The Olympians stood upon the boundless emerald field that stretched beneath the radiant sky, each god and goddess cloaked in their own divine aura that shimmered like starlight against the horizon.
The air itself seemed to hold its breath, thick with tension, divinity, and an ancient familiarity that none dared to break.
Zeus stood at the forefront, his golden hair gleaming beneath the sunlight, his robe of pure white fluttering gently in the faint wind, while behind him stood the rest of the Twelve.
Poseidon with his trident glinting like the depths of the sea.
Metis calm and composed with her sharp, analytical gaze.
Athena bearing her sealed divinity but still radiating wisdom.
Apollo and Artemis standing like mirrored day and night, and the others each carrying the weight of their own domain and legend.
A faint tremor rippled across the ground, subtle at first, then growing into a deep, resonant hum that seemed to shake the very fabric of reality.
