Aika chatting with Ctimene on their opinions on Odysseus

Aika: I mean, he's so stubborn! It's really hard not to smite him sometimes. Was he this bad before me and my mother met him?

Athena's form shimmered before them, her eyes a stormy gray, reflecting the turmoil within. "You were reckless, Odysseus," she began, her voice a thunderclap that seemed to echo across the waters, "Sentimental at best. That is not the teaching of a goddess of war."

Aika watched the exchange with a heavy heart, the tension between her mother and her mentor palpable in the salty sea air. Athena's words stung with accusation, her pride in her mortal charge evident despite her disapproval. Odysseus, on the other hand, remained steadfast, his voice a mix of anger and sorrow as he defended his decision.

"You were reckless," Athena continued, her eyes flashing with divine fire, "Your heart has led you astray. This is not the way of a warrior."

Odysseus looked at Aika, his jaw set. "But it is the way of a king," he countered, his voice filled with the quiet conviction that had seen him through battles and trials. "I fight for more than just victory."

Athena's expression grew colder, her eyes like chips of ice in the moonlit night. "You fight with your heart, not your head," she said, her voice laced with disappointment. "This is not what I taught you."

Odysseus's gaze never left hers, his voice unwavering. "Maybe that's where you went wrong," he said, his words carrying a hint of accusation. "Maybe a warrior isn't just about the battles they win, but the mercy they show when they could have taken a life."

Aika watched, her heart torn between her mother's divine anger and her mentor's human emotion. "You dare to question me?" Athena's voice was a whipcrack, lashing out across the sea. "Your compassion is your weakness, Odysseus. It will be your downfall."

"Maybe so," he replied, his tone even, "But I will not lead my men into darkness for the sake of a small victory. I am a king, not a puppet to dance on the strings of fate."

Athena's eyes narrowed, the light in her eyes dimming. "You disappoint me, Odysseus," she said, her voice a cold wind that seemed to blow straight through Aika. "I had hoped for better from you."

Odysseus met her gaze, his own eyes filled with a steely resolve. "I am not a weapon to be wielded, Athena," he replied, his voice steady despite the tremble in his hands. "I am a man, a king, and I will make decisions that I believe are just."

Aika watched the exchange between her mother and Odysseus with a heavy heart, feeling the rift that had formed between them. Athena's words hung in the air, sharp as a sword's edge. "You're not looking for a mentor," she said, her voice laced with bitterness, "I'm not looking for a friend. I mistook you for a general. What a waste of effort spent."

Odysseus's gaze never wavered from hers, his eyes filled with a sorrow that seemed to mirror the waves that lapped at the shore of their parting. "That's just like you," he said, the words a soft rebuke that seemed to carry on the night breeze, "always expecting others to bend to your will."

The air grew colder as Athena's form flickered with divine anger. "Selfish and prideful," she spat, her words cutting through the stillness of the night. "You dare to question the wisdom of the gods?"

Odysseus took a step forward, his own anger simmering just below the surface. "I question the wisdom that would have me kill in cold blood," he retorted, his eyes flashing with defiance. "Is that what you call strategy? Is that what you call right?"

Athena's expression was unreadable, the fire in her eyes dimming to a cold ember. "You dare to lecture me on morality?" she hissed. "You, who are but a mortal?"

Odysseus took a deep breath, the weight of her words heavy upon him. "I dare to speak of what I believe is right," he said firmly, "even if it goes against the will of the gods."

Aika felt a strange mix of pride and fear swell within her chest. Her mother was powerful, and to defy her was to invite retribution. But she knew that Odysseus was not a man to be swayed by fear. His convictions were as steadfast as the ships that carried them away from the Cyclops's island.

Odysseus' voice carried over the water, clear and strong. "What I seek is not to be known," he called out to Athena, "But to be remembered for the lives I've spared, not the battles I've won." His words seemed to resonate with the very fabric of the night, a declaration that echoed through the ages.

Aika felt a pang of sorrow as she watched the scene unfold. Her mother's eyes, once filled with pride, now held a cold, detached glare. Athena's form grew more ethereal with each passing moment, her voice a fading whisper. "One day, you will see the error of your ways," she intoned, the anger in her words a stark contrast to the sadness in her eyes. "One day, you will understand the true cost of mercy."

Odysseus' gaze never left hers, his voice a mix of determination and pain. "I already understand," he said, his words carrying a finality that seemed to hang in the air. "Mercy is the cost we pay to live with ourselves, to live with honor."

Aika felt the tension coil around them like a serpent, tightening its grip on their hearts. Athena's eyes searched Odysseus' face, her expression a tumult of anger and regret. "You speak of honor," she murmured, "but you know not what it truly means."

"I fight for my people," Odysseus said, his voice strong, "For the future of Ithaca. For love, for family, for home. That is what I know." His gaze was unyielding, the determination in his eyes a beacon in the dark night.

"And what of your pride?" Athena challenged, her voice a whispering breeze that seemed to carry the echoes of countless battles. "It will be your downfall, as it is for all men."

Odysseus's eyes never left hers. "If it is pride that drives me to protect my people," he replied, "Then I will embrace it. For what is a king without pride in his kingdom? What is a husband without his love for his family?"

The air grew colder as Athena's form flickered further, her divine anger a palpable presence on the ship. "One day, you'll understand it all," she said, her voice a mournful one on the wind. "One day, you'll see that the world is not so simple."

Odysseus' eyes remained steadfast, his voice carrying over the waves. "Today is not that day," he said firmly, his words a declaration of his convictions. "Today, I fight for what I believe in, not for the glory of the gods."

Aika watched as her mother's form grew more and more transparent, the light from the moon seeming to consume her until all that remained was a shimmering outline. "You're wrong," Athena murmured, her voice barely audible over the sigh of the sea. "But perhaps, in time, you will learn."

"But you, Athena," Odysseus called out, his voice carrying over the swell of the sea, "What are you fighting for if not the people you claim to guide? You stand above us, cold and alone, dictating from afar."

The goddess's eyes flashed, her form flickering like a candle in the breeze. "I fight for the balance," she replied, her voice a mix of anger and resignation. "But it seems you're too blinded by your own mortal concerns to see the bigger picture."

Odysseus took a deep breath, the weight of her words heavy on his shoulders. "Perhaps," he conceded, "But I am a king, and my people come first. My battles are not for glory but for their future. You kept Aika from this world because of its dangers, but you didn't even trust her enough to protect herself."

Athena's form grew solid again, a storm brewing in her eyes. "You question my decisions?" she thundered, her voice shaking the very masts of the ship.

"I do," Odysseus responded, his voice steady. "You kept Aika from the world you deemed too dangerous, yet you ask us to embrace the very darkness you feared for her. It is your own fear that has led us astray."

The sea grew still around them, the waves seemingly holding their breath as they awaited Athena's response. Her eyes searched Aika's, and for a brief moment, Aika saw the love and fear that had driven her mother's actions. But the moment passed, and the goddess's gaze grew cold once more.

"Very well," she said, her voice a thunderclap that seemed to echo through the night. "This is your path now. I will not stand in your way." The words hung in the air, a finality that seemed to sever the bond that had been forged over countless battles and shared moments of wisdom.

Aika felt a tear slip down her cheek as she watched her mother fade away. Athena's form grew more translucent with each heartbeat, until she was nothing but a shimmering outline in the moonlight. "Goodbye," Aika whispered, her voice a tremulous breeze that seemed to carry across the waters. "I will see you again."

The silence that followed Athena's disappearance was as profound as the emptiness in Aika's heart. She had never seen her mother so angry, so disappointed. The men continued to row, their eyes fixed on the horizon, unaware of the divine drama that had unfolded before them. Odysseus' gaze remained steadfast on the water ahead, the tension in his jaw the only indication of the internal struggle he faced.

For a long while, no words passed between them. The only sounds were the rhythmic splash of the oars and the occasional call of a night bird, lost in the vastness above. Aika broke the silence, her voice tentative. "What now?"

Odysseus took a deep breath, his eyes still on the horizon. "Now, we continue," he said, his voice firm with resolve. "We have made our choice, and we must live with it."

The ships sliced through the water, the moon their solitary witness as they left the island of the Cyclopes behind. The men rowed in solemn silence, each lost in their own thoughts, the gravity of their encounter weighing heavily upon them. Aika felt a sense of loss, a void where her mother's presence had once been strong.

Odysseus' hand tightened on the tiller, his knuckles white with the force of his grip. His eyes remained fixed on the horizon, a silent promise to the gods and to his men that he would not let their journey be in vain. The sea stretched out before them, vast and unpredictable, a mirror of the trials that awaited them.

Aika retreated to her chambers, the heavy curtains billowing around her as she closed the door. The dimly lit room was a stark contrast to the moonlit night outside, the only sound the gentle sway of the ship as it cradled her in its embrace. She sat on her bed, her mind racing with the events of the evening.

Silent tears traced a path down her cheeks, each one a droplet of sorrow for the rift between her mother and her mentor. The scent of the sea was faint through the wooden walls, a reminder of the vast expanse that separated them from Ithaca and the warmth of home. Aika's heart felt as cold as the metal of the weapons that had claimed so many lives.

Her chambers, once a sanctuary of comfort and guidance, now seemed suffocatingly small. The soft glow of the oil lamp cast long shadows, dancing in time with the gentle sway of the ship. Each flicker of light on the walls was a stark reminder of the choices made and the consequences that loomed ahead. She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with the force of her silent sobs.

The bed beneath her felt like a cold, hard rock, each thread of the blanket a reminder of the warmth and protection her mother's embrace had once provided. Aika had never felt so alone, not even in the vastness of Olympus. Her eyes searched the room for any sign of Athena, any hint that the goddess had left some part of herself behind, but all she found were the cold, unyielding surfaces of the wooden walls and the cold, empty air.

Her breath hitched as the sobs grew louder, her body shaking with the force of her grief. Aika knew that her mother's anger was not easily forgotten, that the gods held onto their wrath like a treasure trove of spite. But she couldn't help but cling to the hope that Athena would see the wisdom in her words, that she would come to understand the choices that had been made.

Odysseus had chosen mercy over brutality, compassion over cold-heartedness. It was a human trait, one that Aika had grown to admire in the short time she had been allowed to walk among mortals. It was a trait that she knew her mother couldn't fully understand yet, trapped as she was by the rigid expectations of Olympus.

The ship creaked and groaned as it continued on its journey, a rhythmic lullaby to the sleeping sailors. Aika lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling, her mind racing with thoughts of Athena and the prophecy. The weight of her mother's disappointment was a heavy burden to bear, but she knew that she had chosen the right path.

One day, maybe, Athena would understand that the world was not just a chessboard for the gods to move their pawns. Until then, Aika would stand by Odysseus, her belief in his cause unshaken. She wiped away her tears and took a deep breath, steeling herself for the challenges ahead.

Athena watching her daughter: MY BABY IS CRYING! I HURT HER!

Ares: I feel you...*sobs* CTIMENE HATES ME TOO! MY DAUGHTER!

Hermes: Aika and Ctimene will be fine, they have me!

Athena & Ares: *wail harder* THAT'S NOT BETTER!