The Titan War God Returns

Don't Be Afraid

Iron studied the faces of the people in the circle, some familiar and comforting, others almost forgotten, shadows from another life. The chamber’s silence pressed around them, broken only by the faint crackle of torches along the stone walls. Every eye rested on him, waiting.

“I have missed this gathering,” Iron said at last. His voice carried both sorrow and strength, as if he spoke through years of silence and loss. The weight of his words lingered in the air, drawing a solemn stillness from the group. After a pause, he added with quiet resolve, “Thank you for waiting.”

His gaze swept the circle, but when it fell on Athena, it sharpened like a blade. “What you did was reckless.”

Athena did not flinch. Her eyes narrowed, her voice cold and defiant. “He deserved it.”

“I know,” Iron replied, his tone cutting through the air, sharp enough to sting. “But your actions put the world’s eyes on us. We exist in secret for a reason.” His words rang heavy, a reminder of an oath none of them dared break.

A thick silence followed, heavy with unspoken fear. They all understood what exposure meant. Discovery would not only destroy them but unravel everything they had built. Yet none dared to challenge his words, not even Athena, whose defiance flickered but did not fade.

Iron’s eyes softened, but his anger only shifted, burning toward another wound that still festered within the circle.

“Have any of you seen a Valhalla?” he asked, his voice low with fury.

Silence answered him. Until Athena spoke. “We have heard of Hera’s younger sister.”

Iron’s face stirred with a spark of hope. “Where is she?”

“On the far side of the world. She has been struck by a disease. She lives in poverty.”

The words cut him deeper than a blade. “A god… diseased? Reduced to this?”

Athena only nodded. Iron’s fists clenched. “Then we will find her.”

---

Under the bright lights of a plaza, a blind girl sat with her guitar. Her voice rose soft and pure, drawing strangers to drop coins into her jar. She never looked at them, her pale eyes fixed on nothing.

A group of boys stopped and mocked her. They tossed rocks instead of coins, laughing as they walked away. The girl tilted her head, listening to the sound, then reached into her jar. Her fingers closed around the cold, rough stones. She smiled faintly, tossed them aside, and strummed again. Her song filled the air, gentle yet unbroken.

The shopping mall square was alive with movement. Amidst the noise, a blind girl sat on the ground, her guitar balanced across her lap. Her voice floated like silk through the air, pure and melodic. Passers-by slowed, some touched by the sound, others moved by her condition, dropping coins into the jar in front of her.

Then came a group of boys, rowdy and careless. They stopped when they noticed her blank stare, the way her eyes never shifted. One of them smirked. Instead of coins, they tossed pebbles into her jar.

The girl paused when she heard the dull clink. That wasn’t metal. The laughter of the boys confirmed it. She reached in, touched the stones, and smiled faintly. With calm defiance, she tossed them aside and went back to her music until her voice grew tired.

When she finally stood up, she was all business. The coins went into her jar, the guitar slung over her shoulder, the walking stick held firmly in her hand. She moved with practiced confidence through the crowded square, tapping her stick rhythmically. She felt her way to a narrow alley and slipped inside.

Halfway down the alley, she stopped. The air felt wrong. A muffled cough reached her ears. Her heart thumped hard against her ribs as she turned toward the sound. "Is... is someone there?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Four teenage boys stepped from the shadows. One of them waved a hand in her face and snickered. "She really is blind."

"Of course she is. Look at the stick," another said, his words followed by hushed laughter.

The girl's knees felt weak. She was surrounded by mocking voices and circling footsteps. The darkness pressed in on her, heavier than before.

"Please... what do you want?" she whispered.

"We want something you've got," a cold voice replied.

Her mind went blank with terror. Money or worse. She went silent, a new fear gripping her.

One of the boys muttered that it didn't feel right, but the others jeered at him until he finally left. The remaining three closed in. Hands grabbed her shoulders and legs, lifting her roughly into the air. She screamed, kicking wildly, but a hand clamped over her mouth. Hot, foul breath and spit dripped onto her scalp as a cruel voice hissed, "Shut up."

They threw her to the ground. A boy pinned her wrists, and another reached for her pants. Her muffled cries became sobs, her strength draining away. The scrape of a belt buckle against the concrete sent a jolt of panic through her. She knew what was coming. She knew no one would save her.

Then, in a a split second, everything changed.

The boy on top of her screamed, his body flying back as though ripped away by an invisible force. She heard his cry of pain and the sickening thud of his body hitting the ground. Confused and terrified, she froze.

A rock, thrown with brutal precision, had struck his head cleanly. The other boys spun toward the sound.

A man stepped from the shadows, his presence heavy, his pace deliberate. One of the boys, armed with a stick, charged at him.

Before he could get close, another figure appeared. A woman, calm and cold, moved with short, controlled steps. The boy didn't see her coming until her fist crashed into his face. He hit the ground, choking on blood and teeth, sobbing in disbelief at the power of her strike.

The third boy barely had time to react before the man's fist connected with a sickening crunch. His nose shattered, and he collapsed in a heap. Within seconds, the alley filled with the pitiful wailing of three broken teenagers.

The blind girl huddled against the wall, trembling. The cries of her attackers didn't comfort her; they only deepened her fear. She didn't know who these people were or what they wanted.

She heard footsteps approach. "Please," she begged, her voice cracking. "Don't hurt me..."

A hand touched her arm—firm but gentle. She flinched.

"Don't be afraid," a man's deep voice said.

"You are safe now," the woman added softly.

The girl's tears returned, but this time they were tears of relief. The crushing terror that had seized her finally began to loosen its hold.