High atop Mount Olympus, beyond the clouds and beneath a vast, clear blue sky, the gods assembled to discuss recent events in the mortal world. Supported by towering columns, the grand chamber was open and expansive. The sounds of voices floated through the air, reflecting off a vividly painted ceiling. Suspended from these columns, glowing blue-white spheres cast a soft illumination over the divine gathering.

  Magical fountains and cascading waterfalls adorned the chamber, their waters flowing as if guided by an unseen force. Vibrant flocks of birds flitted among the high-hanging ferns and vines, filling the air with life. Satyrs danced about, bearing trays of food and jugs of rich wine, while nymphs busied themselves with various tasks.

  At the heart of the chamber, the Olympian gods gathered—twelve in all—seated upon lavish cushions encircling a mystical pool, their divine presences casting shifting reflections across its surface. Zeus and Poseidon sat opposite one another, silent heads of storm and sea, while Athena, Artemis, and Hera watched with discerning eyes.

  This enchanted water reflected hazy visions conjured by the creatures under their command. Encompassing them on a higher, circular tier sat the lesser deities—watching intently as the divine council began.

  Zeus broke the silence, his deep voice rolling through the grand chamber like the rumble of distant thunder. "Reports of sky-travelers with bizarre weapons have sparked a lot of concern." Does anyone know who they are or where they hail from?"

  Hades leaned forward from his seat in the corner shadows, his presence an eerie contrast to the divine light bathing the chamber. His voice was calm, yet a current of intrigue ran beneath it. "It appears they descend from the heavens, though I cannot say from where. Their weapons are mighty—capable of unleashing thunder and lightning. They struck down a pack of Furies many moons ago."

  A ripple of unease spread through the assembly, their divine murmurs carrying worry like the whisper of a storm through the trees. Some spoke of a possible Atlantean return, their voices laced with apprehension and buried fears.

  Zeus straightened, his gaze sharp as the lightning he wielded. "Has anyone here made contact with them?"

  The gods exchanged glances, but no one spoke.

  Zeus exhaled sharply, a storm brewing in his eyes. "That must change. We need to know exactly who they are, what they seek, and whether they pose a threat."

  Poseidon's voice cut through the tension, edged with barely restrained fury. "I see no reason to speak with them at all. Not after what they've done."

  Athena responded, her voice cold and precise. "And what exactly have they done?"

  Poseidon's expression darkened, his rage barely contained. "See for yourselves."

  With a wave of his hand, the enchanted pool in the center of the chamber shimmered. The images that surfaced were horrifying: his great sea-beast, the Cetus, mutilated beyond recognition; the desecrated temple of Seriphos, its statues the petrified remains of loyal followers; bodies strewn across the temple courtyard.

  A collective gasp rippled through the hall as the gods recoiled at the destruction laid before them.

  "Do you see the ruin they leave in their wake?" Poseidon's voice trembled with barely contained fury.

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  Murmurs spread among the assembled deities, the weight of his loss settling over them like a dark cloud. Zeus furrowed his brow, his voice heavy with consideration as he broke the troubled silence.

  "Has anyone else suffered such destruction?"

  The question hung in the air, met only by silence.

  "No?" Zeus's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "Then, brother, it seems you alone bear this burden. Tell me—what have you done to invite such catastrophic ruin upon yourself?"

  Poseidon's jaw tightened. "What have I done? Nothing. I simply existed in my own domain." His hands slowly curled into fists, his knuckles white with rage. "But I know precisely what—or rather, who—has done this to me."

  His voice rose to a thunderous roar as he whirled around, eyes blazing like twin infernos. "There exists but one creature capable of such devastation—Medusa!"

  His accusatory finger shot toward Athena like a spear. "Your Medusa!"

  The chamber fell into a stunned silence.

  Athena's expression remained unreadable, but her voice turned to ice. "My Medusa?"

  "Don't play coy with me!" Poseidon snapped, his rage unchecked. "Medusa's your little beast whore!"

  Athena's eyes darkened, her stance rigid as steel. "Uncle, I have no inkling of what transpired at your temple. But if it was indeed Medusa, then it would be your fault this happened."

  Poseidon bared his teeth. "And how is this my fault?"

  Athena leaned forward, her voice dangerously calm. "Was it not you who violated her... in my temple?"

  The room grew silent, divine eyes observing as tension built.

  Poseidon hesitated. His fingers flexed as though grasping for control. "So you're telling me the beast acted on its own? Or used by these strange invaders?"

  "I am saying nothing, other than that you have created many enemies—as everyone here knows."

  Gasps echoed through the chamber, gods murmuring in agreement.

  Poseidon's eyes burned with suspicion as he stroked his beard, his rage momentarily cooling into calculation. Then his expression hardened. "You're behind this, aren't you?"

  Athena didn't flinch. "I know nothing of what transpired."

  "You're lying," Poseidon growled.

  Athena arched a brow, unshaken. "Do you have any proof, or are you casting baseless accusations?"

  Poseidon's nostrils flared. "Don't worry. I will find proof."

  Athena's face showed a smirk, revealing her amusement. "I won't hold my breath, Uncle."

  Poseidon responded, "And when I do..."

  Zeus, his patience fraying, clapped his hands together. The chamber shook as a deafening boom of thunder echoed through Olympus, silencing all voices.

  "Enough!" His voice was a storm given form. "Settle your quarrels another time. Right now, we must focus on these strangers—who they are, where they came from, what they want."

  Athena's voice cut through the silence first—steady and composed. "I can help uncover the truth."

  A bitter scoff escaped Poseidon's lips, though wariness crept into his tone. "How convenient. Probably because they're all in your employ."

  Athena's eyes rolled with practiced patience. "As I've already told you, I don't know what you're talking about. But you're right—more investigation is necessary."

  Zeus's voice resonated through the chamber, his presence commanding absolute attention. "Then it is decided. First, we determine whether these beings are immortal. We must locate them and understand their true purpose." His tone grew more resolute. "If they seek our destruction, we will be ready. But we will not act blindly."

  His voice darkened like the sky before a storm. "Do not start a war with beings whose power remains a mystery to us. Do you all understand?"

  The unified response echoed through the chamber: "Yes, almighty Zeus."

  As the assembly began to disperse, Poseidon leaned toward Hades and Apollo, his voice barely a whisper. "You two—I need your assistance uncovering more about these people. Will you help me?"

  Hades inclined his head solemnly. "I shall. I will dispatch more Furies at once."

  Apollo nodded in agreement. "And I'll send for additional scouts."

  "Thank you." Poseidon's exhale was sharp, his fury still simmering beneath the surface. Then his gaze shifted to Athena, his voice rising. "I know you're scheming something."

  Athena met his accusation with an unbothered, ice-cold stare.

  Zeus stood up and waved his hand. We are finished here. "You may now return to your obligations," he said to them.

  "Yes, almighty Zeus."

  With that, the gods began to disperse, yet the unknown loomed upon them all—like the hush before a storm that none knew how to weather.