From that day forward, Salomon's training changed.
The Ancient One began teaching him personally.
Other sorcerers at Kamar-Taj could still seek her guidance, but their paths were different. For most, mastering the spells within the Book of the Vishanti was already a lifetime's work.
Salomon wasn't given that luxury.
He studied those spells—
And something far worse.
The Dark Dimension.
The Ancient One knew exactly how dangerous that was, so she controlled every step. The moment the whispers grew too loud, or the moment Dormammu's attention drifted too close, she would pull Salomon's astral form back immediately.
Because of that, the damage stayed… minimal.
Pale skin. Fatigue. A mind stretched thin.
But none of the deeper corruption. No crystallization of flesh. No irreversible changes.
Even so, the toll was heavy.
Salomon's focus suffered. His magic faltered. He simply didn't have the strength to draw from the Dark Dimension the way the Ancient One did.
There was only one of her.
And he wasn't her.
Not yet.
—
Then one day, the lessons stopped.
No warning.
No explanation.
"Your next task," the Ancient One said, "is to visit someone."
She gestured toward the fat little snake resting on Salomon's desk.
"Or rather… a god."
Salomon stared at the snake.
Then back at her.
"…I have a bad feeling about this."
"In Greek myth," he added carefully, "Athena isn't exactly known for patience."
Stories didn't paint her as forgiving. Not toward mortals who stepped out of line.
Gods of law and order rarely were.
Even if she wasn't a "true" god in the same sense as others, the title meant something.
It came with expectations.
And personality.
The Ancient One seemed to read his thoughts.
"I allow Athena to remain on Earth because she follows the rules I've set."
Her tone was calm, but absolute.
"Anyone who tries to restore the Age of Gods here is not tolerated. Zeus included."
That settled something.
Immediately.
"Go," she continued. "She helped you once. Now it's time to hear what she wants in return."
Salomon hesitated.
"She… wants something from me?"
That part didn't sit right.
A god asking a mortal for help?
The Ancient One didn't seem surprised.
"You're underestimating yourself again," she said. "She saw something in you at the British Museum. That's the only reason she intervened at all."
A pause.
"Bring a gift. The snake will guide you."
—
Athena, apparently, wasn't using her own name.
These days, she went by Minerva.
She had even written a book—The Hero's Journey—a detailed attempt to reconcile myth and history.
It hadn't sold particularly well.
To find her, Salomon would need to go to New York.
A place called Athena Hill.
She ran an orphanage there.
—
That made things… easier.
Salomon exhaled slowly.
If the Ancient One allowed her to stay on Earth, then that meant something.
Reputation mattered.
And the Ancient One's reputation wasn't built on diplomacy.
It was built on results.
There had been other pantheons once. Greek gods among them. Even something called the Eternals had been involved.
Now?
Gone.
Salomon didn't know the full story.
But he didn't need to.
The timeline spoke for itself.
When the Ancient One rose to power, things had changed.
Drastically.
And not everyone had survived that shift.
That alone was enough.
If she said it was safe—
Then it was safe.
Probably.
—
A moment later, Salomon stepped out of a narrow alley.
New York.
Just like that.
He adjusted his sleeve, carefully guiding the small white snake inside. Its cold scales coiled around his arm, shifting restlessly as it tested the air.
Uncomfortable.
Very uncomfortable.
But necessary.
The snake lifted its head, tongue flicking, then slowly angled itself in a direction.
Guiding him.
Salomon followed.
"…You're sure about this?" he muttered, glancing down. "That's a straight path, right?"
The snake looked back at him.
And somehow—
It looked offended.
Salomon sighed.
"Look, I don't speak snake. No druid magic, no special gifts. If you can nod or shake your head, that'd really help."
The snake did neither.
It simply turned its head again.
Decisively.
Salomon took that as a yes.
—
He drew attention as he walked.
Not surprising.
A red robe, detailed with silver chains, wasn't exactly subtle. Add a snake wrapped around his arm, and people gave him a wide berth without hesitation.
Salomon didn't notice.
His focus stayed on the snake.
Step by step, it led him forward.
Like a floating quest marker only he could see.
Eventually, he stopped in front of a white apartment building.
The snake stilled.
This was it.
He knocked.
The door opened almost immediately.
—
A woman stood there.
Tall.
Striking.
She wore a light white dress, simple but elegant, with gold embroidery along the edges in a distinctly Greek pattern.
Her hair fell in thick golden waves over her shoulders. Her posture was relaxed, but there was strength in the way she carried herself—subtle, controlled, undeniable.
Not fragile.
Not soft.
Perfectly balanced.
Salomon didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
"Athena," he said carefully, bowing his head. "Goddess of wisdom. Tritogeneia. Pallas of Athens."
He held out a bottle of wine with both hands.
"Salomon Damonet. At your service."
The small white snake slipped from his arm into her hand without hesitation.
"I know who you are," she said, smiling faintly.
She stepped aside.
"Come in."
—
The apartment was exactly what he expected.
And somehow more.
Marble sculptures filled the space, some accented with gold. The entire room carried the aesthetic of ancient Greece, refined and deliberate.
A large white wool rug covered the center of the floor.
White furniture.
Clean lines.
On the table, a few apples sat arranged neatly.
And by the window—
A brown owl watched him.
Unblinking.
—
"Why so tense?" Athena asked, handing him a glass of water.
Salomon sat stiffly on the couch.
"…Should I not be?"
She raised an eyebrow.
"Did you take those myths at face value?"
That question alone nearly derailed him.
Athena waved it off before he could answer.
"I've tried to correct those stories," she said, mildly annoyed. "Do you know what that got me? People calling it fiction."
She clicked her tongue.
"Children rewriting history."
Then she leaned forward slightly.
"But that's not why you're here."
Her gaze sharpened.
"You're wondering why I helped you at the British Museum."
"Yes," Salomon admitted. "I don't see what I could possibly offer you."
Athena smiled.
"Your teacher never told you?"
There was a glint in her eyes now.
"You're far more valuable than you think."
She leaned back.
Relaxed again.
"You're being trained by the Sorcerer Supreme. That alone makes you worth my attention."
Salomon didn't respond.
Didn't know how.
"So yes," she continued. "I'll need your help."
A pause.
"Not now."
Her smile deepened, just slightly.
"But in the future."