The Edge of the Whispering Spring – Midnight
The air shimmered softly under the pale moonlight. The Elixir of Unbinding glowed faintly inside a crystal vial—violet with silver streaks swirling like trapped starlight. It pulsed gently, as if it knew what it was made for.
Metis held it in her hands, her fingers wrapped carefully around its smooth surface. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes—those calm, sharp eyes—were locked on Zeus.
"It's done," she said quietly, almost like a warning. "Now all that's left… is to pour it into a drink and make Cronus swallow it."
She extended the vial.
Zeus took it with steady hands. No smile. No jokes. Just a nod. He slipped it into the inside pocket of his tunic, the fabric magically reinforced to mask divine essence.
Styx scoffed softly from the side.
"And how exactly do you plan to serve him that drink? Walk up the mountain like you just left for milk and came back grown?"
She folded her arms, clearly enjoying the idea of him getting vaporized on the spot.
Zeus turned his head toward her, smirking.
"Don't worry about that part, dear Styx."
His voice was calm, almost too confident.
"I already have it covered."
He turned to Metis, who stepped closer without hesitation. Her gaze flicked down to where the elixir rested, then back to him.
Zeus held her eyes for a moment.
"I'll be back."
Not a promise. A certainty.
She nodded once, cool and composed.
But her fingers twitched.
Just a little.
Zeus gave her a small grin, then stepped back, hands glowing with divine light. His body shimmered, bones and flesh twisting into radiant wings and sharp talons.
In seconds, he was no longer a man.
But an eagle.
Massive. Golden-eyed. Feathers crackling faintly with lightning.
He launched into the air with a gust of wind that made the trees groan. His wings sliced through the night sky, each beat leaving a ripple of light behind.
The sisters watched him go—silent and still.
Styx clicked her tongue.
"Show-off."
Doris grinned.
"He's growing on you."
"He's going to get himself killed," Styx said flatly, turning away.
Metis remained where she stood, eyes on the sky.
"No," she whispered under her breath.
"He's going to change everything."
Mount Othrys – Shadow of the Titan Court
Hours passed.
The clouds over Mount Othrys swirled darker than usual. Massive statues of Titans loomed at the base, eyes hollow, mouths carved open as if screaming.
An eagle landed in the high trees.
It shifted, folding into a man in seconds.
Zeus stood now at the outer ring of the Titan stronghold. The scent of old power hung thick in the air—pressure that made the ground itself want to bow.
But he didn't flinch.
He reached into his tunic, felt the cool surface of the vial.
His eyes narrowed.
"Time to knock on the front door."
Mount Othrys – The Titan King's Hall
The throne room of Cronus was carved from black stone and folded time.
Massive pillars spiraled upward like frozen tornadoes, each one etched with moving runes—names of enemies defeated, ages devoured, and moments erased. The very walls pulsed like they were alive, keeping rhythm with the heart of the Titan King himself.
And at the center, atop a jagged obsidian throne, sat Cronus.
He was massive—his presence a weight on the entire room. Robed in dark golds and shadows, his body held the stillness of a storm that hadn't moved in centuries. His eyes—deep, cold, and ancient—watched everything, even when they seemed half-closed.
Before him, Titan guards stood in rows, armor made of celestial iron, expressions unreadable.
The doors creaked open.
Zeus entered.
Not in armor. Not as a warrior.
But cloaked in gray robes, hood drawn low. Regal. Calm. Silent.
By his side walked Rhea, dressed in flowing white, her face composed and unreadable.
She had sent the letter days ago:
"A wanderer returns, bearing no sword. Let him offer a cup in peace."
Cronus hadn't refused. He had been… curious.
Now, the room watched as the two walked side by side.
Zeus's footsteps echoed louder than they should have. Every Titan eye followed him.
He walked like he didn't fear death. Like the court belonged to him already.
He stopped at the base of the steps to Cronus's throne.
Rhea stepped forward.
Her voice was soft but steady.
"My king, a traveler stands before you. A child of prophecy.
Returned not to fight, but to share drink and speak plainly beneath your roof."
A pause.
Cronus's eyes slowly opened.
His gaze fell on Zeus.
He studied him long. Too long.
The silence stretched.
Then, the Titan King spoke—his voice deep, slow, filled with distant thunder.
"You wear your father's name, boy."
Zeus raised his head, lowering his hood.
Eyes bright with lightning. Hair like coiled clouds.
"I wear my own."
Cronus's lip twitched.
"And you come to drink with me?"
Zeus nodded once.
"I thought it was time."
From within his cloak, he brought forth a small flask—silver, carved with old Oath marks. He held it up with respect.
"A gift from the edge of the world. The spring of truth and silence. May it honor your greatness."
The flask contained the Elixir of Unbinding—masked by enchantment, woven with divine illusion. It would taste like vintage nectar, but once swallowed…
It would tear open the gut of a god.
Cronus stared.
Then slowly… he lifted his hand.
The guards stepped back.
Rhea held her breath.
Zeus stepped forward, eyes never leaving Cronus's.
He handed him the flask.
The Titan King took it in one massive hand.
"Strange," he muttered. "Your face… it stirs something."
Zeus tilted his head, smiling faintly.
"Must be the resemblance."
Cronus looked down at the flask… then raised it to his lips.
The silence was unbearable.
Cronus raised the silver flask to his lips. His fingers, thick and calloused from eons of ruling through fear, gripped the metal as if it weighed more than it should. The room was still—too still.
Rhea didn't blink.
Zeus didn't breathe.
And the Titans… watched.
The ancient king took a long, slow sip.
The flask lowered.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Cronus rolled the taste in his mouth. Strange. Sweet. Familiar, yet not.
"Curious flavor," he said, voice low. "Reminds me of the drink Oceanus offered me before the war."
Zeus said nothing.
Rhea clutched her robes tighter, her fingertips white.
Then—it hit.
Cronus's breath caught.
His body stiffened.
His eyes widened for just a moment.
And then he roared.
"WHAT… HAVE YOU DONE?!"
The room exploded with pressure. The air shattered like glass as divine energy erupted from the throne. The flask fell, clinking against the obsidian steps.
Cronus's body arched, his hands clutching his stomach as an ancient, primal scream ripped through the court. The guards stumbled, stunned by the shockwave. The very walls cracked, symbols flashing violently across the stone.
Zeus didn't move.
His cloak fluttered in the storm of divine power.
His expression was calm. Eyes locked on Cronus.
"It's called the Elixir of Unbinding," he said, voice steady.
"Forged from forgotten rivers, time-warped flowers, and the ash of one your kind left to rot."
Cronus dropped to one knee, bile and raw power surging in his throat. He snarled, trying to contain it, but it was too late.
The magic worked fast. Merciless.
His stomach twisted. Aether bent.
And then—
Hestia.
A burst of golden flame shot out of Cronus's mouth, and in it, curled tightly and weak from years of darkness, appeared a glowing woman with fire in her breath.
She hit the floor hard, coughing, gasping—but alive.
Then—
Demeter.
Hera.
Hades.
Poseidon.
One by one, they burst forth like stars being ripped from a black hole. Each child expelled in agony, each one glowing faintly, unconscious but alive. Gods, real gods, spilled into the marble of the throne room like divine seeds ready to awaken.
Cronus screamed.
Lightning flashed in Zeus's eyes.
"You stole their lives," he said quietly.
"I'm taking them back."
Cronus rose, trembling, his veins glowing with fury.
"YOU DARE—"
Zeus raised a hand.
"I do."
He stepped forward, thunder cracking behind his voice.
"I am Zeus."
"And this realm has a new storm coming."