I, the slave boy, awaken with the most potent seed!!

Aphrodite froze, her divine senses flaring as she saw the unspoken emotion flicker in Nikolas's eyes. It wasn't just anger anymore—it was a tempest of confusion, shame, and something darker that made her blood chill. She had lived for centuries, seen desires of every shade, but this… This was different. Twisted. A perverse consequence of divine blood coursing through mortal veins.

Nikolas turned away abruptly, his fists clenching at his sides. His breaths were ragged, the firelight casting his shadow large and looming against the wall.

"I didn't ask for this," he muttered, his voice breaking like a boy's but carrying the weight of a man's torment. "To be... this thing. This half-god. Half-monster."

'He doesn't understand,' Aphrodite thought, stepping forward cautiously. Her maternal instincts warred with her divinity, which warned her to tread carefully.

"You're not a monster, Nikolas," she said, her voice soft but firm. "You are my son. And I love you, no matter the burden you carry."

Nikolas's laugh was bitter. "Love? Is that what this is?" He spun to face her, and the raw intensity in his eyes made her heart ache. "Do you even know what it means? Or is it just another game to you gods?"

The accusation stung, but she stood her ground. "I chose this life," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "I gave up everything—Olympus, immortality, power—so I could live as your mother. Do you think that was easy for me?"

Nikolas's gaze faltered for a moment, but the storm within him did not subside. He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers as if testing their strength. "I don't want your love," he said finally. "I want answers. Answers to why I am like this… why you made me this way."

Aphrodite sighed, her shoulders sagging under the weight of centuries of choices. "You were not made to suffer," she said. "You were made because I dared to love a mortal. You are a miracle, Nikolas. A bridge between two worlds."

"A bridge to nowhere," he snapped. His anger burned hot, but underneath it was a desperation she couldn't ignore.

Before she could respond, the door burst open, and Alexios entered, his rugged face lined with concern. "What's going on here?" he asked, his sharp hunter's eyes darting between them.

Nikolas turned away, his jaw tight. "Nothing," he muttered, pushing past Alexios and into the night.

Aphrodite closed her eyes, exhaling a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

Alexios frowned, stepping closer to her. "What happened?" he asked, his voice low.

"He knows," she replied simply.

Alexios stiffened, his hand instinctively going to the knife at his belt. "Knows what?"

"Everything," she said, meeting his gaze. "That I am not mortal. That he is not fully human."

Alexios cursed under his breath. "And how did he take it?"

Aphrodite's silence was answer enough.

Outside, Nikolas wandered into the forest, the cool air biting at his skin. The trees loomed around him, their gnarled branches casting eerie shadows in the moonlight. He clenched his fists, his thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and resentment.

He hated what he was. Hated the power coursing through his veins. And yet, he couldn't deny the allure of it—the way it set him apart, made him more than mere flesh and bone.

But what scared him most was the other feelings stirring within him. Feelings he couldn't name. Couldn't control.

'She's not just my mother,' he thought, his mind twisting in on itself. 'She's a goddess. The embodiment of desire. It's not wrong to feel…'

"No!" he shouted aloud, startling a flock of birds into flight. He sank to his knees, clutching his head. "I won't be this. I won't become... that."

The night offered no comfort, only silence. And in that silence, a seed of darkness took root.

Back at the house, Alexios sat across from Aphrodite, his expression grim. "We need to do something," he said. "Before he—"

"He won't," Aphrodite interrupted, though her voice wavered with uncertainty. "He's my son. He's strong enough to resist."

Alexios frowned. "You're asking a lot of a boy who's barely a man."

"He's more than a man," Aphrodite said softly. "And that's the problem."

Alexios's eyes narrowed. "You think he's dangerous."

Aphrodite didn't answer. Instead, she stared into the fire, its flickering flames mirroring the turmoil within her.

"Do you?" Alexios pressed.

"I don't know," she admitted. And that truth scared her more than anything.

In the weeks that followed, life in their small home took on an uneasy rhythm. Nikolas avoided his mother, his glances cold and distant. Alexios kept a wary eye on his son, his hunter's instincts telling him that the boy was on the edge of something he couldn't see.

And Aphrodite? She waited. Watched. Prayed to gods she no longer trusted.

Because deep down, she knew that this was only the beginning.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow across the forest as Nikolas made his way through the woods. He had been out hunting all day, hoping to clear his mind after yet another tense conversation with his mother. His thoughts churned as he walked, a mix of anger, confusion, and something deeper—something he couldn't quite name.

The sound of running water drew his attention. He followed it, weaving through the trees until he reached a small river, its surface shimmering like liquid gold in the fading light. His breath caught when he saw her.

Aphrodite stood waist-deep in the water, her back to him, her long hair cascading down her shoulders like molten sunlight. She tilted her head back, the droplets running down her skin catching the light in a way that made her seem otherworldly. For a moment, Nikolas couldn't move. He felt as if he'd stumbled upon a vision from a dream, too perfect to be real.

Then, as she turned slightly, he saw it.

Her usual mortal form, the one that blended seamlessly with the world around her, flickered like a mirage. The water betrayed her. For the first time, Nikolas saw her as she truly was: a goddess. Her skin glowed with an ethereal light, her features impossibly flawless, her beauty transcendent.

Nikolas's heart pounded in his chest. He knew he should look away, but he couldn't. His gaze was drawn to her, not just by her beauty, but by something more primal, more forbidden. He felt his blood heat, his breath quicken, and he hated himself for it.

"Mother?" His voice was hoarse, barely audible over the sound of the river.

Aphrodite froze, her hand halfway to her hair. Slowly, she turned to face him, her divine form still visible. Her eyes widened in shock as she realized what he had seen.
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"Nikolas," she said, her voice soft but sharp with warning. "You shouldn't be here."

"I—I didn't know…" He trailed off, unable to tear his eyes away. "What… What are you?"

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, she didn't answer. Then, with a sigh, she stepped closer, the water rippling around her. "You weren't meant to see this," she said. "It's… complicated."

Nikolas's gaze flicked over her, taking in every detail of her unearthly form. "You're not… human."

"No," she admitted, her voice tinged with regret. "I never was."

"Then what really...is" His voice cracked, a mix of awe and something darker. He looked like a deer in a headlight.

"I am a goddess," she said finally. "Aphrodite. The goddess of love and beauty. Of desire..."

Nikolas stared at her, the weight of her words sinking in. He should have felt betrayed, angry, this was not the woman he grew up knowing. But all he felt was an overwhelming desire that he couldn't control.

"You lied to me," he said, stepping closer.

"I protected you," she countered, her voice firm. "If you had known the truth—"

"It wouldn't have changed how I feel," he interrupted, his voice low.

Aphrodite's eyes widened. "Nikolas," she said, her tone laced with warning. "Don't."

But he was already closing the distance between them. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "How could I not…"

"Stop," she said, but her voice faltered as he reached out, his hand brushing against her arm.

"I can't," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "I don't want to."

Her resolve wavered as she looked into his eyes, filled with a longing that mirrored her own. She had spent centuries hiding her true self, denying her nature, but now, in this moment, she felt exposed in a way she hadn't in eons.

"This is wrong," she said, but her voice lacked conviction.

Nikolas stepped closer, his hands gently cupping her face. "Then stop me," he said, his breath warm against her skin.

Aphrodite hesitated, common sense screaming at her to push him away, but she couldn't. She had spent so long pretending to be mortal, suppressing her desires, that the weight of her loneliness overwhelmed her.

When their lips met, it was like a spark igniting a wildfire. The tension between them exploded, and all rational thought was consumed by the intensity of their need for each other.

---

The aftermath was silent, the air thick with unspoken words. Nikolas lay on the riverbank, his chest rising and falling as he stared up at the sky. Aphrodite sat beside him, her arms wrapped around her knees, her divine glow dimmed with guilt.

"What have we done?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Nikolas turned to her, his expression unreadable. "We did what felt right," he said, but even as he spoke, doubt crept into his voice.

Aphrodite shook her head. "No. This was a mistake. A terrible, terrible mistake."

Nikolas sat up, reaching for her, but she pulled away. "Don't," she said sharply. "You don't understand the consequences of what we've done."

"What consequences?" he asked, his brow furrowing.

Aphrodite looked at him, her eyes filled with sorrow. "You've defied the natural order," she said. "And there will be a price to pay."

"What kind of price?"

She closed her eyes, her voice trembling. "Your descendants… They will bear the weight of our sin. A curse that will mark them for eternity."

Nikolas's heart sank. "What kind of curse?"

"They will be unable to create life," she said, her voice breaking. "Impotent. Forever."

He stared at her, the enormity of her words sinking in. "But… why? Why would the gods do this?"

"Because we broke the rules," she said. "And the gods do not forgive."

The weight of her words pressed down on him, and for the first time, he felt the full gravity of what they had done. This was no longer just about them. It was about the generations that would follow—the lives that would be forever changed because of their forbidden desire.

And there was no undoing it.