I was jolted from sleep by a sharp knock on the door. A part of me considered ignoring it, hoping whoever it was would take the hint and leave me to my well-earned rest. My body still ached from last week—taking on a primordial domain isn't exactly a painless process. It turns out that there are several different types of domains going from the thousands of basic manipulation abilities to the only two Creator-level domains. Primordial was a level below that as they involved domains that needed someone to embody it, like Gaea and the Earth, Uranus and the Sky, Tartarus and the Abyss and Erebus and Darkness.
Oizys stepped inside, her movements graceful and controlled. She had changed so much in the past week. When I first met her, she had been a physical embodiment of misery, her form gaunt and pale, eyes sunken and haunted. Now, though… She was cleaner, was looking more happy, dressed in this black chiton that Arges made for her. Maybe all she needed was a change of scenery.
"You have a message, my lord," she said, her voice calm yet authoritative.
I groan and sit up, running a hand through my hair. "Can't it wait?"
"It's from your brother," she replies, holding out a sealed letter.
That gets my attention. Zeus rarely communicates unless he wants something. I take the goblet of Nectar she offers, chugging it down as its warmth clears the cobwebs from my mind. "What does he want?"
"He requests your presence at Mount Ida," she says. "It's been ten years since your last meeting."
"A meeting?" I repeated, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Knowing Zeus, it'll be less 'gathering' and more 'thinly veiled power play.' He probably wants to gloat."
"Do you intend to refuse?" Oizys asked, tilting her head slightly.
I let out a bitter laugh. "No. Refusing Zeus is like trying to reason with a storm. It's loud, destructive, and utterly pointless. Besides, if I don't show, he'll end up doing something stupid."
Oizys smirked faintly. "Wise choice."
I pinch the bridge of my nose. "A decade already?" The thought of dealing with Zeus so early in the morning feels akin to having a hangover. Nevertheless, I rise, pulling on my robes. "Watch the Underworld while I'm gone. Ensure no one—and I mean no one—disturbs my realm."
She inclines her head. "As you command, my lord."
As I stepped into the shadow, I glanced back at Oizys. "Don't burn the place down while I'm gone."
Her lips twitched into what could almost be called a smile. "I'll try my best."
Traveling through shadows has its advantages. Within moments, I step out of the void and onto Mount Ida, the cool mountain air biting against my skin. The sight of my younger brother, Poseidon, waiting impatiently makes me smirk. I let the shadows swirl around me for a moment longer than necessary, relishing the way his shoulders stiffen.
"By the seas, Hades!" Poseidon yelps, spinning around to face me. "Could you not make an entrance like a normal god? You're starting to become… unsettling."
"Unsettling?" I echo, raising a brow. "Coming from you, that's a compliment."
He mutters something under his breath, but before he can retort, Zeus arrives, his eagle circling overhead.
"Finally," Zeus says, his booming voice cutting through the tension. "Let's get started."
We gather around a makeshift table, the map of the cosmos spread before us. Zeus, ever the dramatist, begins outlining his grand plans for the war against the Titans.
"We've managed to rally nature spirits and satyrs to our cause," Zeus says, puffing out his chest as if he's already won. "They'll bolster our forces."
Poseidon nods. "I've convinced a number of river gods and sea nymphs to join as well. They're not warriors, but their power will be invaluable."
All eyes turn to me. I lean back, folding my arms. "I've spoken with Nyx and Erebus. While the ancient laws forbid Primordials from participating directly, they've agreed to let their children join the fight."
Zeus's eyes widened. "The children of Night and Darkness?"
I nod. "In addition, I've secured the aid of the Cyclopes brothers and the Hekatonkheires, Briareus and Cottereus. As we speak, they are gathering an army of the dead to join in the war, so far we have about 10,000 soldiers ready for war."
The room falls silent. Poseidon lets out a low whistle, and even Zeus, ever the egotist, looks impressed—though he quickly masks it with a scowl.
"You just got lucky," Zeus mutters.
"Luck had nothing to do with it," I replied coolly. "Now, what's the next step in your grand plan?"
Zeus clears his throat. "We should storm Father's kingdom immediately. Overwhelm him with our combined might."
"That's a suicide mission," I cut in, my tone sharp enough to make him flinch. "Cronos is no fool. Charging in blindly will only ensure our deaths."
"Then what do you suggest?" Zeus snaps, his temper flaring.
I take a deep breath, steadying myself. "We offer him a choice. The three of us will meet with him directly. We give him two options: stand down and live in exile, or fight and die. If he chooses war, we will be prepared, but diplomacy should always be the first step."
Zeus opens his mouth to argue, but Poseidon speaks first. "Hades has a point. Rushing into battle without a plan is reckless."
"Reckless or not, we need to act," Zeus grumbles, though his tone is less certain now.
"Acting and acting wisely are not the same thing," I counter. "Trust me, this will work."
My words seem to strike a chord. After a long moment, Zeus nods begrudgingly. "Fine. Draft the letter."
I retrieve parchment and quill, penning a missive to our father. The words flow easily: an invitation to parley, a warning of the consequences should he refuse. Once finished, I seal the letter and hand it to Zeus.
"Call your eagle," I say. "Let's see how our father responds."
Zeus whistles, and his eagle swoops down, its talons gripping the letter tightly. As it takes flight, a heavy silence falls over the room. The weight of what we've set into motion is palpable.
"Let's hope this works," Poseidon murmurs, his gaze distant.
"It will," I say firmly, though a part of me can't help but wonder what fate awaits us.
Days pass, the anticipation building like a storm on the horizon. Finally, the eagle returns, a crude message tied to its leg. Zeus unties it and reads aloud, his voice tinged with both anger and intrigue:
"To my insolent sons,
You wish to parley? How bold, how naive. I accept your invitation. We shall meet at the base of Mount Othrys. Bring your courage, for you will need it.
Cronos"
The room falls silent once more as the weight of the message sinks in. Poseidon breaks the tension with a nervous laugh. "Well, at least he didn't outright refuse."
"Or kill the eagle," I mutter. "That's progress."
☼
The base of Mount Othrys was colder than I remembered.
Wind howled through the valley like a thing wounded, dragging with it the scent of old blood and ash. We stood on hard-packed volcanic stone, the mountain's shadow looming over us like the blade of an executioner. I glanced up, squinting against the gray light bleeding from a sun cloaked behind thick clouds. The atmosphere itself felt hostile—stale and tense, like the air before a lightning strike.
A long obsidian table stretched before us, wide enough to sit titans and gods alike. Cronus had set the scene with eerie precision. The table gleamed like a freshly polished grave, and seated at its head was the King of the Titans himself, lounging in a throne of dark bronze veined with molten gold.
He looked... tired.
Not old—Cronus was still terrifying in stature and strength—but there was a slowness to the way his fingers tapped the armrest, a faint slack in his jaw as he watched us approach. Beside him sat his siblings—Hyperion, Coeus, Iapetus, Theia, Mnemosyne, and even the twin shadows of Crius and Phoebe. The full roster of surviving Titans. A pantheon of what once was.
And we are what comes next.
I turned slightly, scanning my siblings. Poseidon to my right, tense but quiet. Hera beside him, her eyes sharp with measured calculation. Demeter and Hestia flanked my left, both dignified and silent.
And then there was Zeus.
His jaw was locked tight. His blue eyes burned with something I couldn't quite pin down. Arrogance? Righteousness? Or just the simmering storm always beneath his skin?
I grabbed his arm before we stepped into range of Cronus's hearing.
"Don't speak," I hissed under my breath.
Zeus looked at me like I'd offended him.
"I mean it," I added, leaning close. "Not a word. I don't care what your pride thinks it deserves. You open your mouth, and you'll open war."
His nostrils flared. "And if he demands—"
"Then I'll handle it. We all want peace. So shut your mouth. Got it?"
He scowled but nodded.
I didn't believe him for a second.
We approached the table in silence. Cronus rose as we drew near, arms spread in an exaggerated gesture of welcome. His voice rolled across the plain like thunder.
"My children," he said, and the word dripped with poison honey. "How... tall you've grown."
"Not quite the same greeting you gave when you swallowed my sisters and brother," I muttered.
He laughed, eyes settling on me. "Hades. My look at how much you have grown."
I smiled, all teeth and no warmth. "Yeah, a lot has happened since you tried to eat me."
Cronus motioned for us to sit, and we took our places. The contrast was almost comedic—gods sitting across the Titans in an attempt for peace.
And then... we talked.
To my genuine surprise, the negotiations began with civility.
We proposed a division of the realms: Titans would retain their homes and live in peace. Letting us gods step up and take control in 50 years time, when Cronus selects one of us to take his place. We would be able to claim domains and live in peace with the Titans.
It was working.
Cronus stroked his beard thoughtfully. Mnemosyne asked calm, insightful questions. Hyperion grumbled, but said nothing that derailed the dialogue. For the first time in what felt like eons, I saw the potential of peace stretch before us like a golden bridge.
And then—because the Fates themselves must love irony—Zeus opened his damn mouth.
"I think," he said, clearing his throat and leaning forward, "we're forgetting something very important."
My stomach sank.
Cronus looked at him with the wary amusement of a cat watching a dog try to act like a lion.
Zeus continued. "Before we sign anything, before we make pacts or split the world, I think Cronus owes us something."
"Zeus," I said under my breath. "Don't."
But of course, he didn't stop.
"I want him to apologize."
A stillness spread across the table like frost.
Zeus straightened, his voice rising. "You ate my sisters and my brother. I want you to kneel and apologize, right here, right now. Not just to me—to all of us."
I felt the shift instantly. The way Cronus' eyes hardened. The way Coeus turned his head sharply. The subtle tension in Phoebe's fingers. The negotiations hadn't just paused—they were dead.
Cronus stared at him. "You want me to kneel."
Zeus didn't flinch. "Yes."
To our shock, Cronus rose. Then—slowly, painfully—he knelt.
Gasps rose around the table. Even Poseidon's jaw dropped.
Cronus bowed his head, and for a moment, the entire chamber stilled.
"I… deeply apologize," he said, voice rough as shifting stone. "What I did was unforgivable. I was blinded by fear. The poison of my father's words led me to a crime I can never take back. I do not expect your forgiveness, but I hope—someday—we can be a family again."
Silence.
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. The Titan King—Cronus—was apologizing. Genuinely.
Then Zeus opened his damn mouth.
"Oh, how touching," he said with a smirk. "Almost made me forget you ate my sisters and brother like a snack."
Poseidon hissed through his teeth. "Zeus—"
But Zeus wasn't done.
"No, really," he continued, voice full of venom. "It's cute you think an apology fixes things. Maybe next you'll ask for a hug. Or should we just let you babysit the next generation of gods so you can snack on them as well?"
Hera slammed her fist on the armrest. "Zeus, shut up."
I stood, hand raised. "Brother—stop. Please."
But he wasn't listening.
"You're a relic," Zeus spat. "The world's moving on—and you? You should be imprisoned in Tartarus rotting in your own regrets."
That did it.
Cronus's hands clenched, trembling with fury. Then, without a word, he rose—and brought his fist crashing down on the obsidian table, shattering it with a thunderous crack. The impact sent shockwaves through the chamber, knocking over chairs and throwing dust into the air.
His eyes glowed like dying suns. "I came to make peace," he growled. "I came as a father."
"You came as a coward," Zeus said, rising to his feet, all fire and arrogance. "And you'll leave as one."
"ENOUGH!" Cronus roared, voice shaking the very walls.
And just like that, the last chance for peace died in a storm of shattered stone and wounded pride.
The sky above Mount Othrys split with lightning—not divine, but Titan-born, wild and red.
"Prepare for war," Cronus growled. "Because you will all be erased from the annals of history."
With a flick of his hand, he and the Titans vanished.
Silence fell.
We stood amidst the wreckage of the table. The wind howled louder now. My fists clenched. I turned to Zeus slowly.
He looked around at all of us—at Poseidon, whose face was unreadable; at Hera and Demeter and Hestia, who stared with cold fury—and said with a confused smile:
"Well... I think that went pretty well."
I snapped.
Before I knew what I was doing, my fist slammed into the side of his head.
The force knocked him sideways into the black stone, his skull cracking against the ground. His body dented the earth, leaving a crater several feet deep. He groaned, stunned.
"You absolute idiot," I hissed, standing over him. "We were this close. This close to peace."
I held my fingers an inch apart. "I told you to keep your mouth shut. And you—gods damn you—you couldn't do it. You had to be king. You had to win."
He blinked up at me, dazed. "He ate our sisters and Poseidon..."
"I KNOW!" I shouted. "But do you want justice or do you want a funeral pyre so big it burns the world?"
Zeus didn't answer.
None of them did.
For a long moment, we stood there—gods on the brink, watching the dust of what could've been settle around us.
And in my heart, something cold took root.
Not hatred.
Not yet.
I was just really disappointed.