I Am Zeus

The sky broke before dawn.

It was not thunder, not storm, but a wound. The air tore open above Olympus, a gash spilling blackness across the stars. Out of it came the first wave—shadows thick as tar, writhing like serpents, their whispers loud enough to rattle bone. Behind them came the sea. A tide that had no end, no shore, boiling up into the clouds, carrying with it scales, teeth, and wings.

Erebus had come. And Tiamat with him.

The mountain roared awake. Bells clanged across the courtyards, horns bellowed from the cliffs. Every god, every spirit, every nymph stirred as the sky darkened and the seas rose. The second strike of the Primordial War had begun.

At the front of Olympus's high walls, Athena stood with her helm pulled low and her spear gleaming. Her map had become reality—just as she predicted, the assault came at the straits and through the skies above. She raised her hand, and the formations shifted.

"Ares, hold the vanguard. Keep their claws off the walls. Hermes, move. Break their flanks before they break us. Apollo, Artemis—rake the skies. Don't let the brood swarm unchecked."

Her voice cut through chaos like iron.

The first wave hit.

Ares was already moving. The god of war roared, his blade still humming with Surtr's essence, fire licking along its edge. He leapt down from the wall into the heart of the shadow horde, his strike cleaving a crater through the dark. Wraiths scattered in shrieks, but he was already swinging again, his every blow a storm of red flame and blood.

"COME!" Ares howled. "COME DIE!"

From the cliffs above, Hermes blurred into gold streaks. His sandals flared as he cut through the battlefield faster than sight, a dozen illusions splitting from him at once. Each phantom carried blades that slashed through shadow, each turn leaving confusion in the ranks of Erebus's spawn. His laughter rang sharp even through the chaos.

"Too slow, too ugly, too predictable!" he taunted as he tore through them, scattering their ranks.

Above, Apollo drew his bow. Golden fire stretched into an arrow that burned brighter than the dawn itself. He let it fly—one shot splitting into a hundred, each piercing a different serpent-brood that spilled from Tiamat's sea. Their bodies burned, falling into ash before they hit the earth.

Artemis's answer came seconds later. Her arrows cut cleaner—moonlit shafts tipped with silver that pierced through scale and wing. Each strike was perfect, each kill silent, her eyes never blinking. She moved like a shadow beside Apollo's blaze, twin arcs of light ripping through the swarm.

And at the wall, Athena's spear danced. Every thrust pierced a shadow, every shield deflected a blow aimed at her siblings. She shouted orders between strikes, her voice steady even as blood spattered her armor.

"Close the gaps! Hold the line! We bleed them here or we bleed everywhere!"

The gods answered her, roaring.

But the ground shook deeper. The sea split wider.

Tiamat rose.

The Mother of Monsters towered above the waves, her five heads hissing and shrieking. Each mouth spewed terror—one breathed fire that scorched the mountain's face, another ice that froze rivers mid-flow. Venom sprayed from a third, thunder cracked from the fourth, and the fifth sang a scream that rattled Olympus's very roots.

And from the black sky, Erebus descended.

Not as a man, but as a wound in existence. His form was a void, edges bleeding shadow. Every step he took erased light. The gods faltered when his eyes opened, pits deeper than death itself.

"Children," Erebus's voice rolled across the battlefield, smooth and cruel. "You fight like sparks. And sparks die."

He raised a hand. The shadows surged, doubling in size, drowning the lower slopes.

But the ground stirred.

Roots split the stone. Vines thicker than columns tore upward, wrapping around serpents, dragging them back into the earth. The mountain itself rose, reshaping into cliffs and barriers.

Gaia had entered the field.

The earth mother stepped from the roots, her form radiant and terrible. "Not while I breathe, old shadow."

Beside her, Rhea emerged, her voice a command that cracked through the storm. The mother of gods raised her arms, and the air rippled with Titan fire. Spires of golden light shot into the sky, tearing through Tiamat's brood in blasts of pure force.

Oceanus rose next, his form a tidal wall of endless water, his roar echoing with the sea itself. He clashed with Tiamat head-on, waves against waves, his trident striking against her scaled hide. The seas boiled and roared, each strike shaking the horizon.

Themis stood calm in the center of it all, her scales glowing. Every time Erebus struck, his shadows unraveled when they neared her, the weight of law bending them into nothing. Her voice was not loud, but it carried.

"Justice binds you, shadow. Even you will break."

The battlefield was chaos, but it was not chaos without direction.

Athena's plans held. The straits burned but did not break. Ares carved swaths of carnage, Hermes split the enemy ranks, Apollo and Artemis thinned the skies, and the Primordials met their match in Gaia, Rhea, Themis, and Oceanus.

Still, Erebus pressed harder. He strode through the battlefield as though nothing could touch him, every step dragging more shadows into the world. Tiamat's five heads lashed against Olympus, her brood endless, her fury unrelenting.

The mountain cracked. Blood ran with the rivers. Fire, ice, shadow, venom, thunder—all crashed together.

And through it all, Zeus did not move.

He stood high on the peak, watching, his storm hidden beneath his skin. His hands clenched the railing, his veins glowing faint. He could see Athena's spear glint, Ares's sword burn, Apollo's arrows blaze, Artemis's shafts cut true. He could see Gaia straining, Rhea's light dimming, Oceanus roaring, Themis's scales trembling.

His storm screamed for release.

The sky itself begged to answer him.

But Zeus held still.

This was their war too. Their proving ground. His children, his siblings, his allies—this was where they had to stand.

So he watched, his chest burning, his storm chained, his eyes endless.

Nyx's voice whispered in his ear, soft, amused.

"Soon, Sky King. Not yet. Let them bleed first. Let them rise. And when you move…"

The stars above flickered faint, like eyes opening.

"…when you move, the world will remember."