The silence that followed the Oracle's pronouncement was heavy, thick with the weight of unspoken questions and mounting unease. The assembled beings of immense power and ancient wisdom exchanged uneasy glances. The cryptic words hung in the air, their meaning obscure, yet undeniably significant.
Zeus, his brow furrowed in thought, was the first to break the stillness. "What... what was that?" he rumbled, his voice echoing through the chamber. "What did she say?"
Hera, ever composed, stepped forward. "It was a prophecy, my husband," she stated, her voice cool and measured, "a riddle woven in the mists of time."
"But what does it mean?" Apollo interjected, his usual radiant confidence replaced by a rare uncertainty. "'Born of stone and shadow's plight... a flame arose and drowned in light...' It speaks of a birth, and a death, but whose?"
Athena, her expression sharp and analytical, fixed her gaze on the spot where Thalia had collapsed. "The stone and shadow... perhaps it refers to the Oracle herself, to her origins, to the trials she endured to become the vessel," she mused. "The flame that arose... her power? Her destiny? And its drowning in light... a tragic end?"
Poseidon, his gaze distant, as if he were listening to the murmur of the deep, spoke, his voice a low rumble, "And the crown beneath the ocean... that is my domain. Does it signify a literal crown, lost to the depths? Or is it a metaphor? A kingdom? A power?"
Hermes, ever quick-witted, tapped his staff against the marble floor. "And the final line, 'Yet still it speaks though none replies...' That's the most perplexing. How can something speak if no one answers? Or listen?"
Zeus turned to face them, his eyes flashing with concern. "We must decipher this. This prophecy... it feels significant, ominous. It speaks of a great destiny, and a great tragedy. We must understand it, to prevent whatever doom it foretells,
Poseidon stroked his beard, his gaze fixed on the middle distance. "The ocean hides many secrets. Perhaps this 'crown' is not a literal object, but a power, a lineage, lost to the sea. Something that will rise again."
Apollo frowned. "But the flame... the flame that drowned in light. That sounds like a violent end. A life cut short."
"Perhaps we should consult the ancient texts, the scrolls of fate. There might be other prophecies, other stories, that shed light on this one."
Hera placed a hand on his arm, her touch surprisingly gentle. "Patience, husband. We will unravel it, piece by piece. We have faced cryptic prophecies before. We will do so again."
" he paused, then added, "There is time, but I must go to Mount Etna, to the forge of Hephaestus."
Athena, however, pressed the issue. "Mount Etna? Hephaestus? What urgency takes you there? Surely this matter concerns us all."
Zeus's expression hardened with determination. "Hephaestus and those with her will show me something. It is imperative that I speak with her directly. This is not a matter for debate, Athena. I understand your concerns, and your desire for clarity. But this matter with Hephaestus is of paramount importance. The fate of everything may depend on it. I sense a darkness gathering, a storm on the horizon. And I fear this prophecy is the first crack of thunder."
Suddenly, a powerful figure strode into the chamber. Ares, of Zeus's armies, his presence radiating strength and authority, addressed the gathering. "Zeus and Hera. The royal carriages and royal carriages are ready to move them to the next city. We await your final orders."
Zeus nodded, his expression grave. "Very well, Ares. We will meet again in three weeks' time, in Olympus. By then, you must have answers regarding the Oracle's prophecy." He turned his attention to Poseidon. "Poseidon, return to Atlantic. I need you to dispatch a naval force There are reports of attacks on our merchant ships. Find out who is responsible and put an end to it."
Zeus then turned to Athena, his gaze sharp and commanding. "Athena, in addition to assisting with the deciphering of the Oracle's words, you must also deal with the Centaur horde gathering near Thebes, on Mount Cithaeron. Their numbers are growing, and they pose a threat to the region."
"Make sure they are dealt with swiftly and decisively, Athena."
Zeus turned back to Apollo. "Apollo, speak with the girl who served as the Oracle. See if she can provide any further insight, any detail, no matter how small, that might help us understand the meaning of the prophecy."
Hera, ever the pragmatist, stepped forward, her voice ringing with regal authority. "Indeed, we must delve into this matter with all haste and diligence. Let us consider the key elements, the recurring themes, and the possible interpretations. We must approach this like a complex tapestry, weaving together every thread of meaning until the complete picture reveals itself." She looked at the others, her expression serious. "We must be thorough, and we must be quick."
Hera lets go
In Lycia
The royal carriages rolled through the smoking hills near Mount Olympos, a place seething with volcanic energy. As they arrived at the massive iron gates of the forge, Ares dismounted and barked a sharp command. "Announce the arrival of Zeus and Hera!"
Daedalus, rushed to greet them, bowing deeply. His robes were singed from his work, and soot streaked his hands and face. "My Lords, welcome to the Forge of Hephaestus. Please, come inside."
The factory within was a vast, thunderous marvel, like an immense assembly line powered by the forces of the earth itself. Brontes, one of the mighty Cyclopes, led a team forging thunderbolts, each one crackling with raw power. Nearby, Steropes assembled golden and silver bows and arrows, his massive hands astonishingly deft. Further down, Arges commanded a team working tirelessly on the Aegis, the legendary shield of Zeus, its surface shimmering with shifting images of terror and majesty.
Zeus surveyed the scene, his eyes gleaming with pride and approval. Hera, ever composed, allowed a small smile to touch her lips at the discipline and precision on display.
As Brontes raised a newly-forged thunderbolt into the air, a crack of light illuminated the vaulted ceiling. Steropes meticulously aligned arrows that gleamed like starlight, while Arges hammered runes of protection into the Aegis, each strike sending echoes of power through the air.
Meanwhile, Ares remained outside with the royal carriages, overseeing the guards and ensuring the security of the divine visitors.
Daedalus led Zeus and Hera deeper into the forge, toward a side chamber where Hephaestus waited. Inside her office, surrounded by intricate blueprints and half-completed marvels, Hephaestus looked up from her workbench. Her powerful, scarred hands paused over a model of a grand new weapon as she rose to greet them.
The goddess-smith's expression was grave. she said, inclining her head. "We have much to discuss."
The forge roared around them, a symphony of fire, steel, and destiny.
Daedalus bowed once more and, with a few quiet words of parting, left them alone in the chamber. The heavy door swung shut behind him, muting the roar of the forge outside.
Zeus strode forward without hesitation. He moved behind Hephaestus's sturdy, soot-darkened chair and, with a casual but deliberate motion, settled into it, the chair creaking slightly under his weight .
Hephaestus arched an eyebrow at the boldness of the gesture but said nothing, wiping her calloused hands on a thick cloth as she turned to face him.
Zeus leaned back, steepling his fingers before him. His voice rumbled with the gravity of command, yet carried a rare note of curiosity.
"Tell me, Hephaestus," he said, his keen gaze fixing her, "what do you make of this:
'Born of stone and shadow's plight,
A flame arose and drowned in light.
Its crown beneath the ocean lies,
Yet still it speaks though none replies.'"
The words hung heavily in the forge-scented air, their echoes swallowed by the dull roar of furnaces beyond the thick stone walls. Hephaestus's eyes darkened with thought. She did not answer immediately. Instead, she crossed to a nearby shelf cluttered with ancient relics, as if the physical movement might stir her mind. She ran her fingers lightly over a piece of cooled obsidian, her face illuminated briefly by the flicker of a forge's flare through a high window.
When she finally spoke, her voice was slow and deliberate, like molten metal poured with careful hands. "Stone and shadow," she mused aloud. "Those are the ingredients of hardship, of creation born from struggle. Perhaps it speaks of a being forged in suffering... or a forgotten legacy shaped in darkness." Hephaestus paused, a flicker of curiosity in her eyes. "Where does this word 'Oracle' come from? It is not a word I use in my work." Hera stepped forward, her voice calm and authoritative. "The term 'Oracle' originates from ancient times, referring to a sacred source of prophecy or divine counsel. It signifies a vessel through which wisdom or foresight is revealed, often in cryptic or symbolic language."
She turned back toward Zeus and Hera, her eyes sharp.
"A flame that arose... a power born to challenge fate. Yet drowned in light—" she paused, frowning deeply, "—I... I do not know the answer to that, my zeus. The mists of time obscure its meaning from even my sight. It is not my place to know of words, but of things, and how they are made." She glanced at the heavy shield of Aegis hanging on the wall behind Zeus, then added, "The crown beneath the ocean..." Hephaestus paused, choosing her words carefully. "Crown... leader. Beneath ocean... death." Her voice was low, each word deliberate and weighted with a deeper meaning she chose not to reveal.
Finally, her voice grew even lower. "And a voice that speaks though none replies..." She shook her head slowly. "That is the most dangerous sign of all. A warning that goes unheard. A prophecy that no one can—or will—answer in time."
Hephaestus let the heavy silence settle, the weight of her words like iron upon the anvil.
Across from her, Zeus's face remained carved from stone, though Hera's brow furrowed with the same unease gnawing at her husband's heart. Outside, the rumble of the forge and the clatter of the cyclopes' labor continued, indifferent to the storm quietly gathering within the office Zeus leaned forward, his voice a low growl of impatience.
"So, Hephaestus," he rumbled, "what have you forged for me to face this Oracle... and the shadow that stirs behind her words?" Hephaestus gave a small nod, as if she had been expecting the question. Without a word, she crossed the chamber to a heavy iron door that led to her workshop only accessed from her room. Inside lay a single, massive Thunderbolt — unlike any Zeus had wielded before.
Hephaestus spoke, her voice steady but grave. "This is no ordinary thunderbolt, my zeus .
It is a Titanbolt — a weapon of last resort. If thrown with its full power, it will not merely strike a foe... it could lay waste to an entire city based on the number used .
Its fury is magnified a hundredfold over the thunderbolts you have hurled in battles past.
" Zeus rose from the chair, drawn forward as if by unseen forces, his hand hovering just above the weapon's surface while say change name to Thunderstrike. I like it better
Hera moved beside him, her expression a careful mask of concern and calculation. "How You would dare forge such destruction?" she murmured, eyeing Hephaestus keenly.
Hephaestus inclined her head. "I would, and I have. Because the enemy you face may not fall to lesser blows. This Thunderbolt is your answer to the darkness foretold.
But I warn you—" her gaze hardened— "use it with wisdom. Unleashed recklessly, it could doom as much as it saves.
Zeus, his hand tightening on the Thunderstrike, asked, his voice a low growl, "Let me understand you. One Thunderstrike can destroy a city, you mean?"
Hephaestus met his gaze, her expression unyielding. "What city are we speaking of, my Zeus?"
Hera recoiled, "What about a city the size of Heavenport, Hephaestus?
Is this some sick joke? The angels will destroy us if we do that, and you know it!" while her hands flying to her head. Turning to Zeus, her voice was filled with horror and disbelief. "I cannot be a part of this."
Zeus's face hardened, his eyes flashing with divine determination. He slammed his fist on the table, the Thunderstrike vibrating with barely contained energy. "We are not joking, Hephaestus. The threat is dire, and we must be prepared to face it." Hephaestus turned back to her scattered scrolls and blueprints, her voice low but full of meaning. "The Oracle's prophecy speaks of a flame drowned in light. Let us not become the very flood that drowns what we are sworn to protect.
Hephaestus , I understand your reservations," Zeus said, his voice sharp and commanding, "The angels have withdrawn most of their forces from terrestrial conflicts. Most of their forces stay on Celestia. This conflict could exhaust them entirely, leaving Gaia vulnerable to us, focusing their strength on Celestia instead. They did that after their last war on Gaia. By seizing Heavenport and their colonies, we would gain a decisive advantage—perhaps even dominance—in this region, and potentially, the world. High risk, yes, but the reward is absolute control."
Zeus, rubbing the back of his neck, asked, "Where will we get all that Aether? We do not have enough soldiers."
"Even if we get that number physically, it is impossible to channel that Aether to the Thunderstrike," Hephaestus said.
Hera, her shoulders drooping, asked, "Why is that going to be so difficult?"
Hephaestus said, "Aether dissipates over time. If the Thunderstrike is not discharged soon after gathering enough Aether, we may need to use even more Aether than I initially calculated."
"It is impossible, then why did you build a weapon we cannot use anyway, Hephaestus?"
"It is a prototype, Zeus, and I did not design it to destroy the biggest city on Gaia."
"Then make one we can use. You have less than three weeks before the Olympus meeting. By then, I hope you find a solution for this challenges for your own sake, and I will take care of the Aether problem myself."
Zeus, I think you ask a lot in this short time. I think it is not possible. I wish I had told him that, but I could not, so instead I said I will try my best, my Zeus. When I said it, I felt like a lump was in my throat.
"Great. Actually, ten thousand soldiers' Aether is too much. Reduce it while you are at it. War is inevitable, so ramp up the amount of weapons we make. We need everything made double."
"Hera, let's go. I have a nation to run."
I showed my respect, then I asked Daedalus to escort them to the royal carriages. I could not handle any more of Zeus's bullshit. He asks for the impossible. Once he left, I sat down, tired, on my chair. I want to shout, "Fuck you, Zeus!" but his Dolon are everywhere. I cannot trust anyone, not even my own Cyclopes.