I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen so many gods gathered in one place. Maybe at Thetis's wedding. Though even at that party—filled with luxury, arguments, and a golden apple—there didn't seem to be as much tension as there was today.
The throne room had proven too small, so they sent us out to the gardens of Olympus. The new Olympus, of course—redesigned by Annabeth Chase (daughter of Athena) after the second Titan War. Everything felt more modern, cleaner, but it still smelled like ancient power: marble, ambrosia, and ego.
I sat on a white stone wall, one of the many that outlined the garden's areas. Cold, solid—useful for keeping my distance. From there, I tried to spot my sister in the crowd.
Nothing.
There were many familiar faces: Hecate, deep in serious conversation with Persephone beside a fountain; Iris, darting from place to place like she was in a rush but with nowhere to go; and Janus, impossible to ignore with both his faces arguing with each other. But Artemis wasn't there. Neither was Zeus.
Then Hermes arrived. He descended from the sky with his characteristic glow, moving swiftly in his winged sandals, carrying a huge scroll in his hand. He stopped on a platform and raised his voice.
"Attention!" he said—and didn't have to repeat it. We all fell silent instantly.
He unrolled the scroll and began to read. The voice was his, but it sounded… too structured. I recognized the style immediately. Athena—she had written this.
"By order of the Council of Olympus," Hermes read, "the first Tournament for the Crown is hereby announced. From this day forward, any god wishing to claim the prize must present a demigod champion."
A murmur rose among us, but Hermes didn't pause.
"The gathering to present said champions will take place exactly 30 days from today. Absence will be considered a forfeit. And the prize…" —he paused, probably for dramatic effect— "will be the title of the new king or queen of Olympus."
Silence. And then, as if someone had shattered glass, chaos broke out.
Aphrodite let out a laugh that sounded more like a sigh. Hephaestus muttered something under his breath. Hera murmured darkly while others threw glances her way. Even Dionysus—cup eternally in hand (still filled with soda, cursed as he was and banned from alcohol)—gripped it just a little tighter. Hecate raised an eyebrow, and Persephone crossed her arms without saying a word.
Hermes raised his hands.
"It's real! Everything has been approved by majority vote. And for those who don't believe me, the notices will be posted all over Olympus and the different domains. Every word is there."
I glanced around again. Still no sign of Artemis.
I knew what this meant. I knew what was coming. Maybe the others were caught off guard—but not me. I had already started pushing this wheel forward.
The tournament was an opportunity. Madness, yes—but also a chance for change. And if anyone needed that change, it was us.
The murmuring continued, but I stayed quiet. Looking up at the sky, at the gleaming marble, at all of Olympus. The old system was in its final act, and not everyone knew it yet.
But they would.
And I was already ready.
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After the meeting, the garden gradually quieted down. Some gods left quickly, others stayed behind, murmuring in small groups—probably scheming, hesitating, or just gossiping. I wandered off without a clear direction, walking through Olympus with no intention of arriving anywhere.
The air up there always felt different. Cleaner, denser, more... charged. Everything sparkled absurdly, as if the light itself were brighter just to remind us that we weren't human. I walked past columns, alongside fountains decorated with heroic scenes and marble gods who looked nothing like the originals. One of those statues had my face. I smiled, without any real feeling.
Eventually, I ended up at the edge of the city, where Olympus opened up to the mortal world. From there, you could see everything: the clouds below, rivers winding in the distance, some tiny cities blinking faintly far off. I sat on the wall, let one leg dangle into the void, and stayed there, just watching.
And then I felt her.
I barely heard her steps—she made almost no sound—but I knew someone was approaching. I turned, and there she was: Athena.
I couldn't remember the last time I'd spoken to my dear sister without being drunk or without her throwing a sharp remark my way. She came alone, as if her presence alone was enough to keep everyone else at bay. Which, to be fair, was mostly true.
"Such a dramatic place to meditate," she said, skipping any greeting.
"Seemed fitting. You know, after declaring a coup," I replied, still staring at the horizon.
She stood for a moment, observing me like I was an especially irritating riddle.
"You've changed," she said at last.
I let out a soft chuckle.
"So they say."
"Don't mock," she added, stepping closer to lean on the wall too, though she didn't sit. "I'm not talking about your ego, or your rhymes, or your theatrical acts. I'm talking about what you do, what you choose not to say, what you quietly set in motion."
"Ah. Then yeah, I guess I have changed," I murmured, raising an eyebrow.
I turned to get a good look at her. Her eyes were just as they'd always been: a shining grey, calculating, like she already knew what you were going to say before you opened your mouth. But there was something else now—a genuine curiosity.
"So are you here to interrogate me? Or to congratulate me on the chaos?"
"I'm here to understand," she replied, without hesitation. "Something pushed you to do this. It wasn't just pride. It wasn't just anger. And you know it."
"And what if I don't want to say?" I asked, tilting my head.
"Then I won't give up," she said calmly, like someone stating a fact, not making a threat.
I sighed and looked down into the void.
"Maybe I got tired. Maybe I was sick of looking the other way while everything stayed the same. Maybe, for once, I decided I had to make the first move."
She didn't respond. Just studied me, probably trying to find a lie behind every word. But there wasn't one.
"Your gamble was so big," she finally said, "that you've given the rest of the possibility to play too. And that, Apollo, might cost you dearly."
I looked at her again. A crooked smile escaped before I could stop it.
"Dear sister, if you think this was my big gamble…" —I stood, stretching slowly— "then you haven't seen anything yet."
She raised an eyebrow slightly, but didn't say a word. Just followed me with her gaze as I turned to leave.
"See you around, sis," I called with a mocking smile, walking down the path bathed in golden light. "Can't wait to see who you pick as your champion!"
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The next chapter is one of my favorites. Just saying...