“How dare you interfere in my affairs?” Ares withdrew his sword, a ball of fire formed in his palm.
A bright blue light illuminated from Michael, it surrounded himself and Syria. The fireball burned through the room, on a path to Syria. A swing of Michael’s mighty sword distinguished the flames. The God of War stared in disbelief.
“Ares do not mistake my forbearance as a sign of weakness. I will destroy you if need be. I will not let your harm her or the child.”
“The child is as much mine as it yours. He is the heir to the throne of the God of Thunder and nothing will change that. “
“He may be the heir to the throne but he’ll rule over Olympus over my dead body.” Syria cried out.
The muscle in Ares’ jaw tightened in anger. “Mind your tongue Syria, you may find your wish come true. This isn’t over angel. Not by a long shot.” In a bellow of black smoke and lightening he was gone.
Michael offered Syria his hand. “Can you stand?”
“Yes.” She grasped onto his hand and pulled herself up. She glanced down at her belly.
“He’s fine,” Michael said.
“He. You both refer to the baby as ‘he’.”
“The child you bear within your belly is male. A mighty warrior he shall become and he shall be called, Gideon.”
“Gideon? How do you know this?” Syria asked.
“It is has been written. He will be the perfect blend of mortal and immortal, more powerful than Ares and myself.”
Syria trusted in Michael’s word, the savior of her father’s life. He was her rescuer from Ares’ lethal storm of vengeance, but a child more powerful than its father’s. How could she raise such a child? Moreover, how could she raise a child with that much power on her own?
Her glance cast over Michael. “What if—what if he’s like Ares?”
“Unfortunately, his temperament will be paired with that of both his fathers. However, is also human, he will possess the power of free will. No one and nothing can take that away from him. The definition of his character will be defined by the choices he makes. He must choose his own path.” He approached her. “Syria, do not worry, you are not alone in this. I will be here when you need me, when he needs me. You only need to call to me.” A flash of blue light illuminated around him, he extended his wings and took to the skies.
She was aglow with the radiance of happiness. Her pregnancy continued over the next nine months almost without incident. She was in the village gardens when a familiar dark cloud of smoke appeared beneath the trees. She took to her feet and began to run.
“Syria, stop!” The God of War demanded.
She continued to run, the weight of her rounded belly did not allow as quick a pace as she preferred. She cleared the apple trees, a dark whirlwind pummeled towards her. The last swirls of the tornado faded and brought forth Discord—goddess of Strife, sister of Ares. In her hasty retreat, Syria lost her footing and fell. Her impact softened by the garden’s plush grass. Shimmering silk tresses flowing on the breeze drew attention. Her gaze traveled up the extension of the stola. There was no mistaken, beautiful and majestic, Hera–the Queen of Gods and Goddesses stood before her. Ares and Discord joined their mother’s side.