The Darkness Descending Upon the Temple of the Sun

Olympus, the Temple of the Sun.

The Golden Temple of Apollo, which had always been filled with the sound of beautiful songs and the chirping of birds, was now cowering in the grip of terror.

—"Lord Apollo! Please, compose yourself!"

—"So, someone bring the wine!"

Apollo, the beautiful Sun God who had never lost his grace or composure. Ever since Olympus was sealed, he had set out on his usual journey across the sky ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in his chariot, only to return suddenly, screaming and collapsing within his own temple.

"What on earth has happened...!"

The temple of Apollo, which had been decorated with magnificent and flawless beauty, was now a scene of miserable despair.

The horses of the sun, his pride and joy, were foaming at the mouth, their bodies torn and bitten, causing the worshippers who saw them to shudder in horror. The golden chariot, which had always sparkled without a single speck of dust, was now a wreck, marred by savage claw marks and the destructive traces of a beast.

But what truly plunged the worshippers into terror was the sight of Apollo himself, lying unconscious and suffering in the center of that carnage.

"What kind of blasphemous being could have inflicted such gruesome wounds upon the body of Phoebus Apollo..."

The beauty of the Sun God, which had always been as gentle as the mildest sunlight, was now horribly distorted by fear and dread. The Armor of the Sun—forged by Hephaestus with the finest gold, bronze, and shards of sunlight—was shattered, soiled, and stripped of its radiance. And then, there was the ghastly wound that had pierced his chest. It took the worshippers a long time to accept that the golden blood flowing from that wound was, in fact, Apollo’s ichor.

"Wh-what should we do?!"

"For Lord Apollo, who is supposed to heal the wounds of the gods, to return with such a grave injury..."

"F-for now, the Horae are feeding him nectar and ambrosia, so let us wait!"

Apollo’s attendants and nymphs wrung their hands, desperate for a solution, but none could be found.

"In times like this, we should have brought Lord Asclepius..."

Asclepius, the God of Medicine! He was the son of Apollo, recognized even by Chiron as having surpassed him in the art of healing. Currently, he was active in Atalanta’s Arcadia, curing and saving countless sick people. It was said that his medical skills had become even more miraculous and precise, allowing him to discern a patient’s condition and treatment just by touching their wrist. Queen Atalanta had even commissioned the sons of Hephaestus to build a large hospital next to the royal castle, and it was said to be so crowded with physicians seeking his teachings and patients seeking his help that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠there was not an inch of space to stand.

"Even though Lord Asclepius and Lord Apollo are not on good terms, wouldn't he come if his father had collapsed?"

"That would be impossible."

The others nodded at the nymph attendant’s suggestion, looking as if they might run out at any moment, but the High Priest shook his head and restrained them.

"Do you not know that Olympus is currently sealed by Zeus’s decree, and no one can leave unless they are a god performing divine duties?"

"Ah..."

"Even if we begged Iris or Hermes to deliver a message, Lord Asclepius would not be able to enter Olympus."

The residents of Olympus had never even considered leaving, so they had forgotten that the realm was sealed.

"Then, let us go to Lady Hebe..."

Just as the High Priest was trying to calm the gloomy attendants and nymphs, a clear bell sound interrupted him.

"It is Lord Apollo’s summons!"

"Hurry and go!"

"Y-yes, I shall!"

The High Priest scrambled to his feet and headed toward the inner sanctum where Apollo had called him. In the heart of the Sun Temple, where Apollo’s private chamber was located, the anxious Horae were waiting for the High Priest.

"High Priest!"

"Horae, I have come because Lord Apollo summoned me... How is his condition?"

"W-we treated the wounds with bandages and ointment from Lord Apollo’s pharmacy, but..."

"He seems so unstable, as if he has suffered some kind of shock."

"He keeps muttering about black snakes, saying Python has returned. Things we cannot understand."

"It is as if, though it cannot be..."

Fear. It was not a word that should be used for the Sun God, the male god of the hunt, the one who had slain Python. It was a blasphemous thought they dared not speak aloud, but the reaction their god showed was clearly intense fear—no, terror itself.

"Have they perhaps met those kind ones..."

"Who in all the world could possibly make Apollo afraid..."

"High Priest, do you have any ideas?"

"Even nectar cannot wash away Lord Apollo’s pain. Ambrosia cannot erase the scars, either."

"Oh my... what on earth could have happened..."

The goddesses of the seasons chewed over the misery together and asked the High Priest for a solution, but he, too, could not open his mouth in the face of such an unprecedented event.

"Eek!"

At the sound of Apollo’s fierce roar from beyond the door, the Horae trembled as never before, only glancing at the High Priest.

"I will go in quickly..."

"Y-yes!"

At the High Priest’s signal, the Horae scurried away. Standing before the door, the priest steadied his breath and announced himself.

"Apollo. Radiant Gold. Your servant has arrived!"

"Enter!"

Once Apollo’s permission was granted, the High Priest carefully opened the door and entered the sanctum.

'Oh... it is beautiful as always.'

Given the situation, every second was critical, but the High Priest could not hide his awe at the sight of the sanctum, which only those permitted by Apollo could enter. Warm sunlight descended from all directions, and the ceiling was supported by golden pillars hung with fragrant flowers and fruits, beneath a sky where blue celestial bodies shimmered.

The sun was the eternal, immortal guardian that brought life and vitality to this land. Even he, who had served Apollo his entire life, felt his body tremble with reverence and emotion whenever he stepped foot in this place.

"Lord Apollo!!"

However, that emotion was short-lived. Seeing Apollo hunched over and gasping in the center of the sanctum, the High Priest rushed forward and prostrated himself.

"Y-you have come... Ugh!"

"A-are you alright!?"

Apollo, the master of this sanctum and the sun itself. The god ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠who was always perfection incarnate was wrapped in bandages, sweating, and gasping in pain. Seeing a sight that would make anyone born in Greece clutch their heart in sorrow, the High Priest asked, weeping like a child.

"Who is it! Who on earth! Who dared to leave such a brutal mark on the body of Phoebus Apollo!!"

The High Priest began to wail, filled with such resentment that it brought to mind the goddesses of anger, hatred, and vengeance. Under normal circumstances, Apollo would have shared praise and emotion for such faith, but even that wailing only stirred anger in the current Apollo.

"Quiet! I am going to see my father at once, so announce me to the Father in Olympus immediately!"

"Excuse me? Y-you mean Zeus!"

Just as the High Priest asked back in surprise at the sudden request for an audience—

"Ugh!"

"Since when has a High Priest dared to question a god like this?"

Pulled by an irresistible force, the High Priest was dangled in the air, his neck gripped by the hand of the god he had revered so much. Seeing the always gentle and kind Apollo so consumed by rage, the High Priest felt as if his breath had stopped, but what was even more surprising was the emotion glimpsed in the god’s eyes.

'H-he is afraid? Lord Apollo?'

Eyes wet with tears, pupils shaking with anxiety. His face, drenched in cold sweat, was marked not only by pain but by extreme fear of something that had inflicted that pain.

"I am going to my father at once. Do you understand!"

"Ugh... I, I understand!"

The High Priest’s old body was sprawled ungracefully on the floor of the sanctum. As he looked up, Apollo glared down at him with annoyance, and the priest scrambled to his feet to prostrate himself again.

"A-Apollo...?"

"What is it! Are you ignoring my words now, too! Will you not go at once!"

However, the High Priest, who would usually have run off to carry out the god’s command, could only hesitate.

"Th-that is... what is that?"

"What are you talking about..."

The place the High Priest pointed to with a trembling finger was none other than behind Apollo’s back. A strange, pitch-black disk, which did not belong in this beautiful sanctum, had appeared behind Apollo at some point.

Just as Apollo’s face twisted and his eyes flashed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with rage—

Pitch-black hands shot out from that black circle and instantly wrapped around Apollo’s neck and waist.

"Ugh?! Wh-what is this..."

"L-Lord Apollo!"

"Ugh, let go, let go. I said let gooooooo!!"

The black hands that had instantly bound the Sun God’s body began to slowly drag him into the hole.

"Let go! Let go!!"

Apollo tried to resist by igniting his divine power, but having already lost too much ichor and being severely weakened, he was slowly pulled into the black void.

"You! What are you doing instead of saving me at once...!"

"Oh... oh...!"

As even the High Priest, who had served Apollo for ages, trembled in terror, the sun vanished completely into the darkness. Only the old man, who had collapsed in a faint, remained in the empty sanctum.