Olympus – The Silent Dawn
The sun rose pale over Olympus, washing the marble halls in dim gold. Thin clouds drifted around the mountain peak, carrying cool winds that rustled olive branches and whispered across the sleeping gardens. The gods' palace lay quiet under dawn's first touch, a stillness rarely felt in these halls of endless voices.
But deep within the eastern wing, behind tall silver doors marked with peacock feather carvings, Hera's private cohort gathered. Their silent footsteps echoed faintly through the veiled chamber as they knelt one by one before Kratos, his massive frame draped in dark bronze and black cloth. His iron-dark eyes swept over them, unblinking, reading their fear and obedience with cold stillness.
