With the passing of time, Hera, like Demeter, began to train under Phanes' guidance. Though neither of them had awakened their primary divinities yet—Demeter's tied to agriculture and nature, and Hera's to marriage and childbirth—they were still gods, and their divine power needed to be refined.
Phanes taught them the fundamentals: shapeshifting, forming divine barriers, enhancing their physical strength, and controlling the flow of divine energy. Demeter, who was naturally studious and methodical, quickly became more proficient in using her divine power than Hera.
One day, after a particularly intense training session, Demeter turned to Hera with a triumphant smile, her expression full of playful smugness.
Hera, noticing the look on her sister's face, scoffed and turned away with a huff. "Hmph. Don't get ahead of yourself. I'll surpass you soon enough."
Watching the exchange, Phanes and Hestia exchanged amused glances before breaking into soft laughter. Despite their constant bickering, it was clear that the two had grown closer in their own unique way.
Time continued to pass. One evening, Phanes lay on the stone floor of their confined world, gazing at the dark ceiling of Kronos' prison. Hestia rested comfortably against his chest, while Hera and Demeter lay on either side of him, their breathing calm and steady.
As they lay in peaceful silence, Hestia lifted her gaze to Phanes. "Brother… how much longer do we have to stay here?" she asked softly.
Phanes continued to stroke Demeter and Hera's hair gently, his eyes distant in thought. "Not much longer," he assured her. "We are almost ready."
Demeter, who had been staring at the ceiling in quiet contemplation, turned her head to look at Phanes. "Brother… do you think we'll be able to defeat Father once we escape?"
Hera clenched her fists, her golden eyes flashing with anger. "Hmph. I swear, I'll make him pay for what he's done to us," she declared, her voice filled with conviction.
Phanes looked at her, his gaze gentle but firm. He reached out, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder, calming the fire of her rage. "I don't know if we can defeat him," he admitted. "But I do know one thing—we will win." His voice carried a quiet, unshakable determination.
Demeter's eyes filled with resolve. "Then we'll stand with you, Brother. No matter what."
Hestia and Hera nodded in agreement, the same unwavering determination reflected in their expressions.
Phanes smiled, warmth filling his chest. He wrapped his arms around them, pulling them into a protective embrace.
"Together," he whispered.
And for the first time in a long while, he truly believed they would succeed.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Time continued to pass, and the cycle of fate unfolded. Two more of their siblings were born into the world, only to be swallowed by Kronos as the others had been before them.
The first was Hades.
When he arrived, his presence was immediately distinct from his elder siblings. Hades had jet-black hair and dark, piercing eyes, giving him a solemn and enigmatic aura. His physique was lean but muscular, built for both agility and endurance. However, what stood out the most was his reserved nature. Unlike Hestia, Demeter, or Hera, who had expressed their emotions freely, Hades was quiet, his face almost always set in a stern expression. He rarely spoke unless necessary, observing more than he engaged.
Despite his stoic demeanor, it didn't take long for Phanes to realize that Hades deeply cared for his siblings. He simply had difficulty expressing it. From the moment they met, Hades showed great respect toward Phanes, seeing him as both a mentor and an elder brother figure. In his eyes, Phanes was the one who had saved them from solitude within Kronos' stomach, the one guiding them toward strength.
Recognizing Hades' potential, Phanes took it upon himself to train him. He taught him how to refine his divine power, how to wield it effectively, and how to discipline himself in both body and mind. While Hades learned everything Phanes taught him, he showed a particular talent for divine power manipulation rather than martial combat.
Unlike Demeter and Hera, who still struggled to awaken their primary divinities, Hades achieved a breakthrough. His first major divinity awakened—the Divinity of Wealth and Treasure. With it, Hades could manifest precious metals, gems, and artifacts out of thin air, forging treasures of immense value with a mere thought. Though its full potential remained untapped, it was clear that he had a natural affinity for control and creation.
The second to arrive was Poseidon.
In contrast to Hades, Poseidon was loud, competitive, and full of boundless energy. His hair was a deep oceanic blue, and his eyes gleamed with the fierce intensity of a storm. He had a naturally powerful build, and his movements were quick and fluid, carrying the untamed ferocity of crashing waves.
If Hades was the one who excelled in divine energy control, Poseidon was the complete opposite—he was a warrior at heart, someone whose talents shone best in the realm of physical combat. He took to martial arts with an unparalleled natural instinct, adapting quickly to every lesson Phanes provided.
It wasn't long before Poseidon awakened his major divinity—Water. Unlike Hades' treasure-forging abilities, Poseidon's command over water was raw and untamed, a force of nature waiting to be shaped into something greater.
Despite his growing strength, Poseidon quickly realized the vast gap between himself and Phanes. While he was certainly a prodigy in combat, Phanes was still leagues ahead of him. Whenever they sparred, Phanes would effortlessly counter every move, subduing Poseidon before he could land a clean hit.
The air crackled with energy as the two engaged in yet another match.
Boom! Boom!
Poseidon lunged forward, aiming to tackle Phanes from the side. But before he could make contact, Phanes twisted his body at the last second, dodging the strike with ease. Then, with a swift motion, he brought his elbow down onto Poseidon's back, knocking him off balance.
Poseidon hit the ground with a loud thud, groaning in frustration.
"Nice try, Brother," Phanes said with a smirk, crossing his arms. "Better luck next time."
Poseidon let out a growl, pushing himself back up. "One of these days, I swear I'm going to wipe that smug look off your face!"
Phanes chuckled, ruffling Poseidon's hair playfully. "You can try," he teased, "but you already know how that'll end."
Poseidon grumbled, muttering under his breath. He hated to admit it, but Phanes was right—no matter how hard he trained, he still couldn't surpass him. Not yet.
With a snap of Phanes' fingers, the space around them shifted. The vast battlefield they had been fighting in suddenly contracted, shrinking back to its original form. As the fabric of space folded in on itself, the rest of their siblings came into view—Hestia, Demeter, Hera, and Hades.
Phanes had used his Space Divinity to stretch the area around them during training, ensuring that their battles didn't affect the others. Now that their sparring session was over, he returned everything to normal.
Hestia approached him first, her warm amber eyes filled with admiration. "Brother, your control over space is incredible. You can expand an entire battlefield in an instant." She wrapped her arms around his right arm, smiling brightly.
"Yeah," Hera added, her lips curling into a smirk. "Unlike someone here, who only knows how to brute force his way through things." She shot a pointed glance at Poseidon.
Demeter giggled, joining in. "It's true. Compared to Big Brother Phanes and Hades, Poseidon's control over his divinity is… well, let's just say there's room for improvement."
Poseidon let out a frustrated hmph, crossing his arms. "You don't understand how hard it is to control my divinity in a place like this!" he argued, gritting his teeth. "This prison restrains us more than you think!"
His fists clenched, and for a brief moment, his normally playful demeanor faded. The frustration in his voice wasn't just directed at his siblings—it was directed at Kronos, the father who had stolen their freedom, who had locked them away in this prison of darkness.
Sensing his younger brother's turmoil, Phanes placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. His voice was calm, yet filled with unwavering resolve.
"Don't worry, Poseidon," he said. "Our revenge is coming soon."
A heavy silence fell over the group. Each of them felt the weight of Phanes' words.
"We will make sure he suffers," Phanes continued, his usually kind expression hardening. His hands clenched into fists as the image of their mother, Rhea, flashed through his mind—her desperate pleas, her helplessness as she watched her children stolen away from her.
"We will make him regret the day he swallowed us."
One by one, his siblings nodded in solemn agreement. Even Hades, who rarely showed his emotions, clenched his jaw and gave a firm nod.
Their time in this prison had not broken them. It had made them stronger.
And soon, the reckoning would come.
Phanes tilted his head back, his golden eyes gazing upward into the infinite void above them.
"Just you wait, Kronos."
The fire of divine retribution burned within him, fierce and unyielding.
The Titan King's reign would not last forever.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Time was a cruel tormentor.
For millennia, Rhea had endured the unbearable sorrow of watching her children stolen from her grasp. Each time she gave birth, the cycle repeated—her child's first breath barely taken before Kronos, her husband and king, devoured them whole.
Phanes, Hestia. Demeter. Hera. Hades. Poseidon.
One by one, she had lost them.
She had tried to fight, tried to resist—but the Titan King was too powerful. Her love and fury were not enough to wound him, not enough to stop him. He was the ruler of the cosmos, the unchallenged lord of time itself, and she… she was helpless against him.
But now, as she carried her seventh child, Rhea knew she could not—would not—allow this to happen again.
The fear gnawed at her, night and day. The weight of her grief threatened to consume her, but this time, something burned brighter than her despair—defiance.
She could not fight Kronos.
But perhaps… she could deceive him.
Desperate for a way to save her unborn child, Rhea sought out the one being who could help her—the Primordial Mother, Gaia, the very earth itself.
She traveled to the deepest heart of the world, where the ancient goddess resided in her boundless form. Kneeling upon the sacred ground, Rhea placed a trembling hand upon the earth and called out with all the pain and hope in her soul.
"Mother Gaia, I beg you… help me save my child from Kronos!"
The earth rumbled in response. A gentle yet powerful voice echoed around her, filled with wisdom and sorrow.
"My daughter, I have watched as you suffered. I have wept as your children were taken from you. But there is still hope."
Gaia's presence enveloped Rhea like a warm embrace, soothing yet resolute.
"You cannot fight Kronos, but you can outwit him."
Rhea listened intently as Gaia revealed her plan.
"When your child is born, you must not present him to Kronos. Instead, take this rock, wrap it in cloth, and imbue it with my divine power. It will bear the weight of deception, cloaked in illusion. Give him this false offering, and then take your son far away—far from his father's reach."
As Gaia spoke, a large, smooth stone rose from the ground before Rhea, radiating a faint, golden glow.
Her heart pounded. It was risky. If Kronos ever discovered the truth, his wrath would be boundless.
But she had no other choice.
She would not lose this child.
Clutching the sacred stone to her chest, Rhea whispered her gratitude.
"Thank you, Mother Gaia… I will not fail."
With renewed purpose, she returned to her palace, ready to defy fate itself.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
The time had finally come.
In the Queen's Chamber, hidden deep within Kronos' stronghold, Rhea's cries of labor echoed through the stone halls. The room trembled with divine energy as a storm of emotions swirled within her—pain, fear, desperation, and, above all, hope.
Then, at last, the first cry of her newborn son pierced the air.
It was loud. Strong. Defiant.
Tears blurred Rhea's vision as she gazed down at the tiny child in her arms. He had golden curls, a rosy complexion, and eyes that shimmered with divine brilliance, flickering like distant lightning on a stormy night.
She smiled—truly smiled—for the first time in what felt like eternity.
Then, her expression hardened with determination.
There was no time to waste.
Gently, yet swiftly, she placed her son in a specially crafted casket, covering him in warm linens. Then, with trembling hands, she picked up the stone, now wrapped in the same cloth.
"Forgive me, my son… but I cannot keep you here."
With one last lingering look at her child, she turned and fled the chamber.
(To be Continued)