The final year of their five-year wait had come.
The training field roared with excitement as children crowded around, forming a circle. In the center, four figures faced each other—sparring, testing the skills they had sharpened over the years.
Atlas now stood tall at fifteen, his frame lean yet hardened like a young warrior. In his hands gleamed a sword, his movements precise and terrifyingly fast. Beside him, Alexios—also fifteen—twirled his spear with practiced ease, his raw strength honed into deadly rhythm. Lukas, massive for his age, already carried the frame of a grown man, gripping a double-headed axe light enough for him but heavy for anyone else. And Thea, no longer the shy child she once was, looked every part a young huntress, her bowstring pulled taut, a dagger strapped at her waist.
They clashed in a storm of blows. Alexios lunged forward, his spear whistling through the air, while Lukas came in from the side, axe arcing downward with brutal force.
Atlas parried both with terrifying control, his sword ringing against metal.
"Hold still, damn you!" Alexios growled, sweat dripping from his brow as he thrust again.
Atlas slipped past, deflecting the spear with a twist of his wrist, his body moving like water.
From behind, Thea loosed an arrow. It flew straight for his back—only for Atlas to whip his hand around and catch it mid-flight, the shaft stopping just inches from his chest.
Gasps echoed from the watching children.
"Impossible…" one whispered.
But Atlas did not stop. He pressed forward, overwhelming Alexios and Lukas with a flurry of strikes until their weapons were knocked aside. A final sweep of his sword brought both boys to the ground, groaning in defeat.
Breathing heavily, Atlas lowered his blade. His eyes flicked toward Thea, who had another arrow drawn. She froze, realizing he could strike her down before she loosed it. Slowly, she lowered her bow.
The sparring match was over.
The crowd erupted, some cheering, others murmuring in disbelief. Even the older children, stronger and more experienced, nodded with reluctant respect.
Alexios lay on his back, panting, his spear tossed aside. "You're… a monster," he groaned.
Lukas wheezed beside him. "Seconded."
Atlas chuckled and offered them each a hand. "Or maybe you two are just weak."
That earned him a glare from Alexios and a grumbled laugh from Lukas. Thea only shook her head, though her lips curved in a faint smile.
The watching children shouted in agreement, voices mixing with admiration and awe.
The moment was shattered when a deep voice bellowed across the field.
"Gather around the main hall!"
The masked leader stood at the edge, his face unreadable behind his visor.
Confused murmurs spread through the children. Atlas exchanged a wary glance with Alexios, then with Lukas and Thea. Whatever this was, it was unusual. The entire camp was rarely summoned at once.
Still, they obeyed.
The main hall was smaller than the training field but built like a miniature stadium, with stone seats circling a raised platform. Torches burned along the walls, casting long shadows.
And there she was.
Chrysis.
Her figure draped in priestly robes, her presence radiating a false warmth that made Atlas's stomach churn. She spread her arms wide as the children filed in.
"Oh, my children," she crooned, her voice echoing through the chamber. "How you have grown. Once you were helpless babes, and now… young lions, fierce and proud. My heart swells with love for you all."
The children shifted uneasily. Their faces were blank, but Atlas could see the truth burning in their eyes. They all knew now. They were not her children. They were stolen.
Chrysis continued, her speech winding on, filled with honeyed lies of obedience, devotion, and destiny.
"You are chosen," she said, her tone sharp now. "The gods themselves guide me to shape you. You are my gifts to the world, and one day, you shall bring glory to Greece under my vision."
Alexios's fists clenched at his sides. Fury burned in his eyes, his teeth grinding, but he remembered Atlas's warning—not yet.
Atlas scanned the crowd. Dozens of children, silent, but their gazes flicked between one another. Rage, grief, defiance—emotions Chrysis could not see, but Atlas could.
They're ready, he thought. More than ready.
When Chrysis finally dismissed them, her smile lingering too long, the children filed out silently. Not one word of thanks or devotion was spoken.
That night, the hidden chamber beneath their sleeping quarters flickered with torchlight.
Atlas sat at the head of a crude wooden table, Alexios at his right, Lukas and Thea close by. Around them were five others—older boys and girls, hardened by training and loyal to Atlas's cause.
Nikandros, a broad-shouldered youth whose mastery with the spear rivaled Alexios.
Eryx, a sharp-eyed boy with a talent for knives and shealth.
Phaedra, a quiet girl who moved unnoticed through markets and ports, gathering whispers.
Kyra, bold and cunning, who brokered small trades in Nauplia under false names.
Leonidas, named after the Spartan king, fierce in combat with a blade and already respected by the younger children.
The chamber buzzed with voices, the first true meeting of rebellion.
Nikandros slammed a fist on the table. "We should strike now. Tonight! She's here. If we wait, we may never get another chance."
Eryx leaned forward, eyes glinting. "The guards are fewer than before. I've counted. If we move swiftly, we can take them by surprise."
But Kyra shook her head. "You're reckless. An attack now will bring the Cult's attention from every corner of Greece. We need more time, more connections."
The arguments clashed, the voices rising. Some cried for action, others for patience.
Finally, all eyes turned to Atlas.
He sat silent, hands steepled, his gaze locked on the flame of the torch. His mind weighed every detail: the connections they had built in Epidauros and Nauplia, the blacksmiths loyal to their cause, the shipbuilders who owed them favors. The treasure Chrysis hoarded, now mapped and accounted for. The food they had stored. The children's strength, sharper than ever.
Everything was in place.
Atlas exhaled slowly. "We've waited long enough."
The chamber fell silent.
He raised his head, eyes burning with resolve. "Tonight, we strike. Tonight, we end her chain over us. Chrysis will fall."
The children erupted—cheers, roars, the fire of rebellion finally unleashed.
Alexios grinned fiercely, gripping his spear. "At last."
Thea's hands trembled slightly, but her gaze was steady, bow resting across her lap. Lukas pounded his fist into his palm with a grin. The others leaned forward, united.
Atlas stood, his shadow stretching across the chamber wall.
"Then tonight," he said, voice ringing with finality, "we break free."
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