I sat hunched over my desk, the weight of endless parchments and reports pressing down on me like the burdens of an age-long reign. War preparations, supply lines, training schedules—all detailed in ink that threatened to smudge under my grip. I exhaled slowly, rolling my shoulders to ease the stiffness settling in, when a firm knock echoed through my chamber.
"Enter," I called, my voice clipped, weary.
The heavy wooden doors creaked open, and Oizys stepped in, her presence like a shadow in the candlelight. She moved with purpose, her violet eyes unreadable, her black robes billowing softly with each step. In her hands, she held a single letter, the parchment sealed with a wax emblem unfamiliar to me.
She extended it without a word, and I accepted it, breaking the seal swiftly. My eyes scanned the contents, and with each line, my pulse pounded heavier in my chest. My fingers curled around the parchment, nearly crumpling it as the weight of its meaning sank in.
"Damn it all to the void."
The words left my lips in a low, seething growl as I shoved my chair back with enough force to send a harsh scrape echoing across the stone floor. The sound was grating, almost as if the very foundations of my domain winced at my rising frustration.
Oizys stood still, her expression carefully schooled into indifference, but I knew her well enough to catch the subtle signs—the minute tightening of her jaw, the way her fingers curled just slightly at her sides. Concern. She wouldn't voice it, not outright, but it was there, simmering beneath the surface like a candle guttering against an unseen wind.
"Lord, are you alright?" she finally asked, her tone neutral yet probing.
I exhaled sharply through my nose and dragged a hand down my face before setting the cursed letter onto my desk. The weight of its contents was already pressing against my temples, a slow, pulsing ache forming at the base of my skull.
"No. But that hardly matters," I muttered, straightening my posture. "I've just learned something that's going to drive a spear through my plans."
Oizys didn't ask what—she knew I would tell her if I deemed it necessary. Instead, she simply waited, her violet eyes dark pools of unreadable thought.
"I'm leaving for Olympus. I need you to pass a message to your parents. I need their advice."
She inclined her head in silent obedience, stepping aside as I moved past her. The moment I entered the corridor, the torches lining the walls flickered violently, their flames bending and twisting as if caught in an unseen tempest. The shadows swelled, stretching unnaturally with every measured step I took.
Even the Underworld itself could feel the storm brewing within me.
And by the time I reached Olympus, the gods would feel it too.
<------------------------->
The chamber was filled with murmurs as the Olympians took their seats, the weight of the moment settling over them like an oppressive fog. More thrones had been added around the great round table, a testament to the growing number of rulers who had a stake in the coming storm.
To my right, Hestia sat with a calm, knowing expression, her presence a pillar of stability. Beside her, Hera, Demeter, Athena, Melinoe, Artemis, and Kore—whose hair was intricately braided with fresh flowers—each wore expressions ranging from concern to quiet contemplation. To my left sat Aeolus, Poseidon—his water-formed arm shifting slightly like the tide—Zagreus, Ares—his dreadlocks hanging loose, the deep claw marks over his left eye—Hephaestus, whose prosthetic arm and leg gleamed in the torchlight, Apollo, and Triton, whose Hawaiian tattoos covered his body like his fathers. A five-pronged black trident leaned against his throne as he crossed his arms and legs.
I exhaled, standing as silence fell upon the room. "We have a problem."
Confused glances were exchanged before I continued, my voice cold and unyielding. "Odin came to me yesterday, flanked by Thor and an army of Norse warriors. He made his intentions clear—he seeks to claim our lands. The Norse have already expanded their rule across the surrounding territories, and now, they intend to take Olympus."
A beat of silence. Then, as expected, chaos erupted.
"What?!" Hera's voice sliced through the room, her eyes blazing. "That arrogant—"
"So we fight, then!" Ares interrupted, a broad grin spreading across his face. "Finally, some real action!"
Zagreus smirked, leaning forward with excitement. "I've been waiting for a challenge. This sounds like fun."
"Fun?" Athena's voice was sharp, incredulous. "You think war is fun? This is not some brawl, Zagreus! This is war—an all-out battle that could cost us everything."
Melinoe shifted uncomfortably, her fingers ghosting over the hilt of her dagger. "We aren't all warriors, Father. Some of us... have never seen war before."
I nodded, my gaze sweeping over those who had yet to experience the horrors of battle—Artemis, Melinoe, Zagreus, Kore, Apollo, Ares, and Triton. Some had fought before, yes, but war... This was something quite new to them.
"I know," I said, my tone gentler, though no less firm. "But the truth remains—we cannot let the Norse take what is ours. If we do nothing, they will raze Olympus to the ground and seize our lands. We either fight... or we fall."
I wasted no time.
Dropping the letter onto the polished marble, I let the silence stretch for a moment before finally speaking.
"Odin has made his choice," I said, my voice steady despite the storm raging within me. "And it seems we have more to contend with than just the Norse gods."
I reached for the letter and held it up between my fingers. The parchment itself was unremarkable, but the weight of its words felt like lead in my palm. With a flick of my wrist, I sent it sliding across the table. One by one, my kin reached for it, their eyes scanning the words, their expressions darkening with each passing second.
"Odin has allied himself with Typhon and the giants," I continued, my voice heavy with the weight of the revelation. "This isn't just a war between pantheons anymore. It's a battle for survival."
The room erupted.
Ares slammed a fist against the table, the force rattling goblets and scrolls. "Good," he growled, a grin pulling at his lips. "I was getting tired of peace."
Hera shot him a look so sharp it could've flayed a mortal where they sat. "This is not a game, Ares. If what Hades is saying is true, then we are facing annihilation. You do remember what happened the last time Typhon walked this earth, don't you?"
Ares scowled but said nothing.
Demeter, whose fingers had curled into tight fists, leaned forward. "And you're certain Odin won't negotiate?"
My jaw clenched. "Certain. He made it clear—submit or perish. I refused."
A murmur spread through the room, a mixture of outrage and unease. Athena's piercing gaze locked onto me, her mind already dissecting the problem before her. "Why?" she asked. "Odin is not foolish. To wage war on Olympus, to ally himself with Typhon—it's madness."
I exhaled sharply, rubbing my temple. "I don't know." The words tasted bitter on my tongue. I was supposed to have all the answers, but I didn't. "It could be a matter of pride. Power. Or perhaps he believes Ragnarok is upon us and is simply acting accordingly."
Athena frowned. "And the giants? Why would they stand with Odin?"
"They want what they've always wanted," I said grimly. "The end of Olympus."
A heavy silence settled over the chamber. Then, Hephaestus exhaled through his nose and folded his arms. "Then we prepare," he said, his mechanical fingers flexing as if already shaping battle plans in his mind. "We bolster our defenses, strengthen our weapons, forge armor that can withstand the might of Mjölnir and whatever else the Norse gods throw at us."
Poseidon grunted, his sea-green eyes flashing with the promise of an impending storm. "And I'll see to it that our waters remain impenetrable. No Viking longship will set foot on our shores without meeting my wrath."
"But how do we even kill them?" Kore's voice was soft but firm. She had been silent up until now, her fingers idly playing with a flower woven into her braid. "The giants, I mean."
The question made my stomach drop.
I hesitated.
There was no answer I could give that would satisfy them. None that wouldn't unravel the fragile grip I had on this council. The truth was damning. The truth was that we couldn't kill them. Not as we were. Not alone. The last time the giants rose, it was mortals—demigods—who had tipped the scales. But now?
There were no demigods. No heroes. No half-mortal champions blessed with divine ichor who could stand alongside us in battle.
The gods in this room were all that remained.
And if the giants rose in full force, there would be no stopping them.
I forced myself to meet Kore's gaze, then Athena's, then Hera's. I didn't let my hesitation show. "We will find a way," I said, my tone final.
Athena narrowed her eyes. "You don't have an answer."
"I don't," I admitted. "Not yet."
That, at least, was partially true. But as my mind raced, another thought crept in, slow and insidious. A possibility. A forgotten contingency I had buried long ago.
The Nephilim Project.
The room was still alive with conversation—debate, arguments, murmured strategies—but I barely heard them. My mind had latched onto the thought like a hound on a scent.
The Nephilim.
The mortals who could withstand the power of the divine. Not demigods, but something… different. Stronger.
They were never meant to be used for this. They were an experiment, a theory tested in secret. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and if they were still alive—if they could still fight—then they might be the answer I had been searching for.
"I might have a plan," I said suddenly, cutting through the noise of the chamber.
All eyes turned to me.
"A way to bolster our forces," I continued. "To increase our numbers tenfold."
Ares leaned forward, intrigued. "How?"
I shook my head. "Not yet. I need to confirm something first. But if I'm right, we won't be as outnumbered as we think."
The Olympians exchanged glances, some skeptical, others hopeful.
"You better be right," Poseidon muttered. "Because if you're not, we're already dead."
I didn't respond. I only stood, the weight of my decision settling over me like a cloak of shadows.
Demeter's hands curled into fists. "And you're certain Odin won't negotiate?"
"Certain." My jaw clenched. "He made it clear—submit or perish. I refused."
Another round of murmurs, some of panic, others of fury. Hephaestus exhaled sharply, setting the letter down with more force than necessary. His deep voice carried over the rising tension.
"Then we prepare," he said, his mechanical fingers flexing as if already shaping battle plans in his mind. "We bolster our defenses, strengthen our weapons, forge armor that can withstand the might of Mjölnir and whatever else the Norse gods throw at us."
Poseidon grunted, his sea-green eyes flashing with the promise of an impending storm. "And I'll see to it that our waters remain impenetrable. No Viking longship will set foot on our shores without meeting my wrath."
Artemis, who had remained quiet until now, crossed her arms. "Typhon alone is a nightmare. With Odin at his side, this isn't a war—it's a cataclysm waiting to happen."
"We will need intelligence," Athena said, her fingers steepling under her chin. "Hecate's spies—"
"Already in motion," I confirmed. "She is watching them as we speak. We will not be caught off guard."
Ares cracked his knuckles, the scars over his dark skin shifting with the motion. His crimson gaze was alight with anticipation, an eager warhound barely restrained. "Then what are we waiting for?" he scoffed. "Let's prepare for war."
A solemn silence followed his words. There was no jest in his tone, no reckless bravado. This wasn't some minor conflict, a mere battle of gods. This was something far greater, far bloodier.
One by one, the Olympians nodded, each coming to the same grim realization.
"Very well," I said, my voice resolute. "We prepare. We train. We gather our forces. Because when the Norse come for us, we will not be the ones who fall. We will stand. We will fight. And Olympus will remain ours."
The meeting adjourned with no further argument.
Yet as the gods dispersed, I remained seated, my fingers tracing the edge of the table. The weight of responsibility settled heavier on my shoulders, a burden I had carried before—but never like this. This war would not be like the Titanomachy, nor the Gigantomachy. This was different.
This time, the enemy came not just from beyond our realm, but from within it.
And the only question that remained... was who would survive it.