He stood in silence.
Not because he feared them.
But because the weight of their gaze was enough to crush mountains.
The Council of Immortals sat in a perfect circle, each throne shaped by the element they ruled: ocean, time, memory, storm, darkness, war. The sky above them hung unmoving, frozen between dawn, ever since the death of Eos, Goddess of the Dawn.
And now her blade, Aetherfang, pulsed in the hands of a mortal.
Or whatever Tithonus had become.
At the summit of the divine chamber - above the murmuring gods, beyond the reach of mortal thought stood a throne sculpted from storm-forged marble and veins of lightning frozen in crystal. Each crackled faintly with a power that never faded, as if the very seat itself remembered the weight of a god.
This was Zeus's throne.
Once, the king of Olympus had ruled from it with thunder in his gaze, justice in one hand, and fury in the other. Now, it sat in ominous silence, towering over all, yet untouched by any.
Clouds gathered around it, though no wind blew. The sky above the throne remained fractured caught between storm and sunlight, between decree and doubt.
Twelve steps led to its base, each inscribed with the names of his ancient victories —Typhon, Kronos, Prometheus etched in runes that still burned faintly with divine memory.
But no shadow fell upon the throne.
It did not mourn its master's absence. It waited.
Across Olympus, gods and titans alike spoke in hushed tones, for none dared sit upon it. None knew why Zeus had vanished, or if he would ever return.
Only the throne remained, a monument to authority unclaimed, judgment deferred, and the gathering storm of a power vacuum the gods refused to acknowledge.
And far below, in the realm of mortals, they suffered for the silence of their king.
Suddenly a new voice, smoother than honey and sharp as glass, echoed across the hall.
Helion, God of Harmony and Ediicts stepped forward.
A lesser god, perhaps, but chosen to speak on behalf of the Council.
He bowed slightly, robes of starlight brushing the marble floor.
"Tithonus, reborn of dusk and sacrament, bearer of Aetherfang… we acknowledge your pain."
He gestured to the frozen sky above.
"With Eos gone, the turning of time stutters. The mortals suffer. Crops rot. Clocks stall. The warmth of morning has fled the world."
"You must see that your survival came at a cost too high."
Tithonus said nothing.
"There is a way to make this right. Return the dagger. Relinquish the essence it now contains. And in her place, you shall be raised to a new god of dawn, to free the world from the stillness."
There was silence.
The gods watched. Their judgment felt like a cage.
Tithonus's fingers tightened around the hilt of the dagger.
"A god?" he whispered"
Helion nodded. "A second chance. One mortals would weep to receive."
Tithonus stepped forward slowly, holding out the dagger, gleaming gold where once it was iron-dark.
Helion smiled and reached for it.
The moment his fingers brushed the hilt
Tithonus lunged.
And plunged the dagger straight into Helion's skull.
The divine scream was instant. Piercing.
Helion staggered, clutching his head as his blood and brain matter erupted outward, thick with divine ichor and psychic light. His body began to burn from the inside out, golden fire tearing through him like parchment in a solar flare.
Gods leapt to their feet. Some in horror. Some in awe.
The air screamed with divine energy.
Tithonus straightened, eyes glowing amber in the dagger's light.
Then, calmly and almost bored he raised his middle finger.
"All of you, gods, mortals or anyone can go rot in a ditch. If this is your idea of balance."
"Chronion damned me to a waking death. And you all watched me decay, laughing at the withering toy your time god left behind. You did nothing."
''So I'll do something."
Gasps. Silence. Rage.
Then: laughter.
Not from Tithonus.
But from the Council.
Zephyra, goddess of wind and whim, chuckled.
Thalor, god of the deep, shook his head.
Others Aerius of War, Nymira of Ice, Yllon of Hunger, they murmured in disgust or amusement.
Aerius roared and surged forward, sword of lightning raised.
But as he swung, a crack of invisible force stopped him mid-air.
A shimmer surrounded Tithonus. A shield. Old. Powerful. Placed there not by him, but by the power of Aetherfang who protected him from this exact moment.
Then, he vanished.
Gone.
Only golden sparks and burning remains of Helion left behind.
The gods stared.
Chronion rose at last.
Unblinking
''He cannot escape forever."
Nymira sighed. "Another ten years, perhaps."
Zephyra rolled her eyes. "We underestimated that mortal."
"No," said Chronion. "We underestimated her."
And the hall grew still once more.
But somewhere far, far away
The sun flickered.
And the hunt began.