her beauty marred by fury. "You think I'll stay with you? A crippled smith over—?"
"Save it," he cut in, his dark eyes glinting. "I didn't ask for this either."
Zeus watched them go, his paranoia churning like a storm breaking over the sea. *They're gone—Apollo and Artemis—fled my hall, defied my will again.* His mind raced, the twins' towering forms haunting him—Apollo's thirty-five domains, Artemis's lethal aim. *He warned me—war, ruin, all from her—and I didn't listen. What if he's right? What if this marriage unravels me?*
The myths of his rise gnawed at him—Cronus's blood, the Titans' screams, the sickle's edge. *They could turn on me—sun and moon, light and shadow, too strong, too bold. Should I have chained them? Struck them down when they refused?* His gray eyes darted to Aphrodite, her rage a flame he'd hoped to wield, now a wildfire he couldn't control. *She'll spark it—he saw it—and I've tied her to Hephaestus, a match that'll break. What have I done?*
Hera's voice slithered into his ear, her emerald eyes gleaming with malice. "They've left you, husband," she purred, leaning closer. "Apollo's warning hangs over us, and you've ignored it. He's right about her—you'll see. And now your precious twins are gone—plotting, no doubt. How long before they come for your throne?"
Zeus growled, his grip splintering the throne's arm entirely. "They're my children, Hera—they'll obey me."
"Will they?" she taunted, her peacock feathers rustling. "You're losing them, Zeus—twins and temptress, all slipping through your fingers."
He didn't reply, his storm clouds thickening overhead, his paranoia a thunderhead ready to burst. But he kept it hidden, his kingly mask intact as the gods dispersed—Poseidon to his seas, Athena to her strategies, Ares to his rage, Dionysus to his wine. Aphrodite stormed out, Hephaestus limping behind, and the hall emptied, leaving Zeus alone with his fractured throne and racing thoughts.
---
Meanwhile, Apollo reappeared in a burst of sunshine atop a mortal cliff, the sea crashing below, the sun blazing overhead at his command. His golden curls gleamed as he adjusted his toga, his twelve-pack rippling with quiet strength, his jewel-blue eyes scanning the horizon. Moments later, Artemis materialized beside him in a silver streak, a crescent moon fading behind her, her silver hair whipping in the wind, her silver eyes glinting with defiance.
"Took you long enough," Apollo teased, his voice a melody of Harmony and Inspiration. "Thought you'd linger to hunt Aphrodite's pride."
Artemis smirked, her grip on *Selene's Fang* tightening. "Tempting, but she's not worth the arrow. Father's the one to watch—he's cracking under your words."
Apollo's lips curled, his domain of Prophecy whispering Zeus's unease. "He's paranoid—good. Let him stew in his mistakes. This marriage—he'll regret it, just as I said."
The system chimed:
"Objective updated: Monitor Olympian fallout, expand mortal influence. Faith nodes: 300. Influence radius: 1,200 miles. Threat status: Zeus's paranoia critical, Aphrodite's enmity escalating."
Apollo's golden curls caught the sunlight as he gazed at the mortal world below—villages lighting fires in his name, shrines glowing with his blessings. "Three hundred nodes," he murmured. "They love us, sister—sun and moon, untouchable."
Artemis nodded, her silver eyes tracing the wilds beyond. "Aye. Let Olympus rot in its schemes—we'll build our own legend down there."
The twins stood together, giants of radiance and hunt, their departure from Olympus a bold stroke in their rising saga. Zeus's hall lay in disarray, Aphrodite's wrath simmered, and the king's paranoia grew—but Apollo and Artemis shone brighter than ever, their thrones a memory, their power a promise. The sun and moon had left the mountain, and the world below awaited their reign.