The clatter of hooves echoed across the highland trail as the mountain wind bit into us with frost-bitten teeth.
Alastor's silver eyes glowed like twin moons in the morning dark, each step of his massive hooves sending tremors through the gravel-strewn ground. My fingers tightened around the black leather reins as I gazed forward into the rising haze.
Alastor was such a beautiful steed, standing at 10 ft 4, with a beautiful black coat with his white mane braided and adorned with my own feathers. His body was adorned in this sleek plated armor that looked similar to my new armor, it covered his entire body, armor that no normal horse would even be able to move in naturally.
He was a war-horse unlike any other—captured by Gyges, one of the Hecatoncheires, after months of tracking and hunting through the dead plains near Tartarus. It had taken the strength of seventy arms just to restrain him and keep the beast from escaping.
Now, after constant training he answered only to me. I sat straight in the saddle, the red scarf of my new armor rippled in the air, seemingly defying gravity.
The sky above Mount Othrys churned, the clouds streaking in unnatural swirls as if the heavens themselves twisted in anticipation. Lightning danced across the peaks far in the distance, illuminating the silhouette of the mountain.
"I never thought I'd see the day," muttered Rhea beside me, riding on the back of her large white lion, Krios, mother wearing simple armor, even though we tried to request that she stayed out of the war. Her voice held a bitter edge, barely contained. "Where I stand against my own brothers and sisters and take down my own husband…"
"You can still decide to stay back, we can take on the father easily, mother." I responded, not even sure about my own words. Rhea was silent as if she didn't even hear what I had said.
"This is something that I must do, I must face him." She muttered after a while as Krios licked the back of his paw. My mother recently got into cats, and Krios was one of the many felines that she had decided to adopt, so far she was on a fast track into becoming one of those Cat Ladies, and instead of small felines she was taking in literal predators.
I simply sigh and nod, not even knowing how to respond. I look back at our small army and wondered if we would actually be able to even win? Though looking at those of us who were still here, there was quite the obvious absence. Phoebe's friends. I never really interacted with them alot and although I was surprised they even existed, I was not surprised when they simply decided to leave and never returned.
"We should've expected it," Metis said evenly, as if she had read my thoughts. Her eyes narrowed beneath her polished helmet. "Those young Titans were always unstable. Cael's thirst for power alone rivals even Zeus. So it was no surprise that he convinced the others to return to Cronus' side."
"Hey," Zeus said from my other side, his tone both indignant and distracted. "That guy was a loser and there is no way that he would ever rival me in any way. Besides, I believe that I'm way more likable."
"No one said anything about being likable," Hera snapped.
Zeus gave her a dirty look, but said nothing more. How did Zeus ever fall in love with Hera if this was how they treated each other when they were younger?
Ahead of us, the ground sloped down into a large ridge overlooking the foothills of Mount Othrys. We crested it like a rolling wave, our army spilling behind us. The Children of Nyx marched in unison. The Reapers—Thanatos, Moros, and Kerethys—moved literally shoulder to shoulder. Walking behind them was Nemesis along with Alecto, Megaera and Tisiphone.
Charon, stood so still looking as if he was asleep as he leaned against his oar and yet he glided across the floor keeping pace with all of us.
Themis walked over, dressed in white and gold armor that looked more ceremonial than practical. A long braid hung over her shoulder, and despite the blindfold, she moved with total confidence. Her sword was sheathed at her hip, and the golden scales were hooked to her waist, swaying gently with each step.
Brontes, Arges, and Steropes moved with these heavy movements. Their thick and bulky armor covered their body. Brontes had a massive warhammer strapped across his back. Arges carried a jagged axe of blackened bronze, while Steropes had a long-handled blade at his side.
Beside them walked the Hecatoncheires—taller still, bare-chested save for the minimal plating across their torsos and legs. Each of the three wore no helmets, speaking quietly in low tones as they moved. Two arms were folded, while the other two gestured as they talked.
"Where's Poseidon?" Hestia asked softly behind me, pulling me out of my thinking. "It has been weeks and he is still missing."
My throat clenched.
"I seriously don't know," I said. If I was being honest, I was actually worried. This was my brother and something must have seriously happened to him. I just hoped that he was doing okay.
I felt Hera's gaze on me. Then she looked away, saying nothing.
Phoebe broke the silence.
She slowed her steps, her eyes locked ahead.
"Those bastards…" she muttered.
We followed her gaze.
Cael. Naia. Vexa. Oren. Kael.
They stood at the foot of Mount Othrys, five shadows against the blood-stained dawn, draped in armor and silence. Cael sat atop a crackling storm cloud, one leg lazily draped over the other, a jagged staff resting across his shoulders like it weighed nothing. Lightning flickered through his eyes. Naia stood beside him, her split armor glinting with duality—half luminous and serene like moonlight, the other twisted and dark, etched with shifting shapes that seemed to whisper. Vexa wore a crimson robe beneath gold-plated armor, her arms folded, her smile cutting. Oren stood bare-chested beneath thick pelts, gripping a cleaver of an axe with hands the size of stone slabs. Kael, silent as always, loomed behind them in scale-forged armor, his ragged cloak hissing faintly with movement that didn't match the wind.
They weren't just waiting for us.
They were daring us to come.
Phoebe dismounted, disbelief painting her face pale. She took several shaky steps forward.
"You… you swore to me," she said, voice cracking. "You swore to stay neutral. That you would protect the Balance."
Cael tilted his head and smiled. "The Balance changed."
Astraeus stepped beside her, his fists clenched. "You betrayed us. We called you kin."
"We are still kin," Kael said evenly, his voice low and steady. "But kinship does not mean we die for your idealism."
"You would side with Cronus?" Helios growled, flame coursing down his arms. "After everything he's done? The slaughter, the tyranny?"
Cael stood slowly, stepping off his storm cloud as it dissipated into mist. His feet hit the ground with a rumble of distant thunder.
"I'm not siding with Cronus," he said. "I'm using him."
The words silenced the field.
Cael grinned wider, his staff crackling with violent sparks. "Let him fight your war. Let him bleed for his pride. When he's done and you're both broken, I'll take the crown. I'll take the sky."
"You want to be king of the Titans," I said coldly.
"I want to be the king of what comes after," Cael replied. "A world shaped by will, not prophecy. And not by fools chained to dead oaths."
Naia closed her eyes as if in prayer. "The cycle cannot be broken. But it can be rewritten."
"You disgust me," Astraeus spat. "You're worse than Cronus. At least he never pretended to be anything but a tyrant."
Vexa stepped forward, tossing her long braid over her shoulder. "And you're still clinging to a dream built on bones. Olympus, Aidoneus, balance... it all burns the same."
"You've made your choice," I said, shadows rippling beneath Alastor's hooves. "Just make sure you can live with it."
"Live with it?" Cael laughed. "I plan to thrive in it."
And then the earth shook.
A ripple moved across the horizon.
From the mouth of Mount Othrys, Cronus emerged—he was dressed in white and gold armor. Behind him followed the full host of Titans that still remained. Klymene, Themis, Perses, Eurybia, and dozens more. The air thickened. The sky dimmed.
This was no longer diplomacy.
This was war.
Seeing my father, I could feel my body twitch.
Zeus moved in front of us as he summoned his thunderbolt and raised it in the air.
"Let's end this war, end the reign of the Titans for good! For Olympus!"
The war cry rose behind me, thunderous and unified:
"FOR OLYMPUS!"
The heavens shook with fury.
And I dug my heels into Alastor's sides.
We charged.
Alastor's hooves pummeled the battlefield like thunder made flesh. Each gallop vibrated through the earth, a war drum pounding in time with my heartbeat. Shadows unfurled from my body in writhing waves, reacting to my fury before I even called them. My bident flared into existence in my hand. As we raced toward the foot of Mount Othrys, a scream built in my chest—not fear, not rage, but something else.
This was it.
After years, centuries of dealing with so much, the war was finally here. This was going to change everything!
Above me, the sky exploded.
A blinding arc of lightning zigzagged upward in a blink, tearing apart the clouds as Zeus vanished into pure voltage. A second later, Cael howled and followed in a swirling stormcloud, a cyclone wrapped in cracked armor of pale metal. Lightning and wind spiraled through the air as the two storm gods collided, their duel splitting the heavens themselves.
"Show-off," I muttered, then gritted my teeth as the battlefield erupted into madness.
Hera, Hestia, and Demeter were already in the thick of it, rushing forward as Theia and Mnemosyne met them head-on. Hera's spear clashed hard against Mnemosyne's round shield, the impact throwing sparks. Hestia moved in wide arcs, her golden torch cutting through the air and forcing Theia to step back. Demeter swung her silver scythe in tight, controlled movements, each slash carving clean through the ground as she aimed to keep the Titans off-balance.
Off to the left, Nemesis let out a piercing war cry and charged straight at Menoetius, who met her with a double-bladed war axe crackling with dark lightning. Her massive sword, Ikakalaka, slammed into his guard with enough force to knock him back a step.
Behind her, the Furies fanned out—Alecto's chain whip lashed through the air with a sharp snap, Megaera's leather lash struck with rapid precision, and Tisiphone's barbed wire whip coiled around a Titan soldier's leg, yanking him to the ground in a scream of torn armor and blood.
But I had my own battle to wage.
My eyes locked on Kael, the Titan of Dragons.
He stood like a dark colossus amidst the carnage, a towering figure cloaked in armor forged from dragonbone and scaled iron. Smoke drifted lazily from his mouth as he raised one hand—and the battlefield obeyed.
A rock snapped apart and reformed, twisting and reshaping until it burst into wings and claws. A boulder dragon, sculpted from sheer will and magic. It roared as it charged forward, its massive stone tail snapping trees like twigs.
Then another—a wooden pole twisted and cracked, transforming into a wooden serpent, its jaws snarling with bark-fanged rage.
Then another. And another.
Kael's laughter was low and reverberating.
"You should've brought more than shadows, Hades," he rumbled. "You'll never be able to win a fight against my dragons."
"Funny," I said as Alastor galloped straight into their midst. "I brought something better."
I gave a sharp whistle as the earth started to shake.
The ground ripped open in front of me as the giant black serpent, the Pythagora shot through—my serpent.
My monster.
Seventy feet of muscle, fangs, and hunger. Her scales shimmered like wet obsidian and the deathless glow in her eyes locked onto the stone dragon with animalistic joy. She struck.
The battlefield shook as she coiled around the rock beast and crushed it to rubble.
Kael blinked. "What in Tartarus—"
She launched toward the wooden serpent, snapping its neck with a single chomp and devouring it whole.
Then she turned her eyes to Kael.
He raised a hand to summon another—but she was faster. She surged forward like a tidal wave of darkness, crashing into him and sending the Titan tumbling into a shattered cliffside. The ground cracked beneath his body as she lunged again.
Kael screamed in fury and hurled fire from his mouth. Pythagora recoiled, hissing, but I was already leaping from Alastor's back, shadows coiling around me.
I landed in a burst of black tendrils, my bident swinging toward Kael's exposed side.
He parried with a growl, claws erupting from his gauntlets.
"You don't deserve her loyalty," he spat. "She's a beast. A weapon."
"She's mine," I replied, voice cold. "After all, I created her from my very sweat and inchor."
Behind us, more dragons attempted to form, conjured from broken carts and shattered walls—but Pythagora crushed them before they could even grow wings.
Kael roared and slammed his armored fist into my ribs, sending me skidding back through mud and blood. My armor groaned but held.
Then came Oren.
The Titan of Beasts thundered into view, his fur cloak flaring behind him, tattoos glowing like wild sigils across his chest. His axe gleamed with dried blood and a predator's grin split his bearded face.
"Ah, the pale king," he bellowed. "Let's see how you taste."
He raised a hand toward Pythagora.
"Come beast! Obey Oren! Titan of Beasts and Predator to all!" he commanded, his voice infused with primal force, a ripple that even I felt deep in my chest. "Obey your new master.
Pythagora slowed. Her body stiffened.
No…
"Submit!" he roared.
Her tongue flickered, eyes twitching.
But then… she turned.
Faster than lightning, she lunged—not at me, not at Kael—but at Oren himself.
Her fangs sank into his shoulder and with a single toss of her neck, she flung him through a hill. His scream echoed across the battlefield.
He tried again.
"You will obey me—I am the master of all beasts—!"
"No," I whispered.
Pythagora struck again—this time coiling around him like a snake around a rabbit. Her muscles constricted. Bones snapped. His screams choked into silence.
And then she opened her mouth wide and devoured him whole.
Gone.
Just like that.
Kael shouted in disbelief, only to be interrupted by a bone dart to the eye—my dart.
He staggered. My shadows surged.
I moved like a storm, bident spinning in arcs of darkness as I dashed beneath his guard, struck his knees, carved symbols into his armor with my power.
He raised his mouth once more to blast his flames—
"Pythagora!" I shouted.
She lunged once more.
He vanished beneath her.
It was over.
Panting, soaked in ichor and sweat, I looked around the battlefield. Zeus was still dueling Cael in the skies, their battle leaving scars across the clouds. Nemesis was carving her way through Menoetius, her fury unchained. The Cyclopes roared in the distance as they clashed with Perses and Krios.
But here, for now, my corner of war has fallen silent.
I reached a hand out and stroked Pythagoras jaw. She pressed her head to my palm like a cat seeking affection.
"You did well, girl," I murmured. "You did damn well."
She rumbled softly, tail thumping the earth like thunder.
And I turned back to the battlefield, bident raised once more.
There was still so much left to do.